30. TEN YEARS PASS :

Now begins the Aranya Kanda. The
poet begins with an episode that prepares
us for the misfortunes of Sita. A new
responsibility has been cast on the prince.
He is to destroy rakshasas who molest the
rishis in the Dandaka forest. A fear arose
in Sita's heart like a shadow cast by events
to come.




"Why should you and Lakshmana who
are properly to be merely ascetics in the
forest" asked Sita of her beloved husband,
"take on yourselves this task of
protection? You have come here to fulfil a
promise of the late King. The duty of
protecting the rishis belongs to the ruler
who is actually reigning. It is not for you,
engaged in penance, to protect rishis. To
kill anyone, except in self-defence, is
opposed to the vow of ascetic life. But
you have rashly promised protection to
the rishis. I wonder where this will lead
us?"




Thus Sita argued in soft and
affectionate words while they were going
from Sage Sutikshna's ashrama towards
some other ashrama in the Dandaka forest.
"Bear with me, my Lord," she said,
"for seeming to counsel you. I speak but
as a weak woman out of my infinite love
for you. You know what dharma is. But,
men, it is said, are driven by desire into
three kinds of sin: falsehood, lust and
violence. Falsehood is unthinkable in one
who for truth's sake has renounced a
kingdom and is here in the forest. And as
for lust do I know that you will not allow
even the thought of another woman to
enter your mind. But I am afraid of the
third kind of sin. Should we kill one who
does not attack us? Whether it is a
rakshasa or anyone else, why should we
kill anyone who leaves us alone? You
were in a hurry, I feel, to give your word
to the rishis. To destroy the wicked is no
doubt the duty of a kshatriya but can that
duty still cling to you when you have
renounced the privileges that go with it,
and elected the life of a recluse in the
forest? The duties of kingship go with
actual status. Dressed in garments of bark
and with hair matted, you are now an
ascetic, pure and simple. Of course, you
know best. I am only asking you to think
well before undertaking anything."
Rama's love and admiration of Sita
rose all the more for her is misgivings.
"Indeed, my love," he said, "you speak
like a true daughter of Janaka. But, Sita,
did you not once say yourself that the
weapons borne by kshatriyas are for
protecting others? When helpless people
suffer persecution, how could a kshatriya
sit still? When we came here the sages
complained of their sufferings and
entreated our protection. They could not
endure the cruelties of the Rakshasas who
looked on them as so much meat and
made shambles of the hermitages. Did
they not show us a great heap of bones to
show what had been done? 'You are the
king's son,' they said. 'Our troubles will
now end as darkness before the rising sun.
You are our only refuge.' Could we
princes hear their piteous appeal and
refrain from helping them? Every
kshatriya, everyone has to do his duty, not
the king alone. You are, of course,
solicitous for my safety. Even granting
that what you say is right, I have given my
word and I cannot go back. They said,
'You are our refuge,' and I have given my
word to protect them. A pledge thus given
cannot be withdrawn. What I have spoken
cannot now be unsaid. You and I must
tread together the path of dharma. How
can we differ?" Talking thus, they went
along the forest path.




This conversation occurs in the poem
like the cloud that precedes the storm. It is
the artistic creation of a changing
atmosphere and not a random casting up
of facile verses.




For ten years, Rama, Lakshmana and
Sita lived quietly among the rishis. In the
great Dandaka forest, there were a number
of ashramas where the rishis lived
practising their austerities and living their
lives of abnegation. The princes spent a
month in one ashrama, three months in a
second and perhaps a year in a third as
welcome and happy visitors.




The forest was indescribably beautiful,
with deer and bison, boars and elephants.
The birds, the trees, the creepers, the blue
waterlilies, all live again in the beauty of
Valmiki's poetry.




Rama was very happy these ten years,
the joy of association with great and holy
men being added to his joy in the quiet
companionship of Lakshmana and Sita.



These ten years are disposed of in a small
chapter. Time happily spent seems short
and needs no length in recording.
When after ten years had thus passed,
the end of their forest life was
approaching, Rama wished to have
darshan of the sage Agastya who lived in
the south. The sage was, like
Vishwamitra, famous through the three
worlds. It used to be said that if all the
wisdom and spiritual merit between the
Himalayas and the Vindhyas were put on

one scale and Agastya sat on the other, the
southern scale would go down by his
weight.



There is also the story of Agastya's
service during the wedding of Siva and
Parvati. All the rishis had gone to Mount
Kailas for the great event. Agastya alone,
staying in the south, maintained the
balance of the earth. Once the Vindhya
Mountain steadily grew towards the
heavens and threatened to obstruct the
sun's passage between the northern and
southern hemispheres.



The gods grew frightened and
approached Agastya for help. The Sage
stood before the mountain which bent low
in reverence before him. Then he blessed
it saving: "May you ever remain thus",
and so the mountain stretches low and
long even now. So goes the story.



Two Rakshasas, Vatapi and Ilvala,
gave much trouble to the rishis. The
former had obtained a boon that no matter
into how many pieces his body was cut
up, they would all reunite and his body
would be whole and strong as before.
IIvala, disguised as a brahmana, would go
to the ashrama of one rishi after another
and say, "O Learned One! Go over to my
humble home and oblige me by accepting
the consecrated food prepared for my
manes."



On no account, according to ancient
rule, could one refuse such an invitation.
The rishis therefore had to accept the
invitation. To them Ilvala served as food
his brother Vatapi cut up and cooked
lusciously and after the unsuspecting
guests had eaten the meat, the host would,
according to custom, ask the guests, "Are
you satisfied?" The answer would be
"Yes. We are content." Then, Ilvala would
shout, "Vatapi Come out!" And at the call
of Ilvala, Vatapi reunited into life would
come out tearing the bowels of the guests.
Many rishis had to die in this way.




One day, Ilvala tried to play this trick
on Agastya. As usual, Vatapi entered
Agastya's entrails as meat. Agastya of
course knew this, but he was a devotee of
Ganapati and had obtained the power to
digest the Rakshasa.
"Are you satisfied?" asked Ilvala.
"Yes, I am satisfied," answered
Agastya.
IIvala shouted, "Vatapi, come out."
Agastya, laughing, said, "Vatapi has
been digested, my host!"
"What?" cried Ilvala. "Have you killed
my brother?" And he rushed against
Agastya.




The Sage opened his eyes in
indignation and the rakshasa was reduced
to ashes. No rakshasas would thereafter
come near Agastya and he protected the
other sages also. Rama first went to the
ashrama of Agastya's younger brother and
obtained his blessings before visiting
Agastya himself. Proceeding south and
approaching Agastya's place, Rama
noticed the brightness of the whole region,
the birds and animals playing about
without fear and brahmanas gathering
flowers for worship.





He told Lakshmana to go in advance
and announce him to the sage. Lakshmana
met one of the disciples of the sage and
sent word through him: "Ramachandra,
son of Dasaratha, has come with his
brother and wife to seek the great sage's
blessings.




Agastya warmly welcomed the princes.
He said: "I heard of your having come to
dwell in Chitrakuta, and I was looking
forward to your visit. The end of your
exile is approaching. Stay here during
what remains of it in peace. This place is
free from the fear of rakshasas."
Rama answered: "I am happy to
receive your blessing and I thank you for
your gracious welcome. But I have

promised protection to the rishis in
Dandaka and now that I have received
your blessings, I must return to that
forest."






And Agastya answered: "What you say
is right." Then the Sage gave to Rama the
bow made by Viswakarma for Vishnu and
an inexhaustible quiver, as well as a
sword. He blessed him saying, "Rama,
destroy the rakshasas with these weapons
which of yore Vishnu gave me."
Agastya advised the prince to spend the
rest of his exile at Panchavati.




"May God bless you, O, Prince," said
Agastya, "take good care of Sita who for
love of you cheerfully submits to
hardships to which she was not born or
accustomed. Women are by nature fond of
comfort and averse to hardship but no
such weakness is found in Sita. She is like
Arundhati. Wherever you are,
Ramachandra, with Lakshmana and Sita
by your side, the place will be filled with
beauty. But Panchavati is itself a beautiful
spot and Sita will love to live there, secure
in the protection of you both. Fruit and
roots are there in abundance. Stay there on
the bank of the Godavari. The period of
your exile is coming to an end. You will
soon fulfil your father's plighted word.
Like Yayati, Dasaratha is served by his
eldest son."




NEXT : 31. THE SURPANAKHA EPISODE-


Continues.....