by Vanamali
Suddenly, on top of a magnificent dais, Hanuman saw a divan made of crystal, ivory, sandalwood, and gold. It was unbelievably beautiful and he stood for a while admiring it. The white umbrella of royalty was above it. Creeping closer, he found Ravana sleeping on it. He was a magnificent figure of a man with huge, powerful arms and a broad chest covered with white silk. Close by was a woman sleeping on a separate divan, clad in pearls and gems. Her beauty was such that she really did not need any ornaments. Her skin was golden and she had an elegance that made him think he had found Sita. Then he realized that Sita would never be able to sleep like this without Rama beside her. She would not be clad in silks and jewels. She would not be found in Ravana’s harem. Of this he was sure.
He wandered about from room to room of the palace without finding Sita. He felt embarrassed at being forced to look at many voluptuous women in seductive poses, but then he realized that although he was moving among extraordinary beauties, his mind was totally unaffected and untouched by them. Unlike all other vanaras, Hanuman was a brahmachari and had never entered the marital state.
He covered every inch of space in the palace and then scoured the gardens and arbors, becoming more and more distressed as the night continued, but Sita was nowhere to be found. He began to think that perhaps she had killed herself or been eaten by the rakshasas.
“If he hears that she is dead, Rama will give up his life,” he thought. Of that he was sure and he knew he could not return without some information about her, either her demise or her whereabouts. “Better for me to go and take to a life of sannyasa, rather than return without any news.”
At last he spied another grove filled with ashoka trees, one he had previously overlooked. It was the only place he had not searched. He jumped to the top of the wall surrounding the grove and looked down. It was obviously a favorite haunt of the demon king, for it was very well tended. Rare trees and flowers grew in abundance, and exquisitely carved steps led to several beautiful ponds with banks of white sand. The night was passing and he had still not discovered Sita. The birds were disturbed by Hanuman’s jumps and flew up into the clouds, chirping angrily, so the monkey hid himself in the foliage of a big tree that overlooked a splendid platform, hoping that Sita might come there.
Vasishta says:
“The nature of a person who is free from precepts and concepts but is not dead, and whose mind is pure and clear like the winter sky, is Pure Consciousness.”
Hari Aum Tat Sat
Shuraya Namaha!
CANTO II
The Ashoka Grove
Sarvarishtanivarakam shubhakaram
pingakshamakshapaham
Sitanweshanatatparam kapivaram
kodindusuryaprabham
Lankadwipabhayangaram sakaladam
Sugrivasammanitham
Devendradisamastha devavinutham
Kakuthsthadutham bhaje.
I worship the messenger of Rama,
Who removes all problems
and confers auspiciousness,
Who has tawny eyes and
Shines with the splendor of a thousand suns and moons,
Who is extolled by the whole host of gods starting with Indra,
Who was foremost among the monkeys who searched for Sita,
Who made the island of Lanka tremble with fear
And thus delighted Sugriva.
Rama had told Hanuman that Sita was extremely fond of flowers and trees, so he hoped she might come to that enchanting grove for a walk. The garden seemed to be made for her, with its flowering shrubs, waterfalls, and ponds. Looking around in the light of the setting moon, he saw a small temple with white pillars gleaming in the moonlight. The steps were of coral and the surface covered with gold. As he peered closer he suddenly saw her and knew unmistakably that this was Sita—the beloved of Rama. She looked like the crescent moon, thin and wan. It was obvious that she had been fasting for a long while. Her beauty was like a flame hidden by smoke. She was draped in a crumpled piece of yellow silk and wore no ornaments. Tears flowed from her lovely eyes and sorrow seemed to be her constant companion. Her long black hair was tied in a simple braid that fell to her thighs. She was surrounded by ugly raksbasis—horrendous monsters, some with one eye or ear and some without ears, some with noses on their foreheads, some hairy and some bald, some hunchbacked and some with faces resembling goats, foxes, camels, and horses. In the midst of these, Sita looked like a frightened deer surrounded by fierce hounds. She had never known sorrow before and now she knew only sorrow. Her eyes mirrored the depths of her despair.
Hanuman thought to himself, “This indeed must be Sita. Neither the lack of ornaments nor the fact that she is clothed in rags and is frail and emaciated can hide her astonishing beauty. She is as lovely as Rama described—exquisite eyebrows; graceful, rounded breasts; lips as red as the bimba berry; peacock blue throat; slender waist; lotus petal eyes—all these can be seen through her screen of sorrow.”
She sat on the bare ground like a female ascetic, bound in a net of grief, the picture of shattered hope. The ornaments Rama had described were hanging on the branches of the tree. Though parted cruelly from her husband, her mind was full of him alone. Her lips were constantly murmuring “Rama, Rama.” This was indeed the woman for whom Rama had been pining. Hanuman could see that she belonged only to Rama—body, mind, and soul.
“She is meant only for Rama, and he for her. Their love for each other is so great that it is only because of it that they have managed to remain alive.” Hanuman prostrated mentally to Rama and told him, “Lord, I have found her.”
Hanuman was overcome with sorrow at the sight of the princess of Videha who was parted so cruelly from her husband. “Fate is indeed all powerful,” he thought to himself, “or else why should this innocent woman have to suffer like this? She was protected by no less a personage than her illustrious husband and Lakshmana. Her husband killed thousands of rakshasas at Janasthana for her sake, because Shurpanekha was threatening her, and now she is the captive of Ravana, surrounded by dreadful women, with no privacy even to weep. She has no eyes for this beautiful garden. Her eyes are with her heart and her heart is with Rama.”
The night was almost gone. With the break of day, he could hear the chanting of the Vedas being recited by the bards to awaken the demon king. Drums were booming and lutes playing to welcome the dawn. Ravana awoke and his first thought was for Sita. He had never met with such resistance from any woman in all his life, and he certainly had a lot of experience with females of every type. Her resistance had only served to whet his appetite. It was a challenge to him, and he was determined to make the citadel fall at all costs. He was sure that no woman could resist him for long and that it would be only be a matter of time before she succumbed, as had so many others.
Ravana strode toward the grove of ashoka trees. One hundred beautiful ladies holding chowrie fans and golden lamps followed him. They were madly in love with Ravana, and though they were still sleepy with the wine they had imbibed the previous night, they were curious to get a glimpse of Sita and her interaction with Ravana. Hanuman watched him carefully from the top of the tree. He had only seen Ravana asleep; awake, he looked even more magnificent.
Hearing the tread of his feet as he approached, Sita trembled in terror and grief. She loathed the very sight of him but tried to present a brave front. She sat on the bare ground looking like the felled branch of a flowering tree. Crossing her arms across her chest, she tried to cover her scantily clad body with her two hands and thus avoid his piercing, lusty looks.
Looking at her pitiable efforts to cover herself, Ravana said, “Why do you try to hide your beauty from my eyes? Wherever my eyes fall I see nothing but your beauty. I am sure there is no one in all the three worlds as exquisite as you. Honor my love and accept me as your husband. You think my action is unrighteous, but in the code of the rakshasas, it is quite acceptable to take another man’s wife for one’s own. Do you think I cannot force you to be mine? It is only my intense lo
ve for you that stops me from doing this. I want you to come to me of your own accord. Why are you torturing yourself like this? Your lovely hair is matted with neglect, your silk garment soiled and dirty, and you are half-starved and emaciated. Come, arise and dress yourself in lovely silks and satins. Wear jewels and perfumes. This ground is not a fitting resting place for your flaming beauty. My seductive Sita, why do not you listen to me and accept my attentions? Youth and beauty are short-lived. Do not waste both in unnecessary sorrow. Come shed your grief and accept my love. I will make you the happiest woman in the world, my chief queen. I cannot bear to take my eyes off your tantalizing form. Night and day I am haunted by your face. Can’t you see that I am crazy with love for you? After having met you I cannot bear to look at my other wives. Your dress is in rags and you have no ornaments, yet you continue to fascinate me. You have seen me and my glory. What has Rama got to compare with this? He is only a mendicant, clad in bark, with not even a kingdom to call his own. Take it from me that you will never see him again.”
From the moment he’d entered the garden, Sita had cast her eyes down and sat with averted face throughout his passionate declaration of love. Though she was terrified of Ravana and tortured by his sensual talk, she clutched at the remnants of her tattered pride. Without raising her eyes she picked up a straw from the ground and placed it before her and spoke to it as if addressing Ravana, no doubt with the idea of impressing on him the fact that she didn’t care a straw for him, however grand his opinion of himself might be.
“I am the wife of Rama, and it is against all the laws of dharma for you to lust after me. Give up these sinful thoughts and go back to your own wives. Be satisfied with them. I am not the one for you.” Turning her back on Ravana she continued, “Why are you bent on destroying your race? An entire kingdom can perish if its ruler becomes the slave of his passions. Lanka is doomed. Do you think you can tempt me with gold and riches? Rama is to me what sunlight is to the sun. Restore me to him and earn my gratitude, if that will suffice, but never hope to earn my love, for that is irrevocably given to Rama. Before long, he and Lakshmana will arrive and shoot their deadly arrows at you, which will suck your life’s blood. So beware!”
Ravana retorted, “You are different from any other woman I have ever known. Most women respond to compliments and gifts, but the more I offer you, the more you repel me. It is lucky for you that my love controls my anger or else you would have been killed long ago. But do not think you can escape so easily. You have only two months left of the twelve I promised you. After that either you share my bed or become my breakfast! Bed or breakfast, the choice is yours.” So saying, he glared at her. His angry eyes sparked with green and blue flames and pierced the thin piece of silk in which she was clad. She trembled with rage and fear and spoke bitter words of condemnation to him.
“How dare you talk to me like this! I have warned you. Your death is imminent. You call yourself a hero because you defeated the gods. Yet you stole me by force from my husband when he was not there. Is that the act of a hero?”
A few of the women who had followed Ravana felt sorry for Sita but none dared say anything. Some took the opportunity to ingratiate themselves in Ravana’s favor and entwined their soft arms round his neck, offering themselves in lieu of Sita. But he shook them off angrily and told the rakshasis guarding her to make sure that she changed her mind quickly, by either persuasion or coercion. With this ultimatum he strode off, making the ground tremble with the force of his strides.
As soon as he left, the guards started shouting and abusing Sita. “What a stupid woman you are, to refuse to be the wife of this king of kings! At his command the trees scatter flowers and clouds release rain. The sun and moon would stop shining if he did not wish it. Why don’t you agree to his wishes and become his wife?”
Another said, “You are very lovely. I have an irresistible desire to feast on your luscious breasts, berrylike lips, and delicious liver and spleen. Come let us have an orgy. Bring the wine and we will chop her into little bits and eat her.”
All the pent up feelings she had repressed before Ravana now broke loose, and Sita burst into heartrending sobs, as if her own heart would break. Leaning on the trunk of the tree on which Hanuman sat, she cried out, “O Rama! Rama! Where are you? Why don’t you come? I realize now that death will not approach someone until the appointed time has come, or else how can I continue to live in the midst of these cruel rakshasis, in the palace of this lecherous man, parted from my beloved Rama?”
Hanuman could not bear to see her grief but dared not go to her. Then one of the rakshasis called Trigata, who was wiser than the rest, told the others to be quiet and stop tormenting Sita, for she’d had a dream in which Rama and Sita were dressed in white riding victoriously on an elephant, while Ravana was defeated and dressed in black with shaven head.
Sita, in the meantime, had shed so many tears that she had none left. Heartbroken and lonely, she felt she had reached the end of her endurance and determined to end her life. As she leaned on the trunk of the tree, her left eye and shoulder started to throb, which was a good omen for women. She was surprised. Was there some truth in what the woman was saying? Was her Rama coming for her?
Hanuman at this time was wondering how he could approach her without frightening her. Surrounded as she was by these hostile c reatures, she was sure to mistrust everyone. “If I jump down in front of her she will surely scream, which will alert the rakshasis and foil my plan.” Then he hit upon a bright idea. Since her mind was always full of Rama, he would start by extolling him and then perhaps she would trust him. Without revealing himself he spoke from his hiding place in the tree under which she was leaning.
Suddenly Sita heard these sweet words coming from above: “There was once a king called Dasaratha, who was famous for his prowess. He had four sons, of whom Rama was the eldest. He is the noblest of all men. He went to the Dandaka forest with his wife and brother. One day when the brothers were away, Ravana entered the hermitage and stole his wife, Sita. Rama was heartbroken and wandered all over the country, looking for her. At last he made friends with the monkey king, who promised to help him find her. The monkeys were sent in all directions to search for her. I am one of them and I have come here because I have found the person who was described to me by Rama as being graceful, charming, and beautiful.” So saying, he fell silent.
Sita was filled with wonder and hope when she heard this. Brushing her disheveled hair aside, she looked up into the tree and tried to discover who was responsible for bringing this ray of hope into her despondent heart. The thick foliage hid him from her sight. Her eyes roved in all directions but she could not locate him. Meanwhile the rakshasis had given up their efforts to persuade her. Some had gone to tell Ravana and the rest were snoring under the trees.
Hanuman jumped lightly down to a branch where he was now visible, and at last her anxious eyes spied him—the messenger of Rama, the harbinger of hope and happiness. She saw a small monkey clinging to the branch of the tree. He was small and cute with white fur and red face, and his eyes were the color of liquid gold. He was seated humbly on the branch and looked harmless. Still, she had her doubts. She had been cheated and tormented so many times in the past few months that she was always suspicious of everything and everyone, in case it was some new ploy of Ravana’s. Then she decided that it was all a figment of her imagination and started to call agitatedly for Rama and Lakshmana. Hanuman guessed what was going on in her mind and decided that it was high time for him to appear before her. He jumped down lightly from the branch and prostrated before her. He held his folded palms above his head in a gesture of worship and began speaking in a soft tone.
“O fair lady, tell me who you are. I see you wearing soiled garments but you look like a princess. Like dewdrops on a lotus petal, tears cling to your eyes. Why are you alone here and what is the cause of your sorrow? If by some great good fortune you are that Sita, wife of the noble Rama, who was forcibly brought here by Ravana, then plea
se listen to me carefully. You indeed seem to be Rama’s queen. Your beauty has no parallel. Tell me truthfully, are you not Sita?”
