The Ramayana (95 page)

Bhadra's eyes flickered briefly, then he folded his hands and said, “My lord, it is mainly about the killing of Ravana that the people speak. They say what a mighty deed it was.”

But Rama said again, “Tell me everything they say, Bhadra. Don't spare me anything unpleasant you have heard. How will I become a better king if I do not know what shortcomings I must overcome in myself?”

Bhadra's seemed to collect himself for a moment. He drew a breath and said, “Then listen, Rama, to everything the people say, both good and bad. At the crossroads, in the markets, on the streets, and in the forests, they say, ‘Rama built a bridge across the southern sea to Lanka. Which other king, indeed, which Deva or Asura, has done such a thing?'

“‘That was nothing, when you compare it with the killing of Ravana and all his fiercest rakshasas.'

“‘Yes, and he brought Sita back with him and he loves her just as he always did.'

“‘But isn't the pleasure he feels being with her a depraved joy? When he knows the Rakshasa carried her away and kept her with him for many months, and surely…'”

Bhadra glanced anxiously at Rama, but there was no hint of any surprise or grief on that noble face. Rama merely nodded, impassively, that he should continue.

Bhadra continued, “My lord, they say, ‘Why does Rama keep such a woman beside him? Doesn't he realize that we, too, will have to endure our wives straying, because the people always follow what their king and queen do?' Rama, this is what your subjects are saying, in the streets of Ayodhya and in every town and village in your kingdom.”

Now Rama's lips quivered in anguish, and he looked around his sabha at his counselors, from one face to the next. They all turned their gazes from him. At last he asked them, “Is what Bhadra says true?”

As a man, all of them whispered, “It is, my lord.”

For a moment he seemed to have turned to stone. Then he said to them, “Leave me for a while, my friends.”

When they had gone, he said to his dwarapalaka, “Bring Lakshmana, Bharata, and Shatrughna to me.”

They came at once, and saw their brother's face was like an eclipsed moon, a withered lotus; they saw his eyes were tear-laden. They bowed deeply to him, and he embraced them and made them sit in their thrones set close to his own.

He said to them, “You know how Sita entered the fire on Lanka, and Agni himself returned her to me; all the Gods appeared to attest to her purity. And I brought her home to Ayodhya, knowing she was perfectly untainted, in body and mind. But the people are not convinced. They judge her by their own lives, their own beliefs.”

He broke down now, and sobbed, “The people say how will their wives be faithful to them when the king has brought home a woman who was abducted by the Rakshasa and kept in his asokavana for so many months? They say surely Ravana enjoyed Sita. They are saying she has sinned, that she is not fit to be their queen or my wife.”

Lakshmana cried in anger, “You don't mean to take what they say to heart? The people will talk, Rama; they are common. They cannot understand chastity like Sita's.”

But his brother raised a hand that he should stop. Rama said, “I am the king. I cannot disregard what the people say. My first dharma is toward them, Lakshmana.”

Lakshmana and Shatrughna looked incredulously at Rama. Bharata was very quiet. He had ruled the kingdom for fourteen years; he alone seemed to understand the dilemma Rama faced. But it seemed Rama had already made up his mind about what should be done.

Very softly he said, “It is easy to slander anyone, and infamy is what casts one into hell. Dishonor in a king or a queen is intolerable. Why, I would sacrifice my life and even yours, my brothers who are like my very breath to me, for my reputation. If a king does not have honor, if he cannot hold his head high before his people, he cannot be a king.”

He fell quiet and his tears flowed. His brothers waited to hear what he would say next, for they saw that he had not called them to ask their advice. Finally, he wiped his eyes and said evenly, “Lakshmana, Sita said to me she wants to visit a great rishi's asrama and to spend a night there to have his blessing.” His voice sank to a whisper. “She is with child.”

His brothers gasped. Rama went on, “Lakshmana, you must take Sita out in Sumantra's chariot tomorrow. Cross the Ganga and ride beyond the frontiers of Kosala to the Rishi Valmiki's asrama on the banks of the Tamasa.” He paused as if to say the next words would cost him his life. “And, Saumitra, leave her there and return to me.”

He looked at his brothers' faces, which were aghast, and continued more softly than ever. “Do not say a word to me about what I have decided. He who speaks against what I have said shall be like one who betrays me to my death. I am your king, Lakshmana; if you do not obey me, you shall be guilty of treason. She said to me, ‘I want to visit an asrama on the banks of the Ganga.' Her wish must be fulfilled. Yes, it must. As for me, I cannot bear to see her before she goes. Tell her I was called away urgently from the city.”

With that, Rama walked out of the sabha.

 

25. Lakshmana's anguish

Late that night, Lakshmana called for Sumantra and said to the king's sarathy, “Prepare the royal chariot, Sumantra. I must take Sita to visit Valmiki's asrama tomorrow.”

When, at dawn, the chariot was fetched, Lakshmana went to Sita and said, “Rama has asked me to take you to the rishis' asramas.”

She was as happy as a girl. She said, “Let me take some ornaments and silks for the rishis' wives, Saumitra.”

And when she had everything she wanted, they worshipped at the temple in Rama's palace and set out. They rode for two days and arrived on the banks of the golden Ganga. Sumantra unyoked the horses and led them to drink. Lakshmana had hardly spoken all through their journey, and Sita was so excited she barely noticed his unusual silence.

Now they sat together, sharing the meal she had brought for them; suddenly, she saw his eyes fill and he gave a sob, as if his heart was broken.

She looked at him reproachfully. “Why are you crying in this blessed place, Lakshmana? Just because you haven't seen Rama for two nights! I have also not seen him for as long, but my heart feels no pang here, beside the Ganga.”

Then she felt sorry for him, and said kindly, “Come, let us cross the river. I will give away the gifts I have brought for the yoginis and we will go back to Ayodhya. Oh please, Lakshmana, don't cry now. This is a joyful journey we have come on; for me, perhaps the happiest of my life. But then you don't know why I have come here today.”

Lakshmana controlled himself with a great effort and called the nishada boatmen who waited to take them across the sacred river, she that once fell from the sky. Lakshmana helped Sita into the painted boat, climbed in himself, and they cast off. Sumantra would wait on this bank with the chariot and horses.

When they were in midstream, Sita folded her hands and prayed to Ganga, the Devi. However, when they reached the other bank and stepped ashore, Lakshmana broke down again and began to sob. Sita cried, “Again, Lakshmana! Whatever is the matter with you?”

He could not hold back any more. He cried, “Ah, that I were dead, rather than have to do this dreadful thing! Why me? O dear God, why me? I have done nothing so terrible that I deserve to have this vile task entrusted to me. O perfect Sita, I beg you, do not for a moment think that this is what I want, or that I am responsible for this monstrous crime. Oh, Yama, why don't you come for me and save me from the sin I am being forced to commit?”

Sita frowned and said, “What are you saying, Lakshmana? Why don't you speak plainly? Ah, you seem to be in agony. Has Rama been angry with you for something? Tell me what it is; I command you!”

He kept his face turned from her and his eyes streamed tears. Choking, he said, “Janaki, the people say that you are tainted and not fit to be Rama's queen. When Rama heard, he said to me, ‘Lakshmana, a king's first dharma is to his subjects. Take Sita to the Rishi Valmiki's asrama and leave her there. She cannot be queen in Ayodhya any more.”

Sita fell, as if he had cut her down with a sword. He sprinkled river water on her face and her eyes fluttered open. Weakly, she sat up with his help. She said, “Ah, Lakshmana, God has created this body of mine only for it to suffer. Today I feel as if sorrow has incarnated himself in me. What have I done, Saumitra, that my husband has abandoned me? What sin have I committed? I followed Rama into exile in the forest, and I was happy there that he was with me.

“Lakshmana, tell me, when the rishis ask me for what sin Rama has banished me, what shall I tell them? Oh, except that I am pregnant, I would drown myself in this Ganga.”

Lakshmana stood before her, utterly miserable. He did not say a word, only wept.

Sita said, “I know you must leave me here, as your brother has commanded. But tell him from me that I will pray for him every day, as I have always done. For who else can save him from the curse that must fall on him, for what he has done to me today? Go, Lakshmana, go and tell Rama that even as his Sita is pure, she still loves him. Tell him to rule wisely, to love his subjects just as he does his brothers. Tell him not to grieve for me. Say that my spirit is always with him, and that his seed grows in me. Go, dear Lakshmana, go now before your heart also breaks.”

Lakshmana walked round her in pradakshina, sobbing helplessly. He lay at her feet for her blessing and whispered, “I cannot see you like this, Sita. Ah, let me go now, I cannot bear this.”

When she had blessed him, he rose quickly, and without looking at her climbed back into the boat and told the nishadas to row back to where Sumantra waited on the northern bank of the river. When he gained that shore of solid sorrow, he got into the chariot and said to the bewildered Sumantra, “Ride, Sumantra. This is Rama's command, that we leave her here. Never look back at her, ride for Ayodhya as if death rides after us!”

Across the sad and knowing river, Sita strained for a glimpse of the royal chariot that flitted away from her like the last thread of her life. When the chariot vanished, all too quickly, she stood crying dementedly on the banks of the eternal river and her sobs mingled with the puzzled cries of peacocks in the woods around her. And it seemed the sky would shatter and time would end, for what had been done to that sinless woman.

 

26. Valmiki's asrama

As some young disciples of Valmiki were going to the river to fetch water for the asrama, they heard heartbroken sobbing. Cautiously, they drew nearer and saw a woman as perfect as Lakshmi, who stood on the bank of the river, wringing her hands in some final despair.

They were not sure their guru would like them to talk to a young woman alone; so they ran back to the asrama and came breathlessly before their master.

“She is like a Goddess come down to the earth and she stands sobbing as if the world has ended!”

“It is not safe for her to be out alone.”

“You must give her sanctuary until we learn more about her.”

Valmiki gazed into his mystic heart, and he saw who it was that stood beside the Ganga and wept. He rose and, as his sishyas had never seen him do before, ran through the woods toward the river, as if his own life was at risk. Arriving, he saw Sita had collapsed on the ground and still heaved with sobs, as if she would die.

Gently Valmiki said to her, “I know who you are. In my dhyana I have seen why you are here. I know you are pure, and have been left here for no sin of yours. Janaki, from now you are in my care. Near my asrama is the asrama of the yoginis of this forest, the rishis' wives. I will take you to them. They will look after you like their daughter. Their home will be like your own.”

Slowly, Sita's crying abated. She raised her teary face up to the kind and powerful muni that stood before her. She folded her hands to him, then touched his feet, as she had always done whenever she met a rishi. Sita whispered, “So be it, my lord.”

She followed him to the asrama of the rishis' wives. They crowded round that great sage in joy. “We are blessed that you have come to our asrama today! What can we do for you, Valmiki?”

Sita stepped out of the trees and the rishis' wives gasped to see her, so luminous, so stricken. Valmiki said, “This is Rama's wife. Sita is sinless, but her husband has abandoned her in the forest for what his people say about her. Look after her; she is more than what any of us realize. Care for her better than you do yourselves, and you shall have my blessing and a great reward of punya.”

The women said, “She is so exquisite, it will not be hard to do as you ask.”

They put their arms lovingly around Sita and led her into their hermitage. Valmiki stood for a moment, staring after them. Then he turned and walked back to his own asrama with his disciples.

 

27. Sumantra's tale

As they drove back to Ayodhya in the chariot that seemed made of ashes, Lakshmana said to Sumantra, “No one suffers more than Rama does. He whose wrath could consume the Devas and gandharvas, the Asuras and rakshasas, is plunged in grief without a cure. Sumantra, how will my brother endure being apart from Sita? Tell me, which king has ever sacrificed so much for his people?”

Sumantra did not reply at once. Then, slowly, he murmured, “What Durvasa foretold long ago has come to pass, and what the astrologers in your father's sabha read in Rama's horoscope. I was there, and so was Vasishta; and Dasaratha made us swear we would not tell any of his sons about the prophecy.

“But today, fate has overtaken us all, and what the rishi saw in the stars has come to pass. If you want to hear what Durvasa said that day, I will tell you. But you must swear you will not breathe a word of it to Bharata or Shatrughna.”

Lakshmana whispered, “Tell me, Sumantra. Tell me the whole truth and I swear not a word of it shall pass my lips.”