RAMAKATHA RASAVAHINI PART 10

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Om Sri Sai Ram

RAMAKATHA RASAVAHINI PART – 10

The Rama Story, Stream of Sacred Sweetness

As told by the Divine Lord Himself in the present Avatar as Bhagawan Sri Sathya Sai Baba

Among Hermitages

Thus, Rama entered the hermitage of Bharadwaj taking Sita with him and accompanied by Lakshmana and Guha. The sage appeared at the doorway and walked forward to welcome him, as if he was waiting since long to be blessed by the Darshan; seeing him, Rama prostrated before him, and when Bharadwaj lovingly embraced him and invited him to enter the hermitage, he was very happy to comply. The sage made them sit on the seats he had spread on the floor, for each according to his status.

He inquired after the welfare of every one of them and declared that his heart's desire was fulfilled that day. He asked his pupils to bring fruits and roots, and placing them before his guests, he pleaded that they might partake of them. They spent the night in that hermitage, accepting the sage's hospitality and service.

When day dawned, Rama proceeded to the confluence of the three rivers at Prayag, and requested the sage too to give him company. Bharadwaj said, 'Listen, O Lord! I chose this holy spot for my hermitage and austerities, since I knew I could get here the Darshan I longed for many years. To get the thrill of your Darshan, I undertook vows and performed Vedic Yajnas and Yagas. I immersed myself in the chanting of Divine Names and in meditation on the Divine Form, so that I might be rewarded with the chance to converse with you. I was awarded Darshan of all three of you. I have no more wants. I am no more concerned with bath or with food. I do not want to be reckoned as a fool who continued consuming drugs, even after he was cured of illness. I am free now from the fell disease of birth and death. I have seen

God.'

Seeing him filled with ecstasy, with tears flowing, Guha was overwhelmed with surprise. He said to himself, "O! What great good fortune is mine!� He was overcome by supreme joy. Meanwhile Rama suppressed His Divinity and acted as if he was just a man with common human attributes. While Sage Bharadwaj was dilating delightedly on the Rama Principle, Rama listened, as if it all related to another person called Rama and not to himself! He replied, "O! Foremost among sages! All those who are recipients of your hospitality are, for that very reason, adorable. All such are full of virtue and wisdom." The pupils, ascetics, sages and monks of the hermitage who heard the words of Bharadwaj and those of Rama were struck with wonder and filled with joy.

After the holy bath at Prayag, Rama left the hermitage with Sita, Lakshmana and Guha, and entered the deeper recesses of the forest. Bharadwaj followed them as far as the riverbank, and there he clasped Rama in loving embrace, wishing for them a happy journey. Rama prayed for the blessings of the Sage and said, "Master! Tell us which direction is best." The sage replied, with a laugh: "Lord! There is no path unknown to you in all the worlds, is there? You are playing the role of a mere man, in this habiliment. Well, since I have been asked, it is my duty to reply to the best of my knowledge." Thus saying, he beckoned to four of him pupils, and sent them with Rama to show him the track that led to the next hermitage complex. Those boys were delighted at the chance they secured to journey with Rama for some little distance. They

felt that it was a gift earned in previous lives. They walked in front showing them the track. Behind them, Rama went with Sita, Lakshmana and Guha. They went as far as the bank of the Yamuna river, and there, they took leave of Rama and turned back, without the least will to do so. Sita, Rama and Lakshmana were very pleased with the pupils for the help they rendered; they blessed them with all their hearts and allowed them to leave. Then, they got ready to have the holy bath in the sacred Yamuna. Meanwhile, the inhabitants of the villages on the bank noticed these visitors of extra-ordinary charm and splendor, and gathered around them, wondering who they were and whence they came and what their names were. They were too shy and too afraid to ask. They were talking in whispers among themselves.

Sita, Rama and Lakshmana finished their bath, with out paying heed to them, and, coming on to the bank, Rama called Guha near, and said, "Dear one! It is a long time since you joined us; it is not proper that you should spend so much time with us. You must carry out your duties to your subjects. Go home now, to your post of duty." He then gave him permission to leave. Guha found himself helpless to answer him. "Can anyone give up the wish-fulfilling gem that he has come by? How unfortunate I am to be forced to do so!" he wailed. He could not disregard the command of Rama. So, he prostrated before Sita, Rama and Lakshmana, and showered on his head the dust of their feet. He left their presence, most unwillingly.

A short time after Guha left them, the three resumed their journey. Soon, they saw before them a City, which shone brighter than even the City of the Nagas. As they neared the light, they wondered which City it was. The nearer they came, the more delighted they were at the grandeur and charm of the City and its suburbs. Reaching quite near, they took it to be Amaravathi, the City of the Gods and they were still more delighted. They felt that the citizens must be gods, not men. They sat under a tree in its cool shade and admired its splendor and magnificence. The people came around them and questioned among themselves whether they had come down from 'heaven', and were the Immortals themselves. They ran into the town and spread the good news that some divine personalities were coming into the City bringing great good luck with them.

Every one who heard them ran towards the visitors and vied with each other in attending to their comforts. Some placed milk before them; some spread fruits; all looked at them without even a wink! No one could leave them and go back. They stood unwilling to depart.

One of them, bolder than the rest, came forward, and spoke; "Sirs! Your charm and imposing personality make us infer that you are princes of royal blood. But, you are journeying by foot along these rough jungle paths, with this damsel. You are climbing mountains and crossing rivers; you are hard travelers braving all the dangers of the trek; so, we have to conclude that you are like us, mere citizens. We cannot understand how you manage to travel across this forest where lions abound and herds of wild elephants roam. And, you have with you this tender embodiment of loveliness and beauty. Have you no kith and kin, no friends and comrades, no well-wishers? If there were any such, certainly, they would not have allowed you to venture on this journey". He inquired into the nature and cause of the journey and put a number of other

questions to Rama.

Meanwhile, a woman advanced from the gathering towards them, and addressed Rama thus; "0 Prince! I am placing a prayer before you. Woman that I am, I am afraid to express it. Pardon my effrontery. We are common folk, unacquainted with verbal finesse. Your physical charm reflects the luster of emerald and gold, which seem to be the source of your brightness. One of you has the complexion of the rain-cloud, while the other is resplendent white. Both are as enchanting as a billion Gods of Love, moulded into human bodies. Again, we are not aware how this sweet damsel is related to you? She has the exquisite charm of the Goddess of Love, Rathi Devi. Watching her modesty and innate humility, as well as her charm, we women are ashamed of ourselves. Kindly tell us who you are, and for what purpose you have come thus

wise."

Listening to their prayers and watching their eagerness and joy, Rama and Lakshmana were very much amused. Just then, Sita turned towards the women and spoke to them thus: "Sisters! This simple, sincere person with the golden complexion is Lakshmana. He is my Lord's brother, a younger brother. Then about the dark-blue person: he with the Lotus-petal-eyes that enrapture the worlds, with the long, strong bow-arms, (here, she turned towards Rama), this is my Lord, the very breath of my life." Saying this, she bent her head and looked at the ground. Just then, a young maiden interjected, "Ma! You haven't told us your name!" Sita immediately said, "My name is Sita. I am known as Janaki, the daughter of Janaka." The women looked at each other in wonder and appreciation and then, with one voice, they blessed Sita profusely, saying, "May

you both be as happy a couple as God Siva and Goddess Parvathi and may you live together, as long as the Sun and Moon, as long as the Earth rests upon the hood of the snake Adisesha, in harmony and unbroken joy."

Rama too spoke to the men and informed them that they had come to see the grandeur and beauty of the forests and that their journey so far had been quite comfortable and useful, that they were not in the least exhausted or inconvenienced. He asked their permission to leave, and then, they turned to the forests again. Having nothing left to do, the men and women hied homeward. Sita, Rama and Lakshmana wended their way, talking among themselves about the citizens and the questions they asked, the affection they manifested and the joy that glinted in their eyes. Suddenly, Rama noticed signs of exhaustion on the face of Sita, and proposed that they rest a while under a shady tree. A cool broad stream flowed near by. Lakshmana ventured into the jungle and soon gathered some fruits and tubers, which all three ate with relish. They spent

the night there, quite happily.

At dawn they awoke, and finishing the morning ablutions, they started off on the next lap of their journey. Soon, they entered the fearsome recesses of the forest. The towering peaks, dark dreadful tangle of trees, and the deafening roar or flooded streams, produced a queer feeling of awe and mystery.

Right in the midst of that frightful area, they came upon a patch of garden, nursed and fostered by man, and upon it, a hermitage that was charming to behold. That was the ashram of the sage Valmiki. On one side of the hermitage rose the cliffs of a tall mountain; on the other side, far below, at the bottom of a deep trough, flowed a murmuring stream. The hermitage was a picture of beauty; it shone like a gem on that green carpet. Sita felt considerably relieved and assuaged when her eyes fell on that picture.

Learning from his pupils that they had entered the garden Valmiki emerged from the hermitage and appeared at the door. Sita, Rama and Lakshmana hurried forward and fell at the feet of the sage. The sage too, moved forward and, as if he had known them long, he welcomed them, with fond embrace. He invited all three to enter the hermitage. The sage Valmiki provided comfortable seats for Rama whom he loved as his very breath, and for Lakshmana and Sita; he called for fruits and edible tubers and placed them before the three. As desired by Valmiki, they partook of them, and expressed their pleasure. Valmiki sat before them, watching Rama and quenching the thirst of his eyes. He was filled with inexpressible delight.

With utmost humility, Rama addressed the great sage thus: "Most venerable Sage! You are conversant with the past, the present and the future of all; so, the reason why I have entered this forest must be as clear to you as the berry in one's palm. Nevertheless, I feel it right that I should discharge my duty of informing you why I am here, with my wife and brother." Then Rama described how Queen Kaikeyi sent him into exile in the forest, and how brother Bharatha was crowned as ruler of the realm, according to the promise made by the father.

The sage listened to the story, and communicated his joy with a face lit with smiles. He said. "Rama! As you fulfilled their desires then, you have satisfied my desire now. My austerities, vows and yearning have at last yielded fruit today. I must confer on Kaikeyi my heartfelt gratitude and a share of the bliss I am now enjoying."

Valmiki sat long in silence, with his eyes closed, while trying to keep within control the emotions of gratitude and joy surging inside him. Tears gathered in his eyes, tears of Ananda, and they rolled down his cheeks in big drops that chased each other.

Rama broke the silence and said, "We shall reside at the place where you direct us to live. Indicate to us a place where we shall not cause any trouble to any one and where we shall not come in the way of hermits and hermitages; give us proper advice. We shall put up a 'thatch' of leaves at that place and spend some time therein."

These words from a pure sincere heart moved the sage; he said, in reply, "0 Rama! I am indeed blessed. You are as the Flag that proclaims the glory of the Raghu dynasty. For what reason are you voicing thus? You are the force that fosters the path laid down in the Vedas; you are the power that safeguards it from harm. Sita is 'the deluding half of your personality, your Maya. She creates, maintains and destroys (as you 'will') worlds beyond worlds. And, Lakshmana is the very basis of the movable and the immovable, the 'thousand-hooded serpent', the Primal Sesha-Nag, which upholds the Universe. You have assumed forms, in order to carry out the wishes of the Gods, that you re-establish righteousness in the world. You will, I am sure, destroy all demonic hearts, pretty soon. You will protect the good and the compassionate. Rama! You

are the eternal Witness of the play named 'The World'. The Universe is the 'seen'; you are the Witness. Even the gods fail to gauge your Reality and your Glory. How then can ordinary mortals understand your Mystery? Only those who have received your Grace, namely, Wisdom, can claim to have known something of your Truth and your Majesty. You have taken this human form in order to promote the peace and security of good men and the gods; as a consequence, you are conversing and behaving like one of us. Only fools are misled into behaving that you are a man among men! We are all puppets who play about as you direct, as you pull the strings. Who are we to direct you to act thus wise or to stay at a certain place? Rama! Are you planning to delude us, ascetics, by your words? 0, how wonderful is your play! How realistic is your acting! Don't I know that you are the Director of this cosmic drama? I cannot understand why you are asking me to select a spot where

you can stay for some time in this forest. Which spot can I choose and recommend? For, is there any spot in the whole Universe where you are not, already? Answer me this question, and thereafter, I shall point out the place to which you can go and where you can stay" Valmiki said, looking at the charming face of Rama; in the extremity of his delight, words melted away on his tongue.

Rama laughed within himself when he listened to the revered sage. Meanwhile, the sage spoke again, soft and sweet, with a smile beaming on his resplendent face. "Rama! I know in reality you reside in the hearts of your devotees. Now, I shall tell you the best place where this form of yours can stay. Listen. You can reside there with Sita and Lakshmana. Select those whose ears, like the ocean, receive gladly the streams of stories recounting your exploits, and are ever happy, listening to the narratives of your divine acts and words, whose tongues are busy repeating your name and tasting its nectarine sweetness, whose throats recite and revel in the recitation of your praise and of your words which are soft and refreshingly sweet, whose eyes yearn to see your cloud blue form as the Chatak bird yearns for the first cloudburst, whose

ever-present longing is to discover you anywhere, in any quarter, and delight in the discovery when you find any such. O! Rama, dwell there, with Sita and Lakshmana.

"Rama! If you wish that I elaborate further, listen: Stay in the heart of the person who discards the evil in others and loves them for the good they have, who trudges along the journey of life in the path of morality and integrity, who observes approved limits of conduct and behavior, and who has the faith in thought, word and deed, that the Universe is your creation and that the entire objective world is your body.

"Nevertheless, since you have assumed now this human body and come here in order to carry out the commands of your mother and father, and questioned me in that role, I am venturing to answer, as if that role is real. You can reside on the Chitrakuta Hill. It has all facilities for comfortable stay. It is a holy place, and a charming beauty spot. The atmosphere is saturated with love and peace. Lions and elephants roam together there, with no trace of rivalry. The river Mandakini, extolled in the Vedas, flows round the hill. Sages like Athri live there in hermitages, which you can visit and render more sacred. Confer your blessing on that sublime spot and on that dear divine river."

As soon as Valmiki gave this direction, Rama agreed and receiving his permission to leave, he resumed his journey with Sita and Lakshmana. Within a short time, they saw the Mandakini, and were happy to bathe in its sacred waters, and perform the prescribed ceremonial rites. They rested awhile under a shady tree, and ate some fruits, before walking over the grass for some distance, admiring the verdure and the scenery.

Then, Rama spoke to Lakshmana thus: "Lakshmana! I am at a loss to decide on the exact spot where we can erect a cottage of leaf thatch and bamboo for our stay in this place; I do not find it easy to say which place is good and which is not; so, select and fix upon a spot."

No sooner did these words fall on his ears than Lakshmana crumpled on the ground right at the feet of Rama. He was in evident anguish. "What wrong have I committed that you should speak to me thus! Is this a sentence for any sin? Or, are you testing me, and my nature? Or, are you joking and making fun of me?", he asked. He was in great sorrow and he stood with his head bent with fear and anxiety.

Rama was surprised at his behavior. He went near him and clasped him to his bosom. "Brother! What happened now to make you so sad? I cannot guess why you are so heart-broken," he said. "Tell me", he pleaded, "tell me the reason, do not prolong my astonishment and sorrow."

Lakshmana replied immediately. He said, "Brother! I have surrendered everything to you. I have no likes and dislikes. What is pleasing to you is, on that account, pleasing to me. You know that this is the fact. But, yet, you now ask me to select a place which I like and erect a cottage for you thereon! My heart received a shock when you directed me to exercise my will. Order me where it is to be raised; I shall do so. Be merciful, do not speak to me in this strain, bless me by accepting the surrender I am offering at thy feet of all of me, the will, the intelligence, the mind, the senses, the body, all with no exception and no reservation. I am your servant, following you in the hope of having the chance to serve you. Use me. Command me, and have the command obeyed and the action

accomplished."

When Lakshmana prayed and supplicated so sincerely, Rama consoled him and pacified his feelings. "Lakshmana", he said, "Why are you worried so much on this little matter? Do not take it so much to heart. I gave you that direction in just a casual way. I am not unaware of the loyalty that fills your heart. Well. Come along with me. Right! I shall select the spot myself." And, with Sita by his side, he took the forest track, along with Lakshmana, and shortly, they sighted the northern bank of the Mandakini river. That length of bank was curved like a bow; it appeared as if the Chitrakuta peak standing behind it like a hero held the bow. One felt that the arrows it was ready to let loose were Sense control. Mind control, Charity, Renunciation, etc., and the target they were intended to destroy was the Gang of Sin. Rama described the

spot thus and added: "This hero will not withdraw from the fight"! He directed that the cottage be built on that captivating spot.

Lakshmana requested Rama and Sita to rest a while under a tree, and set about collecting poles, leaves, creepers and fiber from tree-barks to spin ropes from. In order to raise a hut spacious enough for three, he dug pits, planted poles, and labored quickly to complete the construction. When Sita and Rama rose from the shade after some rest, they found the cottage rising before their eyes, a thing of beauty, certain to be a lovely home by all counts. Rama felt that he too should give Lakshmana some help in his work, and so, seeing his brother on the roof, giving the finishing touches, he handed him from the ground bits of string to tie the bundles of dry grass to the cross poles in order to thicken the thatch. Sita too desired to give a helping hand; she plucked long leaves from the tree branches Lakshmana had brought, and gave

sheaves of them into Rama's hands to be passed on to Lakshmana.

The house was ready for occupation, even before sun set. Rama looked often and long at the neat little cottage, and he praised the devotion and skill of his brother to Sita, in high terms. Sita too appreciated the house and said that she had at no time seen a dwelling place of such charm; she had for a long time yearned to live in just such a habitation. She told Rama that her long-cherished desire was fulfilled that day.

Meanwhile, Lakshmana came down from the roof; he went round the cottage to examine whether anything was wanting. Then, he asked permission from Rama to proceed to the Mandakini for a bath. A short while after, Sita and Rama both went to the river and had their bath; they returned to the cottage and partook of the fruits that Lakshmana had gathered in the morning, and slept soundly on the floor of their new home.

Before another day passed, the news that Sita, Rama and Lakshmana had taken residence on the Chitrakuta Hill spread among the hermits of the forest and groups of them, bringing their pupils and comrades, approached the sacred cottage, and after taking Darshan, left for their hermitages. Rama asked them about their health and progress and also enquired about the difficulties they encountered. Rama assured them that whenever they required his service, he was ready, with his brother, to go to their rescue.

But they mentioned no difficulties and referred to no troubles. They said, "Rama! The fact that we have been able to see you is enough to make our lives trouble-free. We have no difficulties, nor can any difficulty come into our lives. Your Grace is enough protection for us." They sat petrified with wonder at the charming personality of Rama. Rama welcomed the ascetics and treated them with affectionate regard. Seeing him and being in his presence cooled the pining hearts of the ascetics and gave them immense consolation and confidence. A deep calm descended on their consciousness.

Rama is predominantly Love. He made every one of the forest-dwellers happy. He discoursed with them, and slaked the thirst for Love that was tormenting them. Those who came to him, whether ascetics or hunters, received from him instruction that was appropriate to their aspirations. Rama elevated their occupations into a higher level by his sympathy and counsel. Those who went to him and returned from his presence talked among themselves of his virtues and compassion; they reached their homes extolling him and congratulating themselves. The forest where they had resolved to reside shone with a new glory and thrilled with a new joy, right from the day they entered the cottage. It was charming to the eye and saturated with a coolness that delighted the mind. The ascetic communities that lived in the forest had fear and anxiety

removed from their lives; in their place, Ananda grew and flourished. Even the hard-hearted hunter clans started observing the rules of morality; they soon became ornaments of the human race. The Vindhyan Range was sad that the Chitrakuta Mountain had won this fortune. Why? Not the Vindhyan Range alone; all mountain ranges continued to be sad, for they could not attract Rama to select them for his residence.

Lakshmana had the unique chance of feasting his eyes upon the Lotus Feet of Sita and Rama, and imbibing the affection they bestowed on Him; so, he forgot everything else, and immersed himself in supreme spiritual ecstasy, Sath-Chith-Ananda. His mother, Sumitra Devi, or his wife Urmila, or his other kinsmen did not appear before his vision, even in dreams. So austere was his refusal to remember them. Sita too never recalled, even for the fraction of a second, her relatives or parents, or the Cities of Mithila and Ayodhya. She was fixing her eyes and attention on the Lotus Feet of Sri Ramachandra. That was the veritable festival for her eyes; she watched the stream of sages and their consorts who came to Rama for instruction and guidance. Time flowed by her without her noticing the passage of night and day. The chakora bird delights

to the point of self-forgetfulness when the moon shines in the sky; so too, Sita reaped delight, fixing her eyes intently on the Face of Rama. For Sita, the lovely little grass-thatched bamboo cottage was so attractive that she forgot the palace of Mithila, where she grew up into maidenhood, and the palace of Ayodhya where she spent years as the Princely Daughter-in-law. That cottage was to her more pleasing and palatial than all the mansions she knew.

Off and on, Rama used to relate stories of ancient heroes famed in Puranik lore and describe the varied achievements of persons who had mastered the mysteries of austerity. Sita and Lakshmana heard these eagerly and with enthusiasm. In the midst of these narrations, Rama used to remember his parents, and remind them of their grief at being separated from them; on these occasions, Sita had her eyes filled with tears at the thought of her father-in-law and mother-in-law. Drops rolled down her cheeks when she pictured the plight of Queen Kausalya. Suddenly, she pulled herself up, with the thought that she was with Rama, the Lion among Men, that it was not proper to give in to sadness or anxiety in the forest while she was in his presence and that whatever happens must be welcomed as the Leela (cosmic play) of her Lord. Thus, Sita

spent her days in undiluted happiness in that cottage, with Rama and Lakshmana. They too were guarding her like the lids of the eye against the slightest disturbance or noise that might affect her equanimity, and raise fears in her mind. No worry affected them; no grief or pain or shade of sadness marred their happiness at Chitrakuta.

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 worthwhile. 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 certain inevitability. Only fools are carried off their feet in joy when happiness comes and are dispirited, downhearted when misery comes. Either should not affect learned men like you; 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 honoring 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 riverbank. 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 Shravana. 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 Shravana. 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 Pravana, 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 Shravana 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 Shravana. 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.

Vasishtha, 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 Vasishtha, kept immersed in oil so that it might not disintegrate. Vasishtha 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.

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.

TO BE CONTINUED