"On Rama having gone to the forest, my horses as I turned away, did not
proceed vigorously on the way, and shed warm tears. And having (done
homage) unto both the princes by joining my hands, I turned my back,
bearing best I could that load of sorrow. Indulging in the hope that
Rama might again summon me by any of the envoys (of Guha left there), I
stayed there with Guha for many days. In thy dominions, O monarch,
exercised by the calamity that has befallen Rama, even trees bearing
blossoms and buds and sprouts look sad; the rivers and pools and liquid
lapses have their waters dried up; and the woods and groves have their
foliage withered. Creatures do not move and beasts of prey cease to
range about; and the forest appears to be dumb, stupified by grief on
account of Rama. And streams containing lotuses with their leaves
shriveled, have their waters stained; and lotuses have their leaves
burnt; and fishes and (aquatic) birds have grown lean. And flowers both
on land and water have been deprived of their freshness and fragrance;
and they no longer retain their former condition. And the gardens are
idle with their birds drooping. And, O best of men, I do not find the
bowers beautiful (as before). And when I entered Ayodhya, none greeted
me. And not seeing Rama, the people sigh momentarily. And, O revered
one, seeing the royal car returned hither without Rama, the people on
the highways from grief appear with tearful countenances. And from
mansions, cars, and lorldly edifices, ladies seeing the car come back,
set up a chorus of 'Ah' and 'Alas,' afflicted with the absence of Rama.
And becoming more distressed than ever, the fair sex with their
expansive and clear eyes filled with tears, began to eye each other
indistinctly. And in consequence of the general grief that prevailed, I
could not perceive any difference between friends and foes and persons
indifferent. O mighty monarch, distressed in consequence of the exile of
Rama, men appear sunk in dejection, and elephants and horses are
spiritless; and seized with cheerlessness, they utter doleful sounds and
heave profound sighs. Ayodhya appeareth unto me joyless like Kaucalya
deprived of her son." Hearing the words of the charioteer, the king like
one exceedingly forlorn, addressed the former in words lost in the
vapour of sorrow, "Exhorted by Kaikeyi of a sinful country, born in a
sinful race and cherishing sinful designs, I did not take counsel with
aged people capable of offering advice. Without consulting with friends
or courtiers or persons versed in the Vedas, I have in the interests of
a woman rashly done this thing through ignorance. Meseems, O charioteer,
for the purpose of destroying this line entirely, this mighty disaster
hath surely befallen us through the influence of Destiny. O charioteer,
if I have ever done thee any good, do thou immediately take me to Rama:
my life urges me on (in this direction). Or let my command make Raghava
turn back. I cannot live for a moment without Rama. But if that
mighty-armed one has proceeded far, do thou placing me on a car speedily
show me unto Rama. Where is that elder brother of Lakshmana of a mighty
bow, furnished with teeth resembling Kunda flowers? If I live so long, I
will behold him in company with Sita. What can be sadder than this, that
reduced to such a pass, I cannot see here that descendant of Ikshwaku,
Raghava? Ah Rama! Ah thou younger brother of Rama! Ah thou unfortunate
Vaidehi! You do not know that I am through grief lamenting like one
deserted." Deprived of his consciousness through that sorrow of his, the
king said, "I have plunged myself into this ocean of woe hard to cross,
with grief for Rama as its mighty tide; separation from Sita, its other
shore; sighs heaved, its furious billows and whirlpools; tears, rivers
that rush into it; tossing of the arms, its fishes; lamentations its
roar; my hair flung about, its moss; Kaikeyi, its submarine fire; my
fast-flowing tears, its current; the words of the hump-backed one, its
terrific ravenous animals; the boon, its continents; and the exile of
Rama, its expanse. And, O Kaucalya, without Raghava, I shall sink in
this ocean. O exalted dame, living, it is hard for me to cross over this
ocean. It is surely owing to my sin that today wishing to behold Raghava
and Lakshmana, I do not get them (before me)." Having thus lamented, the
illustrious king all of a sudden dropped to the earth in a swoon. On the
king swooning away lamenting, that exalted lady, Rama's mother, hearing
his words doubly bitter and more piteous than eti uttered for Rama, was
seized with fresh apprehension.