17. SITA'S RESOLVE :

What took place in the inner
apartments of the palace was not yet
known to the town-people. But Rama for
his part lost no time in preparing for forest
life.



He went to Queen Kausalya to receive
her blessings before leaving the city.
Kausalya said to him again: "How can I
stay in Ayodhya after you are gone? It is
best that I go with you to the forest." Of
course, she knew that her duty was to
serve her husband in his old age and share
his sorrow in Ayodhya. And yet her mind
was now so confused by grief that she did
not see things clearly.



But Rama would not hear of it and put
her in mind of her duty to be with the
heart-stricken old King in his sad solitude.



She recognised the justice of this
counsel. She gave him her benedictions in
sweet words diluted with the salt of
broken tears. "Do as your father has
decreed and return in glory." Rama put
heart in her with a smile saying: "The
fourteen years will pass quickly and you
will see me back."



The poet says that, as Rama received
his mother's benedictions, his bright face
glowed with added effulgence. How truly
he pictures the sublime loveliness that
comes of a great renunciation that
illumines one's being as with an Inner
Light!



We saw that Rama left Sita and went to
the King in answer to the message brought
by Sumantra. Sita was expecting Rama to
return in a chariot with the royal umbrella,
followed by a great retinue. But now she
saw Rama return alone, unattended, with
none of the royal insignia. And she noted
on his face the glow of some fixed
resolve. Rama was thinking as he came
how he could break to his beloved the
news that his father had decreed that he
was to go to forest.



"Something troubles the mind of my
lord," thought Sita, "but what can
anything matter so long as there is our
love?" And she asked him: "What is the
matter? Why do you look so strangely?"



Rama told the story briefly and then
added: "Princess, my love, I can well
imagine your sorrow at having to part
from me and stay here. Janaka's daughter
requires not my guidance to her duty. Be
thoughtful of the comfort of the King and
the three Queens, your mothers. Do not
expect any better treatment than that given
to the other princesses in the palace. Be
respectful to Bharata who will be ruler
and guard against any offence to his
feelings. Your love for me, I trust, will not
grow any less during this absence. I shall
return from forest after these fourteen
years. Till then do not neglect customary
rites and ceremonies. Mother Kausalya in
her sorrow will need your attentive care.
Bharata and Satrughna are dear to me.
You will look upon them as your brothers.
Conduct yourself as befits your royal race
and your own nature. Avoid extolling me
so as to give possible offence to other
good men. I must go to the forest today.
Keep your mind steady and calm."



When Sita heard this unexpected
speech, her love for Rama manifested
itself as anger that he should for a moment
conceive that she could consent to part
from him and live in comfort in the palace
while he was a homeless wanderer in
pathless forests. "A fine speech you have
made, knower of dharma. It is to me a
strange doctrine that a wife is diverse
from her husband and that his duty is not
hers, and that she has no right to share in
it. I can never accept it. I hold that your
fortunes are mine, and if Rama has to go
to the forest, the command includes Sita
also, who is a part of him. I shall walk in
front of you in the forest ways and tread
the thorns and the hard ground to make
them smooth for your feet. Do not think
me obstinate. My father and mother have
instructed me in dharma. What you tell
me is totally opposed to what they have
taught me. To go with you wherever you
go, that is my only course. If you must go
to the forest today, then today I go with
you. There is no room here for any
discussion. Do not think that I cannot bear
forest life. With you by my side it will be
a joyous holiday. I shall not be a source of
trouble to you. I shall eat fruit and roots
like you and I shall not lag behind as we
walk. I have long wished to go to the
woods with you and rejoice in the sight of
great mountains and rivers. I shall spend
the time most happily among the birds and
flowers, bathing in the rivers and doing
the daily rites. Away from you, I do not
care for Heaven itself. I shall surely die if
you leave me behind. I implore you to
take me with you. Have pity on me. Do
not forsake me now."



Beginning in anger, her speech ended
in sobs. Rama explained to Sita that life in
the forest was not as easy as she thought
and set out at great length the difficulties
and dangers and again insisted that she
should not think of accompanying him.



Sita's eyes filled with tears. "Tigers,
lions, bears, snakes none of them will
come near me. They will flee from us at
the sight of you. The sun, rain, wind and
hunger and the spikes and thorny shrubs
you speak of, I shall endure them all
cheerfully. I am not in the least afraid, and
on the other hand you may be certain life
will depart from this body if you leave me
here and go."



"When I was in Mithila," she said, "the
Brahmanas and astrologers told my
mother that I was destined to live in the
forest for a while. Can I fulfil this
prediction alone in the forest? Here is the
opportunity for me to fulfil it in your
company which will make the forest a
garden of delight. For whom is forest life
unpleasant? Only to those men and
women who have not controlled their
senses. You and I can be masters of our
senses and miss nothing. I implore you,
put me not away from you, for parting
from you is more cruel than death."



There is a strength in supreme love
which defies reason and laughs at death
itself. And Rama suffered himself to be
persuaded, partly because his love was
great as hers and every passionate word
she spoke found ready lodgment in his
heart, and partly because he was confident
of his ability to protect her. It was settled
that Sita should accompany Rama to the
forest.



She sent for the poor and gave away all
her belongings and prepared herself for
life in the forest. Lakshmana also decided
to go with his brother and be of service to
him in the forest, and Rama had to agree.
The three went to take leave of the aged
King.



In the streets and on the balconies were
crowds of people looking on. Through the
windows and from the terraces of
mansions, men and women saw Rama and
Lakshmana and the princess proceeding
on foot, like the poorest in the land.



Filled with boundless grief and
indignation, the people said to one
another: "What kind of a King is this who
sends so noble a prince to the forest? And
their Sita walks a princess that should
command the service of the royal chariot.
Can she bear the heat and the rain of the
forest? This is monstrous! We shall go
then to the forest too. Let us gather up all
we have and get away to the forest with
these princes. The forest where Rama
dwells shall be our Ayodhya. Let these
houses here henceforth deserted be
infested with snakes and rats. Let Kaikeyi
rule over the ruins of Ayodhya. Wild
beasts and vultures of the forest will come
to stay here. This will become a forest,
and the forest will become Ayodhya."



Rama heard people talking thus, but
took no notice. At the entrance to
Kaikeyi's palace, Rama saw Sumantra
seated sorrow fully aside in a corner.
Rama tenderly spoke to him: "The three of
us have come to meet the King. Sumantra,
crave leave for us to enter his presence."



Sumantra went, in accordingly to
announce them to the King. What a sight
met him there! Like the sun in eclipse,
like an oven filled all over with ash, like a
tank gone dry, the King was stretched flat
on the floor, his glory gone and his face
shrunken and distorted with anguish.



Sumantra, his voice trembling with
grief and his hands clasped together, said:
"The Prince waits at the entrance and
seeks audience to take your blessings
before he gives away all he has to the
Brahmanas and starts for the Dandaka
forest."



The King bade Sumantra let the Prince
in.



Rama came and bowed to the King
from a distance. As soon as he saw Rama,
the King suddenly rose and rushed with
out stretched arms to embrace him, but
dropped in a swoon before reaching his
son.



Rama and Lakshmana tenderly lifted
him up and put him on the couch. "My
Lord," said Rama, "we have come to seek
your leave to go to I the forest. Vaidehi
and Lakshmana too are going with me in
spite of all I could do to make them desist.
Pray give us your benedictions and leave
to depart."



Dasaratha then said: "Rama, I am
bound by the boons that I have given to
Kaikeyi. But you are not so bound. Why
do you not brush me aside and seize the
kingdom by force?"



That had long been in the King's mind
as the best and only solution of this cruel
problem and came out now clearly in
words.




But Rama said: "I have no desire for
kingdom or power, father. May you reign
for a thousand years more. My heart is
now set on going to the forest and I am
even now in readiness to start after
receiving your blessing. When the
fourteen years have passed I shall return
and tender obeisance."




The King's faint hope, it was now
clear, must be abandoned. "My son! Bring
glory to our line of kings. Go, but come
back unscathed. May danger flee from
your path. Cling to dharma. You are
unshakable in resolution. Firm and
unchangeable is your will. But do not go
away today. Spend but this night here
with me. Let me fill my eyes with the
sight of you. You can go away at dawn.
Like one handling a live coal deceptively
covered with ash, I gave the promise to
Kaikeyi not knowing what was in her
mind. I am now helpless and caught in her
net. And you say, 'I shall fulfil my father's
promise. I shall not let dishonor blot the
name of my father. I shall give up the
kingdom and go to the forest.' Where in
the world can one find a son like unto
you? I swear to you, I did not intend this
great wrong."




Thus piteously spoke the King. It was
Dasharatha's wish to die without losing,
even in his last moments, the respect of
Rama.



"Father, send for Bharata at once and
fulfil the promise you have given to
mother Kaikeyi. Do not be troubled by the
thought that you are doing me a wrong,
for I had no desire for the throne, and do
not feel it a deprivation to be denied it.
Untroubled by grief or doubt, have
Bharata crowned and give him your
blessings. Cast all grief aside. Shed no
tears. Can the ocean dry up? So may you
too not lose your balance ever, great
father. My sole wish is to make good the
word you gave. If I got all the wealth of
the world, but falsify your word, what joy
would that be to me? I shall spend my
time happily in the forest. Where but in
the forests can one find beauty or joy?
Father, you are my God. I take it that it is
God that sends me to the forest. When the
fourteen years are over, you will see me
again. Do not grieve. What profits it that I
stay here a night longer and go tomorrow?
Time is made up of a succession of
tomorrows and one day is just like
another. Inevitable sorrows do not become
joys by postponement."




"Well then, send for the commanders,"
said the King to Sumantra, "and order
them to get ready the chariots, elephants,
horses and foot soldiers, to go with Rama
to the forest. And along with the army
send all the necessary stores for Rama to
live with the Rishis of the forest. Let there
be nothing wanting in men, money or
things."



Poor Dasaratha imagined that he could
make Rama's exile to the forest something
like a royal tour affording a pleasant
change from routine and enlivened by
exchange of gracious hospitalities with the
sylvan population.



As he spoke Kaikeyi's face paled with
anger. She glowered at the King, and in a
voice tremulous with scornful wrath she
said:



"A good and generous monarch surely!
You will give Bharata this kingdom after
squeezing out of it all the good it holds, as
one might offer in mockery an empty
drinking vessel to a man dying of thirst!
What pleasure or glory will my son have
in ruling a deserted state?"



Dasaratha groaned in helpless chagrin
and marveled at a cruelty that could stab a
man already crushed under an intolerable
burden. Angry words rose from the
mouths of those around, for even the
courtiers found this open heartlessness
more than they could suffer in silence.
Rama put an end to all recriminations by
saying he would not agree to take
paraphernalia incongruous with what was
intended in forest life.



"Honored Lord," he said, "what use
have I, who am departing to the forest to
live on what sylvan nature yields, for an
army or the glittering equipage of a royal
pageant? After gladly renouncing the
throne, what use have I for its restrains?
Would it not be covetous folly, after
having parted with the elephant, to burden
oneself with the ponderous chain? Father,
I have cheerfully relinquished my claim to
the kingdom in favor of Bharata and his
mother, and with it all the incidents of
royalty. For my fourteen years of forest
life I require nothing but bark garments
such as Rishis wear and simple
necessaries of forest life such as spades
and baskets."



Hardly had Rama spoken these words
when the unabashed Kaikeyi hastened to
produce the forest dress! She had kept it
ready and gave it herself without a blush
to Rama. Then and there Rama dressed
himself in bark. And in these garments be
shone like a Rishi. Lakshmana too
changed into bark dress, while Dasaratha
watched all this in helpless anguish.



Then Kaikeyi brought a bark dress for
Sita too. She received it and stood
bewildered, for she had never worn such
garments before and did not know how to
change into them.



Approaching Rama, who stood there
resplendent with divine effulgence, Sita
said shyly: "Pray tell me, how does one
put this thing on?" As Rama took up the
bark dress and, wrapping it over Sita's
silk, made a knot over her shoulder, the
ladies-in-waiting wailed aloud and
Dasaratha fell into a swoon.



When he regained consciousness, he
loudly reviled Kaikeyi, but she only
smiled scornfully. She surely was not
responsible for Sita going to the forest.
The princess sought her own pleasure by
going to the forest with her husband and
would not be dissuaded.



Lowering his eyes as he was leaving,
Rama said: "Father, I leave behind my
mother Kausalya, blameless and tenderhearted
lady, bereft of her son in her old
age. This sudden fate is bitter to her as
death, but she consents to live only for
your sake, to share your sorrow and
console you. She is incapable of harboring
an unkind thought towards anyone, and
she has never before felt the pang of such
poignant parting. Be kind to her when I
am no longer here and, when I return after
my long exile in the hope of putting my
head on her feet, let me not hear that she
has died of sorrow." Thus Rama spoke,
unable to bear the thought of his mother's
grief. As Rama went out speaking thus,
Dasaratha could not endure the sight and
covered his face with his hands.