The Ramayana (10 page)

He stopped again, and for an instant stared straight at Rama. That prince's heart was on strange, fine fire that he had never known before in his young life. He looked away in mild confusion, while Viswamitra hid a smile.

Now in the tone of sharing a secret, Janaka continued, “To tell you honestly, my friends, in Mithila we think of Sita as an Avatara of the Devi Lakshmi. Never before has this kingdom known such prosperity as we have since we found her.”

They saw his eyes grow moist as he spoke of Sita. “I decided she would only marry a prince who was worthy of her. And we prayed that such a man might come for her someday. Meanwhile, so many kshatriyas came to Mithila, wanting to marry Sita. But I refused them all. One angry king cried at me, ‘To whom then, Janaka, will you give your daughter?'

“Without thinking, I replied, ‘To the man who can lift Siva's bow and string it!'

“A hundred kshatriyas came. But none of them could move the bow from where it lay, let alone pick it up. Once an alliance of kings brought a great army and surrounded my city. How could I withstand such a force on my own? I prayed to the Devas and they sent a host from heaven, because I was the guardian of Siva's bow. How swiftly that battle was concluded: the kshatriyas fled from the astras of the Gods. Yes, quite a tale hangs by the bow of Siva.”

He rose and took Rama and Lakshmana by the hand. “Come to my palace and I will have Siva's bow fetched for you to see.”

Just within the palace gates, the bow was displayed so that all who passed could look at it. It was kept in an iron casket and worshipped with incense, flowers, and mantras during the three sandhyas of the day.

Janaka led them to the palace arena, festive with flags, garlands, and banners for the yagna. Already, thousands of people had streamed into it, from far and near, for the sacrifice. When his most recently arrived guests were seated with honor, Janaka clapped his hands to his guards to bring the bow.

In its great casket, Siva's bow was wheeled in. It lay on a low golden cart, glimmering with jewels. A hundred strong men pulled on the massive ropes that dragged the cart of eight wheels. This was Siva's bow with which he had threatened the Devas. The crowd rose. A vast murmur of
AUM Namah Sivayah!
was heard, like an ocean wave in that stadium.

Janaka went to Viswamitra and bowed to him, to show that the rishi was the most revered person present. The king said aloud, “Brahmarishi Viswamitra, here lies the bow of Mahadeva, which has broken the pride of many a kshatriya. No Deva, gandharva, kimpurusha, kinnara, Asura, or great naga has been able to lift this bow; not through all the ages, since Siva gave it to my ancestor.”

The guards flung back the casket's cover. The jewels on that weapon shot livid shafts of color through the day and the crowd gasped. Viswamitra turned to Rama at his side; the prince was as tense as a bowstring himself. Softly, the rishi said, “Rama, my child, go and look at Siva's bow.”

A hush fell on the crowd when Rama rose. He was radiant; he was unworldly blue. He crossed gracefully to the casket. For a moment, he stood gazing at the bow. Then a smile lit his face. He said, “Muni, may I touch the bow?”

Janaka cried, “Of course! What else have you come for?”

Viswamitra nodded to Rama. The prince leaned forward and stroked the great weapon with his fingertips. Viswamitra whispered to Janaka, “Ask him if he can lift it.”

Janaka shot the rishi a doubtful glance: he was afraid lest this prince could
not
lift Siva's bow. For suddenly, his heart was set on giving his precious Sita to Rama and no one else. But Viswamitra insisted, bristling his brows at the king.

Then Rama himself turned and said in a clear voice, “I think I can lift the bow and string it. May I try?”

A great intuition of destiny swept the people. The crowd was on its feet, ready for a miracle.

“You may!” cried king and sage together.

Effortlessly, as if it was his own weapon that he carried at his back every day, Rama picked up Siva's bow from its casket. The crowd sighed. Calmly, the prince bent the bow and strung it. A thunderflash exploded in his hands. The earth shook and most of the people fell down stunned: Siva's awesome bow had snapped in two. Smiling faintly, Rama placed the pieces back in the casket.

Janaka ran forward and embraced him, again and again. Then he hugged Lakshmana and, with tears in his eyes, he bowed over and over to Viswamitra, who had brought Rama to Mithila. Janaka cried to the dazed crowd, “The prince of Ayodhya has done what no other kshatriya could! I am delighted to give my daughter Sita to him. There is no warrior in heaven or earth like Rama.” He turned to Viswamitra. “My lord, may I send messengers to Dasaratha? To ask him to come to Mithila, so Rama and Sita can be married as soon as possible.”

Viswamitra glanced at Rama. He saw joy brimming on the prince's face, and he said, “Do so, Janaka. Let the news fly to Ayodhya.” Within the hour, the king's messengers set out on the swiftest horses in Mithila's royal stables.

*   *   *

From her room, high up in Janaka's palace, Sita had seen Rama when he came and she had prayed he would string the bow. She had lost her heart the moment she set eyes on him: it was this prince she had always dreamed of and waited for. She knew him from long ago, from countless lives before. They had belonged together since time began.

 

17. Dasaratha goes to Mithila

Like the wind, Janaka's messengers rode for three days, until they saw the turrets of Ayodhya. Shouting to one another, they flashed up to Dasaratha's gates.

“Take us to your king!” they cried to the guards. “We come with joyful news from King Janaka and Rishi Viswamitra.”

Dasaratha welcomed them eagerly into his sabha. The messengers' leader announced, “Great Dasaratha! Janaka of Mithila sends his greetings. He inquires after your majesty's health and the welfare of your kingdom.”

Dasaratha waved impatiently to the man that he should deliver the news he brought. As the sabha in Ayodhya sat hushed, the messenger said, “Janaka wants you to hear a petition from him of which Brahmarishi Viswamitra approves. My master says: ‘I have a daughter called Sita. I swore that the man who marries her must first string the bow of Siva, which the Lord gave my ancestor. Countless kshatriyas tried, and failed even to move the bow. But, Dasaratha, your Rama, watched by a crowd of kings, rishis, and my people, strung Siva's bow as if it were a toy. I want Sita to become your son's wife. My lord, accept my gift more precious to me than life. I beg you, come quickly to Mithila to bless the young couple.' Janaka awaits your reply.”

Dasaratha rose and cried, “The children are in Videha with Viswamitra, and you all hear what my Rama has done!” He turned to Vasishta, Vamadeva, and his other ministers. “Janaka wants to have the wedding as soon as he can. If none of you has any objection, let us go to Mithila straightaway.”

The rishis gave their assent happily, for Sita's fame had spread long ago to Ayodhya. It was decided they would leave the next morning. After their journey, the messengers from Mithila slept soundly; but the king of Kosala hardly slept that night, because he was as excited as a boy at the thought of seeing Rama again. It seemed like a lifetime since his child had gone away with that knowing Viswamitra.

The next day, the chariots and palanquins to carry Ayodhya's royal family gleamed in the dawn outside the palace. Night long, preparations had been under way in the queens' apartments and in the treasury. This was no ordinary visit by one king to another. This was the occasion of Rama's wedding, and cartloads of gold and priceless jewelry would travel with the party from Ayodhya.

It was customary for them to go ahead, and the king's rishis, Vasishta, and the others were the first to leave. When the sun was halfway to his zenith, Dasaratha himself emerged from the palace. He was greeted with a roar from his people, thronging to see him off to the wedding of their beloved Rama.

*   *   *

They took five days to reach Mithila, and Janaka rode out from his city to welcome Dasaratha and his company. With his relatives, his ministers, and Sadananda, Janaka came to meet Dasaratha. He saw Rama's father, and, eschewing formality, rode forward and embraced Dasaratha emotionally. The people saw that both kings had tears in their eyes.

Now Janaka welcomed his royal guest formally, saying, “My lord, I thank you for coming to Mithila. You honor me by accepting my hospitality. I am already thrice blessed that the great Vasishta has come to my city, and Vamadeva and Markandeya with him.

“But more than anything else, Dasaratha, your son has realized my most cherished dream for me. If he had not come, I would have been forced to break my oath that Sita would marry only the man who strung Siva's bow. My yagna is almost complete. As its culmination, you must allow me to have Rama and Sita married.”

Dasaratha bowed and said happily, “It is not my place to tell a king like you when the wedding should take place. Your brahmanas must know that better than I.”

Janaka took Dasaratha's arm and they entered Mithila together. Here also, the people milled in the streets to welcome the king from Ayodhya. Dasaratha and his party were lodged in a palace prepared for their stay. Viswamitra waited for them there. Overwhelmed when he saw the rishi, Dasaratha prostrated himself at his feet.

Viswamitra raised him up gently, murmuring, “Dasaratha, I hope you don't regret having sent your sons with me. The ways of fate are mysterious and I have lived longer than you to know them.”

He led the king inside with an arm around his shoulders. Then Dasaratha's face lit up as if a sun had risen in his heart: Rama waited there, with Lakshmana beside him. Janaka and Viswamitra left the father and his sons together, and withdrew to the yagnashala where the Vedas were being chanted without pause.

Evening was upon them when the princes were left alone with Dasaratha, who embraced them repeatedly, tears flowing down his face. He made them sit close beside him, while he lay down to rest after his journey. He made them repeat all their adventures, beginning when they left Ayodhya with Viswamitra and ending with how Rama strung Siva's bow. At least ten times he heard the story from both Rama and Lakshmana, as if it was food, drink, and air to him. And he held Rama's hand tightly, as happy an old man as could be found on earth.

Rama and Lakshmana spent all night with their father, while Janaka and the rishis were at the yagnashala, where the sacrifice was nearing its end. Early the next morning, the ritviks collected around the vedika and the final rites were completed without blemish.

Janaka said to Sadananda, “I want to share my joy with my brother Kusadhvaja.”

Sadananda sent messengers to Kusadhvaja, who was the king of Samkashya beside the limpid Ikshumati. When his brother arrived, Janaka, his ministers, his gurus, and his family gathered in the royal sabha.

Janaka said to his chief minister, Sudama, “My lord, fetch Dasaratha and his sons to our sabha.”

The king of Ayodhya and his princes came, and they were resplendent. Janaka and Kusadhvaja went to Dasaratha with folded hands, and brought him, Rama, and Lakshmana to golden thrones set apart for them.

Dasaratha said solemnly, “Janaka, my friend, my guru Vasishta will recall the ancestry of the young man who is to marry your daughter.”

Vasishta rose and traced the line of Manu. He told of the greatness of Ikshvaku, who was the first mortal king to rule Ayodhya. He told of Trishanku, Yuvanashva of renown, and his son Mandhata, who was called the jewel of the krita yuga. Of Sagara he spoke, of Anshuman and Bhagiratha, of Kakushta and Raghu, and of Aja, whose son was Dasaratha himself. He ended formally, Brahma's son, the kulaguru of Ikshvaku, the royal House of the Sun: “Now you know the antecedents of Rama. Be pleased to give your daughter Sita, who is a rare treasure among women, to Dasaratha's son.”

Janaka bowed to Vasishta. He rose from his throne and said, “My lords, I too will tell you about my ancestors. Nimi was the first of our line, and after his son Mithi our city was called Mithila.” He began the account of his illustrious line. Each king was named, down the august generations, and his fame recited, until he came to Svarnaroma, who was his own father.

Then Janaka said, “I ask you humbly to accept my daughter Sita to be your son Rama's wife. I have another daughter Urmila. She, also, is a lovely child, and I would be delighted if you take her to be the magnificent Lakshmana's bride.”

He bowed to Dasaratha, who smiled and said, “It is our privilege to have your daughters for our sons' wives.”

Viswamitra stood up suddenly and said, “Your brother Kusadhvaja has two daughters. I propose that they be married to Bharata and Shatrughna. Let your two ancient houses be bound together inextricably.”

A murmur of approval hummed through the court, and Kusadhvaja rose and endorsed Viswamitra's proposal. Embracing Dasaratha, Janaka said, “My friend, let your sons purify themselves with the proper rituals. Three days from today, under the auspicious Uttara Phalguni nakshatra, we will solemnize the weddings.”

The kings returned to their apartments.

 

18. Rama kalyana

In the sabha of Mithila, purified with mantras and incense, flowers and sacred yantras, Dasaratha waited with his sons and Vasishta, the chief priest. The princes of Ayodhya had also purified themselves with a three days' homa.

Vasishta said ritually to Janaka, “My lord, the princes wear the sacred kankanas on their wrists. They await the kanyadana, which blesses the giver and the receiver.”

Now Janaka fetched his daughter. Sita was like the Goddess Lakshmi risen in her primordial lotus. The sabha fell hushed to see such loveliness upon the earth. She was as bright as a streak of lightning. Her eyes were as long as lotus petals, set wide, and she kept her gaze turned down to the ground. Her tresses, night-black and hanging below her waist, were braided with jasmine and stranded with strings of pearls. She wore a tawny silk sari, edged with gold threads and woven with crimson swans. She was entirely beautiful.