by Valmiki
A great many kings came to Rāma while he was installed in the Naimiṣa forest and he honoured them with gifts of food and clothes. He gave gifts even to their relatives while Bharata and Śatrughna took care of the hospitality and entertainment. Sugrīva and the mighty monkeys who had accompanied him attended to the needs of the brahmins while Vibhīṣaṇa and his rākṣasas, who were adorned with garlands, looked after the righteous sages. And so the magnificent and well-organized sacrifice began while Lakṣmaṇa guarded the wandering horse.
At the sacrifice, you could hear nothing other than the litany, ‘Give freely and as much as you can, until those who want and ask are satisfied!’ There was no one there who was dirty or unhappy, no one who was oppressed. The splendid sacrifice conducted by the great king was filled with happy and prosperous people. Even the long-lived sages could not remember another sacrifice quite like this one, with such an abundance of gifts and giving. Though gold and silver and clothes were constantly being distributed, their store never seemed to diminish. ‘Never before, not even with Indra, Soma, Varuṇa or Yama, have we ever seen a sacrifice like this!’ said the sages who were rich in austerities. The monkeys and rākṣasas gave away huge quantities of wealth and clothes, as much as people wanted. The sacrifice conducted by the best of kings went on for a whole year, never diminishing in its enthusiasm and zeal.
As the sacrifice continued, the sage Vālmīki came there with his students. He saw the opulence of the sacrifice which rivalled anything performed by the gods and set up camp near the settlements of the great sages. He built a few pleasant little huts there and then he said to Kuśa and Lava, ‘Go and sing the Rāmāyaṇa in its entirety. Sing with emotion and sincerity. Sing among the sages and the brahmins, on the roads and the highways. Sing in the camps of the kings. Sing at Rāma’s door, at the site of the rituals. Sing especially in front of the priests performing the sacrifice.
‘Sustain yourself with the sweet fruits that grow on mountains and your voices will remain melodious. You shall not grow tired if you eat those fruits. If Rāma asks you to sing among the sages, do so, keeping in mind all the finer points of the art. Observe all the rules of music and song I have taught you. Sing only twenty cantos a day and sing them sweetly. Do not hanker after wealth and gifts. What use are such things to those who live in forest settlements and eat only roots and fruit?
‘If the king should ask you whose sons you are, tell him only that you are Vālmīki’s students. Tune your instruments as I have taught you. Sing with all your heart, sing sweetly and without concern for anything else. Start at the very beginning. Be sure not to show any disrespect to the king, for this righteous ruler is the father of all creatures.
‘In the morning, collect your thoughts, calm your minds and after you have tuned your instruments, sing this poem that deserves to be sung,’ said the sage, giving his students detailed instructions.
The twins woke in the morning and after they had bathed and performed the morning worship, they began to sing as the sage had instructed them to do.
Rāma listened to the poem composed by the great teacher. It was melodiously set to music and was quite unique, the first of its kind. As he heard more and more of the wonderful poem which was bound by the rules of metre and was set in time to music, he became extremely curious.
When the rituals for the day were done, Rāma would make the boys sing in front of the sages, kings and respected scholars. He made them sing before those who knew the legends of the past and in the presence of venerable old brahmins. The sages and powerful kings were all delighted with the poem and they gazed at the young boys as if to drink them in with their eyes. ‘These boys look so much like Rāma that they could well be mirror images of him!’ they said to each other. ‘But for their matted hair and their simple clothes, we cannot tell which is Rāma and which are the singers!’
The boys from the hermitage continued to sing so sweetly that the audience went into raptures. Their music was so lovely that it seemed divine rather than human and the listeners simply could not get enough of it. The boys began their song with the first canto, with the arrival of Nārada, and they went on to sing twenty cantos a day on a regular basis.
When Rāma heard the first twenty cantos, he said to his brother Bharata, ‘Give eighteen thousand gold pieces to these boys immediately!’ But Kuśa and Lava would not accept the shining gold. ‘What can we do with this?’ they asked with surprise. ‘We live in the forest and eat only roots and fruit. What do we need this gold for?’ Rāma and the others were amazed at their response.
Eager to hear the rest of the poem, Rāma asked the boys who shone with splendour, ‘What is this poem about? Who composed it? Where does that great sage live?’
‘It was composed by the blessed Vālmīki who has come to attend your sacrifice. The poem tells the story of your life in great detail in five hundred cantos. If you like, you and your brothers can hear the entire poem in the intervals between the rituals.’
‘Excellent!’ said Rāma. The boys took his permission to leave and returned to the sage’s hut. And Rāma went back to the sacrificial enclosure with the kings and the sages.
Rāma listened to that lovely poem for many days in the company of the kings, sages and monkeys. He learned from the poem that Kuśa and Lava were the sons of Sītā. In the midst of the assembly, Rāma said, ‘Go to the sage with this message. Tell him, “If Sītā is really innocent and virtuous, let her come here with your permission and clear her name!” I would like to hear what the sage has to say on the matter and I am also curious about whether Sītā would be inclined to prove her innocence. Find out all this and come back quickly! Let Sītā prove her innocence tomorrow morning in front of this entire assembly. I can establish the sincerity of my intentions at the same time.’
The messengers went at once to the sage and told him what Rāma had said. Vālmīki immediately understood what Rāma wanted to do and said, ‘Bless you! Sītā will do as Rāma says because for a woman, her husband is like a god!’ The messengers returned and Rāma was delighted with their news. ‘Blessed sages, you and your disciples and the kings and their retinues shall watch as Sītā proves herself!’ he said to the assembly. ‘Anyone else who is interested can also come along!’ The sages praised Rāma when they heard his words and the kings said, ‘No one other than you would be so magnanimous!’
Now that he had decided what was to be done the next day, Rāma, the slayer of his enemies, dismissed the gathering.
When the night had passed, the king went to the sacrificial enclosure and sent for the effulgent sages. All the heroic rākṣasas and the mighty monkeys gathered there out of curiosity. Thousands of kṣatriyas, vaiśyas and śūdras also assembled, eager to see Sītā take her oath of purity.
When Vālmīki heard that everyone had arrived and that the crowd was as still as a mountain, he hurried there with Sītā. Sītā walked behind the sage with her head bowed. Her palms were joined, her mind was fixed on Rāma and her eyes were filled with tears. A roar of approval went up from the people, who grieved deeply in their hearts when they saw Sītā following Vālmīki as Śrī follows Brahmā. Some shouted Rāma’s praises, others praised Sītā and still others praised them both.
Vālmīki made his way through the throng with Sītā and went up to Rāma. ‘This is the virtuous and righteous woman you abandoned in the forest near my hermitage even though she is innocent,’ he said. ‘You renounced her because you feared people’s gossip. She has now come to prove her innocence. You should let her do so.
‘Her two sons, these wonderful bards, are your sons, Rāma. I swear this is the truth! I am the tenth son of Pracetas, Rāma, and I have never told a lie. These are your sons! I have practised austerities for thousands of years. May I lose all the merit I have gained if Sītā is not innocent! This blameless woman has never behaved inappropriately and thinks of her husband as a god. You were so scared of a little gossip! Now she will prove herself in front of you!’
Rāma looked at Sītā who was as lovely
as a goddess. He joined his palms and said to Vālmīki, ‘It shall be as you say, for you know dharma! But your words have been proof enough for me. Sītā has already declared her innocence before the gods. And I abandoned her, even though I knew she was innocent, because I feared a scandal. You must forgive me for that. I also know that these twin boys are my sons. When Sītā proves her innocence before the world, I shall be able to love her again!’
Realizing that Rāma wanted Sītā to prove herself, all the gods arrived there, led by Brahmā. The heavenly and celestial beings came with them. Just then, Vāyu released a gentle breeze, redolent with divine perfumes. As it wafted through the assembly, it made everyone calm and happy. The people who had come from other countries marvelled at this, thinking that such a wondrous thing could only have happened long ago, in the kṛtayuga.
Everyone watched as Sītā, wearing an ochre robe, joined her palms. Her head was bowed and she kept her eyes on the ground. ‘If I have never thought about any other man but Rāma, let the goddess Mādhavī create a chasm for me!’
As soon as she had finished speaking, a truly wondrous event occured. A splendid celestial throne appeared from within the earth. It was borne on the heads of immeasurably strong nāgas who had taken on celestial bodies and were adorned with jewels. Then, the goddess of earth lifted Sītā in her arms and with all due honour, she placed her on the throne. Heavenly beings showered Sītā with blossoms as they watched her descending into the earth. ‘Well done!’ cried the gods with delight as they stood in the air. ‘Such a thing is worthy only of someone like you, Sītā!’
The kings and sages at the site of the sacrifice expressed their amazement and all the moving and unmoving creatures of earth and sky, the large-bodied dānavas and the pannaga kings of the underworld, were deeply moved. Some shouted for joy, others slipped into meditative trances, some gazed at Rāma and others at Sītā in a state of utter bewilderment. They were awed by Sītā’s entry into the earth, and for a whole hour, it seemed as if the entire universe was spellbound.
Brahmā consoled Rāma who was terribly distraught and then he went back to his own realm. But the effulgent sages who lived there with him took his permission and stayed behind on earth because they wanted to hear the rest of the poem.
‘The sages from Brahmā’s realm are eager to hear what happens to me in the future,’ said Rāma to Vālmīki. ‘Start reciting that part from tomorrow.’
Rāma dismissed the gathering and taking Kuśa and Lava with him, he retired into the sacrificial enclosure.
When the sacrifice was over, Rāma was very depressed that Sītā was no longer with him. The entire world seemed empty to him and overcome by his grief he knew no peace of mind. He rewarded the brahmins suitably and sent them away along with the kings, the rākṣasas and the monkeys. When they had all left, he went back to Ayodhyā, carrying Sītā in his heart.
He did not marry again and for every sacrifice after that, he placed a golden statue of Sītā by his side. For the next one thousand years, he performed all kinds of sacrifices and distributed huge amounts of wealth. A long time went by as mighty Rāma actively pursued dharma and ruled his kingdom wisely and well.
The bears, monkeys and rākṣasas lived under his control and every day, the vassal kings did what would please Rāma. The rain god sent the rains on time and the people in the cities and in the countryside were happy and prosperous. Under Rāma’s rule, no one died an untimely death, no calamities occurred and no one acted unrighteously.
After many years, Rāma’s illustrious mother died, surrounded by her sons and grandsons. Soon after, Sumitrā and Kaikeyī followed her. They were all reunited with Daśaratha in heaven where, together, they enjoyed the fruits of dharma. Rāma distributed gifts to brahmins and ascetics at the appropriate times to ensure the welfare of his mothers equally. He also performed many difficult sacrifices which entailed the donation of wealth for the benefit of his paternal ancestors.
Chapter Three
Years later, as Rāma was pursuing the path of dharma, Time arrived at his door in the form of an ascetic. ‘Tell Rāma I have come to see him on an urgent matter, ‘he said to resolute Lakṣmaṇa. ‘I am the messenger of an effulgent and splendid sage and I have important business with Rāma.’
Lakṣmaṇa went quickly to Rāma and said that an ascetic had come to see him. Rāma instructed that he be admitted at once and Lakṣmaṇa led in the ascetic who blazed like fire. Rāma shone with his own splendour and the ascetic greeted him sweetly, saying, ‘May you prosper, Rāma!’ Rāma honoured him with the arghya water and made the customary enquiries. He led the ascetic to a splendid throne and seated him. ‘Welcome, splendid one! Give me the message from the sage who has sent you!’ said Rāma.
‘I can only tell you what he said where no one else can see or hear us,’ said the ascetic. ‘If you care for the message the sage has sent you, then whoever sees or hears us must be put to death, Rāma!’
‘Send away the doorkeeper and stand there in his place,’ said Rāma to Lakṣmaṇa. ‘I shall have to kill anyone who sees or hears our private conversation!’
Then Rāma turned to the ascetic and said, ‘Tell me, what is the message? Deep in my heart, I already know what it is, but tell me anyway!’
‘Listen, mighty Rāma, and I will tell you why I am here,’ began the ascetic. ‘Brahmā, the grandfather of the gods, has sent me. I am Time, the destroyer of all! Blessed Brahmā, the ruler of the worlds, asks that you come back and protect your own realm.
‘He says, “Long ago, you took upon yourself the protection of all creatures. You became Viṣṇu and then, when all creatures were being tormented, you became a mortal in order to kill Rāvaṇa. You decided that you would live in the world of men for eleven thousand years. You were born on earth of your own free will. Now your human life has ended and you must come back to me! But if you still want to protect your subjects, you are free to do so!’
‘If you do return to the realm of the gods, they will be relieved of their anxiety because you, Viṣṇu, are there to protect them!’
Rāma smiled and said to Time, the destroyer of all things, ‘I am glad you came here with this message from Brahmā. May all go well with you! I shall return to where I came from. You arrived even as I was thinking about you. There is nothing left for me to consider. But I still have a few duties to discharge towards those that depend on me. When I have completed those, I shall do as Brahmā says!’
While the two of them were talking, the blessed sage Durvāsā arrived at the door, eager to see Rāma. ‘I want to see Rāma at once, before my purpose in coming here is defeated!’ he said to Lakṣmaṇa.
Lakṣmaṇa honoured him and said, ‘What do you need? Tell me, what have you come for? What can I do for you? Rāma is very busy right now. Can you wait for a little while?’
Durvāsā flew into a rage and looked at Lakṣmaṇa as if he would consume him with the fire from his eyes. ‘Go at once and tell Rāma that I am here! Or I shall curse you, Rāma, the city and the entire kingdom as well as Bharata and all your children! I cannot control my anger!’
Lakṣmaṇa considered the matter and said to himself, ‘It is better that one man, I, myself, die, than all creatures be destroyed!’ He made up his mind and went in to see Rāma. Rāma dismissed Time and quickly came out with Lakṣmaṇa.
He honoured the sage who shone with splendour and with his palms joined, he said, ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Listen, lover of dharma!’ said the sage. ‘Today I have completed one hundred years of practising austerities and I am very hungry. Fulfil my desire to eat!’
Rāma ordered a delicious meal for the sage and Durvāsā ate his fill of the food that was as fine and sweet as nectar. He thanked Rāma and praised him and went back to his hermitage. Rāma was very happy until he remembered Time’s words. He recalled their frightful implications and burning with grief, he hung his head and did not say a word. ‘This cannot be true!’ he thought to himself.
; Lakṣmaṇa noticed that Rāma was depressed and dull, like an eclipsed moon. ‘Do not grieve for me, Rāma,’ he said gently. ‘Do as Time said, for it has been ordained. Kill me without any hesitation and fulfil your promise. The man who breaks his word goes to hell! If you love me and want to make me happy, then kill me without any second thoughts or misgivings! You must nourish dharma, Rāma!’
Rāma’s senses were in a whirl when he heard what Lakṣmaṇa said. He sent for his ministers and the family priest and told them what had happened. They were silent when they heard the story and then, Vasiṣṭa said, ‘Mighty one, I knew long ago that this calamity, this separation from Lakṣmaṇa, was going to happen! Time is all powerful. You must abandon Lakṣmaṇa and keep your word. Dharma is destroyed when a man breaks his promise. And when dharma is destroyed, you can be sure that the three worlds with all their moving and unmoving creatures, with the gods and the sages, will also perish! You are responsible for protecting the three worlds. If you kill Lakṣmaṇa today, you will have established the universe firmly!’
‘I must renounce you, Lakṣmaṇa, or else dharma will be violated!’ said Rāma when he heard Vasiṣṭa’s words which were filled with purpose and meaning. ‘Whether I kill you or abandon you or am separated from you, it will all be the same to good men!
Lakṣmaṇa’s eyes filled with tears and he left hurriedly, but he did not go to his own home. He went straight to the banks of the Sarayu where he stopped the activities of his senses and ceased to exhale. When his breathing stopped, the gods, apsarases and groups of ṛṣis rained flowers from the sky. Unseen by the others, Indra lifted Lakṣmaṇa’s body and took him into heaven. Thus, Lakṣmaṇa reverted to his original state as one quarter of Viṣṇu and the gods and sages rejoiced and celebrated and honoured him.
When Lakṣmaṇa left, Rāma was filled with grief. He called together his ministers and the family priest and said to them, ‘Today, I want to anoint righteous Bharata king of Ayodhyā, He can rule the kingdom and I shall retire to the forest. Collect the materials for the consecration as quickly as you can. I want to go the way Lakṣmaṇa has gone.’
