22. IDLE SPORT AND TERRIBLE RESULT:

Dasaradha had been driven ruthlessly
by circumstances to an action which not
only broke his heart but made him hate
himself and deprived him even of selfpity.




The only way out of the dilemma of
either breaking his plighted word or doing
a great wrong to Rama would have been
for the latter to disobey him and insist on
his rights. But Rama placed his duty to his
father high above all other things. And
Rama was all the world to Sita and
Lakshmana. So they had all gone together.
To Dasaratha, agonising on his bed of
pain in desolation and remorse, Kausalya
spoke reproachful words.




The stinging words in which
Kausalya's sorrow found expression
caused excruciating pain to Dasaratha, but
she seemed to find some relief in giving
vent to her feelings in this way.




"Proud of having kept your word and
happy in young Kaikeyi's approval and
gratification, have you any thought for
others? You have been my world and my
god, my joy in this world and my hope for
the next and you have forsaken me. My
son, the light of my life, has been
wrenched away from me and banished. I
live here alone, old, helpless woman,
without the love of my lord or the sight of
my only son. Was ever a woman left more
desolate? But you, are you not delighted
with what you have done? It is enough for
you that Kaikeyi and Bharata are happy.
You need not entertain any fear that Rama
will mar that happiness, even if he
returned from the forest after fourteen
years. He will not touch the kingdom once
ruled by Bharata. The tiger does not touch
the leavings of another animal's. Like a
fish, eating its offspring, you have killed
your own child."



Touched to the quick, the King even in
the intensity of his anguish turned to his
wife with a humble prayer for forgiveness
with clasped hands.



"Have pity on me, Kausalya," he
moaned. "You have been kind and
forgiving even to strangers. Do have some
compassion on your husband who has
always loved and honored you and whose
heart is broken by a sorrow which knows
no remedy!"



These piteous words and the sight of
her husband in supplication and the
memory of happier hours pierced the
noble queen to the heart and she fell at his
feet imploring forgiveness for
unbecoming words forced out of her by
grief.



As the leaden hours crept slowly on,
Dasaratha remembered something that
had happened long ago and it aggravated
the anguish of his heart.



The King turned to Kausalya and said:
"Are you still here, my dear? The fruit of
one's action can never be escaped. I now
endure the result of a great sin that I
committed in the days that are gone. Men
in their ignorance sometimes do great
evils for the sake of some slight
momentary pleasure. Then when the time
comes, the price has to be paid. When I
was young, I had the skill to use my bow
against unseen targets aiming by sound
only. For the pleasure of exercising this
skill, I once killed an innocent man and
committed a great sin. Listen, I shall relate
to you that sad adventure. It was before
you came to me. One night I went, out in
my chariot to hunt on the banks of the
Sarayu. It had been raining heavily and,
from the mountainsides, the streams were
running dyed with the rich colors of
minerals and fresh soil. The birds were
silent. The forest seemed asleep. I could
take the aim by the ear and shoot, without
seeing, a tiger or bear or other wild beast
that might come to slake its thirst in the
stream. I wanted to test this skill of mine.
It was dense darkness. I waited for some
wild animal to come. Then I heard a
gurgling sound as of an elephant drinking.
At once I aimed an arrow in the direction
whence the sound came. Like a venomous
serpent, swish went my dart and hit the
object. But I was shocked to hear a human
voice exclaim 'Alas! I am dead!' I heard
the man cry again piteously, 'Who can be
my enemy? Never have I done any harm
to anyone. Who then could want to kill me
thus as I was filling my pitcher with
water? What could he gain by this? Why
should anyone bear hate against one living
his innocent hermit life in the forest?
What is to happen to my old blind parents
now, with none to look after them? O
misery!' Horror-struck, I stood trembling
in every limb. My bow and arrow slipped
from my hands. I approached the place
from where the voice came and I found a
young ascetic lying on the ground with
dishevelled hair, covered all over with
blood and earth. Beside him lay an
upturned pitcher. The look of his eyes was
as fire. When he saw me, he cried, 'O
Sinner that has killed me! Why did you
aim your arrow at me that was taking
water from the stream? My old blind
parents are thirsty and are waiting for me
in the ashrama, thinking that I would
return with my pitcher filled. Why did you
kill me? O God, my penances and my
devotions have all gone to naught. My
parents do not know that I lie here
stricken and helpless. They will go on
waiting for me and even if they knew it,
what could they do, blind and helpless?
Who are you? What! Are you not the
King of Kosala? And so, you, the King,
who should by right protect me, have slain
me. Very well, O King, go yourself and
tell them what you have done. Fall at their
feet and beg for forgiveness. Else, their
anger will reduce you to ashes. Go
straight to the ashrama. Take that path
there. Go at once and save yourself. But
this arrow is a torture. Pull it out and
relieve me of the pain before you go.' I
knew that if I pulled out the arrow from
his body, his pain would end indeed, but
so would his life in a gush of blood. My
hand refused to do the deed. For a while I
stood, not knowing what to do. Then, the
young ascetic said: 'Do not hesitate. Do
end my pain. My mind is now clear and I
have calmed myself. Boldly pull out the
arrow and release my life.' Gently I pulled
the arrow out. The young ascetic turned
on the ground, heaved a sigh and, with his
eyes fixed on me, breathed his last. It is
this crime of mine that is now pursuing
me. The agony of those blind parents who
were deprived by me of their son has
come now for me to endure."