The Ramayana

by Valmiki

  ‘You cannot tempt me with wealth and power. I belong to Rāma the way the rays belong to the sun. I have lain in the arms of the lord of the worlds! How can I lie in the arms of another, whoever he may be? I am Rāma’s, just as the Vedas belong to the brahmin who has studied them and taken the right vows.

  ‘Do the right thing and give me back to Rāma! Make friends with Rāma if you wish to keep your position and avoid a horrible death! If you don’t, you shall soon hear the sound of Rāma’s mighty bow that resounds like Indra’s thunderbolt! Arrows that blaze like serpents and carry the insignia of Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa shall rain upon this place!

  ‘My husband will rescue me from here! When you could not retaliate for the massacre at Janasthāna, you did this lowly thing. You abducted me from our isolated forest settlement while the princes were away. If you had even smelled the presence of Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, you would have hidden yourself, like a dog hides from tigers! My husband and Lakṣmaṇa will kill you the way the sun sucks up moisture!’

  ‘The more a man tries to please a woman, the more he falls into her power!’ replied Rāvaṇa harshly. ‘The more he speaks sweetly, the more she insults him! My love for you makes me hold back my anger, as a good charioteer reins in his horses that have gone off the road. Love is a terrible bind! A man cannot act against the wishes of the woman that he desires. That is the only reason I do not punish you Sītā, even though you deserve disgrace for being attached to a fake! You deserve a horrible death for all the harsh things you have said to me, Sītā!

  ‘I shall respect the two-month period I gave you earlier,’ he continued angrily. ‘But after that, lovely woman, you shall have to share my bed! If you do not take me as a husband at the end of two months, you shall be slaughtered in my kitchens for my breakfast!’

  The daughters of the gods and the gandharvas who had accompanied Rāvaṇa felt sorry for Sītā as Rāvaṇa bullied and threatened her. They gestured with their eyes and lips and tried to comfort her and express their sympathy, and Sītā was somewhat reassured.

  ‘Obviously, there is no one here who cares enough about you to dissuade you from this disgraceful course of action,’ she said spiritedly. ‘Who in the three worlds, other than you, would dare to covet me? I am wedded to Rāma as Saci is to Indra. Now that you have spoken these terrible words to Rāma’s wife, where will you run to, to hide from his power?

  ‘Your ugly yellow eyes should fall out of your head as you stare at me so lustfully. Your tongue should rot for speaking to me, the wife of righteous Rāma and the daughter-in-law of the honourable Daśaratha, like this! The only reason I do not reduce you to ashes, Rāvaṇa, is because I want to preserve my ascetic vows and because Rāma has not ordered me to do so.’

  Rāvaṇa’s eyes dilated with anger when he heard Sītā’s words. He was as large as a dark rain cloud and his arms and neck were enormous and strong. He walked with the gait of a lion and his eyes and tongue were a fiery red. His flower garlands and clothes were the colour of blood, his ornaments were of beaten gold and his crown added to his height. He wore a golden belt around his waist that made him appear like Mount Meru circled by the serpent when the ocean was being churned.

  Staring at Sītā, he hissed like an angry snake. ‘You are stuck on a man who is unrighteous, whom even fortune has deserted! I can destroy you right now.’ Rāvaṇa, who made his enemies wail with fright, turned to the fearsome rākṣasīs and said, ‘Do whatever is necessary to make Sītā submit to my will! Threaten her, cajole her, bribe her, make her suspicious of her friends, use force, do anything you like to make her think positively about me!’

  The rākṣasī Dhanyamālinī quickly came up to Rāvaṇa. She embraced him and said, ‘Come, play with me, my king! Why are you so interested in’ this Sītā? A man who desires a woman who does not love him burns within his body, but the one who is attracted to a woman who loves him can be fully satisfied!’ Rāvaṇa was easily diverted and went back to his palace which was as bright as the sun. All the women, the daughters of the gods and the gandharvas and nāgas, followed him into his splendid mansion.

  Chapter Five

  Then the ugly rākṣasīs gathered closely around Sītā and began to torment her with their harsh words.

  ‘Why are you so averse to living in Rāvaṇa’s inner apartments, Sītā? They are so beautiful and they have fine soft beds!’

  ‘You are only a mortal woman and yet, you think so highly of yourself! Banish Rāma from your mind. You shall never be his wife again! You yearn for that feeble mortal, but he has lost his kingdom. He is weak and vulnerable and will never achieve his ends!’

  Sītā’s lotus eyes filled with tears. ‘This terrible thing you ask me to do is not even an option for me! No mortal can ever be the wife of a rākṣasa! Eat me up if that’s what you want, but I will never do what you ask! So what if my husband is weak and helpless and without a kingdom! He is still my lord!’

  Sitting hidden in the śimśapa tree, the monkey listened to the rākṣasīs harassing and threatening Sītā as Rāvaṇa had ordered. They licked their fiery lips as they surrounded the trembling woman and brandishing their weapons, they shouted, ‘This woman does not deserve to marry the king of the rākṣasas!’

  Terrified by the rākṣasīs, lovely Sītā came and sat at the foot of the śimśapa tree and dried her tears. But the loathsome creatures followed her even though she was overwhelmed by her grief, thin and emaciated in her soiled garment. A particularly frightening rākṣasī, Vinatā, with a huge protruding belly, her face distorted with anger, shouted, ‘You have displayed more than enough loyalty to your husband, Sītā! An excess of anything leads only to grief! You have done all you can to abide by the rules of conduct for mortals. Now do as I tell you!

  ‘Take Rāvaṇa, the king of the rākṣasas as your husband! He is as brave and as handsome as Indra, the king of the gods! Renounce that pathetic creature Rāma and turn to Rāvaṇa for refuge. He is strong and capable and everyone loves him! Anoint your body with fine unguents! Adorn yourself with celestial ornaments and become the queen of the worlds! If you ignore our words, we shall eat you in a short while!’

  Another rākṣasī named Vikaṭā, with huge breasts, clenched her fists and roared, ‘We have borne your harsh words out of kindness and gentleness, Sītā! But you still ignore our advice which is appropriate for the situation and meant for your benefit! You have been brought here to the far shore of the ocean and you are secluded in the inner apartments of Rāvaṇa’s palace, zealously guarded by us! Not even Indra can rescue you from here!

  ‘Listen to us, Sītā! Dry your tears and stop this grieving! Laugh! Rejoice! Enjoy yourself with the king of the rākṣasas! You know how short-lived a woman’s youth is, take your pleasures before it passes! Wander through wooded hills and pleasure gardens with Rāvaṇa. When you take Rāvaṇa as a husband, seven thousand women will be at your service! But if you don’t listen, I will pull out your heart and eat it!’

  The rākṣasī Caṇḍodari with a horrible face, brandished an enormous spear and said, ‘Ever since this lotus-eyed woman with the heaving breasts was brought here by Rāvaṇa, I have been seized with a terrible yearning to devour her liver and spleen and all her entrails!’

  ‘Let’s strangle her!’ said Praghasā. ‘What are we waiting for? We can tell the king she is dead and I am sure he will give us permission to eat her!’

  ‘We can make balls of her flesh,’ said Ayomukhī, ‘and divide them amongst ourselves! Enough talk! Let us fetch other things to eat and drink!’

  ‘I agree,’ said Śūrpanakhā. ‘Bring the drink that erases all suffering and sorrow. Today, we can eat human flesh and dance all night!’

  Sītā began to weep as the rākṣasīs continued their threats. She trembled like a doe in the forest surrounded by lions and could see no end to her misery. She clung to a branch and, her heart breaking, she thought of Rāma as her tears bathed her breasts. Pale with fear, she shook like a slender banana plant in high wi
nd and fell to the ground, her long black braid writhing like a serpent as she trembled.

  ‘Oh Rāma!’ she cried. ‘Ah Lakṣmaṇa! Oh mother-in-law Kausalyā! Oh Sumitrā! Wise men say that death can never come before its time. This must surely be true! Otherwise, how could I live for a moment without Rāma, tormented by these rākṣasīs! What terrible thing did I do in my previous life that I should suffer like this now? I cannot bear this sorrow any more. I shall kill myself. There is no hope of my ever seeing Rāma again as long as I am guarded by these creatures! I curse this mortal weakness that makes us dependent on others! One cannot even die when one wants!’

  The rākṣasīs were angry when they heard Sītā talking like this. Some of them went off to report her words to Rāvaṇa and the others gathered around and renewed their threats.

  An old rākṣasī named Trijaṭā had just woken up and she watched as the others harassed Sītā. ‘Eat your own flesh, you vile creatures!’ she said. ‘You cannot eat Sītā. She is Janaka’s daughter and the daughter-in-law of Daśaratha. I had a terrible dream about the destruction of the rākṣasas and the power of her husband. It made my hair stand on end!’

  The other rākṣasīs asked her to tell them what she had seen and Trijaṭā began to recount the dream she had had just before dawn.

  ‘I saw Rāma decorated with flowers in an ivory chariot drawn by a thousand horses standing in the sky. In my dream, I saw Sītā dressed in white and standing on a white mountain which was surrounded by the sea on all sides. She was united with Rāma like the rays are with the sun. Then I saw Rāma with Lakṣmaṇa, mounted on a four-tusked elephant which was the size of a mountain. They were dressed in dazzling white and, blazing with their own splendour, they stood with Sītā. She climbed onto the elephant which was standing in the sky and as she rose from her husband’s lap, she stroked the sun and the moon with her hands. The elephant came and stood over Lankā and then they were all in a white chariot that was yoked with eight white bulls.

  ‘I saw Rāvaṇa fall from Puṣpaka onto the ground. Then I saw him, dressed all in black, being dragged by a woman. I saw him again with a garland of red flowers in a chariot drawn by donkeys. He was travelling through mud and going south. I saw a black-skinned woman dressed in red, smeared with mud and dirt, dragging him south by a chord around his neck. Then Rāvaṇa was riding a boar, Indrajit was on a crocodile, Kumbhakarṇa was on a camel and they were all heading south.

  ‘I saw this beautiful city of Lankā with all its horses and chariots and all the rākṣasas wearing red clothes and garlands, drinking and dancing to music. I saw the city plunge into the sea, its huge gates toppled. All the rākṣasa women were drunk on oil. Laughing and dancing and making a huge noise, they all came to Lankā which was only a heap of ashes. Kumbhakarṇa and the other rākṣasa leaders jumped into a pit of dung.

  ‘Run from here! Hide yourselves! Rāma will get Sītā back and in his rage, he will kill all the rākṣasas as well as all of you! He will not forgive you for tormenting his beloved wife who followed him into the forest! Stop your cruel speeches. Make friends with Sītā. I think the best thing for us to do is to plead with her. When you have a dream like this about a grieving woman it means that her sorrows are at an end. Beg for Sītā’s forgiveness! There is no doubt that it is Rāma who presents the greatest danger to the rākṣasas. Sītā is the only one who can save us now. She will be gracious and forgive us for tormenting her!’

  Meanwhile, Sītā was still considering the options before her. ‘Clearly, death cannot come before it’s time!’ she wept. ‘I have been deprived of happiness and I am inundated with sorrow. My heart must be hard indeed, that it does not shatter into a thousand pieces, like a mountain struck by a thunderbolt.

  ‘It would not be wrong to kill myself since I am going to die at the hands of this odious creature in any case. I can no more accept him than a brahmin can teach the Vedas to someone who is not twice-born! I feel sure Rávaṇa will cut me up into little pieces before Rāma gets here. The two months he has given me to make my decision shall pass quickly, like the night before an execution passes for a prisoner condemned to death.

  ‘Ah Rāma! Lakṣmaṇa! Sumitrā! Mother of Rāma who is like my own! I shall be destroyed like a boat upon the stormy seas! I am sure those two valiant princes were killed by that vile creature disguised as a deer, like lions or bulls struck by lightning! Ah Rāma! You have a face like the full moon, you are true to your vows, devoted to all creatures and loved by all! But you have no idea that I am going to be killed by the rākṣasas.

  ‘I have suffered much for you, even slept on the ground to uphold my ascetic vows. But all my fidelity has brought me nothing, like a favour done to an ungrateful man! My adherence to dharma and to my marital vows has been in vain, for I lie here pale and emaciated without you, Rāma! And I have no hope of seeing you again. When you comply with your father’s wishes and complete your forest exile, you will return to your wide-eyed women, free from fear and with your aims accomplished. I have loved you for long, Rāma, and now I am ready to give up my life. I would be happy to die quickly, by poison or with a sharp weapon. But there is no one here who will give me any of these things!’

  Sītā grabbed her dark braid. ‘I will hang myself by my own hair and go straight to death’s abode!’ she cried and trembling with fear, she went up to a huge tree that was covered with flowers.

  Suddenly, Sītā noticed a flood of auspicious omens which indicated a change in her fortunes. Her beautiful left eye with its long curving lashes twitched like a lotus blossom disturbed by a fish. Her plump and rounded left arm, which was worthy of the finest ointments and had been caressed by her incomparable lover, quivered. Her left thigh, as graceful as an elephant’s trunk, shook and rubbed against her right thigh, suggesting that Rāma was close by. As she stood there, her clothes of yellow silk suddenly seemed to hang loose on her body. Her fears vanished and her burden of sorrow appeared to have lightened. Fortified by her new-found joy, Sītā’s face was as radiant as the moon rising during the bright lunar fortnight.

  Chapter Six

  Meanwhile, the mighty Hanumān had heard all that Sītā and Trijaṭā had said and had listened to the derision of the rākṣasīs. As he watched that beautiful woman, lovely enough to have come from the garden of the gods, many thoughts ran through his mind.

  ‘I have found the one for whom hundreds of millions of monkeys have been searching! I have also secretly found out about the strength of the enemy, the fortifications of Lankā and Rāvaṇa’s power. But Rāma instructed me specifically to reassure his wife who longs to see him. I must console this lovely woman. She has no experience of suffering and now she sees no end to her woes.

  ‘It will be a mistake to leave here without comforting her in some way. If I leave, this splendid princess will kill herself because she sees no sign of deliverance. And Rāma, too, deserves some reassurance from me.

  ‘But how can I speak to her in front of all these rākṣasīs? Yet, if I do not, she will end her life before the night is over. If I do not speak to her, what will I say to Rāma when he asks me what she said? If I leave Sītā without any message, Rāma will be extremely angry and will consume me with his fiery eyes. Now that I have actually reached here, I find myself among rākṣasas. Despite that, I must reassure this lovely woman.

  ‘I am very large, especially for a monkey. I shall speak to this refined and cultured woman in Sanskrit. But if I speak Sanskrit like a brahmin, Sītā will be terribly frightened. She will think that I am Rāvaṇa! And yet, I must speak to her meaningfully in a human language. How else could I possibly reassure this virtuous woman?

  ‘But when she sees my shape and size and hears me speak, this poor woman who is already so terrified by the rākṣasīs, will be even more frightened. She will take me to be Rāvaṇa who can change his shape at will and she will cry out in fear. And when she does that, these fearsome rākṣasīs who resemble death, will gather around her with their awful weapons. The
se deformed creatures will surround me and try to kill me or capture me. But when they see me leaping from branch to branch in my gigantic form, they, too, shall be frightened. And then they will call for the rākṣasas who guard Rāvaṇa’s palace. They will come here armed with their weapons and rush into battle. When I have destroyed these rākṣasas in my anger, I will not be able to reach the far shore of the ocean again. The rākṣasas will fall upon me and capture me and I will become a prisoner without having accomplished my purpose.

  ‘Rākṣasas are accustomed to violence and they may harm Sītā. Then Rāma and Sugrīva’s plans will be fruitless. Sītā is guarded by rākṣasas in this secret place surrounded by the ocean which has no approach paths. Even if I am killed or captured, I can see no other way of accomplishing Rāma’s purpose. Now that I think about it, I see that there is no other monkey capable of leaping over these hundred yojanās when I am dead. I can kill thousands of rākṣasas, but then I shall not have the strength to leap back over the ocean.

  ‘The outcomes of battles are never certain and uncertainty makes me uncomfortable. Which wise man would do something of which he is unsure, as if success were guaranteed? Talking to Sītā might turn out to be a mistake, but if I do not speak, she will definitely kill herself. Obstacles of time and place as well as a confused messenger destroy goals and purposes just as surely as the sunrise destroys the darkness. Even a resolute intelligence cannot always distinguish between advantage and disadvantage. And messengers who assume themselves to be wise often destroy everything. How can the success of this enterprise be ensured? How can confusion be eliminated? How can my leap over the ocean not be in vain? How can my words not cause Sītā fear?’

  Hanumān went over all these ideas in his mind and finally came to a decision. ‘Sītā will not be frightened if I praise Rāma’s flawless deeds! Her mind is on her beloved and so if I present Rāma’s righteous and auspicious words in a sweet and gentle voice, she will have faith in me!’