The Ramayana

by Valmiki

  CHAPTER TEN

  * Killing a brahmin was the worst of all possible crimes. The young ascetic is trying to reassure Daśaratha that he is not guilty of that.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  * The stage of the householder.

  CHAPTER THREE

  * Triśiras obviously had three heads, as indicated by his name.

  CHAPTER NINE

  * Vṛtra controlled the drought and as god of the rains, Indra was always in conflict with him. They had a series of battles and Indra was finally able to kill him.

  * ‘Hanu’ in Sanskrit means ‘jaw’.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  * The significance of Sugrīva’s neck being broken and Hanumān’s smashed jaw lies in their names. ‘Sūgrīva’ means ‘the one with the beautiful neck’ and ‘Hanūmān’ means ‘the one with the jaw’.

  EPILOGUE

  Chapter One

  Rāma was pleased to see that his wife was beginning to show signs of being pregnant. ‘I see that we shall soon have much to celebrate!’ he said to her. ‘What can I do for you? Tell me, which wish of yours can I fulfil?’

  ‘I want to see the peaceful places for meditation in the forest,’ she replied with a smile. ‘I would like to sit at the feet of the powerful sages who live on the banks of the Gangā and eat only roots and fruits. It is my dearest wish to spend at least one night with them!’

  ‘You can go there tomorrow,’ promised Rāma as they went into the middle enclosure of the palace, surrounded by their friends.

  When Rāma had seated himself, a number of story tellers and jesters gathered around. All kinds of stories were told, some of which were very funny, and Rāma was pleased. ‘What do the common people in the city talk about?’ he asked. ‘What do they say about me and Sītā, about Lakṣmaṇa and Bharata? About Śatrughna, Kaikeyī and my mother? New kings are often the subject of discussion amongst the people.’

  ‘The people speak very highly of you,’ said Bhadra with his palms joined. ‘They talk particularly about your victory over Rāvaṇa.’

  ‘Tell me everything the people say, without leaving anything out,’ urged Rāma. ‘Tell me the good and the bad. By listening to this, I can act for their welfare and avoid things that are not good for them. Speak freely and without fear. Tell me, what are the people saying?’

  ‘Listen, and I shall tell you everything the people are saying,’ said Bhadra calmly. ‘I shall tell you the good and the bad that is discussed in the public squares, the forests and the gardens.

  ‘“Rāma did the impossible by building a bridge over the ocean. Such a thing had never been done before, not even by the gods and the dānavas together! He killed an invincible enemy and slaughtered his army. And then he brought the monkeys, bears and rākṣasas under his control. He killed Rāvaṇa and rescued Sītā. He placed the intolerable past behind him and took her back into his own home. How could he take Sītā back into his heart? How could he live with her again so happily when she had been abducted and had even sat upon Rāvaṇa’s lap? How can he not be repelled by her? She was in the aśoka grove for so long and was under the control of the rākṣasas! Now we shall have to do the same thing with our wives in a similar situation, for subjects must do as their king does!”

  ‘These are the things that people are saying all over the city!’ said Bhadra.

  Rāma was extremely upset and asked his friends, ‘What do you think of this?’ They all bowed their heads and admitted that what Bhadra had said was true.

  Rāma dismissed all his friends so that he could think things over. He considered the matter carefully and came to a decision. He called the doorkeeper who stood close at hand and said, ‘Bring my brothers, Lakṣmaṇa, Bharata and Śatrughna, here immediately!’ The doorkeeper bowed and went to Lakṣmaṇa’s house where he was allowed to enter without any trouble. ‘The king wishes to see you,’ he said to Lakṣmaṇa. ‘You must go to him without delay!’ Lakṣmaṇa climbed into his chariot and went at once to Rāma’s palace. Then the doorkeeper went to Bharata and with his palms joined, he said, ‘The king wishes to see you!’ Bharata leapt up from his seat and went on foot to see Rāma as quickly as he could. The doorkeeper watched Bharata leave hurriedly and went to Śatrughna. ‘The king wishes to see you. Lakṣmaṇa and Bharata have already gone to him.’ Śatrughna bowed his head, acknowledging the command, and went to Rāma’s palace at once.

  Rāma was told that the princes had arrived. Sadly, he hung his head and instructed the doorkeeper to let them in. The princes entered wearing white clothes, their minds calm and composed. They saw that Rāma’s face was pale, like a moon in eclipse, or the sun dimmed at twilight. His eyes were filled with tears and his sad face was like a lotus shorn of all its glory. The princes touched his feet and waited for him to speak. Rāma embraced them all in his strong arms and led them to their seats.

  ‘You are my life. You are everything to me!’ he said. ‘I rule this kingdom that all of you obtained for me. You are all learned in the traditional texts and you are wise and experienced counsellors. Advise me on a matter that is very close to my heart!’ The princes grew somewhat apprehensive as Rāma continued. ‘Listen to me carefully and do not argue with the decision I have made.

  ‘Let me tell you what ordinary people are saying about Sītā. Commoners as well as prominent citizens hold me in contempt. I find that very painful. I was born into the great and noble family of the Ikṣvākus! How can they speak so poorly of Sītā?

  ‘You know how Sītā was abducted from the deserted forest by Rāvaṇa and how I killed him for that. And in front of you, Lakṣmaṇa, the gods declared Sītā innocent when she walked into the fire. In the presence of the gods and gandharvas in Lankā, she was given back to me after she had been declared pure. I knew in my heart that the virtuous woman was innocent and so I accepted her and brought her back to Ayodhyā.

  ‘But now, the terrible things people are saying make me unhappy. An infamous man who is the subject of common discourse goes to the hells of the unrighteous and stays there as long as the story of his disgrace is told. The gods do not love the notorious and even the world loves a man who is well spoken of. Good men’s deeds are motivated by a desire for fame. I would give up my life, even renounce all of you, for fear of a scandal. How can I hesitate or do anything less in Sītā’s case? So you see why I am so upset. I cannot imagine a greater sorrow than this!

  ‘Tomorrow morning, Lakṣmaṇa, tell Sumantra to have the chariot ready. Take Sītā and leave her just outside the borders of the kingdom! The sage Vālmīki’s hermitage lies on the banks of the Tamasā, on the far shores of the Gangā. Leave her in that desolate place and come back quickly.

  ‘Do as I say, Lakṣmaṇa! Do not say anything that will contradict my decision about Sītā. I will be very upset if you oppose me on this! Swear to me that you will say nothing about my decision, that you will not criticize it in any way. Those who speak against my wishes are not my friends because they want to see my desires frustrated. If you are obedient to me, you will respect my instructions and take Sītā away from here! She has already said she would like to visit the sages who live by the Gangā. Let her wishes be fulfilled.’

  His face wet with tears, Rāma sent his brothers away.

  When the night had passed, Lakṣmaṇa miserably called for Sumantra. His face pale, he said, ‘Yoke swift horses to our finest chariot and place a comfortable seat in it for Sītā. Bring it to the palace at once! I have to take Sītā to the sages’ settlements.’

  Sumantra prepared a chariot with fine, soft cushions in it and brought it around. ‘The chariot is ready for you to do whatever you need,’ he said to Lakṣmaṇa.

  Lakṣmaṇa went into the palace and said to Sītā, ‘The king has asked me to take you to the banks of the Gangā, to the sages’ settlements there.’ Sītā was delighted and was eager to leave. She prepared for her departure by taking all her lovely clothes and jewels. ‘I will give these to the wives of the sages,’ she said to Lakṣmaṇa as he he
lped her into the chariot.

  ‘I see bad omens, Lakṣmaṇa!’ said Sītā. ‘My eye twitches, my limbs tremble and my heart is uneasy. My enthusiasm wanes, my courage falters and the whole world seems devoid of happiness. I hope everything is all right with your eldest brother and all your other brothers as well as with all my mothers-in-law. May all be well with the citizens and all creatures!’ Sītā joined her palms and invoked the blessings of the gods. Lakṣmaṇa bowed his head and echoed, ‘May all go well!’ even though his heart was heavy.

  They reached the banks of the Gomatī and rested for the night. In the morning, Lakṣmaṇa said to Sumantra, ‘Yoke the horses quickly! I want to bathe in the Gangā!’ He asked Sītā to climb into the chariot and with horses that travelled as swiftly as thought, they had reached the banks of the Gangā by mid-day.

  Lakṣmaṇa saw the clear waters of the river and burst into tears. Sītā was keen to bathe in the river but when she saw Lakṣmaṇa in such distress, she stopped and asked him what the matter was. ‘Why are you weeping, mighty one? I have waited so long to return to the banks of the Gangā. This is an occasion for happiness. Why are you crying, Lakṣmaṇa? Why do you make me unhappy?

  ‘I know you are used to being with Rāma all the time. Are you upset because you have been separated from him for two nights? Rāma is dearer to me than my own life, Lakṣmaṇa, but I do not weep like this! Stop this childish behaviour!

  ‘Take me across the river so that I can visit the sages. I want to give them the clothes, money and jewels I have brought with me. We can spend one night there and return to the city after we have honoured the sages.’

  Lakṣmaṇa wiped his eyes and called for a boat to take them across the river. He placed Sītā in the boat the Niṣādas had brought and climbed in after her. Filled with sorrow, he told Sumantra to wait on the shore and asked the boatmen to push the boat off.

  When they reached the further shore of the Gangā, Lakṣmaṇa joined his palms and in a voice choked with tears, he said to Sītā, ‘My heart is filled with grief when I think of how the world will condemn me for this, but I am acting on the orders of a wise and noble man. I would prefer death to what I have to do today, this thing which will bring me disgrace in the world! Forgive me! Do not hold this against me, good lady!’ cried Lakṣmaṇa and sank to the ground.

  Sītā was alarmed when she saw Lakṣmaṇa weeping and praying for death. ‘I don’t understand what is going on,’ she whispered. ‘Tell me the truth, Lakṣmaṇa! I can see that something is bothering you. Is everything all right with the king? Obviously, the king has made you promise to do something that causes you pain. I command you to tell me, Lakṣmaṇa!’

  Urged by Sītā, Lakṣmaṇa hung his head and said pathetically, ‘Rāma has heard the harsh and unfair things people say about you in public. I cannot repeat those words in your presence, my lady, but Rāma was very upset when he heard them.

  ‘Even though you were declared innocent in my presence, the king has renounced you for fear of gossip and scandal. That’s all there is to it! I have been asked to leave you in the sages’ settlements, for that is what you wanted. These are the king’s orders.

  ‘The woods along the banks of the Gangā are pleasant and they are filled with pious sages. You have nothing to worry about. The great sage Vālmīki was a good friend of my father, Daśaratha. You can live comfortably by his feet, fasting and meditating. You can keep Rāma in your heart all the time. You shall earn fame and renown from this conduct as a pure and devoted wife!’

  Sītā was overwhelmed with grief when she heard Lakṣmaṇa’s cruel words and she fell to the ground in a swoon. When she recovered, her eyes filled with tears and she said to Lakṣmaṇa in a sad voice, ‘This body of mine must have been created for grief, Lakṣmaṇa! You can see that I am overcome with sorrow today, that I am the very embodiment of pain! I must have done something really terrible in my last life. I must have caused the separation of husbands and wives.

  ‘How could the king have renounced me when I have always been so good and virtuous? I even lived in the forest and bore all kinds of hardships because I have always served at Rāma’s feet. How can I live in a hermitage now, separated from all the people I love? Who can I talk to about this terrible grief that I must bear? What shall I say to the sages when they ask me what I did wrong? What reason can I give for the king forsaking me? I would kill myself by jumping into the river right now, except that the king’s royal lineage would be destroyed along with me.

  ‘Do as you were told, Lakṣmaṇa! Abandon me, a poor, wretched woman! You must obey the king. But listen to what I have to say. Bow to all my mothers-in-law and touch their feet. Give them my greetings. Give them and the king my best wishes for their welfare. Tell the king, “Always treat your subjects as you would your own brothers. That is the highest dharma and it will earn you incomparable fame and glory. I care nothing for this corporeal body of mine! You should do whatever it takes to prevent the people from gossiping!”’

  Lakṣmaṇa was too upset to speak and he kept his eyes fixed on the ground. Weeping aloud, he honoured Sītā and climbed back into the boat. When he reached the other shore, he quickly got into the chariot, unable to bear the burden of his grief. He kept turning around to look at Sītā as she stood there, alone and vulnerable, but he had to go onwards. Sītā watched as Lakṣmaṇa’s chariot went further and further away and she grew sadder and sadder.

  The children from the sage’s hermitage saw Sītā crying and ran to where the pious Vālmīki was practising austerities. They honoured him and told him about the weeping woman. ‘There is a woman here we have never seen before. She is as lovely as a goddess and does not appear to be a mortal. She seems to be married but she is weeping uncontrollably. We must offer her hospitality!’

  The righteous sage, who had earned the power of second sight through his austerities, knew that this was Sītā. He went to her immediately with the arghya offering. When he reached the shores of the Gangā, he saw Sītā, Rāma’s wife, alone and helpless. Blazing with splendour, the sage spoke to her kindly, gladdening her heart with his gentle words.

  ‘I know you are Daśaratha’s daughter-in-law, the wife of Rāma and the daughter of Janaka. You are welcome here, good wife! Even as you were coming here, I learned everything about you in the course of my meditation. In my heart I know the reason for your arrival. My divine eye shows me that you are innocent. Have no fear, you can live with me. There are some women ascetics not far from here, engaged in the practise of austerities. They will look after you as one would look after a child. Accept this arghya water! You can live here without any anxiety, as if you were in your own home!’

  Sītā bowed her head and touched Vālmīki’s feet and then she followed him as he went onwards. The women ascetics, who had controlled their senses and who were very virtuous, saw the sage approaching with Sītā and went forward to receive them. ‘Welcome, great sage! You have come here after a long time! Tell us what we can do for you!’

  ‘This woman I have brought here is Sītā, the wife of wise Rāma. She is Daśaratha’s daughter-in-law and Janaka’s daughter. She has been renounced by her husband even though she is virtuous and innocent. She is now under my protection. You must treat her well, not just because of my words, but also because of her status and majesty!’

  Making sure that Sītā would be cared for, the great sage went back to his own hermitage surrounded by his disciples.

  Some months later, Sītā gave birth to twin boys. In the middle of the night, the women and children of Vālmīki’s hermitage came and gave him the good news. ‘Come and protect the children from evil spirits and calamities!’ they said. The sage was delighted with the news and uttered the appropriate mantras for the infants. He named the twin boys Lava and Kuśa.

  Chapter Two

  One day, Rāma said to Lakṣmaṇa, ‘Call Vasiṣṭa, Vāmadeva, Jābali and all the other important brahmins together for the performance of a horse sacrifice. I will talk
to them and then, after meditating, I shall set free a horse that has all the auspicious marks.’ Lakṣmaṇa summoned the brahmins and presented them to Rāma. They blessed invincible, god-like Rāma who had prostrated himself at their feet. With joined palms, Rāma told them of his decision to perform the horse sacrifice and they were very pleased.

  ‘Send for honourable Sugrīva,’ said Rāma to Lakṣmaṇa. ‘Let him come here with the mighty monkeys and let them all share in these wonderful celebrations. And tell heroic Vibhīṣaṇa to come here with the rākṣasas who can go where they please. Call the kings who are my allies along with their retinues to witness this magnificent sacrifice. Call the righteous brahmins from other kingdoms. And the great sages who are rich in austerities as well as their wives. Set up the sacrificial pavilion in the sacred Naimiṣa woods along the Gomatī.

  ‘Have all the materials required for the sacrifice sent there. Tell Bharata to go ahead with heaps of gold and silver. Let him go there with traders, cooks, actors, dancers, brahmins, young and old people, and with carpenters and skilled workers and mothers and sons and all the residents of the inner apartments as well as men skilled in the performance of these rites. Let him also take a golden statue of my wife.’

  Rāma ensured that all the preparations for the sacrifice had been made and then he released a jet black horse which had all the auspicious marks. He told Lakṣmaṇa and the sacrificial priests to accompany the horse so that all the rituals could be correctly observed and he himself went to the Naimiṣa forest. He saw the splendid enclosure that had been constructed for the sacrifice and exclaimed, ‘How magnificent!’