Ramakatha Rasavahini, Chapter 16 (a) - Gloom over Ayodhya

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Chapter 16 (a)Gloom over Ayodhya

 

Meanwhile, the Ruler of the Nishadas who was returning to his kingdom after

accompanying Rama for some distance into the forest, saw the Minister Sumanthra

sitting in his chariot on the bank of the Ganga, the horses having been tied by

their reins to a shady tree. Guha found Sumanthra weeping and wailing

inconsolably, alone. Guha himself could not control any longer the anguish he

had restrained so long. He cried out, 'Rama', and ran towards Sumanthra. He

embraced the old man and both sobbed aloud in agony, unable to put their grief

in words. They stood under the tree together, but fell on the ground as if they

were themselves trees felled by an axe. They lamented the fate of Sita, Rama and

Lakshmana and poured abuse on Kaikeyi, the cause of all the calamities.

The horses stopped grazing, and desisted from drinking water. Tears rolled from

their eyes. Whenever they heard Sumanthra and Guha utter the names of Sita or

Rama, or Lakshmana, they raised their heads aloft, and peered into the

distance, anxious to catch a glimpse of those whom they adored and loved with

as much zeal as the two men in the agony of separation. Sumanthra noted the

grief which was tormenting the animals and his anguish became even greater.

Some hours must have passed by this heart-rending wail. At last, Guha managed to

recover a little; he mustered some courage, as needs some one must; he addressed

Sumanthra thus: "Ah, Minister! You are profoundly intelligent, steadfast in

morality and a person who has identified the Reality behind all this passing

show. Fate plays strange tricks, and so, one has to learn to put up with them.

Rise! Return to Ayodhya! Convey the news to Kausalya and Sumitra, who are

yearning to see you and to listen to your account." He raised Sumanthra

forcibly from where he had fallen. He seated him in the chariot. He brought the

horses and yoked them to the central pole.

Sumanthra realized that what Guha was insisting was the correct step. Moved by a

spurt of blind courage the old man signed to the horses to move forward; his

body lost strength as a result of the anguish of separation from Rama.

Therefore, however much he tried he could not drive the chariot as of old. He

rolled down inside the chariot and rose in his seat many times in a few

minutes. And the horses? They too would not move. They were set on turning back

and straining their necks to see the road behind.

Sumanthra cursed himself and his fate. "Fie on me", he said. "May this horrid

life of mine be ended. This body has to be burnt into ash some day. Far better

it were if, instead of dying through some disease or some worldly calamity, it

died as a result of unbearable agony at separation from Rama. That would have

made my life worth while. That would have made my fame ever-lasting; earning

that fame is enough compensation for all the ills of life.No, Sumanthra," he

said to himself. "Had you the good luck, you would have stuck to Rama; when bad

luck haunts you, what else can you do than come away and be alive? Of what use

is it now to pine and blame yourself?" Sumanthra chided himself most

mercilessly, in this strain.

He started again the dialogue with himself. 'With what face am I to present

myself in Ayodhya? When the citizens ask me where Rama is, what can I answer?

When they ask me, 'how could you come away leaving Rama in the jungle,' what

can I tell them? Will I not be overwhelmed by shame and sorrow? O, my heart

has become stone. Else, why has it not split into fragments at all that I have

gone through?" Sumanthra was disgusted at his own meanness, he wrung his hands

in despair. He decided that he should not enter the City during the hours of

sun-light, when people would be moving about. It would be less humiliating, he

felt, to enter the City at night, after every one had gone to bed and was fast

asleep.

But, soon, his inner voice told him, "What? Can the people of Ayodhya ever

sleep? No, no. They cannot. It is just my foolishness and ignorance that make

me imagine they do. They would be awake, awaiting news of the return of Rama

or, at least, any news about him. I cannot escape the humiliation and the

shame, whether I enter the City at night or during day. Well. For me, who did

not deserve the grace of Rama, this ill-fate is the proper meed. It is best I

go through it and bear the burden of that blame." Thus, Sumanthra wended his

way slowly and haltingly, spending time in framing questions to himself and

presenting answers to them

At last, he reached the bank of the Thamasa River. So, he decided to spend a few

hours there, allowing the horses to graze a bit and himself preparing for the

entry into the City after nightfall, when the people would not be about the

streets, but would be safe in bed. Finally, the chariot rolled into the gate of

the City and began to move through thoroughfares.

Sumanthra took extra care to ensure silence from wheel and hoof; the chariot

moved at the pace of a snail. But, who could silence the agony of the horses?

They recognized the streets through which they had taken Rama; they groaned

aloud at their present fate, when their dear Rama was far, far away.

The populace of the City heard this pathetic neigh; their ears were set to hear

this piteous cry; they told each other that Sumanthra had returned with an

empty chariot; they ran into the street and stood pathetically on both sides to

witness the sad spectacle.

Sumanthra bent his head low, when he saw the crowds. Seeing him in this pitiable

posture, they guessed that Rama had not returned, and swooned on the spot,

falling wherever they stood. Many wept aloud. The residents of the palaces of

the Queens, when they heard the neighs of the grief-stricken steeds, sent maids

in haste to inquire why; they hurried in groups towards Sumanthra and showered

questions on him. He sat dejected and crestfallen, like a mute person, unable

to find words to tell them the answers. He sat unmoved like a broken pillar, as

If he was deaf and could not hear what they were so earnestly asking him.

>From his behaviour, the maids inferred that Rama had rejected all importunities

to return. They lamented, "O Minister! Have you left Sita in the

terror-striking forest, and come back yourself, alone?" and broke into a sudden

sharp wail.

One maid was more courageous than the rest. She told Sumanthra that Kausalya had

ordered that he should come straight to the palace where she was.

There Sumanthra found the Emperor prostrate on the floor, exhausted without

sleep or food, in disheveled clothes. Sumanthra mastered the surge of sorrow

within him, and uttering the words "Jai! Jai", which are traditionally to be

pronounced first in the imperial presence, he stood by, shaking head to foot.

Recognizing that voice, Dasaratha sat up quick, and plaintively asked him,

"Sumanthra! Where is my Rama?"

Sumanthra clasped the Emperor in his arms; the Emperor clung to him as a

drowning man clings to a blade of grass. Seeing both of them weeping on account

of immeasurable sorrow, Kausalya was submerged in grief; she could scarce

breathe; she gasped and was pitifully suffocating with agony. The maids noticed

this and, themselves loudly lamenting the misfortune that had overtaken all,

they struggled to console the queen and restore her.

Meanwhile, Dasaratha pulled himself up a little; he made Sumanthra sit right in

front of him; he asked him "Sumanthra! Tell me about my Sita and Rama. Tell me

all about them. How is Lakshmana? Alas, tender Sita must indeed be very much

tired. Where are they now? Tell me". Noting that Sumanthra was not eager to

reply, he shook him by the shoulders and pleaded most piteously.

Sumanthra was too full of shame to look the Emperor in the face; he bent his

looks towards the floor, and with eyes streaming with tears, he scarce could

speak. Dasaratha continued his sobs. He said, "O Rama! My breath is still

lingering on in this frame, even though a son like you left me. The world has

no sinner equal to me in heinousness. Sumanthra! Where exactly are my Sita,

Rama and Lakshmana, at present? Take me without delay to the place where they

are. Do me this good turn. Fulfill this desire of mine. Without seeing them, I

cannot live a second longer".

And, like a person infatuated and desperate, he shouted in pain, "Rama! O Rama!

Let me see you at least once. Won't you give me the chance to see you?

The maids standing outside the hall where he was lying could not sleep or take

food, since they were sunk in sorrow at the Emperor's plight. Sumanthra

replied, "Imperial Monarch! Rajadhiraja! You are extremely wise; you are made

in heroic mould; your abilities are profound. Your lineage is divine. You have

always served ascetics and saints. You know that as night follows day and day

follows night wealth and want, happiness and misery, nearness and separation

come one after the other, with a certain inevitability. Only fools are carried

off their feet in joy when happiness comes and are dispirited, down-hearted

when misery comes. Learned men like you should not be affected by either; they

should be full of equanimity, what ever might happen. I have no credentials to

advise you to face this situation courageously for, you know the need for

courage very much more. O Benefactor of the World! Heed my prayers. Give up

this grief. I

shall describe the details of my journey with them now. Please listen calmly."

At this, Kausalya struggled to raise herself up, with the help of the maids;

she leant on them and made herself ready to listen to what Sumanthra had to

say.

Sumanthra began, "O Master! The first day we journeyed up to the bank of the

Thamasa. Sita, Rama and Lakshmana bathed in the river and after drinking water,

they rested under a spreading tree. The next day, we reached the Ganga River.

Darkness was invading from all sides. I stopped the chariot according to the

command of Rama. All three bathed and rested on a stretch of sand. When dawn

broke Rama asked Lakshmana to bring him the juice of the banyan tree, and when

he did so, Rama applied it on his hair and matted it, so that he could wear it

on the crown of his head. Meanwhile, the ruler of the Nishada tribe, a friend

of Rama, brought a boat; Sita was made to get in to the boat first; after her,

Rama sat in it; later honouring the order of Rama, Lakshmana entered the boat,

carrying the bow and arrows. Ere he sat in the boat, Lakshmana came to me and

asked me to convey prostrations and homage to the parents, and his prayer

for blessings. He also directed me to request you to put up with things boldly and wisely."

Sumanthra continued his account of what Rama had asked him to announce at

Ayodhya. "Master", he told Dasaratha, "Rama said 'Communicate my homage to the

Preceptor. Advise my father not to grieve over what has happened'. After this,

Rama called me near him, and directed me thus, 'Call together the Ministers,

the Citizens of Ayodhya, and the kinsmen of the Royal Family and tell them of

this request, specially made by me: only those among them who help to make my

father's life happy are dear to me.' Rama said, 'On Bharatha's arrival, convey

my blessings to him, and direct him to accept the burden of ruling over the

empire, and to conserve and to promote justice and integrity, fostering the

welfare of the people through means that are pure in thought, word and deed.

Tell him that I desire him to serve the parents so well that they will forget

their agony at separation from me.'

"While Rama was engaged in commissioning me thus, Sita too approached and told

me to inform you she was happily spending time with Rama with nothing wanting.

She wanted me to offer her prostrations at the feet of her father-in-law and

mothers-in-law. She wanted me to tell them not to be anxious about her and to

be assured that she was happy with her lord, and eagerly expecting them to

bless her always. She requested me to tell them that she inquired often of

their health and welfare.

"Meanwhile, the boatman realized that it was Rama's wish that he should not

delay any longer; so he started to dip the oar in the river. Soon, Rama moved

off. I was looking on at the receding boat, with my heart literally petrified;

I must have spent a long time standing there on the river bank. I had to return

perforce to this place to carry out the orders of Rama; else, I certainly would

have drowned myself in the Ganga; I had become so desperate. I had to continue

my life, just for this purpose - to convey to you the message from Rama. This

Ayodhya which has no Rama in it appears to me forlorn and fearful as a forest."

Listening to the words of Sumanthra and the soft sweet messages from Rama and

Sita, Dasaratha could not restrain his anguish; he could not forget all that

had happened; he fell in a faint.

The Emperor's breath was suffocated, like a fish which struggles to wriggle out

of the dense slush into which it has fallen. Seeing his plight, the queens

burst into heart rending wails. Words cannot describe that moment of desperate

distress. Seeing their sorrow, even sorrow could not restrain its own sorrow.

The agony of the queens, the agony of the Emperor, the agony of the maids of

the palace, spread confusion and consternation over the entire City. The

residents of the Capital scattered in terror, just like birds of the forest,

frightened at midnight by a sudden thunderbolt.

Like a lotus stalk which, plucked and thrown out of the water, fades fast, the

Emperor was fast leaving the body. Words could not emerge from the throat, the

tongue became dry. The senses turned dull and ineffective. Kausalya watched the

Emperor and she noted that the Sun of the Solar Dynasty was setting.

She mustered courage and stepping near, she placed the head of her lord on her

lap and tried to make him listen to a few words of consolation and comfort. She

said, "Lord! Sita, Rama and Lakshmana will be arriving soon and seeing you. Hear

my words; take courage; strengthen yourself". When she so compassionately prayed

into his ear, Dasaratha opened his eyes, and muttered audibly, "Kausalya! Where

is my Rama? Show me, show me, where is he? Take me to him. Alas! My sweet and

tender daughter-in-law is not here now. And, Lakshmana, where is he that I

don't see him here".

Dasaratha bent his head, unable to hold it up any more. The burden of grief was

so heavy. A few minutes later, the Emperor remembered the curse that was

pronounced on him by the blind hermit, the father of Sravana. He sat up with a

struggle, and began telling Kausalya in feeble accents, the story of that

curse.

"Kausalya! On one occasion, I had gone into the forest on a hunting expedition.

A large number of soldiers and huntsmen followed me thither. We could not meet

any wild animal the whole day; but, I felt that I should not return to the

Capital with empty hands, with nothing bagged. We entered the forest in the

night, and waited and watched for some luck. The dawn was about to break into

the darkness around us on the brink of a vast lake, when something moved on the

edge of the water. I could also hear the sound of the movement.

"I inferred that it was a big beast of the jungle, and since I could shoot the

arrow straight at the sound and effect a kill, I drew my bow and let go the

sharp, sure arrow. It flew fast and furious and hit that animal already on the

move. Suddenly, I heard the cry of pain, 'Ah', emanating from the place where

it fell. I ran forward with the soldiers and lo, I found it was not a beast I

had killed; it was the young son of a hermit! I bent by his side and prayed

that he should pardon me, for the tragic error. The son of the hermit told me;

'Emperor! Do not grieve. Fulfill this request of mine, the request I shall

presently tell you; that will be enough requital for the sin you have

perpetrated. My name is Sravana. My father and mother are both blind. I was

spending the days of my life serving them both; that service was granting me

all the happiness I needed. I was blessed with even the highest knowledge, the

Realization of the Reality. They are now suffering from excruciating thirst. I

came here to this lake to take some water to them. You shot at me imagining me

to be an animal of the forest. Who can avoid the decrees of destiny? My present

condition is such that I can no longer walk with this water to my parents.

Therefore, take this vessel of water with you to them; go in the northerly

direction, until you come to a lonely thatched hut, and, after they have slaked

their thirst, describe what has happened to me here. Not tell them anything

about me before they slake their thirst". Saying this, he placed the vessel in

my hands, and passed away.

Kausalya! O, how pathetically anxious he was for his parents! He never worried

about his life which was fast ebbing away; he did not speak a harsh word to me;

those soft sweet loving words he uttered are still echoing in my ears. With his

last breath, he repeated the sacred Pranava, Om, Om, Om, clearly, three times.

Seeing him and his calm courageous death, I decided that I should make amends

for my sin by fulfilling his last desire. I hurried to the hut he had

mentioned, and gave the vessel into their hands, without uttering a single

word. But, those parents started asking many questions; they inquired, 'Son!

Why did you take so much time? Why this delay?' They moved their hands forward

and waved them about, so that they may touch him, and feel his presence before

them. I stepped back a little; meanwhile, the aged

couple, wailed, 'Son! Why is it that today you are not speaking to us? We shall

not drink the water that you have brought unless you talk to us and answer our

queries!

"I had directed, that the body of Sravana be brought behind me by the soldiers

to the parents' hut. They arrived at this time with the corpse. I placed the

body within reach of the mother. She wept most pathetically over the body; I

could not look on. Some time later, the mother established some little mastery

over her grief and told me, 'Emperor! There is no use extending our lives

hereafter, since our son has left us. We have grown old; who will serve us and

foster us? Kill us too, as you killed him. Or else, erect a pyre, so that we

can immolate ourselves with our son'. I bowed my head, and accepted their

command. I heaped dry wood and piled up a pyre. The son's corpse was placed on

it. They sat on it and by sheer exercise of Yogic power, they created fire in

themselves and burnt themselves.

"Before they immolated themselves, they addressed me and spoke a few words.

Their holy curse is proving true today." At this point, Dasaratha stopped some

time, in order to take rest, and to compose the agitation of his mind. Kausalya

pacified him, and gave him consolation and mental calm. She said, "Lord! What

did the parents say? Tell me, I am anxious to hear". Dasaratha stayed silent

for a while and replied, "Kausalya! What can I say? How can I repeat those

words? Those old people, the aged couple, spoke thus: 'You will end your life,

as we are doing now, out of unbearable agony at separation from your son'. And

then, they breathed their last, amidst the rising flames.

"At that time, I had no son; I wondered how their curse would affect me. How

could their word come true, I thought within myself. But I also thought, that

being the words of an aged sage, they cannot but become true. That meant I must

have sons, so that I may be separated from them. You know how sad we were, for

we had no sons then. I felt that the curse might prove a blessing; I prayed it

may come true, so that, even though I may have to be separated from them, I

might have sons. I could not tell you this secret till now. Now, I understand

that the words of that holy hermit represented genuine truth. The agony of

separation from Rama is bringing about my end. I have recalled to memory the

tragedy of Sravana. My courage is spent. I cannot muster it any more."

Dasaratha was lost in the contemplation of the incidents of the past. "Rama!

Rama! Rama!" he cried thrice, and leaned back on Kausalya. Kausalya noticed the

change that had come over him, and screamed. The attendants and maids gathered

around. They found that the Emperor had drawn his last breath. The city was

turned into a vale of tears, a seething pool of grief. Crowds surged into the

palace. The streets became fast-moving torrents of weeping humanity. People

cast curses on Kaikeyi, for, they felt that the City had lost its Eyes, as a

result of her machinations.

Vasishta, the Royal Preceptor, arrived at the Hall, where the body of the

Emperor lay. He spoke appropriate counsel and tried to assuage the sorrow of

the queens. He consoled Kausalya and Sumitra, telling them about the deceased

forefathers and how they too could not escape death, in spite of their might

and majesty. Since there was no one present who could officiate during the

obsequies, the body was, according to the instructions given by Vasishta, kept

immersed in oil so that it might not disintegrate. Vasishta beckoned a

courier, and told him. "Here! Go quickly to Bharatha; do not tell him a word

about the death of the Emperor; but tell him only this—the Preceptor wants that

you and your brother should return immediately to the Capital City." The courier

fell at the feet of the Preceptor, and took leave of the Minister, before he

started on the long journey in a fleet chariot.

The Agony of Bharatha

Ever since Ayodhya was plunged in sorrow, Bharatha was experiencing various

premonitions in the form of ominous dreams. He was awakened by the terror and

turmoil which the dreams presented before him. Many nights Bharatha had not

even a wink of sleep. He sat up in bed, in an eerie state of expectation. He

feared that some bad news was coming fast towards him. He moved out even before

dawn, and, after an early bath, he engaged himself in various rites and

ceremonies in order to propitiate the Gods and avert the expected calamity. He

sat long in the shrine, praying for relief. In spite of all this, he was

haunted by a mysterious fear.

The dreams were persisting for fourteen days and so Bharatha had reached the

very bottom of his courage and faith. Meanwhile the courier from Ayodhya

managed to reach the City of Kekaya, where Bharatha was, on the fifteenth day

of his long journey. When Bharatha was informed of his arrival at the main

entrance to the Palace, Bharatha ordered that he be brought in immediately, so

that he might know what had brought him.

The courier prostrated before Bharatha and prayed that he and his brother start

without the least delay, according to the command of the Preceptor, to Ayodhya.

Bharatha inquired about the welfare of people in Ayodhya, plying the courier

with a variety of questions. He replied that there was nothing special to

report, except that the Preceptor wanted them to return soon, without delay.

This was the task on which he had come and he had nothing more to may. Nor did

he know anything more.

Bharatha knew that couriers would not speak more than a few words before their

royal masters and the royal masters too should not keep on talking to them

intimately for long. Etiquette demanded that he should not converse with him

for more than a few minutes. The courier too had his code of discipline. So, he

rose and left the chamber.

That very moment, Bharatha entered the inner apartments, and took leave of his

maternal uncle; along with his brother, Satrughna, he got into the waiting

chariot, and hurried it to move forward faster and faster. Like an arrow from

an intrepid bow, the chariot flew over mountain paths, hill tracks and jungle

roads. Grief was surging from Bharatha's heart, as fast as the chariot itself.

He could not explain why or wherefore. Some inexplicable agony afflicted him.

Bharatha did not wish to delay on the road for food or even for a gulp of water

to assuage his thirst.

Bhajan: Raghuvira Ranadhira Rama Rama Ram (Chant the name of Lord Rama, Vithala

and Lord Sai Rama of Shirdi)

Ramakatha RasavahiniThe Sweet Story of Rama's GloryOriginal in Telegu written by

Bhagavan Sri Sathya Sai BabaRendered into English by Professor N. Kasturi

Source: http://www.vahini.org/ramakatha/chapter16a.htmlVahini.org: 'Vahini'

Books written by Bhagavan Sri Sathya Sai Baba

 

 

 

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