The Ramayana

by Valmiki

  ‘Ah, my heroic husband! Even Indra could not face you when you were angry! The ṛṣis, cāraṇas and gandharvas fled from you in terror! How could you let a mere mortal kill you in battle? You were covered in glory and had conquered the three worlds with your prowess, how could this man who wanders in the forest kill you? You could take any form you liked, you went where you pleased, how could you have fallen to the mortal Rāma? You were fully armed and fighting at the head of an enormous army. I cannot believe that Rāma was able to do this!

  ‘When your brother was killed in Janasthāna along with the other rākṣasas, I knew this was no ordinary man! And when Hanumān entered Lankā, the city that is impregnable even to the gods, we were all very worried. You would not listen when I told you not to seek enmity with Rāma. Now you reap its consequences!

  ‘How can you justify your obsession with Sītā when it has cost you your majesty, your family and your life? Misguided creature! You did wrong when you abducted Sītā who is more steadfast than Arundhatī and Rohiṇī! In your delusion, you did not see that Sītā was not superior to me, nor even equal to me in birth, in beauty and in skills! Death comes to everyone through some agent or the other. Your death came through Sītā.

  ‘Sītā will now be happy with Rāma. But I shall be alone, plunged into an ocean of grief! I have wandered through the pleasant woods of Kailāsa, Meru, Mandara and Caitraratha and the gardens of the gods with you! I have travelled with you to beautiful places and worn the finest clothes and jewels. Now I am bereft of all these pleasures.

  ‘What Vibhiṣaṇa foretold has come true. The rākṣasas have been destroyed. Your lust and anger made you do these terrible things and now the entire race of rākṣasas is without a protector. You were famed for your strength and courage and though I may not mourn for you, I feel compassion because I am a woman! You have reaped the fruits of your good and bad deeds and you have gone your own way. I weep for myself now, for I am nothing without you!

  ‘Why do you lie there as if you are asleep? Why do you not answer me when I am desolate with grief? Your iron battle club decorated with gold filigree, with which you killed so many enemies, which you prized as much as Indra prizes his thunderbolt, it lies smashed into a thousand pieces by Rāma’s arrows! Damn my heart that does not break now that you are dead!’

  ‘Send the women away,’ said Rāma to Vibhīṣaṇa, ‘and perform the last rites for your brother!’

  Vibhīṣaṇa knew dharma and was devoted to it. He also wished to please Rāma and so he thought over the matter and said, ‘I cannot perform the last rites for a creature who was so cruel, so ruthless and unrighteous, who coveted the wives of others! He may have been my brother but he was an enemy, intent on causing harm to all creatures. Even though he was older than me, Rāvaṇa does not deserve this honour! The world will say that I am heartless because of this, but when they hear about Rāvaṇa’s behaviour, they will know that I did the right thing!’

  Rāma, the best of all those who uphold dharma, was very pleased with Vibhīṣaṇa’s words and he replied, ‘I should do what makes you happy since I was victorious because of your courage. But I must also tell you what is the right thing to do. It is true that this rākṣasa’s life was full of lies and deceit and cruelty and unrighteousness. But he was also splendid, brave and strong and he had never been defeated in battle. Death ends all hostilities. We have won. Now perform the funeral rites for him. I am as interested in his welfare as I am in yours. It is fitting that you perform the last rites for Rāvaṇa. An act like this will only add to your fame.’

  Vibhīṣaṇa performed the prescribed rites for Rāvaṇa and when they were completed, he joined Rāma and the monkeys in their victory celebrations.

  The gods, gandharvas and dānavas went away, talking among themselves about the wondrous things they had seen: Rāvaṇa’s brutal death, Rāma’s skills in battle, the splendid fight put up by the monkeys, Sugrīva’s wise advice and Lakṣmaṇa’s affection and courage. Rāma honoured Mātali and dismissed the brilliant charioteer sent to him by Indra. Mātali bade Rāma farewell and took the shining chariot back to the heavens.

  Then Rāma embraced Sugrīva with great joy and after accepting honours and congratulations from the other monkeys, he went back to where the army had camped.

  ‘Vibhīṣaṇa has been devoted and loyal,’ said Rāma to the effulgent Lakṣmaṇa who stood beside him. ‘We must crown him king of Lankā without any further delay. It is my greatest wish to see Rāvaṇa’s younger brother crowned king.’ Lakṣmaṇa fetched two golden pots filled with water and anointed Vibhīṣaṇa king by Rāma’s decree in the presence of all the rākṣasas. His four rākṣasa companions were appointed ministers.

  Vibhiṣaṇa established peace within his realm and then presented himself to Rāma. The citizens brought him offerings of food, water and flowers and Vibhīṣaṇa gave them all to Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa. Rāma accepted them with a deep satisfaction because he knew that Vibhīṣaṇa had achieved his ends.

  Rāma turned to the mighty monkey Hanumān who was as large as a mountain and said, ‘Take king Vibhīṣaṇa’s permission and go with all courtesy to Rāvaṇa’s palace. Give Sitā greetings from Lakṣmaṇa, Sugrīva and myself. Tell her about my victory and Rāvaṇa’s death. Give her all the good news and bring back any message she may have for me!’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hanumān entered the city of Lankā and was honoured by all the rākṣasas. He went to Rāvaṇa’s palace and saw Sītā, pale and uncomfortable, like Rohiṇī without the moon. He bowed to her humbly and gently began to tell her all that had happened.

  ‘Rāma, the hero of the Ikṣvākus, sends you his greetings, princess, and asks about your welfare. I have good news for you. Rāma says to tell you, “It is our good fortune that you are alive and I have won the war. Calm yourself and grieve no more! Rāvaṇa has been killed and Lankā is now in my power.”

  ‘Rāma has killed his enemies and achieved his goals. Rāma has killed Rāvaṇa with Lakṣmaṇa’s advice and the help of Vibhīṣaṇa and the monkey army! Do not be confused. It is now all right for you to be in Rāvaṇa’s palace for Vibhīṣaṇa has been made king of Lankā.’

  Sītā rose in confusion. Overwhelmed with joy, she could not say a word. ‘What are you thinking?’ asked Hanumān gently. ‘Why don’t you say something?’

  In a voice that trembled with happiness, Sītā, who always trod the path of righteousness, said, ‘The news of my husband’s victory left me speechless for a moment! I cannot see anything to give you as a reward for the good news you have brought me! I cannot think of anything in the world that will equal the news you bring, not gold, not jewels, nor even lordship over the three worlds!’

  ‘Gentle lady, your sweet words are worth more to me than a heap of jewels and the kingdom of the gods!’ said Hanumān. ‘I have achieved all I wanted when I saw Rāma victorious over his enemies. But I would like to kill all these cruel and ugly rākṣasīs who used to torment you and make you unhappy! With my fists and feet and teeth, I shall bite off their ears and pull out their hair. I shall kill them by jumping up and down on their ugly, dried up faces!’

  ‘How can you be angry with women who are slaves?’ said Sītā. ‘They are under the control of the king, they do his bidding and are utterly dependent on him! All that happened to me earlier was because of things I must have done in the past. It was obviously ordained that I would have to suffer these circumstances. I want to forgive Rāvaṇa’s helpless slaves! They only harassed me because he told them to. They will not bother me now that he is dead.

  ‘The truly noble are compassionate and forgive both good and wicked people, criminals as well as those that deserve death. There is no one who has never done anything wrong! You should not even harm those who enjoy hurting others!’

  ‘You are indeed worthy of Rāma!’ said Hanumān when Sītā had finished speaking. ‘You are noble and righteous! Now, command me to return to Rāma!’

&nbs
p; ‘I want to see my husband, monkey!’ said Sītā quietly.

  ‘You will soon see Rāma whose face is like the full moon as well as his friends and well-wishers!’ cried Hanumān and returned to Rāma.

  ‘You must see Sītā!’ he said to Rāma, the best of all archers. ‘It was for her that we undertook this enterprise which has ended in success. She has been consumed by grief and her eyes have been filled with tears. She rejoiced when she heard about your victory. She knew me from before and so she trusted me and said, “I want to see my husband who has achieved his ends and Lakṣmaṇa as well!”’

  Rāma was silent for a moment and his eyes filled with tears. He sighed and looked down at the ground and then said to Hanumān, ‘Let Sītā bathe and wash her hair. Let her adorn herself with jewels and anoint her body with rare unguents. Then bring her here as soon as you can!’

  Vibhiṣaṇa went into the inner apartments and told the women to help Sītā and to tell her that her husband wished to see her after she had bathed and adorned herself. But Sītā insisted that she wanted to see her husband before she bathed. ‘You should do as your husband says,’ replied Vibhīṣaṇa. Sītā did as she was told because she was devoted to her husband who was like a god to her. She bathed and washed her hair and the young women adorned her with fine clothes and rare jewels. Vibhīṣaṇa placed Sītā in an exquisite palanquin and guarded by several rākṣasas, he took her to Rāma.

  With great delight, he honoured Rāma and announced Sītā’s arrival. Rāma seemed preoccupied and deep in thought, even though he knew that Sītā, who had spent so many months in the home of the rākṣasa had come. Joy, depression and anger flooded over him.

  Vibhiṣaṇa tried to organize and control the surging crowds that had gathered there. Men in turbans and coats, their hands rough from wielding whips, moved among the people, getting them to disperse. Monkeys, bears and rākṣasas were driven away and they retreated to a safe distance. Rāma saw that they were disappointed at being pushed along and thinking of their hurt feelings, he put a stop to Vibhīṣaṇa’s actions. His eyes blazed with anger as he said to Vibhiṣaṇa, ‘Why are you going against my wishes and treating these people so harshly? Stop it immediately! These are my people! A woman’s behaviour is what protects her modesty—not a home, nor fine clothes, nor high walls or honours such as these! Women can be seen in public in times of calamities and emergencies, in times of war, at their own weddings and at religious rituals. A war has just been fought on Sītā’s account. She faces a crisis in her life. There is nothing wrong if she is seen in public, especially in my presence! Bring Sītā here quickly, Vibhīṣaṇa! Let her see me surrounded by all my friends!’

  Vibhīṣaṇa wondered what Rāma had in mind but he quietly did as he was told. Lakṣmaṇa, Sugrīva and Hanumān were all very disturbed when they heard Rāma’s sharp words. They felt sure that he was angry with Sītā because of what he had said and because he showed no desire to see his wife.

  Deeply embarrassed and shrinking into herself, Sītā approached her husband, followed by Vibhīṣaṇa. When she found herself in the presence of such a huge crowd, she covered her face in shame and whispered, ‘Noble one!’ She gazed at her beloved husband who was like a god to her and her face lit up with love, pleasure and wonder. Her weariness and sorrow fell away the moment she saw her husband’s moon-bright face which she had not seen for so long.

  Rāma looked at Sītā standing meekly by his side and gave vent to the anger in his heart.

  ‘I have killed the enemy, my dear, and I have won you back. In doing so, I have displayed the courage expected of me. I have avenged the insult and it no longer bothers me. I have destroyed the enemy and the disgrace together. I have displayed my prowess and achieved my goals. I have kept my promises. Now I am free.

  ‘You were carried off by a restless rākṣasa while you were alone with no one to protect you. I, a mere mortal, have redressed that wrong decreed by fate. If a man cannot avenge the insults heaped upon him he is a weakling and of no use to anyone. Hanumān’s spectacular feats of leaping over the ocean and causing havoc in Lankā have not been in vain. Sugrīva’s excellent advice and the efforts of his army in battle have all borne fruit. Vibhīṣaṇa, who abandoned a worthless brother and chose to attach himself to me, has also achieved his ends.’

  Sītā’s doe-like eyes filled with tears as Rāma spoke. But the more he looked at her, the angrier Rāma became, blazing like a fire when ghee is poured upon it. He frowned and glared at Sītā, speaking to her cruelly in front of all the rākṣasas and monkeys.

  ‘I have done my duty by rescuing you from the enemy and avenging the insult to myself. You should know that this war, which was won by the heroic efforts of my friends, was not fought for your sake. I did it to vindicate my honour and to save my noble family from disgrace. I have terrible suspicions about your character and conduct. The sight of you is as painful to me as a lamp to a man with diseased eyes!

  ‘You are free to go wherever you want. The world is open to you. I have no more use for you, Sītā! How can a man born into a noble family lovingly take back a woman who has lived in the house of a strange man? I am proud of my noble lineage. How can I take you back when Rāvaṇa has touched you and when you have lived under his lustful gaze? I have regained my reputation. That was the sole motivation for rescuing you! I do not want you any more! You can go where you like!

  ‘I am saying this to you after a great deal of deliberation. Go to Lakṣmaṇa or Bharata or to anyone else who pleases you! To Sugrīva, the king of the monkeys. Or to Vibhīṣaṇa, the king of the rākṣasas! Go wherever you want! Rāvaṇa was aware of your beauty and your good looks. He cannot have kept you in his house for so long without touching you!’

  Sītā could not believe the cruel words her husband had spoken after their long separation. She, who deserved kindness and sweet words, began to weep, like a tender vine crushed by an elephant. She hung her head in shame at being spoken to like that in public. She seemed to shrink into herself, weeping at the arrow-sharp words that had pierced her heart. She wiped the tears that streamed down her face and said, choking, ‘How could you say such things to me, the kind of things a low, common man would say to his woman? I am not what you think I am, hero! I swear to this on my virtue! You judge all women by the conduct of a few. You should know better than to reject me like this!

  ‘If my body was touched by another man, it was not because I wanted it! Destiny must bear the responsibility for that. My heart, the only thing I could control, was always with you. What could I do about the other parts of my body that were subject to the will of others? What hope can there be if you do not know me even now, after we have lived together so intimately for so many years?

  ‘When you sent Hanumān to Lankā to find me, why didn’t you tell me then that you were not going to take me back? If you had told me then that you had abandoned me, I would have killed myself at that very moment, before the very eyes of that great monkey. Then you would not have had to make this tremendous effort, risking your life and causing hardship to your friends, for nothing!

  ‘But you have surrendered to your anger and acted like a common man and you have treated me like a low and vulgar woman! You have not considered that I am the daughter of Janaka, that I was born from the earth. Nor did you consider the fact that my conduct has always been impeccable! The fact that we are married and that I am devoted to you is of no consequence to you at all!’

  Weeping, Sītā turned to Lakṣmaṇa who stood there, silent and miserable. ‘Build a funeral pyre for me, Lakṣmaṇa! That is the only solution I see to this terrible calamity that has befallen me! I cannot bear to live under these false accusations! Despite my virtues, my husband has rejected me in front of all these people. He holds the past against me and I cannot vindicate myself in his eyes. The only thing I can do now is walk into the fire!’

  Lakṣmaṇa looked over at Rāma with pain in his eyes. He understood what Rāma wanted and so heroic Lakṣmaṇa
built the pyre. Sītā honoured her husband with a bowed head and approached the flames. She honoured the gods and the brahmins and stood in front of the fire with her palms together. She said, ‘If my heart has never strayed from Rāma, let the god of fire, eternal witness to all that happens in the world, protect me!’ She walked around the fire and then, her mind calm and serene, she stepped into it.

  The massive crowd of young and old that had gathered watched with trepidation as Sītā entered the flames. And when they enveloped her, a huge wail arose from the monkeys and rākṣasas.

  Suddenly, Kubera, Yama, Indra, Varuṇa, Śiva and Brahmā, creator of the worlds and the knower of the Vedas, arrived in Lankā in their chariots which were as bright as the sun. They raised their strong arms that were adorned with jewels and addressed Rāma who stood in front of them with his palms joined.

  ‘You are the creator of the worlds and the foremost of the wise! How could you let Sītā walk into the fire? Don’t you know that you are the greatest among the gods?

  ‘Long ago, you were Ṛtadhāmā, the best of the vasus. Then you were the self-born Prajāpati, the creator of the three worlds. You were the eighth rudra and the fifth pancama. The aśvins are your ears, the sun and the moon are your eyes. You are visible in the time between the end and the beginning of the worlds. And yet, you have humiliated Sītā as if you were an ordinary man!’

  Rāma, the lord of the worlds, the best among those who practise dharma, said,’ I always thought I was human, that I was Rāma, the son of Daśaratha. Tell me who I am. Where did I come from? Why am I here?’

  ‘You are Narāyaṇa, the wielder of the discus,’ replied wise Brahmā. ‘You are the single-tusked Varaha, victorious over past and future enemies! You are the eternal brahman, the truth, the middle and the end. You are the supreme dharma, the four-armed commander of the world’s forces. You are the holder of the Śārnga bow. As Puruṣa, you are the first of men. You have conquered your senses, you are mighty and undefeated. You are Kṛṣṇa and Viṣṇu. You are the leader of the celestial army. You are restrained and self-controlled. The worlds arise from you and are absorbed into you. You killed the asura Madhu as Indra’s younger brother. You are Indra. The lotus emerges from your navel. You are death in battle. Celestial sages come to you for protection because you are the refuge of the oppressed. You are the hundred-fold Veda and its thousand recensions emerge from you. You are the sacrifice, the mantra and the sacred syllable. Your origins and end are unknown. No one knows who you are. Wise men see you in everything: in brahmins, in cows, in the directions, in the sky, the mountains and the forests. You have a thousand feet, a thousand eyes and a thousand heads. You are the upholder of the worlds, of the mountains and of all creatures. Rāma, at the dissolution of the worlds, you are visible lying on the waters like a huge serpent and holding the worlds, the gods, gandharvas and dānavas within you. I am your heart, Rāma, and Sarasvatī is your tongue. The gods are as inseparable from you, brahman, as the hairs on the body. The night is the blink of your eye, the day is your eye unblinking. The Vedas are your rules for the world. Nothing can exist without you. The world is your body, you are the endurance of the earth. Fire is your anger, your grace is the moon. You carry the mark of Viṣṇu. Long ago, you covered the worlds with your three strides. You made Indra king after you had captured the asura Bali. Sītā is Lakṣmī, you are Viṣṇu, the dark one, the creator.