75. THE END

VIBHISHANA was crowned King of
Lanka in a magnificent ceremony. The
new Lord of Lanka came out to the
Vanara camp and bowed low before
Rama.


Then Rama said to Hanuman: "With
the King's permission, enter Lanka and
tell Sita what has happened." Hanuman
accordingly took permission from
Vibhishana and went to Asoka Vana to
convey the news to Sita.
Sita's joy was beyond words. She was
silent.
"Why, mother," asked Hanuman, "why
do you not speak?"


"What is there to say, my son?" she
answered. "How can I repay my debt to
you? Your wisdom, your valor, your
prowess, your patience, your humility are
all your own. None in the world can equal
you." As she said this, her eyes filled with
tears of gratitude and affection.


Hanuman looked at the Rakshasi
women who had guarded Sita and turning
to Sita said: "I wish to slay these cruel
women who troubled you. Do give me
leave!"


"No, my son," she answered. "Who in
the world is blameless? It is the part of
noble souls to be compassionate towards
all sinners as well as good people."


These words of Sita are treasured like
nectar by generations of pious men. The
worst of sinners, clinging to the golden
feet of the Mother, can gain forgiveness.
"These Rakshasis," she continued "but
carried out their master's orders. How are
they to blame? Their king is dead and has
paid for his crime. It is unjust to punish
these Rakshasis now."


All that Hanuman could find to say in
reverent admiration was that what she said
was only what was worthy of Rama's
wife.
"What message am I to carry to
Rama?" he asked.
"I am eager to be in his presence," she
answered. "That is all."


Hanuman returned to Rama and gave
an account of his visit. For some reason
Rama's face now darkened and with lacklustre
eyes he fell into a frown study. A
little later he turned to Vibhishana and
said:
"Ask Sita to bathe and bedeck herself
and bring her here."
When the message reached Sita in the
Asoka Vana, she said: "I would rather go
as I am."


"Not so, my lady," said Vibhishana,
"the prince's orders should be obeyed."
So, after a bath and bedecked with
jewels and seated in a palanquin, Sita
went to the camp.


When he heard that Sita was coming,
Rama woke up from his meditation.
Events of the past rose like waves and
battering against his mind threw it into a
wild commotion of shame, grief and joy.


As Sita's palanquin was taken through
the great concourse of Vanaras, they
thronged round the princess and caused
confusion. It was made worse by the
Vanara leaders trying to push them aside
and make way for the palanquin.
"Let no one be kept away," said Rama.


"These dear Vanaras have stood and
suffered for me. Sita will be pleased to see
me surrounded by such friends. Let no
one be pushed away."


Rama's face showed a strange
transformation of mind. None of those
around him, not even Lakshmana could
understand.


Alighting from the palanquin, Sita,
with downcast eyes, proceeded towards
Rama. "Aryaputra," she said and sobbed,
unable to speak more.


Aryaputra in Sanskrit means beloved
and noble one and is an intimate form of
address of wife to husband.


"I have slain the enemy," said Rama. I
have recovered you. I have done my duty
as a Kshatriya. My vow is now fulfilled."


Incomprehensible and wholly
unexpected were these words that he
uttered. His face darkened for some
reason. Then he spoke even harsher
words.


"It was not for mere attachment to you
that I waged this grim battle but in the
discharge of duty as a Kshatriya. It gives
me no joy now to get you back, for
doubtfulness envelopes you like a dark
cloud of smoke."


"What do you wish to do now?" he
continued. "You must live alone, for we
cannot live together. You can stay under
the protection of any of our kinsmen or
friends. How can a Kshatriya take back a
wife who has lived so long in a stranger's
house?"


Sita looked at Rama. Her eyes flashed
fire.


"Unworthy words have you spoken!"
she said. "My ears have heard them and
my heart is broken. The uncultured may
speak such words but not one nobly born
and brought up like you. Your anger, it
seems, has destroyed your understanding.


My lord does not remember the family
from which I come. Janaka, the great seer,
was my father and he brought me up. Is it
my fault that the wicked Rakshasa seized
me by force and imprisoned me? But
since this is how you look at it, there is
but one course open to me."


Then turning to Lakshmana, "Fetch the
faggots, Lakshmana, and kindle a fire,"
she said.


Lakshmana, who had been watching
Rama's behavior in dismay and
indignation turned to look at Rama's face
seeking his orders, but Rama did not say
'No' to Sita's request nor show any sign of
softening. Obeying Sita, Lakshmana
kindled a big fire and the princess, with
eyes fixed on the ground,
circumambulated her lord and exclaimed:


"Ye Gods, I bow before you. Oh rishis,
I bow to you. Oh Agni, you at least know
my purity and will take me as your own!"
With these words she jumped into the
flames. And wonder of wonders! The
lambent flames were crowded with
celestial figures, for all the gods came and
assembled there. Brahma spoke:
"Narayana! Mighty God that took human
form to slay Ravana! Is not this your own
Lakshmi?"


Agni, God of fire, rose in his own body
out of the flames and lifting Sita in his
arms with all her clothes and jewels
untouched and intact, presented her to
Rama.


Rama said to Brahma: "Who am I? All
that I know and can tell is that I am Rama,
son of Dasaratha. You know who I am
and whence I came and more. It is you
who must inform me." Saying this to
Brahma, Rama accepted Sita fire-proved.


"Think you that I did not know your
irreproachable purity? This ordeal was to
satisfy the people. Without it, they would
say that Rama, blinded by love, behaved
with a strange weakness and broke the
rule of well-brought-up men." So saying
he drew her to his side.


Then Dasaratha descended from above
and, placing the prince on his lap blessed
him.


"My child!" he said to Sita. "Forgive
my son. Forgive him for the wrong he did
you to preserve the dharma of the world.
God bless you!"


Indra gave his boon, and the Vanaras
who died in battle for Rama regained their
lives.


Rama and Sita, now reunited, ascended
the Pushpaka which carried them swiftly
in the air with their friends, the Vanara
warriors and Vibhishana, to Ayodhya.


As they travelled in the sky, he said:
"Look there! That is the causeway built by
Nala." Again, "Look there, that is
Kishkindha," he said, "where I met and
made friends with Hanuman and Sugriva."
And Rama pointed out to Sita the spots
where he and Lakshmana had wandered
disconsolate and related to her all his
unforgettable experiences.
Alighting at Bharadwaja's ashrama,
they sent word in advance to Guha and
Bharata.


The city of Ayodhya swam in a sea of
joy. Rama and Bharata met. Planning for
Bharata's sake, ambitious Kaikeyi and her
hunchback maid had contrived and
concocted plots. But now, as Bharata
bowed at the feet of Rama, a joy deeper
than what they had planned for him was
his. What kingly crown could equal the
joy one found at Rama's feet? What
sovereignty could bring one the glory that
was now Bharata's forever?


The Vaishnava hymns exalt Bharata
even above Rama for a spotless mind and
unblemished unselfishness. For fourteen
years till the return of Rama, Bharata
installed Rama's padukas and
administered the kingdom as a devotional
exercise in the service of his brother. Now
that Rama was crowned King as his father
had wished, Bharata's penance was at an
end and his heart was filled with joy.
The smile of divine grace brightened
Sita's face as she cast her merciful glance
on Hanuman. What more could Hanuman
desire?


I have retold in brief compass the story
of the Prince of Ayodhya as sung by
Valmiki. Those who read or listen to the
tale, it is said, will be saved from sin and
sorrow. Sri Sankara, the master of
wisdom, has said that, if one keeps in
one's heart the son of Dasaratha and
meditates on him with reverence, one's
sins will all be burnt up as chaff in a fire.


After the avatar of Rama, the lord
appeared again among men with greater
soulabhya (easy accessibility) as Govinda.
He lived among cowherders as one of
them and served Arjuna as a chariot
driver. At the end of the Gita, the Lord
says to Arjuna:


"Believe in me as the sole refuge, cast
aside all doubt and come unto me. I shall
save you from all sins. This is truth,
friend. Cast off your fear."



This promise of Sri Krishna is
addressed to all of us. We, like Arjuna,
have our doubts and fears in the
Kurukshetra of life and this assurance of
grace is for all of us, for we are all dear to
Him.


Next : 76. EPILOGUE


Continues....