21. A MOTHER'S GRIEF :

Sumantra and Guha stood watching the
three figures as long as they could. When
they disappeared from sight, they were
plunged in sorrow and went back to
Guha's town. After a while Sumantra
returned to Ayodhya.



As the charioteer approached the city,
he found it desolate and devoid of the
usual cheerful bustle of urban life. As
soon as he crossed the fortress-gate and
entered the city, his chariot was
surrounded by a crowd eagerly asking:
"Where did you leave Rama? How was he
when you left him?"



"Dear people of Ayodhya," said
Sumantra, "Rama and Lakshmana have
crossed the Ganga. Ordering me to return
home, they entered the forest on foot."



A great cry of grief rose from  the
multitude and many cursed themselves
and attributed the catastrophe to their own
sins. On both sides of the streets, women
stood as the chariot passed and cried:
"Look at the car which departed with the
princes and Sita and has come back
empty."



Sumantra drove forward covering his
face with the end of his upper garment,
ashamed of himself. He stopped the
chariot in front of Dasaratha's palace and
alighted.



There in front of the palace a great
crowd had gathered. Women were saying,
"How is Sumantra going to meet Kausalya
and tell her that he left her son in the
forest? How will she survive the report?"



With increasing sorrow and confusion,
Sumantra entered the Queen's apartment.
There he saw the King more dead than
alive. In low tones, he spoke of Rama's
message to the King who heard it in heartbroken
silence.



Then Kausalya, unable to control her
wrath, addressed the King: "Here stands
your minister who has returned from the
forest after leaving my child to fulfil your
command. Why are you silent? It was
easy and pleasant to give boons to
Kaikeyi. Why are you ashamed of it now?
Did you not know that this would be the
result of what you did? You have honored
your word. You may be happy over that.
But who can share my sorrow with me? I
have to bear it all. My grief cannot be
reduced by your pain. No convention
binds you to feel or appear to be grieved
for what you have deliberately done. Why
are you silent? You need not refrain from
giving expression to sorrow for fear of
offending Kaikeyi, for she is not here.
Surely you should inquire of Sumantra
about Rama. Have you no humanity? Why
do you try to suppress even natural
feelings?"



Her grief and love for Rama blinded
her to the state of her husband's body and
mind. Instead of lightening, she
aggravated his suffering.



Dasaratha opened his eyes and
Sumantra reported duly Rama's message
in his own words.



Sumantra tried his best to console
Kausalya. But she went on repeating:
"Take me and leave me where Rama is.
Young Sita is there with him facing the
hardships of the forest. I cannot bear this
agony. Let me go to Dandaka and be with
Sita."



Sumantra answered: "Queen, be brave.
Banish this grief. Rama spends his time
even more happily in the forest than he
did in Ayodhya. He feels no sorrow.
Lakshmana finds joy in the supreme job
of dutiful service to the brother he loves.
He is very happy. As for Sita, there in the
forest, as here in the palace, she lives for
Rama with every breath and knows
neither fear nor sorrow. She spends her
time as though she was a sylvan goddess
and is as happy there as she was here
playing in the groves and gardens of
Ayodhya. The beauty of her face is still
like the rising moon's. Like a forest fawn
she lives there with care-free grace,
spending the, golden hours with Rama by
her side. Every sight and sound is a new
source of joy to her and the theme of talk
with Rama and Lakshmana. Walking
barefoot, her feet are red like the lotus,
and need no painting with henna. She
walks in the forest as if she were dancing
She only lacks the tinkling anklets to
make it complete. All that I say is true.
There is no need for you to grieve. The
three of them are fulfilling their sacred
duty and offering an object lesson to the
world. They are making the King's word
good. Their life will be remembered and
praised forever. Why, then, should we
grieve for them?"



With such talk, Kausalya would be
consoled for a while. But soon she would
break down again and cry: "Alas, alas,
Rama, my child." Her grief seemed
redoubled when she saw Sumantra come
back, leaving Rama in the forest.