The Abduction of Sita
The Maharajah's Doom—Tale of the Hermit's Son—A Curse
Fulfilled—Death of Dasaratha—Bharata Refuses the Throne—Visit to
Rama in Exile—Loyalty to a Dead Sire—Javala the Sceptic—Bharata
Honours Rama's Sandals—Wanderings of the Exiles—A Love-stricken
Rakshasa—Jesting ends in Bloodshed—A War of Vengeance—Rama's Great
Victory—Ravana's Cunning Plot—The Magic Deer—Rama and Lakshmana
Lured from Hermitage—Sita Taken Captive.
Now the Maharajah Dasaratha was doomed to die a sorrowful death. Be it
known that in his youth, when he loved to go a-hunting, he heard in the
jungle depths one evening a gurgling of water, and thought an elephant
or a deer had come to drink from a hidden stream. He drew his bow; he
aimed at the sound and discharged an arrow.... A human voice uttered a
cry of agony.... Breaking through the tangled jungle growth, Dasaratha
discovered that he had mortally wounded a young hermit who had come to
draw water for his aged parents. The poor victim forgave the king and
counselled him, saying: “Hasten to my sire and inform him of my fate,
lest his curse should consume thee as a fire consumes a withered tree.”
Then he expired.
Dismayed and sorrowing deeply, Dasaratha went towards the dwelling of
the boy's parents, who were blind and old. He heard the father cry:
“Ah! why hast thou lingered, my son? I am athirst, and thy mother longs
for thee.”
In broken accents the king informed the lonesome parents of their
son's death. The sire lamented aloud, and said: “Oh! lead me to my son.
Let me embrace him for the last time.”
Dasaratha conducted the weeping parents to the spot where the lad
lay lifeless and stained with blood. The sire clasped the body, and
cried: “Oh! wilt thou not speak and greet me, my son? Thou liest on
the ground; thou dost not answer me when I call. Alas! thou canst not
love me any longer.... Thy mother is here. Oh! thou who wert dutiful
and kind, speak but one tender word to her and to me.... Who will now
read to us each morning the holy books? Who will now find roots and
fruits to feed us?... Oh! tarry with us yet a little longer, my son.
Wait for us ere thou dost depart to the Kingdom of Death—stay but one
day longer, and on the morrow thy father and mother will go with thee
on the weary and darksome path of no returning.... How can we live now
that our child and protector is taken from us?”
So the blind old hermit lamented. Then he spake to the king, and said:
“I had but this one child and thou hast made me childless. Now slay
me also, because Death is blunted and unable to hurt me any more....
A father cannot feel greater agony than when he sorrows for a beloved
son. This peculiar sharp sorrow thou wilt yet know, O king. As I weep
now, and as I am hastened to death, mourning for my son, so wilt thou
suffer in like manner, sorrowing for a dearly-beloved and righteous
son. Thy death, O Dasaratha, will cleanse thee of this crime.”
Having spoken thus, the hermit built the funeral pyre for the dead boy,
and when it was lit he and his wife leapt amidst the flames and entered
the Kingdom of Death.
After Rama had departed from Ayodhya, his mother, Kausalya, reproached
Dasaratha, saying: “Thou wouldst not break thy promise to Kaikeyi, but
thou didst break thy promise made to thy counsellors that Rama should
be thy successor.”
The Maharajah was bowed down with grief, and cried: “Oh! forgive me,
Kausalya, because my heart is breaking while I mourn for my beloved
son. Oh! do not wound me again, I pray thee.”
Kausalya wept and said: “Alas! my grief hath made me speak cruelly to
thee.”
In the middle of the second night after Rama had departed, Dasaratha
awoke and cried: “O Kausalya, I am dying with grief. Mine eyes have
grown blind with weeping. Take my hand in thine and speak unto me. Oh!
bitterly I grieve now that I cannot look upon Rama ere I die. Happy are
they whose eyes behold him.... My heart beats feebly”....
When he had spoken thus, Dasaratha fell back and was silent. Kausalya,
mother of Rama, and Sumitra, mother of Lakshmana, knelt beside him, and
they swooned when his spirit fled.
In the morning messengers were sent speedily to Bharata, who sojourned
in the kingdom of the Kaikeyas with his mother's sire, the rajah
Aswapati, bidding him to return without delay. Seven nights passed
while the prince journeyed towards Ayodhya. He knew not that Dasaratha
had died until he reached the palace. Then Kaikeyi, his mother,
informed him without tears. Bharata wept, and flung himself down upon
the floor and cried aloud.
Kaikeyi said: “Thou shouldst not thus give way to grief, my son.”
Said Bharata: “If the Maharajah were alive, he would have embraced and
kissed me on my return. But where is Rama, who is now as a sire unto
me?”
Then Kaikeyi told him all that had taken place, and said: “For thy
sake, my son, I have accomplished this. Sorrow not, because thou wilt
be installed as ruler here.”
Said Bharata: “I have lost my father and my elder brother. Of what good
is a kingdom unto me now? O evil-hearted woman, thou hast bereft this
house of all joy; thou hast slain my sire and banished Rama.... But I
will bring my brother back from the jungle; he shall be seated on the
throne.”
Satrughna sorrowed like Bharata, and when he beheld the wicked
hunchback Manthara he threw her down and dragged her across the floor,
saying: “This hateful creature is the cause of our calamities. I will
slay her.”
Kaikeyi flew away in terror, and Bharata said: “Slay her not, because
she is a woman. I would have killed my wicked mother, but, had I done
so, Rama would ne'er have forgiven me nor have spoken to me again.
Spare this wretch, O Satrughna, lest Rama should be angry with thee.”
Kausalya, mother of Rama, then approached Bharata and said: “The raj is
now thine, O ambitious one. Thy mother hath secured it for thee.”
Bharata fell at her feet and vowed that he would never sit on the
throne, but would hasten after Rama to entreat him to return.
Then Kausalya wept and embraced him because that he was loyal to his
elder brother.
When Bharata had performed the funeral rites for the Maharajah, he left
Ayodhya with a strong army to search for Rama.
The two brothers met in the jungle of Chitra-kuta, and they embraced
one another and wept for their dead sire.
In the morning Bharata spake to Rama in the presence of the army,
saying: “This raj, which was given unto me against my will, I now gift
unto thee, mine elder brother. Accept it and remove the stain of my
mother's sin.”
Said Rama: “O Bharata, my royal sire, fulfilling his vow, banished me
to the jungle and appointed thee to the raj. A faithful son cannot
recall the mandate of his sire.”
Then Java´li, the Brahmanic counsellor of Dasaratha, spake and said:
“O Rama, why dim thine understanding with empty maxims? Thou hast
already obeyed thy sire. It is foolish to think that thou shouldst
continue this allegiance to one who is dead. A man enters the world
alone and departs alone; he owns not friendship to kindred. His parents
are to him like a wayside inn which he leaves in the morning; his
allegiance to them is temporary. He meets them like a traveller who
tarries on his journey and then goes on his way as before. In this
world we have only one life to live. If thou wilt refuse this raj thou
wilt destroy thy one life. I am sorry for those who scorn the blessings
of this world so long as they are alive in the hope that they will
reach a Paradise which does not exist. When this life is spent we are
extinguished for ever. Alas! that men should make to their ancestors
useless offerings. Can a dead man eat thereof? These offerings are a
waste of food. If the soul endures and passes into a new body how can
it benefit from food eaten by another? These practices were invented
by cunning priests with selfish motives.... There is no Hereafter.
Therefore snatch the joys of life while thou canst, O Rama, take the
raj which is offered to thee and return to Ayodhya.”
Said Rama, whose heart was filled with anger: “O Javali, thy motive is
excellent but thy doctrines are false. A good man is distinguished from
an evil man by his deeds. How can I, who have embraced a virtuous life,
turn now into the path of evildoing? The gods who read a man's heart
would curse me for my sins. Vain are thine idle words; thy reasoning is
cunning but false. Truth is our ancient path. Truth endures when all
else passes away. The venom of falsehood is more deadly than the venom
of a serpent's sting. Thou hast said that there is no Hereafter, and
that we should snatch pleasures while life endures. If that is so, why
do wise men condemn what is evil if the vicious are simply pursuing
the quest of happiness? Why do sages live austere lives, eating fruits
and roots, instead of feasting on flesh and drinking wine? There would
be no sciences if we believed only those things we behold. Inferential
proof must be permitted. Is a woman to consider herself a widow when
her husband is out of sight?... Know, all of ye, that I will be
faithful to the mandate of my sire. I will keep my promise which I
cannot recall. Let Bharata reign, for I will dwell in the jungle.”
Bharata said: “If my sire's wish must be fulfilled, let me remain in
the jungle for fourteen years so that Rama may return to Ayodhya.”
Said Rama: “Neither Bharata nor I can recall or change the commands of
Dasaratha.”
Thereafter Bharata gave to Rama a pair of new sandals decked with gold,
saying: “Put these upon thy feet and they shall accomplish the good of
all.”
Rama put on the sandals and then returned them to his brother, who
said: “I will live as a devotee for fourteen years with matted hair
and in a robe of bark. These sandals, O Rama, will be placed upon the
throne which I will guard for thee. If thou dost not return when the
time of thy penance is ended, I will perish upon the pyre.”
The brethren then took leave of one another. Bharata returned to
Ayodhya, and to his counsellors spake, saying: “I will dwell outside
the city in Nandigrama until Rama returns again.”
Then he clad himself in bark and went to the jungle. There he conducted
the affairs of government, holding the royal umbrella over Rama's
sandals. All presents which were given were first presented to the
sandals, because Bharata ruled the kingdom for his elder brother. The
sandals of Rama were the symbol of royal authority.
Meanwhile Rama with Sita and Lakshmana went southward towards deeper
jungles, visiting various holy sages, and having crossed the Vindhya
mountains, they wandered together in the Deccan and Southern India. At
Panchavati[340], nigh to the sources of the river Godavari, the royal
exiles built a hut with four rooms, and lived peaceful and pious lives.
Thirteen years and a half went over their heads.
[340] Nasik. About 100 miles from Bombay.
It came to pass that one day there came to the quiet hermitage a
Rakshasa woman, named Surpa-nakha, the sister of Ravana, the demon King
of Lanka, Ceylon. She was misshapen and ugly and her voice was harsh
and unpleasant. When she beheld Rama, who was comely as a lotus, and
of lofty and loyal bearing, her heart was filled with love for him.
Made bold with this love, she resolved to assume another form so as to
induce him to leave the faithful Sita.... In time she stood before the
prince in the guise of a young and beautiful woman, and said: “Who art
thou who hast come hither with thy bride to dwell in this lone jungle
which is haunted by Rakshasas?”
[Illustration: RAMA SPURNS THE DEMON LOVER
_From the painting by Warwick Goble_
8]
Said Rama: “I am Rama, the elder son of a Maharajah named Dasaratha.
I dwell here in exile in fulfilment of my sire's vow, with Sita, my
spouse, and Lakshmana, my brother. Why dost thou, O fair one, who art
as beautiful as the bride of Vishnu, wander about here all alone?”
Surpa-nakha said: “I am a Rakshasa woman, the sister of Ravana, and
have come hither because I love thee. I have chosen thee for my
husband, and thou shalt rule over my great empire. Thy Sita is pale and
deformed and unworthy of thee, but I am of surpassing beauty and have
power to assume any form at will. I must devour Sita and thy brother,
so that we may range the jungle together and visit the lofty hills.”
Said Rama: “Sita is my beloved bride, nor would I leave her. But
Lakshmana hath no consort and is a fit husband for thee.”
Surpa-nakha at once departed from Rama, and went and found Lakshmana,
who jested with her.
Then the enraged Rakshasa woman sprang towards Sita in jealous anger,
but Rama thrust her back. Like to lightning Lakshmana leapt forward
with his sword and cut off the ears and nose of the evil-hearted
Surpa-nakha, whereat she shrieked and fled away, wailing like to the
storm wind. The rocks answered back her awesome cries.
Surpa-nakha hastened to one of her brothers who was named Khara,
and when he saw her disfigured and bleeding, he cried: “None but a
Celestial could have done this deed. This day will I drink the blood of
Indra as a crane drinks milk and water.”
Then Surpa-nakha related what had taken place, and said: “Rama and
Lakshmana attacked me to protect the woman Sita, whose life-blood I
desired to drink. I entreat thee to bring her to me now.”
Khara called upon fourteen Rakshasas and commanded them to capture the
three royal hermits who dwelt in Dandaka jungle. They hastened away and
Surpa-nakha went with them, but soon she returned wailing, because Rama
had slain the Rakshasas with Celestial arrows.
Khara immediately called upon his brother Dush´ana, saying: “Assemble
an army of fourteen thousand Rakshasas, and bring my weapons and my
chariot with white horses, for, verily, this day I must kill the
hateful Rama.”
Evil were the omens as the army marched to battle. Jackals howled and
birds screamed at dawn; the sky was blood-red, and Rahu endeavoured
to swallow the sun and caused an awesome eclipse; a headless horror
appeared in mid air. The arrows of Rama emitted smoke, and he said to
Lakshmana: “Hasten with Sita to a secret cave in the mountains and
protect her there. I will battle with the demons alone.”
Lakshmana did as his brother commanded. Then Rama girt on his glowing
armour, and, armed with a Celestial bow and many arrows, he awaited
the coming of his enemies. When the Rakshasas appeared they quailed
before him, because he appeared like to Yama at a Yuga end, but Khara
drove on in his chariot, urging his followers to attack; they followed
him roaring like a tempest, and they appeared like to black tremendous
clouds rushing towards the rising sun.
Thousands of weapons were showered against Rama, who began to discharge
flaming arrows, which swept among the Rakshasas like fire in a
sun-dried forest, so that many were mangled and slain. Still Khara and
his brother continued to attack; but Rama seized a great Celestial
weapon and slew Dushana and scattered the demon army in flight. Khara
sought to avenge his brother's death, but Rama drew his bow and shot
a blazing arrow which consumed him instantly. So was the battle won,
and Sita came forth from the cave and embraced her heroic husband and
kissed him.
Of all the Rakshasa host only Surpa-nakha escaped alive. She hastened
to Lanka and informed the ten-headed King Ravana of the death of his
brothers, and said: “Thou canst not defeat Rama in battle. But he may
be overcome by guile. He hath a beautiful spouse, whose name is Sita,
and she is dearer to him than life. If thou wilt take her captive, Rama
can be slain, because he is unable to exist without her.”
Said Ravana: “I will bring Sita hither in my chariot.”
On the morrow Ravana and his brother Maricha, whom Rama had aforetime
driven far across the ocean with a Celestial weapon, went towards the
hermitage of the royal exiles in a resplendent chariot which went
through the air like a great bird; it was drawn by asses which had the
heads of Rakshasas.
Maricha assumed the shape of a golden deer with silvern spots; its
horns were tipped with sapphire and its eyes were like to blue lotus
blooms. This beautiful animal of gentle seeming grazed below the trees
until Sita beheld it with wondering eyes as she came forth to pluck
wild flowers. She called to Rama, saying: “A deer of wondrous beauty is
wandering through the grove. I long to rest at ease on its golden skin.”
Said Rama: “O Lakshmana, I must fulfil the desire of Sita. Tarry with
her until I obtain this animal for her.”
So speaking, he lifted his bow and hastened away through the trees.
Lakshmana spoke to Sita and said: “My heart is full of misgiving. Sages
have told that Rakshasas are wont to assume the forms of deer. Ofttimes
have monarchs been waylaid in the forest by artful demons who came to
lure them away.”
Rama chased the deer a long time hither and thither through the forest,
and at length he shot an arrow which pierced its heart. In his agony
Maricha sprang out of the deer's body, and cried out in imitation of
Rama's voice: “_Sita, Sita, save me! O save me, Lakshmana!_” Then
he died, and Rama perceived that he had slain the Rakshasa Maricha,
brother of Ravana.
Sita's heart was filled with alarm when she heard the voice of the
Rakshasa calling in imitation of her husband. She spake to Lakshmana,
saying: “Hasten and help my Rama; he calls for help.”
Said Lakshmana: “Do not fear for Rama, O fair one. No Rakshasa can
injure him. I must obey his command and remain beside thee. The cry
thou hast heard is an illusion wrought by demons.”
Sita was wroth; her eyes sparkled and her voice shook as she spake,
saying: “Hath thine heart grown callous? Art thou thy brother's enemy?
Rama is in peril, and yet thou dost not hasten to succour him. Hast
thou followed him to the forest desiring that he should die, so as to
obtain his widow by force? If so, thy hope is a delusion, because I
will not live one moment after he dies. It is useless, therefore, for
thee to tarry here.”
Said Lakshmana, whose eyes were filled with tears: “I do not fear for
Rama.... O Sita! thy words scald me, for thou art as a mother unto me.
I cannot answer thee. My heart is free from sin.... Alas! that fickle
women with poisonous tongues should endeavour to set brother against
brother.”
Sita wept, and Lakshmana, repenting that he had spoken harshly, said:
“I will obey thee and hasten unto Rama. May the spirits of the forest
protect thee against hidden enemies. I am troubled because I behold
evil omens. When I return, may I behold Rama by thy side.”
Said Sita: “If Rama is slain I will die by drowning, or by poison, or
else by the noose. I cannot live without Rama.”
Ravana kept watch the while, and when he saw Lakshmana leaving the
hermitage, he assumed the guise of a forest sage and went towards
the lonely and sad-hearted Sita. The jungle had grown silent. Ravana
saw that Sita was beautiful as the solitary moon at midnight when it
illumines the gloomy forest. He spake, saying: “O woman of golden
beauty, O shy one in full bloom, robed in silk and adorned with
flowers, art thou Sri, or Gauri,[341] or the goddess of love, or a
nymph of the forest? Red as coral are thy lips; thy teeth shine like to
jasmine; love dwelleth in thine eyes so soft and lustrous. Slender art
thou and tall, with shapely limbs, and a bosom like to ripe fruit....
Wherefore, O fair one, with long shining tresses, dost thou linger
here in the lonesome jungle? More seemly it were if thou didst adorn
a stately palace. Choose thee a royal suitor; be the bride of a king.
What god is thy sire, O beautiful one?”
[341] Names of the wives of Vishnu and Shiva.
Sita honoured Ravana, believing that he was a Brahman. She told him
the story of Rama's exile, and said: “Rest thyself here until the
jungle-ranging brethren return to greet thee.”
Then Ravana said: “No Brahman am I, but the ruler of the vengeful
Rakshasas. I am Ravana, King of Lanka, dreaded by even the gods. Thy
beauty, O fair one, clad in yellow silk, has taken captive my heart. Be
my chief queen, O Sita, and five thousand handmaidens will wait upon
thee. Share mine empire and my fame.”
Said Sita, whose eyes flashed fiery anger: “Knowest thou Rama, the
god-like hero who is ever victorious in strife? I am his wedded wife.
Knowest thou Rama, the sinless and saintly one, who is strongly armed
and full of valour and virtue? I am his wedded wife. What madness hath
prompted thee to woo the wife of so mighty a warrior? I follow Rama
as a lioness follows a lion. Canst thou, a prowling jackal, hope to
obtain a lioness? Snatch from the jaws of a lion the calf which it is
devouring, touch the fang of a cobra when it seizeth a fallen victim,
or tear up a mountain by the roots, or seize the sun in heaven before
thou dost seek to win or capture the wife of Rama, the avenger.”
Ravana boasted his prowess, saying: “I have power to slay even Yama.
I can torture the sun and shoot arrows through the earth. Little dost
thou know of my glory and my heroism.”
Then he changed his shape and stood up in gigantic demon form with vast
body and ten heads and twenty arms.... Seizing Sita, he soared through
the air with her as Garuda carries off the queen of serpents; he placed
her in his chariot and went away swifter than the wind.
The unseen spirits of the jungle looked on, and they heard the cries
of Sita as she called in vain for Rama and Lakshmana. Jatayus[342],
Monarch of Vultures, who lay asleep on a mountain top, heard her and
awoke; he darted upon Ravana like to the thunderbolt of Indra. A fierce
battle was fought in mid air. Jatayus destroyed the chariot and killed
the Rakshasa asses, but Ravana took Sita in his arms, and, soaring
higher than the Vulture king, disabled him with his sword.
[342] _Pron._ Jata´yus.
Then Ravana continued his journey towards Lanka, floating in the air.
As he passed over the Mountain of Apes, Sita contrived to cast off her
ornaments, and they dropped through the air like falling stars.... The
five apes found them and said: “Ravana is carrying away some beautiful
woman who calls upon Rama and Lakshmana.”
When Ravana reached his palace he delivered Sita to a band of Rakshasa
women, commanding them to guard her by day and by night.
Long and loudly did Rama lament when he returned to the forest hut and
found that it was empty. He knew that Sita had been carried away, but
whither he knew not.