The Ramayana

by Valmiki

  Even though Mārīca’s advice was simple, Rāvaṇa would not listen to him. He dismissed his words the way a man who wishes to die refuses all medication.

  ‘My dear Mārīca, your words are as useless as seeds sown in the sand,’ retorted Rāvaṇa rudely, impelled by his fate. ‘Your words will not stop me from facing Rāma in combat. He is stupid and wicked and, above all, he is a mere mortal! He gave up his kingdom, his friends and his family and fled into the forest to honour the words of a low and vulgar woman.

  ‘I swear before you that I will abduct Sītā, the wife of the man who killed Khara in battle! I have made up my mind and even the gods, led by Indra, cannot persuade me otherwise!

  ‘Had I asked you about the merits of my plans, you might have had the right to speak like this. But I never asked you that. All I asked is that you help me carry them out! Turn yourself into a wondrous golden deer with silver spots and Sītā will definitely want to possess you. She will be enthralled by the deer and will ask Rāma to capture it for her. And when Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa are out of the way, I shall carry her off swiftly, the way Indra carried off Saci.

  ‘You can do exactly as you please after you have done what I ask. I shall give you half my kingdom, resolute rākṣasa! I shall take you to Lankā with me once my task has been accomplished. You must do this for me, even if I have to force you! The man who opposes his king never comes to a good end. You may have survived Rāma but you will not survive me if you oppose my wishes! Consider this and then do what you think best!’

  ‘Ah Rāvaṇa! Who is the wicked person who has advised you to do this foolish thing? It will lead to the destruction of you, your sons, your kingdom and all your people!’ cried Mārīca. ‘Who does not wish to see you happy? Who wants you at death’s door? Rāma will kill you shortly after he has killed me! I am going to die in either case. But if you abduct Sītā, you can be sure that you, too, shall soon be dead!’

  Chapter Five

  Despite his better judgment, Mārīca decided to go with Rāvaṇa because he feared the king of the rākṣasas. Feeling terrible, he sighed, ‘Let us go, then! The weapon that Rāma raises when he sees me will be the instrument of my death! Now that you are so determined to go through with your plans, there is nothing more I can do. Let us go, my child, and may good luck go with you!’

  Rāvaṇa was delighted with Mārīca’s decision. ‘These brave words could just as easily have been spoken by me!’ he said as he embraced Mārīca warmly. ‘Now you sound like Mārīca! You must have been someone else when you were speaking earlier! Come with me! Climb into my flying chariot which is made of gold and is drawn by piśācā faced donkeys!’

  Rāvaṇa and Mārīca flew over towns and forests, mountains and rivers, kingdoms and cities. When they reached the Daṇḍaka forest, Rāvaṇa spotted Rāma’s settlement and they dismounted. Taking Mārīca by the hand, Rāvaṇa said, ‘Look, you can see Rāma’s hut circled by banana trees. Go quickly, my friend, and put our plan into action!’

  Mārīca transformed himself into a magnificent deer in an instant and began to graze at the entrance to Rāma’s settlement. His horns were tipped with emerald and his face had black and white streaks. One side of his face was as beautiful as the red lotus, the other was like the blue lily. One of his ears was blue, the other a rich green. His neck was gracefully arched and his belly gleamed softly like the moon. His body was the colour of the mahua flower and his hooves were lapis lazuli. Slim and strong, the deer’s tail shone with the colours of the rainbow and his entire body seemed to be studded with jewels. The rākṣasa lit up the woods at the entrance to the settlement with the splendour of the magical form that he had taken on.

  The many-coloured deer wandered around so that Sītā would see him. His shining spots caught the eye as he grazed on the new shoots and grasses. He went over to the banana trees and browsed among the house flowers, lingering in the places where Sītā would see him. The magnificent deer, shining with his lotus hues, wandered lazily in the vicinity of the hut. Sometimes, he would walk away and then come back, or rush off as if he were in a great hurry and return yet again. He joined a herd of deer at the entrance to the settlement and after frolicking there awhile, he returned and lay on the ground, trying to attract Sītā’s attention.

  The deer leapt into the air, twirled and landed back on the ground. All the other forest animals came to see him, but when they got close, they fled in all directions. The rākṣasa, who normally enjoyed killing these animals, did not attack them in order to preserve his disguise. He contented himself with merely touching them.

  At that very moment, the large-eyed Sītā appeared and strolled among the flowering trees and bushes. That beautiful woman who did not deserve to live in the forest, suddenly noticed the magnificent, jewelled deer. Her eyes wide with wonder, she gazed at the exquisite creature with the shimmering body and sparkling pearly teeth. When the deer saw Rāma’s beloved, he strutted up and down, lighting up the forest with his brilliance. Sītā was totally wonderstruck by the deer, the likes of which she had never seen before.

  Beautiful Sītā, her own skin glowing like gold, watched the glittering deer as she gathered her flowers. He seemed to be golden on one side and silver on the other. She called out delightedly to her husband and to mighty Lakṣmaṇa. They looked over in her direction and they, too, saw the deer.

  Lakṣmaṇa was immediately suspicious. ‘I am sure that deer is the rākṣasa Mārīca!’ he said to Rāma. ‘Vile Mārīca can take any form he chooses. He has killed many kings while they were hunting in the forest. A jewelled deer like this simply cannot exist anywhere in the world. This has to be some trick!’

  But the sweetly smiling Sītā would not allow Lakṣmaṇa to speak any further. She had been completely deceived. ‘Noble one, this deer has captivated my mind,’ she said to Rāma happily. ‘Bring him to me, great hero! He can be our pet! All kinds of animals come to our hut but I have never seen a deer like this! He lights up the whole area with his splendour!

  ‘If you can capture this deer alive, he will be the source of great wonder and amazement. When our exile is over and we return again to Ayodhyā, this wondrous deer can adorn our private apartments. He will delight Bharata and my mothers-in-law as well as you and me! I will be happy even with his skin if you can’t get him alive. I would love to sit with you on the golden skin of this deer when he is dead.

  ‘I know it is inappropriate for a woman to speak cruelly like this out of greed, but the deer’s magnificent body has me completely enthralled!’

  Rāma, too, was captivated by the golden creature with the jewelled horns that seemed to shine like the sun or like a galaxy of stars. He listened to Sītā’s words and watched the deer with delight. ‘Look Lakṣmaṇa,’ he said, ‘this deer has captured Sītā’s imagination. It is so beautiful that it may not actually be a deer. Nowhere in this forest or on earth, nor even in Nandana or Caitraratha, can there be a deer to match this one! Look at his exquisite fur with those shining spots! His tongue is like the flame from a fire. He yawns like lightning from a cloud! Who could resist an animal like this with its emerald face and pearly belly?

  ‘Beautiful Sītā shall sit with me on the jewelled skin of this incredible deer! I cannot imagine that the fur of any other animal could be as soft as this one’s!

  ‘And if, as you suggest Lakṣmaṇa, this deer is the creation of sorcery and magic, that it is really a rākṣasa, then it is my duty to kill it! Wicked, ruthless Mārīca has killed many sages in the past in this very forest. He has killed kings, too, by appearing suddenly during the hunt. For that, too, the deer deserves to die!

  ‘I am always self-controlled and I cleave to dharma. This rākṣasa will die because he has challenged me. Look after Sītā, Lakṣmaṇa, and be prepared for any emergency! Protecting Sītā is our most important duty. I shall return after I have either captured this deer or killed it. Sītā longs for this deerskin, but look after her while I am gone! This deer shall die today because of its
skin! Stay here in the settlement and be on your guard!

  ‘I shall kill the deer with a single arrow and return as soon as I can. Be careful until then!’

  Mighty Rāma girt his gold-hilted sword, picked up his bow, strapped on his quivers and left quickly. The deer hid in fright when he saw Rāma coming and then showed himself again. Rāma ran to where he thought he had seen the deer. Visible one moment and invisible the next, the deer ran deep into the forest, seeming to look back every now and then at the man armed with the bow.

  The deer leapt into the air in apparent confusion, appeared for a little while, and then disappeared into the trees as the autumn moon disappears behind the clouds. For one instant, he seemed to be close but the very next moment, he seemed far away. Darting in and out of view, the deer made Rāma angry. But he stayed focused and did not give up the chase.

  Rāma grew tired and sat under a tree to rest. He saw the deer close by, surrounded by a group of forest animals. Rāma decided to kill him at that very moment and he fitted an arrow into his bow. He loosed the flaming arrow which hissed through the air like a serpent, as would Brahmā’s special weapon. The arrow tore through the deer’s body and pierced Mārīca’s heart. Mārīca let out an awful scream and leapt into the air. He fell to the ground with barely a breath in his body. At the moment of his death, Mārīca gave up his artificial form.

  Mārīca knew that the moment had arrived and in a voice exactly like Rāma’s, he cried out, ‘Oh Sītā! Oh Lakṣmaṇa!’ He renounced the deer’s body and appeared as he really was. His body was as large as a mountain and he had enormous teeth. Wearing all his ornaments and jewels, Mārīca breathed his last.

  Rāma looked at the fierce rākṣasa lying on the ground and remembered what Lakṣmaṇa had said. His thoughts went immediately to Sītā. ‘The rākṣasa cried “Oh Sītā! Oh Lakṣmaṇa” as he was dying. What will Sītā think when she hears that? And what kind of state will mighty Lakṣmaṇa be in?’ thought Rāma and shuddered. He felt sure that something terrible was about to happen and fear clutched at his heart. He killed another deer and hurried back to Janasthāna with its meat.

  Sītā heard the piteous cry which sounded just like her husband. ‘That sounded like someone in trouble! My mind and heart are uneasy! Go quickly into the forest! Your brother is in trouble! He has fallen into the hands of the rākṣasas like a bull among lions!’

  ‘I will not go,’ said Lakṣmaṇa who was bound by his brother’s instructions.

  ‘You pretend to be your brother’s friend, Lakṣmaṇa,’ cried Sītā angrily, ‘but you are really his enemy! You do not go to help him when he is in trouble! You wish him dead because of me! You rejoice in his misfortune! You have no love for your brother. That is why you stand around here without a care in the world, even though Rāma is nowhere to be seen! What are you doing here, when the one for whose sake you came here is in danger?’ Sītā burst into tears like a frightened doe.

  Lakṣmaṇa tried to reassure her. ‘Dear lady, there is not a single creature who can defeat Rāma in combat. Everyone knows that, for he is Indra’s equal. You should not speak to me like this. I cannot leave you alone in the forest without Rāma! Even if the kings of the three worlds and all the gods and all their armies were to attack Rāma, they could not defeat him.

  ‘Don’t panic. Be calm. Your husband will be back very soon after he has killed the deer. It was not his voice we heard. It was something else. That rākṣasa can do anything with his magical powers. Rāma left you in my care, so I cannot leave you here and go away. The rākṣasas are hostile to us after the death of Khara and the massacre at Janasthāna. Those violent creatures can make all kinds of sounds in this forest. Do not be worried!’

  Sītā grew angrier and her eyes blazed. ‘Ignoble creature! Heartless wretch!’ she said harshly to honourable Lakṣmaṇa. ‘Disgrace to your family! I can only think that you talk to me like this because you are delighted that Rāma is in trouble. But I am not surprised at this kind of behaviour from a wicked kinsman! You hide your real feelings and act like a hypocrite!

  ‘You followed Rāma, who is vulnerable and without protection, into the forest only so that you could have me! But this plan, whether yours or Bharata’s, will never work! I have been loved by the golden-skinned, lotus-eyed Rāma! How can I ever settle for an ordinary man? I shall kill myself in front of you right now! I cannot bear to live on earth for a single moment without Rāma!’

  Lakṣmaṇa’s hair stood on end when he heard Sītā’s cruel words. But he controlled himself, joined his palms respectfully and said, ‘I cannot argue with you because you are like a goddess to me. But I am not surprised to hear such words from a woman, Sītā! Women are like this everywhere in the world. They are unrighteous and fickle and they breed mischief. May the gods of the forest bear witness to the fact that everything I said was just and true and that your words were harsh and unfair. Shame on you for doubting me, when I am bound by my elder brother’s instructions! But then, you have acted from the essentially corrupt nature that all women have. I am going to find Rāma. May all be well with you and may the deities of the forest protect you, large-eyed lady!’

  ‘Lakṣmaṇa, without Rāma I shall plunge into the Godāvarī or get rid of this body by hurling it upon sharp rocks! Or drink poison! Or walk into fire! But I will not touch any man other than Rāma, not even with my foot!’ wept Sītā. Upset by her tears, Lakṣmaṇa tried to console her, but Sītā would not say a word to her husband’s brother. Lakṣmaṇa joined his palms, made a slight bow and left to search for Rāma, turning back anxiously every now and then to look at Sītā.

  Chapter Six

  Lakṣmaṇa was angry at having been spoken to like that, but he was also concerned about Rāma and so he left the settlement hurriedly.

  Rāvaṇa pounced upon the moment that he had been waiting for. He appeared in front of Sītā in the form of a renunciant. He was wearing clean saffron robes, his hair was in a knot on top of his head, and he wore sandals on his feet. He carried an umbrella and a water pot and the traditional staff on his left shoulder.

  Mighty Rāvaṇa approached that woman who was alone in the forest without Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, like the oncoming darkness at twilight when neither the sun nor the moon shines. Cruel Rāvaṇa came closer to the beautiful princess, like a malignant planet moves towards the constellation Rohiṇī in the absence of the moon.

  Even the trees in Janasthāna dared not move when they saw that awful creature, and the wind died down. The fast-flowing Godāvarī slowed in fear when she saw Rāvaṇa watching Sītā with his blood-red eyes. Nearer and nearer came the rākṣasa to that lovely woman whose lips were red, whose face was like the full moon, whose eyes were like lotus petals, as she sat there in her yellow silks, weeping, under the thatch in front of her hut.

  The king of the rākṣasas was struck by the arrows of love. Muttering the Vedas, he spoke to Sītā in that lonely and deserted place. She seemed to him the most exquisite woman in the three worlds, like Śrī herself, without the lotus.

  ‘Who are you, lovely creature, with your golden skin, your yellow silk garments and your garland of lotuses as beautiful as the lotus pond itself? Your teeth are small and pearly white, your large eyes are tinged a delicate pink in the corners and your pupils are a deep black. Your hips are wide and your thighs are as strong as an elephant’s trunk. Your breasts are round and full, tilted upwards and their nipples quiver. They are firm and rest close together like the fruit of the palm tree. They are adorned with jewels and catch the eye.

  ‘You have overwhelmed me with your charming smile, your lovely teeth and your beautiful eyes, as the river in spate floods its banks. Your tiny waist can be circled with a single hand! Your breasts rise high and your hair is gorgeous. You are not a gandharvī or a kinnari or a yakṣī, for I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you on this earth.

  ‘May good fortune protect you! You should not be living here. This is the region in which fierce and cruel rākṣasas
abound! You should be living within a city, in a stately home with a perfumed garden! Dark-eyed lady, you should have the best of flowers and foods and clothes, even the very best of husbands! This place is the home of rākṣasas. What are you doing living here? There are monkeys and lions and elephants and tigers and bears and leopards and all kinds of other animals here. Aren’t you afraid of them? How can you be here alone and not be frightened?

  ‘Who are you? Who do you belong to? Where did you come from? What are you doing alone in these terrible Daṇḍaka forests which are filled with rākṣasas?’

  Thus did the black-hearted Rāvaṇa praise Sītā and she honoured him with all the respect due to a guest, for he had come to her in the form of a brahmin. ‘Seat yourself comfortably,’ she said, handing him a grass mat. ‘Here is water to wash your feet and forest produce for you to eat. I hope you enjoy it!’ Rāvaṇa gazed at the princess who treated him so respectfully, and the moment he decided that he had to carry her off, he sealed his fate.

  Meanwhile, Sītā waited anxiously for her husband who had gone off after the deer and for his brother. But though she scanned the forest, all she could see was the green of the trees and no sign of Rāma or Lakṣmaṇa.

  Sītā told Rāvaṇa all about herself in response to his questions and related the circumstances that had brought her to the forest with her husband. ‘But who are you?’ she asked. ‘What is your name and what is your clan? Tell me, brahmin, why do you wander alone in the Daṇḍaka forest?’

  ‘I am Rāvaṇa, the king of the rākṣasas!’ he said quickly to Rāma’s beautiful wife. ‘I am the one that all the worlds, the gods, the asuras and the pannagas dread! I am Rāvaṇa, Sītā, the king of the rākṣasa hordes! When I set eyes on you with your golden skin and your yellow garments, I lost all interest in my own women, even though they are the finest in all the worlds. Become my chief queen!