Ramayana
Rama, the crown prince of Ayodhya, got up from sleep with an uneasy feeling. The sky was still grey, but a floating cloud had shown up in the sky and was changing into silver, chasing the moonlight away and heralding dawn. Rama got up in haste. He wanted to avoid the daily routine of auspicious greetings by the royal bards.
Of late Rama had discovered the great mystery of the solitary hours of dawn. His stepbrother Laxman would not leave him alone, because he feared that if left alone Rama would get lost in the woods; and who knows, he may really get lost without a trace. Laxman had made it his undeclared mission to guard Rama from falling into that mysterious trance which seemed to estrange him from everyone around.
Rama knew Laxman’s mind very well. He knew how lonely and insecure Laxman felt in the palace without Rama. The four brothers, Rama, Bharat, Laxman and Shatrughna, used to be the delight of the household till they were children. Now that they had stepped into adolescence, they found that the world was changing for them.
Rama was the eldest of them. Born to Kausalya, he had learnt to give more than he received, because something of his mother’s magnanimity had been inculcated into him since childhood. Laxman and Shatrughna were born to Sumitra, the most detached of Dasharatha’s three queens. As far as Rama remembered, the two of them, Rama and Laxman, spent the best part of their day in the inner sanctum of Kausalya, and following Rama, Laxman also used to cling to Kausalya for everything he needed. Sumitra had trusted both her sons, Laxman and Shatrughna to Kausalya because she knew Kausalya to be the most fair-minded and unselfish among the three of them.
It was a very different story with Kaikeyi, the mother of Bharat. Her father was a powerful king who ruled over a very mighty tribe known for their physical prowess and fiery temperament. Besides her ravishing beauty, Kaikeyi was also blessed with a winsome smile behind which was concealed an extremely sharp and perceptive intellect. For some reason, not known to his children, Dasharatha was as if held hostage by her. Kaikeyi, who took pride in her marital conquest, had nothing but contempt and disdain for her co-wives: Kausalya and Sumitra.
Rama, and especially Laxman, had grown up under a shadow of fear which they failed to recognize till they gained sufficient understanding of the intriguing relationship that existed between their father and Kaikeyi. A silent reign of terror prevailed in the palace. It was palpable now. Kaikeyi held both Rama and Laxman in silent disdain. She had never allowed her own son Bharat to mingle with his stepbrothers. Ever since the boys learnt to distinguish relationships in the family, it became clear to them that Bharat had a privileged position in the royal household even though early on Bharat had been taken away from the family by his maternal grandfather to be brought up with special care and privilege to fulfill his destiny.
Kaikeyi considered it to be a great misfortune for her son to be born younger than Rama. She was determined to see her son crowned as king, if not of Ayodhya, he could certainly claim the throne of her father’s kingdom. But if possible, she would rather see him rule over both kingdoms.
None of the four princes, however, was seized by any such ambition, Bharat least of all.
On that morning, Rama remembered that he was going to meet the strange hermit in the neighboring woods. When Rama reached the solitary dwelling place of the hermit in the heart of the woods, it was already late in the morning. The hermit was not the one who would wait for a prince to show up. A little delay here and there and Rama would be greeted by the silent walls of the hut where the hermit had camped these days.
Rama donned a robe perfunctorily and freaked out surreptitiously. He was surprised to find that the hermit was very much there. In fact he seemed to be waiting for Rama.
They were strange pals: a prince and a hermit. The hermit happened to be a little older than Rama. It was a bond of a light interest each had in the other: a casual, amused condescension on the part of the hermit, and an earnest, inquiring spirit on the part of the prince.
The hermit noticed that Rama was weighed down by that unnamable unrest which is the perennial destiny of all men. He was watering the plants in the courtyard which had gone without water the whole of the previous evening. He looked alternately at Rama’s pale, distraught face and the plants which were instantly responding to the water sinking to their roots. Rama also watched, taking in the fresh breath of life with the rejuvenated plants.
The hermit had stayed on in the woods for longer than his wont. It was time for him to move on now. But everything over here held him back, especially Rama. There was infinite peace in Rama’s aura. It was as if he had brought that peace here on earth from somewhere far away.
The hermit wanted Rama to speak. Rama stared vacantly at the walls of the hut.
“Why is the prince silent today?” asked the hermit.
Rama laughed and said, “Prince, indeed! I hate that epithet. One day they will find this man they call prince, lost in the woods, leaving behind only the memory of a name! A name: that is what I am, in spite of all this paraphernalia of princehood!”
The hermit smiled. “Yes, you will leave behind a name. It will be a name that will not be a token of any human identity though.”
Rama laughed. “I half understand what you mean. Like everyone else around me, you too have begun to fall under that hypnotic illusion called destiny. Tell me precisely, how can one escape what they call destiny?”
The hermit said, “Right now you are held by your obligations.”
“What are they?”Asked Rama. The hermit smiled skeptically. “Are you feigning innocence, or are you ignorant? As sure as the sun rises and sets, you are obliged to fulfill your duties towards your parents, your dynasty and your people. Your way leads you back to the palace. Before the sun reaches the peak, you must be back in the palace”
Rama said, “I would rather be away in the woods, away from the suffocating anxieties of the palace. Do I not have the freedom to choose?”
“Princes do not have the freedom to choose, Rama. They have a mission”.
“Then I will choose to be free from the obligations of princehood”.
The hermit watched the prince in the bright sunlight. The prince’s brow was saddened by a dark shadow of despondency.
The hermit asked, “What do you want to do to escape?”
Rama said, “Renounce the claim to the throne of Ayodhya and disappear in the woods, vanish forever from the eyes of all and merge with the vast tide of time that is carrying you and me and everyone along. I am not indispensable. Any one of my brothers is capable of running this inheritance.”
The hermit looked at Rama and absorbed his words in silence.
“You are speaking out of disgust. When disgust dictates your speech and actions, be wary,” said the hermit.
“Wary of what?” asked Rama.
“Disgust depletes your power,” said the hermit.
“I am in no need of power; I have been taught how to wield power all along since my childhood,” said Rama.
The hermit said nothing. Rama watched him for signs of skepticism. The hermit realized that Rama sought an answer.
“True, you are in no need of power,” said the hermit.
Rama looked at the hermit warily to watch for signs of sarcasm. But the hermit was searching for words.
“You may renounce the kingdom, but you cannot renounce power,” said the hermit.
Rama brooded over this. The hermit was in a trance. He spoke undistracted as Rama listened.
“You are suffering from loss. It is the loss of memory of what you own; loss of memory of who you are! Akasha, the eternal memory, is the keeper of the forgotten. There, in the Akasha, nothing is lost, nothing is forgotten. You have a mission, Rama!”
The hermit stopped. He was still not out of the trance. Rama watched him in utter silence. He experienced a strange kind of freedom in that moment while the hermit was immersed in trance.
The hermit spoke.
“You cannot flee from your mission. Your freedom is not what you imagine it to be. Cast away the illusion of freedom. Your freedom is in your inner strength, not in renunciation. Be free to make use of your strength. Your strength is your power. You don’t have to acquire it. You have forgotten what you possess. The path of destiny is inscrutable to your human eye.”
The hermit remained in the trance for a little longer. When he opened his eyes, Rama asked him anxiously, “What is my mission?”
The hermit said, “You will know it soon. Those who are appointed to aid you in your mission are holding to life only to meet you and discharge their duty. They have been waiting for you.”
Rama looked at the hermit in astonishment.
“Are you one of them?”He asked.
The hermit did not answer the question. Instead, he looked into the space and said, “I will meet you hence only after you have fulfilled your mission.”
Rama got up to take leave of the hermit.
When he returned to meet the hermit the next day, the cottage was deserted.
Note: Valmiki says in Yogavasishtha that Rama was an incarnation of God Vishnu. But, Rama in his human form had no memory of his divinity. It was as if God, in this incarnate form, had willingly assumed the limitations of the human intellect.
Away from Ayodhya, and away from Rama, Valmiki created the first seven ‘Kandas’ of the epic Ramayana by concentrating on the story of Rama in his meditation. He passed on the seven completed ‘Kandas’ to his enlightened disciple Bharadwaja. While Valmiki was still in the process of writing further, Bharadwja recited the seven ‘Kandas ‘to the highest Guru of mankind, Brahmadeva in some deep cave of Meru mountain and asked for the grace by which mankind will be redeemed from suffering. Brahmadeva told him, “Go to your mentor Valmiki who is writing Ramayana and listen to what he is creating.”
Ramayana is a story of suffering. It is the suffering of humanity. Brahmadeva, the God of creation, knew how painful the process of recounting the story of human suffering is. So he inspired Valmiki by saying that the creative process begets pain for the writer. But Valmiki must go on till the end; no matter how painful the process was. Brahmadeva said that he found it necessary to come in person to deliver this message to Valmiki.
Rama and Laxman
Laxman was aware of Rama’s listless condition of late. After their return back to the palace, having completed their princely education at the hermitage of sage Vasishtha, Rama had lost interest in the life of the palace.
On that morning, as Rama entered the inner courtyard of the palace, he was accosted by Laxman. The two brothers looked at each other—Laxman trying to probe into Rama’s mind. Rama looked at Laxman steadily, neither revealing nor trying to hide anything. He walked ahead, leaving Laxman trailing behind. It was not in Laxman’s nature to express indignation. However, not finding Rama forthcoming, he decided to confront him.
“Brother, is anything the matter? I have noticed that you are reluctant to talk these days.”
Rama nodded his head in reply, but did not say anything.
“Where do you disappear every morning?” Laxman asked persistently.
Rama turned back and smiled. “I am looking for answers,” he said.
“Answers to what?” Laxman asked.
Holding Laxman’s hand as they walked towards their room, Rama started to talk.
He appeared to be in good humor. Perhaps it was a deliberate act he had put on to assuage Laxman’s fears.
“Do you know Laxman, why I persuaded our father to give us permission to leave the palace to go on a pilgrimage? That was the only way to get to know life in real sense.”
Laxman was happy to listen to him.
Rama said, “Life is crude; life is subtle. Those who can take it in its crudeness are fit to survive. Those who know its subtlety, retreat into solitude. A king and a prince are not supposed to delve deep into life’s subtlety.’
“Oh, is that the reason why you retreat to the woods these days: to delve deep into life’s subtlety?” Laxman asked.
Rama looked at Laxman steadily. There was no intention to evaluate or judge Laxman; but Laxman felt judged. He regretted the frivolity of what he said. In order to draw Rama out of the woods and to hide his own frivolity, he said cheerily, “Come on Rama, I’ve been waiting to meet you since yesterday. Our
trainer has acquired a new pair of horses for us. They are being trained specially for us. Come let’s have a ride.”
Laxman dragged Rama to the stable yard where a majestic pair of horses was waiting for them, stamping and fuming furiously. One of them neighed in remonstrance. The other one was a little sober and responded gratefully to Rama as he patted him on the back. Laxman laughed.
“Hey, that one seems to prefer you. I’ll take this restive one.”
Rama laughed, “That one is a female. Be wary. She is not easy to master. Don’t be in haste, or she will throw you off balance before you know.”
“She can’t! I bet!” said Laxman.
In a moment Laxman untied the mare, and off they went riding into the woods. Rama watched them go and turned to the horse that stood patiently beside him. Rama patted him on the back and said, “We are in no hurry to fight battles, my friend, and I am sure that day is far away. Till then let’s explore the woods in peace.”
As he was returning to the palace by himself, he happened to look up at the balcony and caught sight of Kaikeyi looking at him. For a moment their eyes met and unwarily, they regarded each other dumbly. Rama was unable to repel her gaze. He took his eyes off and walked silently in the direction of his own quarters. He could not get over the feeling that her gaze still followed him.
Memories flooded in….Rama was a toddler. It was a full moon night. The moon was resplendent like a jewel in the crown. But the day that had gone by was painful for Rama. He and Bharat, Kaikeyi’s son who was younger than Rama, had fought over a toy. Kausalya and their father had interceded on Bharat’s behalf and had coaxed Rama into giving up the toy for Bharat’s sake.
At night the enchanting sight of the full moon filled Rama with a longing. He wanted to clasp it, never to let it go. He cried bitterly. The attendants rallied around him and tried to divert him, but he would not be pacified. No one had seen him cry like that before. In spite of being surrounded by all the toys and fun brought to him by the palace-attendants, the child Rama was lonely. The news reached his father. Dasharatha was followed by Kaikeyi as he rushed hastily to the side of Rama and picked him up. Who else but Dasharatha would know what had gone wrong between him and his son?
As Rama was enveloped by the warmth of his father’s body, he felt a cold thing touch him on his arm. It was the feel of Kaikeyi’s hand as she tried to separate Dasharatha from Rama.
Dasharatha had put him down guiltily and had called for his wise minister, Sumanta.
Sumanta immediately asked the attendant to get him a tray filled with water. As everyone was wondering what it was all about, Sumanta caught the reflection of the moon in the crystal clear water in the tray.
“Here, this is your moon, Rama. It belongs to you. No one will take it away from you,” said Sumanta as he stole a glance at Dasharatha.
Kaikeyi looked angrily at both Sumanta and Dasharatha.
“Oh, how silly it is to cry over the moon! This child will never grow up,” she said and dragged her husband away disdainfully after her.
It was Sumanta who held Rama close to his bosom and walked away to take him to bed. That night Rama slept peacefully, but did not understand why his mother sobbed as she put him to sleep.
Rama wondered how the memory had got etched in his mind over all these years.
He sighed. The child, who had cried to own the moon, had grown up now.
Kaikeyi
Kaikeyi was the name she had acquired because she came from a remote region called Kaikeya. Dasharatha was smitten by her exotic, ravishing beauty when he first saw her in her royal attire at the palace of her father. Though he was there for political reasons, and was already married twice to two graceful and dignified princesses, he fell for her charms and expressed his wish to marry her. Her father was all too happy at the proposed alliance.
It was a splendid and lavish marriage and though Dasharatha was a little too old for her, they looked enviable as husband and wife.
Kaikeyi possessed a strong athletic frame of body, and had learnt the art of hunting and riding. She was a good charioteer too. She was a model princess, groomed to be a queen by her ambitious but ruthless mother. Her father doted on her, but soon learnt to withdraw from the mother-daughter duo. They made up for each other’s shortcomings; the mother was vociferous and tactless, the daughter, precise and calculating, though a bit dreamy at times. When their ambitions were found flagging, there was an old nursemaid called Manthara who diligently provided fuel to keep the interiors of the palace alive with intrigue.
When Dasharatha arrived in Ayodhya with his new queen, there was a grand royal welcome. But even as the protocol was observed, there was no warmth.
Kaikeyi was accompanied by Manthara all the way from her native place to Ayodhya. The hawk-eyed Manthara took in the whole new environment and with a wolf-like excitement, set about maneuvering
things in Kaikeyi’s favor. Soon the obsession turned into a mission and Manthara stayed on with Kaikeyi as her life-time companion and attendant.
Kaikeyi remained an outlandish figure for the people in the palace. Her personal name was dropped and she came to be known by the place of her birth: Kaikeya. It was a very subtle way of expressing remoteness and distance. Dasharatha’s eldest queen was also known by the place Kosala. But it was a title of honor to indicate that she was the queen empress of the state Kosala: the state ruled by king Dasharatha. Kosala was their own land and Kausalya, their own queen.
Kaikeyi was unlike the other two queens. She never deigned to talk to them. But she had an absolute dominion over Dasharatha. She was his charioteer in a battle in which he had fallen unconscious, grievously wounded by arrows. It was Kaikeyi who fought fiercely and brought his chariot out of the battle-ground to a safe place.
Dasharatha owed his life to her. Kausalya and Sumitra knew it and always stood in awe of her prowess. An impressive roll of honor was established by now of queens who belonged to the Ishwaku dynasty. But all of them fell into the category of traditional demure, docile paragons of feminine virtue. There was none like Kaikeyi, who brought a ferocious vitality and the power of a pragmatic intellect to the royal dynasty.
When Dasharatha married Kaikeyi and brought her to Ayodhya, there was an implicit interpretation of this act. His two queens and everyone else knew that Kaikeyi was expected to fulfill an important mission in which the two queens had failed—give birth to an heir to the throne. But years went by and Kaikeyi remained childless like the other two queens. Dasharatha’s anxiety grew day by day.
Dasharatha finally decided to seek the verdict of divine powers when everything else failed to answer his prayers for a son. An Ashwamedha yajnya was organized under the supervision of the royal priest of the Ishwaku dynasty: Sage Vasishtha. Sage Rishyashringa, who was specially invited to add his occult power to the sacrificial worship, suggested that another yajnya be performed, specially aiming at the fulfillment of the desire for a son.
There was a belief among the enlightened sages that the birth of Rama and his three brothers was pre-ordained. But Dasharatha must be propelled towards that goal with all his heart. That which happens without a passionate need is like an aimless boat driven hither and thither by the tide.
The ritual of sacrifice was accomplished in peace. On completion of it a strange thing happened. A man appeared, as if from nowhere. He was luminous like fire. He went straight to Dasharatha and presented him with a bowl of divine offering. Clad in a loin-cloth, he stood silently before Dasharatha, holding the bowl reverentially, as if it was a gift from the gods. Dasharatha looked in amazement at the man and at the priest of the ceremony, Rishyashringa. The priest simply nodded in consent. Awe-struck, Dasharatha took the bowl in his trembling hands.
Rishyashringa said,
Rama, the crown prince of Ayodhya, got up from sleep with an uneasy feeling. The sky was still grey, but a floating cloud had shown up in the sky and was changing into silver, chasing the moonlight away and heralding dawn. Rama got up in haste. He wanted to avoid the daily routine of auspicious greetings by the royal bards.
Of late Rama had discovered the great mystery of the solitary hours of dawn. His stepbrother Laxman would not leave him alone, because he feared that if left alone Rama would get lost in the woods; and who knows, he may really get lost without a trace. Laxman had made it his undeclared mission to guard Rama from falling into that mysterious trance which seemed to estrange him from everyone around.
Rama knew Laxman’s mind very well. He knew how lonely and insecure Laxman felt in the palace without Rama. The four brothers, Rama, Bharat, Laxman and Shatrughna, used to be the delight of the household till they were children. Now that they had stepped into adolescence, they found that the world was changing for them.
Rama was the eldest of them. Born to Kausalya, he had learnt to give more than he received, because something of his mother’s magnanimity had been inculcated into him since childhood. Laxman and Shatrughna were born to Sumitra, the most detached of Dasharatha’s three queens. As far as Rama remembered, the two of them, Rama and Laxman, spent the best part of their day in the inner sanctum of Kausalya, and following Rama, Laxman also used to cling to Kausalya for everything he needed. Sumitra had trusted both her sons, Laxman and Shatrughna to Kausalya because she knew Kausalya to be the most fair-minded and unselfish among the three of them.
It was a very different story with Kaikeyi, the mother of Bharat. Her father was a powerful king who ruled over a very mighty tribe known for their physical prowess and fiery temperament. Besides her ravishing beauty, Kaikeyi was also blessed with a winsome smile behind which was concealed an extremely sharp and perceptive intellect. For some reason, not known to his children, Dasharatha was as if held hostage by her. Kaikeyi, who took pride in her marital conquest, had nothing but contempt and disdain for her co-wives: Kausalya and Sumitra.
Rama, and especially Laxman, had grown up under a shadow of fear which they failed to recognize till they gained sufficient understanding of the intriguing relationship that existed between their father and Kaikeyi. A silent reign of terror prevailed in the palace. It was palpable now. Kaikeyi held both Rama and Laxman in silent disdain. She had never allowed her own son Bharat to mingle with his stepbrothers. Ever since the boys learnt to distinguish relationships in the family, it became clear to them that Bharat had a privileged position in the royal household even though early on Bharat had been taken away from the family by his maternal grandfather to be brought up with special care and privilege to fulfill his destiny.
Kaikeyi considered it to be a great misfortune for her son to be born younger than Rama. She was determined to see her son crowned as king, if not of Ayodhya, he could certainly claim the throne of her father’s kingdom. But if possible, she would rather see him rule over both kingdoms.
None of the four princes, however, was seized by any such ambition, Bharat least of all.
On that morning, Rama remembered that he was going to meet the strange hermit in the neighboring woods. When Rama reached the solitary dwelling place of the hermit in the heart of the woods, it was already late in the morning. The hermit was not the one who would wait for a prince to show up. A little delay here and there and Rama would be greeted by the silent walls of the hut where the hermit had camped these days.
Rama donned a robe perfunctorily and freaked out surreptitiously. He was surprised to find that the hermit was very much there. In fact he seemed to be waiting for Rama.
They were strange pals: a prince and a hermit. The hermit happened to be a little older than Rama. It was a bond of a light interest each had in the other: a casual, amused condescension on the part of the hermit, and an earnest, inquiring spirit on the part of the prince.
The hermit noticed that Rama was weighed down by that unnamable unrest which is the perennial destiny of all men. He was watering the plants in the courtyard which had gone without water the whole of the previous evening. He looked alternately at Rama’s pale, distraught face and the plants which were instantly responding to the water sinking to their roots. Rama also watched, taking in the fresh breath of life with the rejuvenated plants.
The hermit had stayed on in the woods for longer than his wont. It was time for him to move on now. But everything over here held him back, especially Rama. There was infinite peace in Rama’s aura. It was as if he had brought that peace here on earth from somewhere far away.
The hermit wanted Rama to speak. Rama stared vacantly at the walls of the hut.
“Why is the prince silent today?” asked the hermit.
Rama laughed and said, “Prince, indeed! I hate that epithet. One day they will find this man they call prince, lost in the woods, leaving behind only the memory of a name! A name: that is what I am, in spite of all this paraphernalia of princehood!”
The hermit smiled. “Yes, you will leave behind a name. It will be a name that will not be a token of any human identity though.”
Rama laughed. “I half understand what you mean. Like everyone else around me, you too have begun to fall under that hypnotic illusion called destiny. Tell me precisely, how can one escape what they call destiny?”
The hermit said, “Right now you are held by your obligations.”
“What are they?”Asked Rama. The hermit smiled skeptically. “Are you feigning innocence, or are you ignorant? As sure as the sun rises and sets, you are obliged to fulfill your duties towards your parents, your dynasty and your people. Your way leads you back to the palace. Before the sun reaches the peak, you must be back in the palace”
Rama said, “I would rather be away in the woods, away from the suffocating anxieties of the palace. Do I not have the freedom to choose?”
“Princes do not have the freedom to choose, Rama. They have a mission”.
“Then I will choose to be free from the obligations of princehood”.
The hermit watched the prince in the bright sunlight. The prince’s brow was saddened by a dark shadow of despondency.
The hermit asked, “What do you want to do to escape?”
Rama said, “Renounce the claim to the throne of Ayodhya and disappear in the woods, vanish forever from the eyes of all and merge with the vast tide of time that is carrying you and me and everyone along. I am not indispensable. Any one of my brothers is capable of running this inheritance.”
The hermit looked at Rama and absorbed his words in silence.
“You are speaking out of disgust. When disgust dictates your speech and actions, be wary,” said the hermit.
“Wary of what?” asked Rama.
“Disgust depletes your power,” said the hermit.
“I am in no need of power; I have been taught how to wield power all along since my childhood,” said Rama.
The hermit said nothing. Rama watched him for signs of skepticism. The hermit realized that Rama sought an answer.
“True, you are in no need of power,” said the hermit.
Rama looked at the hermit warily to watch for signs of sarcasm. But the hermit was searching for words.
“You may renounce the kingdom, but you cannot renounce power,” said the hermit.
Rama brooded over this. The hermit was in a trance. He spoke undistracted as Rama listened.
“You are suffering from loss. It is the loss of memory of what you own; loss of memory of who you are! Akasha, the eternal memory, is the keeper of the forgotten. There, in the Akasha, nothing is lost, nothing is forgotten. You have a mission, Rama!”
The hermit stopped. He was still not out of the trance. Rama watched him in utter silence. He experienced a strange kind of freedom in that moment while the hermit was immersed in trance.
The hermit spoke.
“You cannot flee from your mission. Your freedom is not what you imagine it to be. Cast away the illusion of freedom. Your freedom is in your inner strength, not in renunciation. Be free to make use of your strength. Your strength is your power. You don’t have to acquire it. You have forgotten what you possess. The path of destiny is inscrutable to your human eye.”
The hermit remained in the trance for a little longer. When he opened his eyes, Rama asked him anxiously, “What is my mission?”
The hermit said, “You will know it soon. Those who are appointed to aid you in your mission are holding to life only to meet you and discharge their duty. They have been waiting for you.”
Rama looked at the hermit in astonishment.
“Are you one of them?”He asked.
The hermit did not answer the question. Instead, he looked into the space and said, “I will meet you hence only after you have fulfilled your mission.”
Rama got up to take leave of the hermit.
When he returned to meet the hermit the next day, the cottage was deserted.
Note: Valmiki says in Yogavasishtha that Rama was an incarnation of God Vishnu. But, Rama in his human form had no memory of his divinity. It was as if God, in this incarnate form, had willingly assumed the limitations of the human intellect.
Away from Ayodhya, and away from Rama, Valmiki created the first seven ‘Kandas’ of the epic Ramayana by concentrating on the story of Rama in his meditation. He passed on the seven completed ‘Kandas’ to his enlightened disciple Bharadwaja. While Valmiki was still in the process of writing further, Bharadwja recited the seven ‘Kandas ‘to the highest Guru of mankind, Brahmadeva in some deep cave of Meru mountain and asked for the grace by which mankind will be redeemed from suffering. Brahmadeva told him, “Go to your mentor Valmiki who is writing Ramayana and listen to what he is creating.”
Ramayana is a story of suffering. It is the suffering of humanity. Brahmadeva, the God of creation, knew how painful the process of recounting the story of human suffering is. So he inspired Valmiki by saying that the creative process begets pain for the writer. But Valmiki must go on till the end; no matter how painful the process was. Brahmadeva said that he found it necessary to come in person to deliver this message to Valmiki.
Rama and Laxman
Laxman was aware of Rama’s listless condition of late. After their return back to the palace, having completed their princely education at the hermitage of sage Vasishtha, Rama had lost interest in the life of the palace.
On that morning, as Rama entered the inner courtyard of the palace, he was accosted by Laxman. The two brothers looked at each other—Laxman trying to probe into Rama’s mind. Rama looked at Laxman steadily, neither revealing nor trying to hide anything. He walked ahead, leaving Laxman trailing behind. It was not in Laxman’s nature to express indignation. However, not finding Rama forthcoming, he decided to confront him.
“Brother, is anything the matter? I have noticed that you are reluctant to talk these days.”
Rama nodded his head in reply, but did not say anything.
“Where do you disappear every morning?” Laxman asked persistently.
Rama turned back and smiled. “I am looking for answers,” he said.
“Answers to what?” Laxman asked.
Holding Laxman’s hand as they walked towards their room, Rama started to talk.
He appeared to be in good humor. Perhaps it was a deliberate act he had put on to assuage Laxman’s fears.
“Do you know Laxman, why I persuaded our father to give us permission to leave the palace to go on a pilgrimage? That was the only way to get to know life in real sense.”
Laxman was happy to listen to him.
Rama said, “Life is crude; life is subtle. Those who can take it in its crudeness are fit to survive. Those who know its subtlety, retreat into solitude. A king and a prince are not supposed to delve deep into life’s subtlety.’
“Oh, is that the reason why you retreat to the woods these days: to delve deep into life’s subtlety?” Laxman asked.
Rama looked at Laxman steadily. There was no intention to evaluate or judge Laxman; but Laxman felt judged. He regretted the frivolity of what he said. In order to draw Rama out of the woods and to hide his own frivolity, he said cheerily, “Come on Rama, I’ve been waiting to meet you since yesterday. Our
trainer has acquired a new pair of horses for us. They are being trained specially for us. Come let’s have a ride.”
Laxman dragged Rama to the stable yard where a majestic pair of horses was waiting for them, stamping and fuming furiously. One of them neighed in remonstrance. The other one was a little sober and responded gratefully to Rama as he patted him on the back. Laxman laughed.
“Hey, that one seems to prefer you. I’ll take this restive one.”
Rama laughed, “That one is a female. Be wary. She is not easy to master. Don’t be in haste, or she will throw you off balance before you know.”
“She can’t! I bet!” said Laxman.
In a moment Laxman untied the mare, and off they went riding into the woods. Rama watched them go and turned to the horse that stood patiently beside him. Rama patted him on the back and said, “We are in no hurry to fight battles, my friend, and I am sure that day is far away. Till then let’s explore the woods in peace.”
As he was returning to the palace by himself, he happened to look up at the balcony and caught sight of Kaikeyi looking at him. For a moment their eyes met and unwarily, they regarded each other dumbly. Rama was unable to repel her gaze. He took his eyes off and walked silently in the direction of his own quarters. He could not get over the feeling that her gaze still followed him.
Memories flooded in….Rama was a toddler. It was a full moon night. The moon was resplendent like a jewel in the crown. But the day that had gone by was painful for Rama. He and Bharat, Kaikeyi’s son who was younger than Rama, had fought over a toy. Kausalya and their father had interceded on Bharat’s behalf and had coaxed Rama into giving up the toy for Bharat’s sake.
At night the enchanting sight of the full moon filled Rama with a longing. He wanted to clasp it, never to let it go. He cried bitterly. The attendants rallied around him and tried to divert him, but he would not be pacified. No one had seen him cry like that before. In spite of being surrounded by all the toys and fun brought to him by the palace-attendants, the child Rama was lonely. The news reached his father. Dasharatha was followed by Kaikeyi as he rushed hastily to the side of Rama and picked him up. Who else but Dasharatha would know what had gone wrong between him and his son?
As Rama was enveloped by the warmth of his father’s body, he felt a cold thing touch him on his arm. It was the feel of Kaikeyi’s hand as she tried to separate Dasharatha from Rama.
Dasharatha had put him down guiltily and had called for his wise minister, Sumanta.
Sumanta immediately asked the attendant to get him a tray filled with water. As everyone was wondering what it was all about, Sumanta caught the reflection of the moon in the crystal clear water in the tray.
“Here, this is your moon, Rama. It belongs to you. No one will take it away from you,” said Sumanta as he stole a glance at Dasharatha.
Kaikeyi looked angrily at both Sumanta and Dasharatha.
“Oh, how silly it is to cry over the moon! This child will never grow up,” she said and dragged her husband away disdainfully after her.
It was Sumanta who held Rama close to his bosom and walked away to take him to bed. That night Rama slept peacefully, but did not understand why his mother sobbed as she put him to sleep.
Rama wondered how the memory had got etched in his mind over all these years.
He sighed. The child, who had cried to own the moon, had grown up now.
Kaikeyi
Kaikeyi was the name she had acquired because she came from a remote region called Kaikeya. Dasharatha was smitten by her exotic, ravishing beauty when he first saw her in her royal attire at the palace of her father. Though he was there for political reasons, and was already married twice to two graceful and dignified princesses, he fell for her charms and expressed his wish to marry her. Her father was all too happy at the proposed alliance.
It was a splendid and lavish marriage and though Dasharatha was a little too old for her, they looked enviable as husband and wife.
Kaikeyi possessed a strong athletic frame of body, and had learnt the art of hunting and riding. She was a good charioteer too. She was a model princess, groomed to be a queen by her ambitious but ruthless mother. Her father doted on her, but soon learnt to withdraw from the mother-daughter duo. They made up for each other’s shortcomings; the mother was vociferous and tactless, the daughter, precise and calculating, though a bit dreamy at times. When their ambitions were found flagging, there was an old nursemaid called Manthara who diligently provided fuel to keep the interiors of the palace alive with intrigue.
When Dasharatha arrived in Ayodhya with his new queen, there was a grand royal welcome. But even as the protocol was observed, there was no warmth.
Kaikeyi was accompanied by Manthara all the way from her native place to Ayodhya. The hawk-eyed Manthara took in the whole new environment and with a wolf-like excitement, set about maneuvering
things in Kaikeyi’s favor. Soon the obsession turned into a mission and Manthara stayed on with Kaikeyi as her life-time companion and attendant.
Kaikeyi remained an outlandish figure for the people in the palace. Her personal name was dropped and she came to be known by the place of her birth: Kaikeya. It was a very subtle way of expressing remoteness and distance. Dasharatha’s eldest queen was also known by the place Kosala. But it was a title of honor to indicate that she was the queen empress of the state Kosala: the state ruled by king Dasharatha. Kosala was their own land and Kausalya, their own queen.
Kaikeyi was unlike the other two queens. She never deigned to talk to them. But she had an absolute dominion over Dasharatha. She was his charioteer in a battle in which he had fallen unconscious, grievously wounded by arrows. It was Kaikeyi who fought fiercely and brought his chariot out of the battle-ground to a safe place.
Dasharatha owed his life to her. Kausalya and Sumitra knew it and always stood in awe of her prowess. An impressive roll of honor was established by now of queens who belonged to the Ishwaku dynasty. But all of them fell into the category of traditional demure, docile paragons of feminine virtue. There was none like Kaikeyi, who brought a ferocious vitality and the power of a pragmatic intellect to the royal dynasty.
When Dasharatha married Kaikeyi and brought her to Ayodhya, there was an implicit interpretation of this act. His two queens and everyone else knew that Kaikeyi was expected to fulfill an important mission in which the two queens had failed—give birth to an heir to the throne. But years went by and Kaikeyi remained childless like the other two queens. Dasharatha’s anxiety grew day by day.
Dasharatha finally decided to seek the verdict of divine powers when everything else failed to answer his prayers for a son. An Ashwamedha yajnya was organized under the supervision of the royal priest of the Ishwaku dynasty: Sage Vasishtha. Sage Rishyashringa, who was specially invited to add his occult power to the sacrificial worship, suggested that another yajnya be performed, specially aiming at the fulfillment of the desire for a son.
There was a belief among the enlightened sages that the birth of Rama and his three brothers was pre-ordained. But Dasharatha must be propelled towards that goal with all his heart. That which happens without a passionate need is like an aimless boat driven hither and thither by the tide.
The ritual of sacrifice was accomplished in peace. On completion of it a strange thing happened. A man appeared, as if from nowhere. He was luminous like fire. He went straight to Dasharatha and presented him with a bowl of divine offering. Clad in a loin-cloth, he stood silently before Dasharatha, holding the bowl reverentially, as if it was a gift from the gods. Dasharatha looked in amazement at the man and at the priest of the ceremony, Rishyashringa. The priest simply nodded in consent. Awe-struck, Dasharatha took the bowl in his trembling hands.
Rishyashringa said,
No comments:
Post a Comment