Brahma, creator of the universe, though all powerful, could not revoke a
promise once made. For this reason, Ravana, the demon god of Ceylon, stood
on his head in the midst of five fires for ten thousand years, and at the
end of that time boldly demanded of Brahma as a reward that he should not
be slain by gods, demons, or genii. He also requested the gift of nine
other heads and eighteen additional arms and hands.
These having been granted, he began by the aid of his evil spirits, the
Rakshasas, to lay waste the earth and to do violence to the good,
especially to the priests.
At the time when Ravana's outrages were spreading terror throughout the
land, and Brahma, looking down from his throne, shuddered to see the
monster he had gifted with such fell power, there reigned in Ayodhya, now
the city of Oude, a good and wise raja, Dasaratha, who had reigned over
the splendid city for nine thousand years without once growing weary. He
had but one grief,--that he was childless,--and at the opening of the
story he was preparing to make the great sacrifice, Asva-medha, to
propitiate the gods, that they might give him a son.
The gods, well pleased, bore his request to Brahma in person, and
incidentally preferred a request that he provide some means of destroying
the monster Ravana that was working such woe among their priests, and
disturbing their sacrifices.
Brahma granted the first request, and, cudgeling his brains for a device
to destroy Ravana, bethought himself that while he had promised that
neither gods, genii, nor demons should slay him, he had said nothing of
man. He accordingly led the appealing gods to Vishnu, who proclaimed that
the monster should be slain by men and monkeys, and that he would himself
be re-incarnated as the eldest son of Dasaratha and in this form compass
the death of Ravana.
In course of time, as a reward for his performance of the great sacrifice,
four sons were born to Dasaratha, Rama by Kausalya, his oldest wife,
Bharata, whose mother was Kaikeyi, and twin sons, Lakshmana and Satrughna,
whose mother was Sumitra.
Rama, the incarnation of Vishnu, destined to destroy Ravana, grew daily in
grace, beauty, and strength. When he was but sixteen years old, having
been sent for by a sage to destroy the demons who were disturbing the
forest hermits in their religious rites, he departed unattended, save by
his brother Lakshmana and a guide, into the pathless forests, where he
successfully overcame the terrible Rakshasa, Tarika, and conveyed her body
to the grateful sage.
While he was journeying through the forests, destroying countless
Rakshasas, he chanced to pass near the kingdom of Mithila and heard that
its king, Janaka, had offered his peerless daughter, Sita, in marriage to
the man who could bend the mighty bow of Siva the destroyer, which, since
its owner's death, had been kept at Janaka's court.
Rama at once determined to accomplish the feat, which had been essayed in
vain by so many suitors. When he presented himself at court Janaka was at
once won by his youth and beauty; and when the mighty bow, resting upon an
eight-wheeled car, was drawn in by five thousand men, and Rama without
apparent effort bent it until it broke, he gladly gave him his beautiful
daughter, and after the splendid wedding ceremonies were over, loaded the
happy pair with presents to carry back to Ayodhya.
When Dasaratha, who had attended the marriage of his son at Mithila,
returned home, he began to feel weary of reigning, and bethought himself
of the ancient Hindu custom of making the eldest son and heir apparent a
Yuva-Raja,--that is appointing him assistant king. Rama deserved this
honor, and would, moreover, be of great assistance to him.
His happy people received the announcement of his intention with delight;
the priests approved of it as well, and the whole city was in the midst of
the most splendid preparations for the ceremony, when it occurred to
Dasaratha that all he lacked was the congratulations of his youngest and
favorite wife, Kaikeyi, on this great event. The well-watered streets and
the garlanded houses had already aroused the suspicions of
Kaikeyi,--suspicions speedily confirmed by the report of her maid. Angered
and jealous because the son of Kausalya and not her darling Bharata, at
that time absent from the city, was to be made Yuva-Raja, she fled to the
"Chamber of Sorrows," and was there found by the old Raja.
Though Kaikeyi was his youngest and most beautiful wife, her tears,
threats, and entreaties would have been of no avail had she not recalled
that, months before, the old Raja, in gratitude for her devoted nursing
during his illness, had granted her two promises. She now demanded the
fulfilment of these before she would consent to smile upon him, and the
consent won, she required him, first, to appoint Bharata Yuva-Raja; and,
second, to exile Rama for fourteen years to the terrible forest of
Dandaka.
The promise of a Hindu, once given, cannot be revoked. In spite of the
grief of the old Raja, of Kausalya, his old wife, and of all the people,
who were at the point of revolt at the sudden disgrace of their favorite
prince, the terrible news was announced to Rama, and he declared himself
ready to go, to save his father from dishonor.
He purposed to go alone, but Sita would not suffer herself to be thus
deserted. Life without him, she pleaded, was worse than death; and so
eloquent was her grief at the thought of parting that she was at last
permitted to don the rough garment of bark provided by the malicious
Kaikeyi.
The people of Ayodhya, determined to share the fate of their favorites,
accompanied them from the city, their tears laying the dust raised by
Rama's chariot wheels. But when sleep overcame them, Rama, Sita, and
Lakshmana escaped from them, dismissed their charioteer, and, crossing the
Ganges, made their way to the mountain of Citra-kuta, where they took up
their abode.
No more beautiful place could be imagined. Flowers of every kind,
delicious fruits, and on every side the most pleasing prospects, together
with perfect love, made their hermitage a paradise on earth. Here the
exiles led an idyllic existence until sought out by Bharata, who, learning
from his mother on his return home the ruin she had wrought in the Raj,
had indignantly spurned her, and hastened to Dandaka. The old Raja had
died from grief soon after the departure of the exiles, and Bharata now
demanded that Rama should return to Ayodhya and become Raja, as was his
right, as eldest son.
When Rama refused to do this until the end of his fourteen years of exile,
Bharata vowed that for fourteen years he would wear the garb of a devotee
and live outside the city, committing the management of the Raj to a pair
of golden sandals which he took from Rama's feet. All the affairs of state
would be transacted under the authority of the sandals, and Bharata, while
ruling the Raj, would pay homage to them.
Soon after the departure of Bharata the exiles were warned to depart from
their home on Citra-kuta and seek a safer hermitage, for terrible
rakshasas filled this part of the forest. They accordingly sought the
abode of Atri the hermit, whose wife Anasuya was so pleased with Sita's
piety and devotion to her husband that she bestowed upon her the crown of
immortal youth and beauty. They soon found a new abode in the forest of
Pancarati, on the banks of the river Godavari, where Lakshmana erected a
spacious bamboo house.
Their happiness in this elysian spot was destined to be short-lived. Near
them dwelt a horrible rakshasa, Surpanakha by name, who fell in love with
Rama. When she found that he did not admire the beautiful form she assumed
to win him, and that both he and Lakshmana laughed at her advances, she
attempted to destroy Sita, only to receive in the attempt a disfiguring
wound from the watchful Lakshmana. Desiring revenge for her disfigured
countenance and her scorned love, she hastened to the court of her brother
Ravana, in Ceylon, and in order to induce him to avenge her wrongs, dwelt
upon the charms of the beautiful wife of Rama.
Some days after, Sita espied a golden fawn, flecked with silver, among the
trees near their home. Its shining body, its jewel-like horns, so
captivated her fancy that she implored Rama, if possible, to take it alive
for her; if not, at least to bring her its skin for a couch. As Rama
departed, he warned Lakshmana not to leave Sita for one moment; he would
surely return, since no weapon could harm him. In the depths of the forest
the fawn fell by his arrow, crying as it fell, "O Sita! O Lakshmana!" in
Rama's very tones.
When Sita heard the cry she reproached Lakshmana for not going to his
brother's aid, until he left her to escape her bitter words. He had no
sooner disappeared in the direction of the cry than a hermit appeared and
asked her to minister unto his wants.
Sita carried him food, bathed his feet, and conversed with him until, able
no longer to conceal his admiration for her, he revealed himself in his
true form as the demon god of Ceylon.
When she indignantly repulsed him he seized her, and mounting his chariot
drove rapidly towards Ceylon.
When Rama and Lakshmana returned home, soon after, they found the house
empty. As they searched through the forest for traces of her they found a
giant vulture dying from wounds received while endeavoring to rescue the
shrieking Sita. Going farther, they encountered the monkey king Sugriva
and his chiefs, among whom Sita had dropped from the chariot her scarf and
ornaments.
Sugriva had been deposed from his kingdom by his brother Bali, who had
also taken his wife from him. Rama agreed to conquer Bali if Sugriva would
assist in the search for Sita; and, the agreement made, they at once
marched upon Kishkindha, together slew Bali, and gained possession of the
wealthy city and the queen Tara. They were now ready to search for the
lost Sita.
In his quest through every land, Hanuman, the monkey general, learned from
the king of the vultures that she had been carried to Ceylon. He
immediately set out for the coast with his army, only to find a bridgeless
ocean stretching between them and the island. Commanding his soldiers to
remain where they were, Hanuman expanded his body to enormous proportions,
leaped the vast expanse of water, and alighted upon a mountain, from which
he could look down upon Lanka, the capital city of Ceylon. Perceiving the
city to be closely guarded, he assumed the form of a cat, and thus,
unsuspected, crept through the barriers and examined the city. He found
the demon god in his apartments, surrounded by beautiful women, but Sita
was not among them. Continuing his search, he at last discovered her, her
beauty dimmed by grief, seated under a tree in a beautiful asoka grove,
guarded by hideous rakshasas with the faces of buffaloes, dogs, and swine.
Assuming the form of a tiny monkey, Hanuman crept down the tree, and
giving her the ring of Rama, took one from her. He offered to carry her
away with him, but Sita declared that Rama must himself come to her
rescue. While they were talking together, the demon god appeared, and,
after fruitless wooing, announced that if Sita did not yield herself to
him in two months he would have her guards "mince her limbs with steel"
for his morning repast.
In his rage, Hanuman destroyed a mango grove and was captured by the
demon's guards, who were ordered to set his tail on fire. As soon as this
was done, Hanuman made himself so small that he slipped from his bonds,
and, jumping upon the roofs, spread a conflagration through the city of
Lanka.
He leaped back to the mainland, conveyed the news of Sita's captivity to
Rama and Sugriva, and was soon engaged in active preparations for the
campaign.
As long as the ocean was unbridged it was impossible for any one save
Hanuman to cross it. In his anger at being so thwarted, Rama turned his
weapons against it, until from the terrified waves rose the god of the
ocean, who promised him that if Nala built a bridge, the waves should
support the materials as firmly as though it were built on land.
Terror reigned in Lanka at the news of the approach of Rama. Vibishana,
Ravana's brother, deserted to Rama, because of the demon's rage when he
advised him to make peace with Rama. Fiercely fought battles ensued, in
which even the gods took part, Vishnu and Indra taking sides with Rama,
and the evil spirits fighting with Ravana.
After the war had been carried on for some time, with varying results, it
was decided to determine it by single combat between Ravana and Rama. Then
even the gods were terrified at the fierceness of the conflict. At each
shot Rama's mighty bow cut off a head of the demon, which at once grew
back, and the hero was in despair until he remembered the all-powerful
arrow given him by Brahma.
As the demon fell by this weapon, flowers rained from heaven upon the
happy victor, and his ears were ravished with celestial music.
Touched by the grief of Ravana's widows, Rama ordered his foe a splendid
funeral, and then sought the conquered city.
Sita was led forth, beaming with happiness at finding herself re-united to
her husband; but her happiness was destined to be of short duration. Rama
received her with coldness and with downcast eyes, saying that she could
no longer be his wife, after having dwelt in the zenana of the demon. Sita
assured him of her innocence; but on his continuing to revile her, she
ordered her funeral pyre to be built, since she would rather die by fire
than live despised by Rama. The sympathy of all the bystanders was with
Sita, but Rama saw her enter the flames without a tremor. Soon Agni, the
god of fire, appeared, bearing the uninjured Sita in his arms. Her
innocence thus publicly proved by the trial by fire, she was welcomed by
Rama, whose treatment she tenderly forgave.
The conquest made, the demon destroyed, and Sita restored, Rama returned
in triumph to Ayodhya, and assumed the government. The city was
prosperous, the people were happy, and for a time all went well. It was
not long, however, before whispers concerning Sita's long abode in Ceylon
spread abroad, and some one whispered to Rama that a famine in the country
was due to the guilt of Sita, who had suffered the caresses of the demon
while in captivity in Ceylon. Forgetful of the trial by fire, forgetful of
Sita's devotion to him through weal and woe, the ungrateful Rama
immediately ordered her to the forest in which they had spent together the
happy years of their exile.
Without a murmur the unhappy Sita, alone and unbefriended, dragged herself
to the forest, and, torn with grief of body and spirit, found the
hermitage of Valmiki, where she gave birth to twin sons, Lava and Kuça.
Here she reared them, with the assistance of the hermit, who was their
teacher, and under whose care they grew to manhood, handsome and strong.
It chanced about the time the youths were twenty years old, that Rama, who
had grown peevish and disagreeable with age, began to think the gods were
angered with him because he had killed Ravana, who was the son of a
Brahman. Determined to propitiate them by means of the great sacrifice, he
caused a horse to be turned loose in the forest. When his men went to
retake it, at the end of the year, it was caught by two strong and
beautiful youths who resisted all efforts to capture them. In his rage
Rama went to the forest in person, only to learn that the youths were his
twin sons, Lava and Kuça. Struck with remorse, Rama recalled the
sufferings of his wife Sita, and on learning that she was at the hermitage
of Valmiki, ordered her to come to him, that he might take her to him
again, having first caused her to endure the trial by fire to prove her
innocence to all his court.
Sita had had time to recover from the love of her youth, and the prospect
of life with Rama, without the _couleur de rose_ of youthful love, was
not altogether pleasant. At first, she even refused to see him; but
finally, moved by the appeals of Valmiki and his wife, she clad herself in
her richest robes, and, young and beautiful as when first won by Rama, she
stood before him. Not deigning to look in his face, she appealed to the
earth. If she had never loved any man but Rama, if her truth and purity
were known to the earth, let it open its bosom and take her to it. While
the armies stood trembling with horror, the earth opened, a gorgeous
throne appeared, and the goddess of earth, seated upon it, took Sita
beside her and conveyed her to the realms of eternal happiness, leaving
the too late repentant Rama to wear out his remaining years in shame and
penitence.