The Ramayana Read online

  His messengers approached the moon, who normally avoided passage over Ravana’s territory, and said, “Our King summons you. Don’t be afraid. Come with us.” The moon rose in full glory over the sea and timidly approached Ravana, bathing his surroundings in soft light.

  But now Ravana asked his servants, “What made you bring the sun?” They answered, “The sun dare not come unasked nor would we dare to bring him here.” When Ravana recognized the moon as the moon, he swore at him, “You are worthless, pale-faced, constantly worn out and trying to regain your shape again. You have no stamina or quality. You are contemptible. Is it possible that you are also stricken with thoughts of Sita? Take care if you ever entertain any ideas about that woman. Get out now, I don’t want you here.” He then ordered, “Let the night go. Get back daylight and the sun.”

  When the night suddenly ceased, all the people of the world were suddenly thrown into confusion. Lovers in bed found themselves suddenly exposed by daylight; those in a state of intoxication with wine were bewildered and embarrassed. Birds stirred in their nests not knowing what had happened. Lamps fed with oil and lit for a whole night faded in daylight. Astronomers who calculate the movement of the stars and planets and declare their positions through the almanacs were caught literally napping as they did not know day had come. Even the roosters remained silent, unable to adjust themselves to the sudden daylight. “Is this the sun? You call him the sun! He is once again the moon who was here a while ago and made my blood boil. This one is no better. Same as before. Don’t lie,” said Ravana. His servants assured him again that this was really the sun. Then he ordered the sun to go out and the crescent moon to rise; then the sea waves to remain silent; and then ordered total darkness to envelop the earth, causing confusion and suffering to its inhabitants. In that utter darkness Ravana suffered hallucinations of Sita’s figure approaching and receding, and addressed it endearingly.

  He had never seen anyone so beautiful in all the worlds where he had roamed at will. Still doubting his own vision, he ordered, “Fetch my sister at once.” No time could be lost between his command and the execution thereof. Soorpanaka arrived. He asked her, “I see this woman before me. Is this the one you meant?”

  Soorpanaka looked hard and said, “Oh, no. The person who stands before us is not a woman at all. It’s Rama, that—that man. I don’t see Sita here. You are only imagining. . . .”

  “If it’s mere imagination on my part, how is it you see Rama here?”

  Soorpanaka merely said, “Ever since the day he did this damage to me, I find it impossible to forget him,” trying not to be too explicit about her feelings for Rama, equivocating her meaning.

  Ravana said, “Be that as it may, I am melting and dying for Sita. How shall I be saved now?”

  Soorpanaka said, “You are the overlord of seven worlds, mightier than the mightiest. Why do you feel sad and unhappy? Go and get her; that is all. Take her. She is yours. Is there anything beyond your reach? Stir yourself. Leave this desolate mood. Go forth, snatch her, because she is yours, created for you and waiting for you.” Thus she infused a new spirit in Ravana, and it made her secretly happy that her plan to get Sita out of the way was working out satisfactorily. She left.

  Ravana felt reassured now and braced himself to take practical steps to achieve his aim. He sent out his servants to summon his advisers and minister immediately. With the least delay they began to arrive at Ravana’s retreat by horseback, elephant, and chariots, and the gods in Heaven watched the traffic apprehensively, speculating as to what this sudden activity might bode for the universe. Ravana’s consultations with the advisers were brief, being in the nature of an announcement to them of decisions already made. Somehow he valued the formality of being counselled. He then summoned his chariot, got into it alone, and flew towards a retreat where his uncle, Mareecha, was meditating in a cave. Mareecha had made two attempts to attack Rama and both had failed. The first had been the one at Sidhasrama, to avenge his mother Thataka’s death, when Rama’s arrow had flung him far out into the sea. Later he had made another attempt, failed to kill Rama, and retreated into the woods, forswearing a career of violence.

  Now, at the sight of Ravana, Mareecha felt uneasy, but received him courteously and inquired, “What can I do for you?”

  Ravana said, “My mind is shattered. I am going through a phase of utter shame. The gods doubtless watch and rejoice, but on our supreme race a great shame has fallen and we have to hang our heads down and crawl aside like faceless worms. A human creature has stationed himself in Dandaka and has dared to challenge our supremacy. He has mutilated my dear sister’s face. Your beloved niece is now without nose, ears, or breasts. He chopped them off when she approached his miserable hut.”

  Mareecha already had an inkling as to who the human creature was, and when he heard the sound, “Rama,” he immediately said, “Keep away from him.” Ravana felt irritated and declared, “I won’t. Are you suggesting that we should tremble before him?”

  “Let us not go near him.”

  Ravana said, “Very well, I’ll not go near him, but only snatch away his woman and keep her with me. For after all I do not wish to engage myself in a fight with a mere human being. But he must be taught a lesson for his presumptuousness and reckless arrogance. One sure way of hurting a human being is to deprive him of his female companion.”

  Mareecha, who was now putting forth his best effort to live a new life and practise all the moral and spiritual values, cried, “It’s immoral. Coveting another’s wife. . . .”

  “She had no business to become his wife. She should have met me first,” said Ravana, his first phase of forlorn depression now giving place to levity.

  Mareecha’s present outlook did not permit him to accept Ravana’s proposals passively. He cried, “You have the grace of Shiva on you. You are endowed with eminence and power. Do not cheapen yourself with such adventures. You should not become a subject of gossip in this or other worlds.”

  “So you want me to watch indifferently when my sister is hurt and humiliated! I don’t need your advice. I only want your help.”

  “In what manner?” asked Mareecha, feeling that he was nearing the end of his spiritual attempts and perhaps the end of his life too.

  “I have a plan to take that woman away and you have a part in it.”

  Mareecha said, “A sort of drum-beat goes on within my mind, sounding and re-sounding the message that you are seeking your own destruction and the liquidation of our race.”

  “How dare you belittle my own power and exalt that creature who has not spared my sister!” Ravana asked angrily. “If I show patience now, it’s because I still treat you as my uncle.” And Mareecha retorted, “It’s on the same basis of relationship that I wish you to save yourself from annihilation.”

  “You forget that I once shook Shiva’s abode, the Kailas mountain itself. My strength is unlimited.”

  “But Rama is the one who broke in two Shiva’s bow, which was as big as the Meru Mountain.”

  “You are still praising him,” Ravana said grimly.

  “It’s because I watched him destroy my mother and brother Subahu. I saw Viswamithra impart to him all the powers in his command and thus Rama now possesses asthras immeasurable in power and numbers and he can face any encounter with assurance.”

  “Enough of your rhapsody. I will split you with my sword, if you persist, and then achieve my end without your help, that’s all.” Mareecha suppressed his judgement and said, “I only thought of your welfare, which is my chief concern. I want you to live long and be happy.”

  This pleased Ravana, who put his arm on Mareecha’s shoulder and said, “You are good and strong and your shoulders are broad and high like hillocks. Now go and fetch that Sita. Hurry up. And as to your prophecy, if I have to die for it, let it be Rama’s arrow that pierces my heart rather than the insidious, minute ones from the bow of the god of love.”

  “Tell me what I should do. What is left for me to do? The time w
hen I decided to avenge the death of my mother and brother, two companions and I approached Rama in the shape of spotted deer. Rama killed the other two with a single arrow and I barely escaped with my life. Then I adopted a new philosophy. Now again, what is there left for me to do?” reflected Mareecha woefully, concluding that he would rather be killed by Rama than by his own nephew, who had just threatened him.

  Ravana merely said, “You will have to grab her by some trickery.”

  “It would be nobler and more befitting for one of your status,” Mareecha replied, “to fight Rama on this issue and take Sita as a prize of your conquest.”

  “Do you want me to employ an army to tackle that mortal? I can put an end to his nuisance once for all, but I do not wish to take that step, as the woman may immolate herself if she finds her man dead, and our whole plan would be ruined.”

  Mareecha realized that his strategy to end Ravana’s career would not work. There was no escape for him. Resigning himself to his fate, he said, “Tell me what to do.”

  Seizing the idea from Mareecha’s own narration, Ravana firmly suggested, without leaving him any choice, “Assume the form of a golden deer, and draw her out. I’ll do the rest . . . It’s the only way to get at her without hurting anyone.”

  Mareecha agreed. “Yes, I’ll go this moment and carry out your wishes.” But he was fully aware of the consequences that would befall him immediately and Ravana later. Mareecha went forth, gloomily reflecting, “Twice have I escaped Rama’s arrow; now, this third time, I shall be doomed. I am like a fish in a poisoned pond. Sooner or later I am bound to die, whether I stay in it or get out of it.”

  Mareecha went to Dandaka forest. In the vicinity of Panchvati, he assumed the form of a golden deer and strutted before Rama’s cottage. Attracted by its brilliance, other deer came up and surrounded the golden deer. Sita, strolling in her garden, noticed it, hurried back into the cottage, and requested of Rama, “There is an animal at our gate with a body of shining gold, and its legs are set with precious stones. It’s a dazzling creature. Please catch it for me.”

  The fates were at work and this was to be a crucial moment in their lives. Normally, Rama would have questioned Sita’s fancy, but today he blindly accepted her demand and said cheerfully, “Yes, of course you shall have it. Where is it?” and he rose to go out.

  At this point Lakshmana interceded. “I would not go near it. It may be just an illusion presented before us. It’s not safe. Who has ever heard of an animal made of gold and gems? It’s a trick, if ever there was one.”

  Rama replied, “Brahma’s creations are vast and varied. No one can say that he knows all the creatures of this earth. How can you assert that there can be no such creature of splendour?”

  Sita interposed impatiently, “While you are debating, the animal will be gone. Please come out and see it for yourself.”

  Rama came out of the cottage, saw it, and said, “It’s a wonderful creature. Stay here. I will get it for you.”

  Sita said, “I’ll keep it with me as my pet and take it back to Ayodhya when our exile ends.”

  Lakshmana once again tried to prevent this pursuit. But Rama brushed aside his argument. “It’s harmless to pursue it. If it is some infernal creature in this form, it will reveal itself when it is shot at. If it is not, we will take it intact and Sita will have a plaything. Either way we cannot ignore it.”

  “We can’t go after it when we do not know who has set it before us. If it’s harmless, it would be wrong to hunt it. In any case, it is best to keep away from it.” When he found Rama obstinate, Lakshmana said, “Please stay here. I will go after it and try to find out the truth of it.”

  Sita became insistent and said sullenly, “You will never get it, I know,” and turned round and went back into the hermitage, annoyed and irritated.

  Rama felt sad that there should be such an argument over an innocent wish of his wife, who had ungrudgingly thrown her lot with his. He said to Lakshmana, “Let me go and catch it myself. Meanwhile, guard her.” With his bow held ready, he approached the golden deer. His mind did not admit Lakshmana’s words of caution; it went on echoing Sita’s plaintive appeal and he resolved to himself, “She shall have it, and then she will surely smile again.” The chase began. The deer waited for his approach and darted off again and again. In the mood of the chase, Rama had not noticed how far he had been drawn out or how long it had lasted. Forest paths, mountain tracks, and valleys he had traversed trying to keep pace with the elusive deer. A blind determination, a challenge, and behind them a desire to please his wife—all these drew him on as the splendorous animal receded farther and farther.

  Suddenly it dawned on him that he was being duped. Lakshmana was right after all. He ought not to have so blindly obeyed his wife. Automatically his hand took out an arrow and shot it at the animal, just as Mareecha, guessing Rama’s thoughts, made a desperate attempt to escape. But it was too late. Rama’s arrow as ever reached its target. Mareecha screamed, “Oh, Lakshmana! Oh, Sita! help me . . .” assuming the voice of Rama.

  After disposing of Mareecha in this manner, Rama turned back, rather worried that Mareecha’s cry might have been heard by Sita. “Lakshmana will help her to guess what has happened,” he thought, for he admired Lakshmana’s sagacity and understanding; but realizing that he had been drawn quite far away from Panchvati, he hurried back towards his cottage.

  Sita, hearing the cry of Mareecha, said to Lakshmana, “Something has happened to my lord. Go and help him.”

  “No harm can befall Rama. Be assured of it. One who has vanquished all the demons in this world will not be harmed by a mere animal, if indeed, as you think, it is an animal. It was an asura, now finished off, and the cry was false and assumed, aimed precisely at you.”

  “This is no time for explanations or speculation,” she said. As she was talking the cry was heard a second time. “Oh, Lakshmana! Oh, Sita!” And Sita was seized with panic and lost control of herself completely. She cried, “Do not stand there and talk! Go, go and save Rama!”

  “He is the saviour and needs no help from others, my respected sister-in-law. Wait, be patient for a while, and you will see him before you, and then you will laugh at your own fears.”

  Sita had no ear for any explanation and went on repeating, “Go, go and save him! How can you stay here talking! I’m surprised at your calmness.” As Lakshmana kept on asking her to remain calm, she became more and more worked up and began to talk wildly. “You who have never left his side since your birth, who followed him into the forest—at a moment like this, instead of rushing to his side, you stand there chattering away at me. This looks very very strange to me!”

  Once again Lakshmana tried to set her mind at rest. “You have apparently not understood the nature of Rama. There is no power which can reduce him to cry for help. If Rama was really threatened, the whole universe and all creation would have trembled and collapsed by now, for he is no ordinary mortal. . . .”

  Sita’s eyes flashed anger and sorrow. “It’s improper for you to stay here with me and talk coldly this way. Strange! Strange! Anyone who has been close to my lord for even a brief moment ought to be prepared to lay down his life for him. Yet you, who were born and bred with him and attached yourself to him through everything—you stand here unmoved and unaffected by his cry for help. If you don’t want to save him, there is nothing more I can do, nor anyone I could turn to for support. The only thing left will be for me to build a fire and throw myself into it. . . .”

  Sita’s insinuations and lack of trust in him pained Lakshmana deeply. He pondered over her words and said, “No need for you to harm yourself. Only I shudder at the import of your words. I’ll obey you now. Do not be anxious. This very second I’ll leave. I only hesitated because your order goes against the command of my brother. I’ll go, and may the gods protect you from harm!”

  “If I don’t go, she will kill herself,” he reasoned. “If I go, she will be in danger. I’d rather be dead than facing such a dile
mma. . . . I’ll go, and what is destined will happen. Dharma alone should protect her.” He said to Sita, “Our elder Jatayu is there to watch us, and he will guard you.”

  The moment Lakshmana left, Ravana, who had been watching, emerged from his hiding place. He stood at the gate of Panchvati cottage and called, “Who is there? Anyone inside to welcome a sanyasi?” He was in the garb of a hermit, lean, scraggy, and carrying a staff and a wooden begging bowl in his hand. His voice shook as if with old age, his legs trembled, as he called again, “Is there anyone living in this hut?”

  Sita opened the door and saw the old man and said, “You are welcome, sir. What do you want?”

  Ravana was overwhelmed by the vision before him. Sita invited him in and gave him a seat while his mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts. “She should be mine. I’ll make her the queen of my empire and spend the rest of my days in obeying her command and pleasing her in a million ways. I’ll do nothing else in life except enjoy her company. . . . Ah! how perceptive and helpful my sister has been! Not a word of exaggeration in her description. Absolutely perfect. Perfection . . . How good of my darling sister to have thought of me when she saw this angel! I shall reward my sister by making her the queen of my empire. She shall rule in my place, while I live in the paradise of this woman’s company.” He had already forgotten that he had intended to make Sita the queen of his empire.

  While his mind was busy with these pleasant plans, Sita was inquiring, “How do you come to be found on this lonely forest path—at your age? Where do you come from?”

  He woke up from his day-dreaming to answer, “Well, there is one . . .” and proceeded to give a detailed account of himself in the third person—as the mightiest in creation, favourite of the great Lord Shiva himself, powerful enough to order the sun and the moon to move in or out of their orbits as he pleased. “All the gods wait upon him to do his slightest bidding, all the divine damsels, Urvasi, Thilothama and the others, are ever ready to massage his feet and strap his sandals on. He is greater than Indra; his capital is unmatched, a magnificent city; he commands all the power, wealth, and glories of this world. Thousands of women wait anxiously for his favour, but he is waiting and looking for the most perfect beauty in creation. He is learned, just, handsome, in vigour and youthfulness unmatched. I have stayed in the glory of his presence for a long time and am now returning home this way.”