by Tulsidas
Consider this, and give up grief,
And with your court, reign over this city.’
Listening to her, the prince was filled with dismay and great trepidation—
Her words were like burning sparks upon a festering wound.
Pulling himself together, he drew a deep breath and said,
‘Wretched woman, you are in every way the ruin of our line!
If such indeed was your wicked desire,
Why did you not kill me as soon as I was born?
You cut down a great tree to water a shoot,
And drained the pond of water to keep a fish alive!
Though I belong to the solar dynasty, with Dasharath as my father
And brothers like Ram and Lakshman,
You, Mother, became my mother!
Truly, nothing prevails against fate!
(161)
Depraved woman, when you conceived of this vile plan in your mind,
Why did your heart not shatter into pieces?
Demanding the boon, was there no pain in your heart?
Did your tongue not rot, or your mouth fester with maggots?
And how did the king trust you?
At the hour of death, Vidhi robbed him of his good sense!
But even the Creator does not know the ways of a woman’s heart—
Repository of all deceit, crime and wrongdoing.
Straightforward, good-natured and virtuous was the king—
How could he understand a woman’s nature?
What living creature is there in this world,
To whom Raghunath is not dear as life?
That same Ram seemed to you an enemy!
Tell me the truth, who are you?
But you are what you are—so blacken your face with ink,
And get up and go sit somewhere out of my sight!
From one whose heart was hostile to Ram
Did Vidhi bring me forth,
So who is as sinful as I?
In vain do I say anything to you.’
(162)
When Shatrughna heard of their mother’s cruelty,
He burned with anger, but was helpless.
At that very moment the hunchback appeared,
Made up in fine clothes and jewels of many kinds.
Seeing her, Lakshman’s twin was filled with rage,
Like a burning fire upon which has been poured a libation of ghee.
He sprang forward and taking aim, kicked her on the hump
And she fell flat on her face upon the ground, bawling and yelling.
Her hump was shattered, her skull split,
Her teeth broken, and her mouth streamed with blood.
‘Oh God, what harm did I do,
To receive this unjust reward for the good I did?’
Hearing this, and seeing that she was deceitful from head to toe,
Ripuhanix grabbed her by her topknot and began dragging her about,
Till the merciful Bharat made him release her.
The two brothers then went to Kaushalya.
In shabby garments, distraught with grief, her face pale
And her body wasted with the heavy burden of sorrow,
She was like a lovely golden vine from Indra’s garden
Destroyed by frost in the forest.
(163)
Seeing Bharat, she sprang up and ran to meet him,
But swooned and fell in a faint to the ground.
Seeing this, Bharat was deeply distressed,
And fell at her feet, forgetting his own state.
‘Mother, where is my father? Show him to me.
Where is Sita, and where my two brothers, Ram and Lakshman?
Why was Kaikeyi born into this world,
Or if born, why couldn’t she have been barren,
She who gave birth to me, I, a blot upon our lineage,
A receptacle of disgrace and the enemy of those I love?
In all the three worlds, who is more unfortunate than I,
Because of whom, Mother, you have been reduced to this state?
My father is in the abode of the gods, and Raghubar is in the forest—
I, like inauspicious Ketu, am the cause of all these injustices.
Fie on me, for I have become the forest fire in the bamboo grove,
And an accomplice in causing intolerable anguish, suffering and disgrace.’
The mother, hearing Bharat’s sweet and gentle words,
Rose again, collecting herself.
Raising him up, she clasped him to her bosom
As tears flowed freely from her eyes.
(164)
That kind and gentle mother held him to her heart
With deep love, as though Ram himself had returned to her.
She then embraced Lakshman’s younger brother—
Her grief and love could not be contained in her heart.
All those who saw her forgiving nature said,
‘She is Ram’s mother, so how else could she behave but so?’
That mother took Bharat upon her lap,
And wiping away his tears, spoke sweet and tender words.
‘Even now, my beloved child, take courage,
And recognizing this to be an unpropitious time, abandon sorrow.
Do not dwell any more on loss and grief in your heart,
For you know that the course of time and fate is unalterable.
Do not blame anyone, my beloved son,
For fate has turned against me in every way,
That it keeps me alive in such grief.
Who knows what may be its pleasure next?
It was at his father’s command, dear son,
That Raghubir gave up his jewels and fine clothes,
And with neither dismay nor joy in his heart
Donned his garments of bark.
(165)
With a cheerful countenance, neither attachment nor anger in his heart,
He comforted us all in every way.
Sita, hearing that he was leaving for the forest, clung to him—
She refused to remain behind, for she is devoted to Ram’s feet.
The instant he heard this, Lakshman jumped up to accompany them,
And would not stay, though Raghunath made many efforts to dissuade him.
Then, bowing his head to all, Raghupati
Left with Sita and his younger brother.
Ram, Lakshman and Sita departed for the forest,
But I did not go with them, nor did I send my life’s breath after them.
All this took place in front of these very eyes,
Even then my unfortunate spirit did not leave my body,
And yet I feel no shame at seeing my love—
I, the mother of a son like Ram!
The king knew when to live and when to die,
But my heart is a hundred times harder than adamant.’
Hearing Kaushalya’s words,
Bharat and all the royal women
Grew distraught, and broke into such cries of anguish
That the king’s palace seemed the abode of sorrow.
(166)
As Bharat and Shatrughna wailed in grief,
Kaushalya clasped them to her bosom.
She comforted Bharat in many ways
With wise and discerning words.
Bharat, too, comforted all the mothers,
With legends and tales from the Vedas and Puranas.
Then, without deceit, and in gentle words that were simple and pure,
Bharat spoke, folding his hands—
‘The sins of killing one’s mother, father, or son,
Of burning a cowshed or a Brahman village,
The sins of killing a woman or a child,
Or of poisoning a friend or a king—
All sins, great or small,
Of word, thought or deed, that are enumerated by the poets—
May God let all these sins be mine, Mother,
If this happened with my p
ermission.
Those who abandon the feet of Hari and Har
And worship terrifying ghouls and demons instead—
May God give me their fate, Mother,
If I complied with these doings!
(167)
Those who sell the Vedas and milk dharma for their ends,
The traitors and informers, who proclaim the sins of others,
The deceitful, the dishonest, the quarrelsome or the bad-tempered,
Those who ridicule the Vedas, or are the enemies of the world,
The greedy, the dissolute, the lustful and lecherous,
Who look covetously at the wealth and wives of others—
May I share their dreadful fate, Mother,
If I agreed to any of this.
Those who have no regard for the company of the good,
Unfortunates who turn from the path of highest truth,
Who, gaining a human form, do not worship Hari,
And are not pleased by the glory of Hari and Har,
Who abandon the path of the Vedas to walk instead a contrary road,
Scoundrels who disguise themselves and cheat and swindle the world—
May Shankar give me their fate, Mother,
If I even knew of this plot.’
When his mother, Kaushalya, heard Bharat’s words,
So honest and sincere,
She said, ‘You are always beloved of Ram,
Dear son, in speech, mind, and body.
(168)
Ram is dearer to you than your own life’s breath,
And dearer to Raghupati than his own life are you.
The moon might drip poison or snow emit fire,
Water-creatures turn away from water,
Or wisdom dawn without delusion dying—
But you could never be hostile to Ram.
Those in this world who say that you agreed to this,
Will never, even in their dreams, find happiness or salvation.’
So saying, his mother clasped Bharat to her bosom,
As her breasts flowed with milk and her eyes filled with tears.
Grieving and lamenting thus,
They sat, and, in this manner, the whole night passed.
Then the munis Vamdev and Vasishtha came,
And summoned all the ministers and prominent citizens.
Muni Vasishtha then gave Bharat much advice,
Discoursing on the highest truth in words appropriate to the occasion.
‘Son, take courage and remaining steadfast in your heart,
Do what the occasion demands today.’
Hearing his guru’s words, Bharat rose
And ordered that all be made ready.
(169)
The king’s body was bathed in accordance with the Vedas
And a magnificent bier prepared.
Clasping their feet, Bharat kept back all his mothers31
And the queens lived on in the hope of seeing Ram again.
Many loads of sandalwood and agarwood arrived
And countless kinds of other fragrant substances.
A funeral pyre was built on the banks of the Sarju,
Like a glorious stairway to the abode of the gods.
Thus all the cremation rites were performed,
And after the ritual bath, the offering of sesame seeds was made.32
After due study of the sacred texts and all the Vedas and Puranas,
Bharat made the final offering to the dead king’s soul.33
Whatever orders the great muni gave,
Bharat carried out fully and a thousand times over.
After he had been ritually purified, he gave gifts and alms
Of cows, horses, elephants and chariots of many kinds,
Thrones, ornaments, fine raiment,
Grain, land, money and houses—
All this Bharat gave the Brahmans, and they, gods upon earth,
Receiving it, had their every wish fulfilled.
(170)
The manner in which Bharat performed all the last rites for his father
Cannot be told even by a thousand tongues.
Then, determining an auspicious day, the great Muni Vasishtha came
And summoned all the ministers and important citizens.
They all took their seats in the royal council chamber.
The muni then sent for Bharat and Shatrughna.
Vasishtha seated Bharat by his side,
And discoursed on duty and right conduct.
First, the great sage recounted the full story
Of Kaikeyi’s devious doings,
And praised the king’s devotion to dharma and truth,
Who gave up his body to fulfil his love.
As he described Ram’s virtues and gentle nature,
The great muni’s eyes filled with tears and he trembled with emotion,
Then, as he spoke of Lakshman and Sita’s love for Ram,
That wise and learned muni was lost in grief and love.
‘Listen, Bharat, destiny is powerful,’
Said the lord of munis, lamenting.
‘Loss and gain, life and death,
Fame and disgrace—all lie in the hands of providence.
(171)
Considering this, whom can we blame
And with whom, without reason, can we be angry?
Dear son, reflect upon this in your heart:
King Dasharath does not require your grief.
Grieve for the Brahman who is ignorant of the Vedas,
And who, abandoning his dharma, remains immersed in sensual pleasures.
Grieve for the king who knows not prudence nor statecraft,
And whose subjects are not dear to him as life.
Grieve for the merchant who is a miser despite being wealthy,
And who knows not his duty towards a guest nor the worship of Shiv.34
Grieve for the Shudra who insults a Brahman,
And who is foul-mouthed, arrogant and vain about his knowledge.
Grieve too for the woman who deceives her husband,
And who is perverse, quarrelsome and self-willed.
Grieve for the student who abandons his own vows,
And who does not follow the commands of his guru.
Grieve for the householder who, in the grip of delusion,
Abandons the path of duty.
Grieve for the ascetic who is addicted to this world of illusion
And lacks both discernment and detachment.
(172)
Worthy of your grief is that hermit who
Has abandoned penance and prefers the pleasures of this world.
Grieve for the traitor, for the one angry without reason,
And the one against his mother, father, guru, or brother.
Grieve in every way for the one who injures others,
Who cherishes his own body but is utterly merciless.
In every way deserving of grief is the one
Who does not abandon deceit to become a follower of Hari.
But the king of Koshal does not deserve grief,
For his might and power are manifest in all the fourteen spheres.
There never was, or is, or will ever be,
A protector of the earth, Bharat, like your father.
Vidhi, Hari, and Har, Indra and the lords of the eight quarters,
All sing the praises of Dasharath.
Tell me, dear son, in what manner
Can one praise him enough
Who has such pure and virtuous sons
Like Ram, Lakshman, you and Shatrughna?
(173)
The lord of the earth was fortunate in every way,
And there is no point in lamenting over him.
Hear this and consider, and abandoning grief,
Honour and carry out the king’s royal command.
The king has given you the office of king,
And you should fulfil your father’s word,
Who gave up Ram for the sake of
his promise,
And then sacrificed his body in the fire of his anguish at separation from Ram.
His word was dear to the king of men, he did not care about his life,
Make true then, son, your father’s promise.
With reverence obey the king’s royal command,
For in this lies all manner of good for you.
Parashuram, honouring his father’s command,
Killed his mother, as all the spheres of the world are witness,35
And Yayati’s son gave him his own youth.36
For obeying a father’s command, they incurred neither sin nor infamy.
Those who, without thought of right or wrong,
Uphold their father’s word,
Become receptacles of bliss and glory
And later dwell in the abode of Indra, lord of the immortal gods.
(174)
You must certainly fulfil the king’s word
And look after your subjects, abandoning your grief.
The king will be pleased in the abode of the gods,
While you will earn merit and glory and no blame.
It is prescribed in the Vedas, and is agreed upon by all
That he to whom a father gives it, gets the crown.
So rule the kingdom, abandoning remorse.
Listen to my advice, knowing it is to your benefit.
Hearing of it, Ram and Vaidehi will be happy,
And no wise man will call it inappropriate.
Kaushalya and all your other mothers,
Will be happy in the happiness of your subjects.
Knowing your great bond with Ram,
They will in every way regard your action as good.
Hand over the kingdom to Ram on his return,
And serve him with flawless affection.’
The ministers, with folded hands, entreated,
‘Please do as your guru commands,
And when Raghupati returns, do at that time
Whatever seems right and fitting.’
(175)
Kaushalya composed herself and said,
‘Son, your guru’s command is for your benefit,
So understanding this, respect and obey him.
Grieve no more, knowing the ways of fate.
Raghupati is in the forest, the lord of men in the abode of the gods,
Yet you, dear son, are hesitating in this fashion.
You, son, are now the sole support