Urmila and Laxman

Urmila longed to meet her father alone before leaving for Ayodhya. Suddenly she was feeling his absence acutely. In those rushed days and hours, she could hardly be her own self. Of course, he was going to feel the absence of his daughters too. She knew he would look forward to his sons-in-law for political as well as moral support. But she knew well that there was a deep silence his heart now. 

She was glad when her father himself  summoned her to his chamber to have a talk with her. 

"Urmila," he said, "I know, I have not given you  the attention which you deserved. I know you would not hold a grudge though; you never complained, but I know it. You are an artist who believes in the beauty of life. But life will be beautiful only if you are able to reconcile beauty and agony. Now you must aim at making life meaningful."

Urmila said, "That's not easy."

Janaka said, "Everyone wants life to be easy. Very few there are who want it to be meaningful. Art and beauty may separate. But neither of them can be separated from the pain of life. Give space to yourself. I know, you need to create it for yourself most of all."

Urmila was silent. She could have her own space in Mithila in her father's house; she did not know what life was going to be like in Ayodhya. 

Her father understood her silence.

"Have no misgivings," he said. "Your husband has a mind of his own, though he appears to be living in the shadow of his brother. I know, you will never err in your duty towards him. But let it be more than a duty. All these brothers are inseparable from each other. They are not dissolute and their life is dedicated to Rama, the eldest of them. You rarely come across a brotherhood like this. You are entering into a family where relationships are tested and have to withstand the rigours of adversity. This is no ordinary dynasty; but my daughters are no ordinary princesses either. Go ahead without misgivings."

Urmila bowed down, but before she could touch his feet, he supported her and made her stand up. He wanted to look at her before giving her his blessings.

"Preserve the beauty, peace and harmony of your soul at all times. I know your strength and fortitude.Your beautiful soul is your best companion and guide."

Laxman

Laxman entered Urmila's chamber and found her in a plain attire, working at a canvas. The portrait was half done, with just a few preliminary hints of the character of her subject. He tiptoed and stood behind her, watching her apply delicate suggestive hints around the corner of the eyes. She was at once one with the subject and out of it too, giving space to both: the subject as well as the artist. Laxman watched the progress of the portrait silently. After a few deft strokes and highlights the character emerged vividly. Laxman was flattered to see his own likeness. He quickly stepped back as he saw Urmila moving backward to see the picture in a perspective. Just then Urmila felt his presence and turned back.

"Oh," she said in a surprise.

"Oh!" said Laxman in response, and both laughed to get over the uneasiness.

Laxman looked at his own image and she looked at Laxman, afraid to ask him his opinion, because she knew, people rarely approve of  the artist's rendering of their own visage. But there was no trace of any disillusionment mingled with an angry disapproval on Laxman's face as he looked at the portrait. 

"Do I look like this rogue in the portrait?" He asked Urmila. She looked at him for a moment and then went to make a few alterations, and Laxman watched the portrait come alive as she darkened the areas around the mouth to capture the play of light and shadow.

She put the brush down and said, "There! I will have to work a little more at it. Enough of it for the time being!"

The palette was there with the colours freshly mixed on it. Laxman said, "Let me try my hand at it."

"Oh no!" she exclaimed and made a move to take away the brush from his hand, but before she could do it, Laxman had dipped the brush in the vermilion, and made a mark with it on her forehead.

"There! That completes my own work of art!" said he.

Urmila stole a glance at him as he stared at her with smiling eyes, and she realized what was missing in the portrait--the look in his eyes that seemed to say, "You can't hide from my eyes!"

Seeta

The night was starry. Seeta was awake. Her bridal attire was partly replaced by some comfortable and simple garments. Her companions had just left. She was alone , waiting in the lamplight, surrounded by the fragrance of flowers. 

The moments of anxiety seemed to belong to some ancient past. Now she was going to live with Rama for eternity.

After the wedding when she had bowed down to touch Shatananda's feet he had placed his hand in blessing on her head and said, "The man you are going to live with is no less than god. But when god's feet touch this earth, the veil of Maya envelops his divinity, and god himself must forget his god-hood and let Maya make him tread his human path. God's path in this world is not without ordeals. Give him strength; do not obstruct him on his path. Obey his word and however intractable his words, gestures and actions may seem to you, do not lose your faith in him. Remember, penitence may satisfy a human, but a god does not forgive without penance. So take care not to fall in the eyes of god."

Just then, there was a gust of wind with a drizzle. A few raindrops swept in and fell on Seeta and Shatananda.

Seeta carried in her heart the memory of Shatananda's words and the drizzle which accompanied them. 

The Night

Rama entered.

Seeta lifted her eyes to look at him. She noticed nothing except the profound serenity that surrounded him. It was like looking at the blueness of the sky without being able to distinguish the sky and its blueness. 

Rama stepped forward and took her in his arms. She was his. He had known her always. They were meeting each other after a long absence.

The daughter fo earth was united with her ascetic god.

Vishvamitra’s Departure

Rama knew, he had left a part of his self far behind. The memory of the days spent in solitude with the unknown hermit on the outskirts of Ayodhya surfaced in his mind and had to be repressed. By now, he had seen turbulence, violence and anarchy in the world that existed beyond the safe boundaries of civilization of the kingdom of Ayodhya. The evil seemed to exist on the other side of the political frontier. He knew that his spiritual and moral opponent existed somewhere like a shadow but was going to materialize soon. ‘When’ and ‘where’ was going to be decided by the powers above.

He entered the sanctified ground where the wedding was going to take place. Rama and his three brothers looked resplendent as bridegrooms in their auspicious wedding-attire.

He was led to the altar where Vasishtha ignited the holy fire with chanting of mantras. The beloved son of Kausalya and Dashratha was going to take on a wife.

Seeta arrived led by her father. Rama saw her feet for the first time and noticed that they were exceptionally beautiful. He did not want to look up to see her; there was plenty of time for that. Just now, he was content to look at her feet and imagine the rest.

Just then he heard the voice of Janaka saying, “You who are the delight of the Raghu dynasty, I bless you. My daughter Seeta is here; she is going to be your companion for life. Take her and hold her hand. She will devote her life to you, bring you good luck and will always walk behind you like your own shadow.”

Janaka’s voice was drowned in the overwhelming sounds of mantras and blessings by the preceptors and priests. Laxman, Bharat and Shatrughna took the hands of their wives in their own, in the same manner.

Four princes of Ishwaku dynasty, and four princesses of Nimi dynasty to which Janaka belonged, were now set to follow their destined paths of life.

Profoundly sonorous notes of music were played on dundubhi. In the midst of divine, auspicious songs and dance by beautiful, heavenly women, the four princes went around the holy fire with their brides, and thus the marriages were solemnized.

The next morning Vishvamitra sought leave of Janaka and Dashratha to make his departure. He went away to his hermitage where the ancient masters of yoga lived in the northern ranges of Himalayas.

After a long time Dashratha felt that life was brought to an even keel.   

   

A Surprise

Surprisingly, on the day when Dashratha had donated cows to Brahmins in anticipation of his sons’ weddings, Bharat’s maternal uncle, Prince Yudhajit, arrived in Mithila. He had been to Ayodhya to take Bharat, his nephew to Kaikeya, his father’s state in the north-west of India, as his father was longing to see his grandson. On being told that Dashratha had left for Mithila with Bharat and Shatrughna, he came all the way down to Mithila.

Yudhajit was always civil and sober in his manners. His coming to Mithila uninvited, therefore did not give offence to Dashratha. Yudhajit however, was forewarned of something happening which had far-reaching consequences. The news of Rama’s marriage had of course been the centre of discussions everywhere. But when Yudhajit reached Ayodhya nobody knew of the further developments which had led to Bharat and Shatrughna’s betrothal to Kushadhwaja’s daughters.

Anyway, Yudhajit did not see anything amiss in what had taken place. He was happy for Bharat.

Brides for All

Brides for All

In the conference room, Janaka was joined by his brother Kushadhwaja who ruled over a state on the bank of a river that ran close to the state of Videha. Kushadhwaja’s state originally belonged to King Sudhanva who had demanded from Janaka the great bow of Shiva and Seeta both. Janaka’s refusal led to a battle between Sudhanva and Janaka and after killing his enemy in the battle, Janaka had established his own rule in the conquered state with his brother Kushadhwaja as the new king.

Everybody rejoiced over Janaka’s decision to offer Urmila to Laxman. The ties between the two kingdoms were going to be doubly secured thereby.

Vishwamitra, the great diplomat and an erstwhile king, always thought ahead of everyone. He said, “Now that you are thinking of strengthening the ties between Ayodhya and Mithila, let me also say something; please listen. I know that this wise king Kushadhwaja who is gracing the conference with his presence; he too has two beautiful daughters. I will choose them as brides for prince Bharat and his valiant brother Shatrughna. All these sons of Dashratha are bright, young, just, and endowed with godlike valor.”

He addressed Janaka and said, “His Highness, offer these two princesses in marriage to Bharat and Shatrughna and secure the ties further. You are a noble and wise king; do not hesitate.”

Vishwamitra looked at Vasishtha to seek support. Vasishtha expressed satisfaction. Janaka felt assured. He said to both the sages, “It’s a good augury for our royal family that we are ordered by you to establish a bond with the great Ishwaku dynasty. We seek your blessings and abide by your command. Let these four valiant princes marry our four daughters on the same day.

It was an event which was both unprecedented and unanticipated. Dashratha had been waiting for the safe return of Rama and Laxman from Vishwamitra’s project of conquest of forests. The thing turned out to be more than an ordinary victory. Today all his sons were going to marry in the same royal family. The political gain could not be discounted. There was no time for Dashratha to make arrangements for bringing his wives and other women of the family to Mithila. In fact, the whole affair was tacitly controlled and channelized by Vishwamitra.

The proposal that Dashratha’s other sons should marry Kushadhwaja’s daughters was accepted without bias, and immediately thereupon, Janaka pointed out that the next two days were ruled by Purvafalguni constellation; the day after however, was ruled by Uttara-falguni constellation which is supposed to be most auspicious for solemnizing marriage. Having said this, Janaka got up and thanked Vasishtha and Vishwamitra; offered    them the preceptor-ship of Mithila and requested them to guide the religious ceremony as they would do it for Ayodhya.

Dashratha went back to his camp with his sons and the retinue, performed the religious rites prior to the wedding-ceremony and graced the occasion by donating four million cows to the brahmins in Mithila.

Urmila

Urmila was watching the garden-path leading to her father’s conference-room where she and Seeta were rarely allowed. She knew at this moment King Dashratha and her father were engaged in a talk. There was not a soul around except the sentry guarding the gate. No sound penetrated the silence outside.

Seeta’s marriage to prince Rama! There was nothing else that people talked about these days. It was being talked about in the palace, in the streets and by-lanes of Mithila, in every household of Mithila. In the palace they were walking hurriedly and bumping into each other, and laughing joyously. Yet there were many things missing. Urmila was missing; and so many other things, which people failed to notice in their obsession for Seeta’s marriage. Urmila was rather glad to be on the periphery, because that was how she liked to look at everything---watching from the periphery, silently disengaged, like a star out of the orbit.

This time she enjoyed her solitude for another reason. She liked to play with the memory of a certain moment. She liked to look at it from all angles and read several meanings into it. Then thinking that she had spent enough time in indulging herself, she would come out of it only to go back to it with a greater eagerness.

In the great excitement that followed Rama’s victory over the stubborn ancient bow, she had hugged Seeta and kissed her impulsively on the cheek. That was the moment when she saw Laxman looking at her with a spark of amusement in his eyes. And then she found that those eyes followed her everywhere. She began to take delight in the game of hide and seek, finding safety in the fact that the royal protocol did not permit them to speak to each other.

Urmila found out that this young man would meticulously avoid contact with women and was rather skeptical about love. He seemed to take pride in the splendor of his celibacy. For that reason she thought him rather vain, but charming nevertheless. to fall inlove with her solitudes. He did not seek her attention, but was happy when he received it. She liked his childlike simplicity. The more she thought of him the more she began to fall in love with her solitude.

As she stood watching the conference-room, the thought of Laxman returned to her mind. She tried to imagine him by her side and then laughed at the idea because in her imagination she could not think of him as away from his brother. And any way, why would she try to separate him from his brother? That was the prerogative of his wife--- whoever and wherever she may be!

Just then her personal attendant rushed in excitedly.

“ O my princess, fortune is shining upon you today! And may it continue to shine in the days to come; may it shine forever!”

Urmila was aware that since King Dashratha’s arrival, messages, errands and news were going around in frenzy. A princess needs not to get carried away and trust them unless she is apprised officially. Still she was curious to know because any news, true or false or half-truth was significant these days.

The attendant was eager to break the news. Without waiting, she said, “Soon you wil come to know, but let me tell you first. His Highness has promised to give you in marriage in to Rama’s younger brother Laxman.

Urmila closed her lips tightly to contain her surprise. Then, as was the custom, she removed the pearl necklace and gave it to the attendant.

Soon she returned to earth from her dream-world and wondered what role she was going to play in future in the royal household of Ayodhya.   

Seeta and Urmila

Seeta’s birth, it was believed, was ordained like that of Rama by divine will. Once, while Janaka was tilling the field (as was the custom that the king should himself till the field where the yajnya is to be performed) the plough was dangerously close to a trench dug in the soil: a little thrust by the hand of the tiller and the infant lying embedded in the dug up soil would have lost its life. Janaka stopped in the track and thanked the providence as he bent to pick up the infant. It was a girl, covered in a blanket and sleeping in the dug up earth as if in the lap of her mother. Janaka looked at her serene face as she opened her eyes. Her beady eyes shone from her face which was smeared by mud. She was hardly a month old. But there was a steady look in her eyes. She responded eagerly to the human touch and started crying. Janaka held her close to his heart and looked up at the sky. Clouds had massed up with portents of rain. Janaka quickly wrapped up the little one in the shawl which he wore around his shoulders.

That was how Seeta came to belong to Janaka and came to be called Janaki: the daughter of Janaka, though to Janaka, she was Seeta, that is one who belonged to the ploughed earth. The Queen who was childless till then, conceived after Seeta’s arrival. Urmila was born nine months after Seeta.

Seeta bore none of the characteristics of the royal family. She was neither fair nor dark; she was sturdy and strong, mercurial by temper, sometimes boisterous and headstrong, and sometimes like the dark, silent backwaters of a river. Janaka watched over his two daughters from afar, never interfering as they grew up from childhood to adolescence.

Seeta’s childhood must have been lonely. Everyone knew that she was not a princess by birth. Janaka guarded her with a stern eye and his protective love shielded her from all possible harm. Gradually the fact of her birth acquired a mystic aura. That Seeta was born to Mother earth was more than a belief; it became a sacred faith.

Urmila, a princess by birth, had no such aura of mystery. Inward and shy, she always retreated and let Seeta occupy her parents’ attention. Janaka did not have another child after Urmila. But he did not trouble himself over the absence of a male heir to the kingdom. However, in the interest of the state, he had to think ahead. A king who had no son could treat his daughter as the heir. The eldest daughter in such cases used to be called a Putrika, one who took the place of the son; a Putra.

The sacred of bow of Shiva which had become an heirloom in the royal family was more than an antique. It had a strategic importance since Janaka had challenged Seeta’s suitors to lift and string it with an arrow, if they aspired to marry Seeta. Many of them came and shrank back. Some tried and failed, and some merely watched from the periphery. They knew that Seeta was no ordinary woman and marrying her entailed a heavy political responsibility. Besides, Janaka was growing old. They had already formed alliances and secretly opened a front against him and were waiting for a chance to attack. Gradually the number of Janaka’s secret enemies increased and there was none who came forward to marry Seeta.

Seeta’s hopes withered and so did those of Urmila, because Janaka always thought of Seeta before Urmila.

And suddenly one day while the sacrifice was on under the preceptorship of Shatananda, Vishvamitra arrived with the two princes from Ayodhya and Seeta’s fortune changed overnight.

In those remote inaccessible days of the ancient chronicle Ramayana, there were many things we cannot understand today. Women in those days adorned their bodies, heads and feet. But the testimony of their charm had to be found in the eyes of the beholder. We don’t know whether there were mirrors in the days of Ramayana. Beauty truly resided in the eye of the beholder and the woman trusted the beholder’s eye. Women saw their bodies but not their faces. They knew their body and its language intimately because they were told to listen to it, understand it and trust it.

As Seeta grew up, she eagerly absorbed the intimate subtle language of the body. She eagerly waited,  to be claimed and worshiped because she treasured her youthful, virgin body. Urmila often wondered why Seeta spent hours, bathing her body ritualistically, then anointing it with fragrant oils and then draping herself neatly in silks. Urmila devoted longer hours to music and painting. Though she was a connoisseur of colors and hues, she was not very particular about the colors of her drapes. Seeta’s favorite were musk and golden yellow because she thought they gave her a majestic dignity. Her ruddy cheeks glowed with the color of youth and her zest for life. Urmila had heard about the sacred bow of Shiva , but had no curiosity about it. Seeta had often tried to experiment with it and ended up in bruising her knees and elbows. Somehow, this ancient object  fascinated her greatly. In the course of time, as she understood what role it was destined to play in her life it acquired an awesome sanctity for her.