The Ramayana (18 page)

Vali replied, “You are judging us all wrongly, your basis is mistaken. You make too much of my acquiring my brother’s wife. It’s legitimate in our society. Although my brother was an enemy, I wanted to protect and help his wife when he was gone. I could not leave her to her fate.”

“It is my primary duty to help the weak and destroy evil wherever I see it. Whether known or unknown, I help those that seek my help.”

Vali replied, “Marriage and all its restraints on the relationship of men and women are of your human society and not known to us. Brahma has decreed for us absolute freedom in our sexual pursuits, habits, and life. In our society there is no such thing as wedlock. We are not a human society, we are monkeys and your laws and ethical codes are not applicable to us.”

“I am not misled either by your explanation or appearance of being a monkey,” Rama said. “I am aware that you are begotten by the chief of gods. You possess enough intelligence to know right from wrong and to argue your case even at this stage. You are fully aware of the eternal verities. You have erred and know it and how can you now say you are innocent? Could Gajendra, who prayed for Vishnu’s help when a crocodile held him in its jaws, be classed as an ordinary elephant? Could Jatayu be called a common bird? An ordinary animal has no discrimination between right and wrong. But you display in your speech deep knowledge of life’s values. Creatures in human shape may be called animals if they display no knowledge of right and wrong and conversely so-called animals which display profoundity cease to be animals and will have to be judged by the highest standards. There can be no escape from it. It was through your steadfast meditation and prayer to Shiva that you were endowed with strength superior to even the five elements. One who is capable of such achievement cannot but be judged by the highest standards of conduct.”

“Very well,” said Vali, “I’ll accept what you say; but how could you, protector of all creatures, aim your shaft from your hiding place, like some mean hunter tracking a wild beast, instead of facing me in a fight—if you felt that I deserved that honour?”

Lakshmana gave the answer. “Rama had made a vow to support your brother Sugreeva when he came seeking refuge. This was a prior promise and had to be fulfilled, while if Rama had come before you face to face you might have made a similar appeal, which would have created confusion of purpose. That’s the reason why he shot unseen by you.”

Vali saw the inner purport of this explanation and said, “Now I understand your words differently from the way they sound. They are simple to hear but have inner strength and I feel assured that Rama has not committed an unrighteous act. Simple-minded ones like me can never realize eternal truths without constantly blundering and failing. Pray, forgive my errors and my rude speech. Instead of treating me as a mere monkey by birth, as I myself was content to think, you have elevated my status, and honoured me. After piercing my body with your arrow, and when I am about to die—you are touching my understanding with a supreme illumination, which I consider the greatest blessing ever conferred on me. In spite of my obstinacy you have helped me attain a profound understanding and opened my mind with your magic. While other gods confer boons after being asked, you confer them on the mere utterance of your name. Great sages have attempted, after aeons of austerities, to obtain a vision of God, but you have bestowed it on me unasked. I feel proud and happy at this moment. I have only one request. I hope my brother will prove worthy of your trust in him. But at any time if any weakness seizes him and you find him in the wrong, please do not send your arrow in his direction. Treat him kindly.

“Another thing. If your brothers, at any time, blame Sugreeva as one who had engineered the death of his brother, please explain to them that Sugreeva has only engineered my salvation. One more favour. I have not been blessed with a chance to pluck up that archfiend Ravana with the tip of my tail and place him before you. But here is Hanuman who will do it at your command, and also obey you in all matters. Let him serve you. Sugreeva and he will be your invaluable allies.”

Then he turned to Sugreeva. “Don’t sorrow for my death. He who has struck me is none other than the great God himself; and I realize I am a privileged being at this moment. You will always have the glory of being at his side, and please serve him well.” Then Vali formally handed Sugreeva over to Rama as his choice for succession and advised him as to how to rule.

 
This is the saddest part of our great epic. The lamentations of Tara and Angada, Vali’s wife and son, as they came down carrying the dead body of the mighty Vali, make one’s heart grow heavy. But all stories must have a happy ending. Though Tara clung to the inert lifeless Vali’s physical frame, his essential spirit soared to the highest heavens and found a place there, because the great God himself had released his soul. On the command of Rama, arrangements were begun for the coronation of Sugreeva, and Angada was made the
yuvaraja
or second in command.

7

WHEN THE RAINS CEASE

Sugreeva was crowned with elaborate rituals and festivities. Robed royally, and wearing a scintillating crown, Sugreeva approached Rama, who had stayed outside Kiskinda throughout the celebrations, and declared in a mood of deep gratitude, “I am ready to serve you, sir. What is your command?”

Rama put his arms around his shoulder tenderly and said, “Go back to your palace and to your tasks as a ruler.” Following the custom of a senior, he spoke a few words of advice: “Gather around yourself those that have integrity, courage, and judgement; and with their help govern your subjects. Whatever you do, let it be based on the sanctioned codes of conduct.” He explained how he should guard the interests of his subjects, how important gentleness in speech was: “Even when you realize that the one before you is an enemy and must be treated sternly, do not hurt with words. Even in jest, do not hurt anyone’s feelings, not even the lowliest,” he said—remembering how he used to make fun of Kooni’s deformity when he was young and fling balls of clay at her, and thinking that possibly Kooni had nursed her ill will all her life and found her opportunity for revenge when Dasaratha planned to enthrone him. Rama explained how even a trivial cause might bring disaster in its wake. He then expatiated on how far one should surrender one’s own judgement to another—especially out of love. “Not too far,” he said, referring to his own pursuit of the golden deer in order to please Sita. “Women can lead one to death,” he said, referring to Vali’s infatuation with Sugreeva’s wife. At the conclusion of their meeting, Sugreeva pleaded, “Please do me the honour of residing as our guest in the capital.”

Rama said, “Not now. If you have me as a guest, all your attention will be on me, while you should devote your energy to your duties as a king. Moreover, I have vowed to live in the forests for fourteen years and I cannot, therefore, come into a city now.”

Sugreeva was crestfallen, and said, “I want to serve you. . . .”

“Yes, later. The rainy season is coming. At the end of it, come with an army. There will be time enough.”

Anjaneya now said stubbornly, “I have no existence separated from you. I want to serve you. I wish to be with you forever.”

Rama said, “Not now. You will go back to Kiskinda with Sugreeva and help him. He will need your judgement and support, as the responsibilities he has inherited are immense. Your first duty will be to help him. Come to me after four months, after the rains, and I will tell you what you can do for me.” When Sugreeva still pressed his invitation, Rama said, “I have lost my wife; and I should not be said to be enjoying the luxuries of a palace, when perhaps she is undergoing untold suffering somewhere.” After sending away Sugreeva and Hanuman, Rama turned back with Lakshmana, to reside on a hill. At a chosen spot, Lakshmana, displaying again his genius as an architect, constructed an ashram—in which they could spend the coming rainy months and where Rama could serenely contemplate his future course of action.

The sun began to move southward. Dark clouds, heavily laden, floated along, frequently eclipsing the sun, gradually massing themselves like an army of gigantic elephants; thunders rumbled and roared, lightning lit up the sky and the earth end to end. Storm shook the trees, ripped off their foliage, and scattered it in the air; scoured the earth and sprayed up mud and dust. Just as we felt the total heat and aridity where Thataka used to roam, now we must feel under our skin the dampness, the dimness, and the apparent lifelessness of the rainy days.

All through the months, the rains poured, waters running, rushing, and stagnating in pools, and sometimes carrying down boulders or the portion of a mountainside. Cuckoos and nightingales were silent. Peacocks were unseen. Other creatures of the forest were incarcerated in stony recesses and caves. No animal stirred out. No movement. Every kind of life seemed to have become paralysed. Wild and uncouth vegetation overran the landscape in a variety of monstrous creepers and vines. The sky was perpetually overcast. Winds blew cold and damp and drenched one’s surroundings and person. For a few days, the change of season was fascinating, but, in course of time, the persistent gloom and wetness proved depressing.

Rama, isolated in this climate, became subject to long periods of melancholy. The surrounding conditions made his inner turmoil more acute. He now felt hopelessly cut off from his wife and no action to seek her ever seemed possible. He felt thwarted and desolate. He began to feel guilty; he thought he was being too complacent. “While I live sheltered here, I cannot imagine what misery she might be facing.” When he saw foaming, frothing, reddish floodwater rushing down the mountain, bearing and rolling along uprooted trees, he was reminded of Sita being carried off. It created a hopeless ache in his heart and he said to himself, “There is no meaning in my continuing to live.” When he saw streaks of lightning splitting the sky, he pictured them as the monstrous fangs of asuras grinning and menacing him on all sides, and he pleaded, “Just when one of your clan has taken away the very core of my life, you want to take more? Nothing more is left.” When he saw an occasional deer emerge from its shelter when the downpour slackened a little, he addressed it, “You were jealous of Janaki; she was your rival in the grace of her movements. Now are you not pleased that she is no longer here? One of your kind drew me away from her. Now what is your purpose in strutting before me?” When he saw a slender streak of lightning edging a cloud, he sighed, “Why should you remind me of Sita’s figure and vanish again? When you rumble, does it signify your determination to restore Sita to me?” Then he addressed the god of love, Manmatha: “You are a tormentor. I feel scorched, and while I seek something to heal me, your darts stab again and again the same sore spot at my heart—merciless god! It is your good fortune that you are unseen, which saves you; my brother would have eliminated you, if he had seen how you torture me. Do you know what happened to Soorpanaka?”

Lakshmana noticed Rama’s state of mind and felt it was time for him to comfort him. He said, “Are you worried that the rainy days are prolonged? Are you worried that the asuras might prove invincible? Do you fear that Janaki may not be traced at all? Please don’t let your mind weaken. Anjaneya is there, Angada and all the other stalwarts will be our helpers. Soon we will see the skies bright and clear. Time has been passing, and we will soon see the promised armies, and with ease they will bring Janaki to your side. You had assured the sages of Dandaka forest that you would eradicate the asuras from their midst and that has been your chief mission here. Muster your strength and fulfill your mission. Don’t let your spirit droop.” Rama was comforted by such words, and they sustained him through a second bout of rain which suddenly started after a brief interval of clear weather.

The rains ended at last. The skies cleared. New leaves appeared on the trees; jasmine and other fragrant flowers bloomed. With brighter surroundings, Rama’s spirit also quickened. Now he could move out of his ashram and act positively.

With the end of the rainy season, nature’s traffic resumed on land, air, and water. Flocks of swans crossed the sky; cranes and aquatic birds flew by; a variety of fishes newly spawned darted under the water surfaces. Lotus was in bloom; frogs which had croaked themselves hoarse in unison all through the wet days now were silent. Peacocks came out into the sun shaking off clogging droplets of water and fanning out their tails brilliantly. Rivers which had roared and overflowed now retraced their modest courses and tamely ended in the sea. Areca palms ripened their fruits in golden bunches; crocodiles emerged from the depths crawling over rocks to bask in the sun; snails vanished under slush, and crabs slipped back under ground; that rare creeper known as
vanji
suddenly burst into bloom with chattering parrots perched on its slender branches.

All this was minutely noted by Rama, as indicating a definite change of season and a reminder that Sugreeva had failed to keep his promise to arrive with his army. He said to Lakshmana, “Does it not seem that Sugreeva has exceeded the four months’ limit? Do you think he is asleep? With our help, he has acquired a mighty kingdom to rule, but he has forgotten us. One who has snapped all ties of friendship, swerved from truth, and acted false, deserves to be taught a lesson, and if he is killed in the process, we could not be blamed; but first of all will you go and find out why he has defaulted, what has happened to him, and if he deserves to be punished? You will tell him that destroying evil is like destroying a poisonous insect and we will not be violating any code of conduct thereby. You will explain with due clarity and impress it on the mind of one who does not seem to have known proper conduct either at five years of age or at fifty. Tell him that if he wishes to flourish as a ruler of this Kiskinda in the midst of his kinsmen and people, he must first come up immediately with all the help he can muster to search for Sita. If he does not, we will not hesitate to destroy every monkey in this world, so that that tribe will become unknown to future generations. In case he has found someone stronger than Rama or Lakshmana as his supporters, remind him that we could meet any challenge from anywhere.” After relieving his mood and temper with these words, Rama probably felt that he had gone too far and might provoke Lakshmana to act violently. So he told him now, “Speak gently. Do not show your anger but let your explanations be firm and clear. If he does not accept the moral you indicate, do not lose your patience but give a careful hearing to whatever he may have to say and bring me his reply.”