The Ramayana Part 34

He, like a sire, will long defend Each brother, minister, and friend.

Then why, O hump-back, art thou pained To hear that he the throne has gained?

Be sure when Rama's empire ends, The kingdom to my son descends, Who, when a hundred years are flown, Shall sit upon his fathers' throne.

Why is thine heart thus sad to see The joy that is and long shall be, This fortune by possession sure And hopes which we may count secure?

Dear as the darling son I bore Is Rama, yea, or even more.

Most duteous to Kausalya, he Is yet more dutiful to me.

What though he rule, we need not fear: His brethren to his soul are dear.

And if the throne Prince Rama fill Bharat will share the empire still."

She ceased. The troubled damsel sighed Sighs long and hot, and thus replied: "What madness has possessed thy mind, To warnings deaf, to dangers blind?

Canst thou not see the floods of woe That threaten o'er thine head to flow: First Rama will the throne acquire, Then Rama's son succeed his sire, While Bharat will neglected pine Excluded from the royal line.

Not all his sons, O lady fair, The kingdom of a monarch share: All ruling when a sovereign dies Wild tumult in the state would rise.

The eldest, be he good or ill, Is ruler by the father's will.

Know, tender mother, that thy son Without a friend and all undone, Far from the joyous ease of home An alien from his race will roam.

I sped to thee for whom I feel, But thy fond heart mistakes my zeal, Thy hand a present would bestow Because thy rival triumphs so.

When Rama once begins his sway Without a foe his will to stay, Thy darling Bharat he will drive To distant lands if left alive.

By thee the child was sent away Beneath his grandsire's roof to stay.

Even in stocks and stones perforce Will friendship spring from intercourse.

The young Satrughna too would go With Bharat, for he loved him so.

As Lakshma? still to Rama cleaves, He his dear Bharat never leaves.

There is an ancient tale they tell: A tree the foresters would fell Was saved by reeds that round it stood, For love that sprang of neighbourhood.

So Lakshma? Rama will defend, And each on each for aid depend.

Such fame on earth their friendship wins As that which binds the Heavenly Twins.

And Rama ne'er will purpose wrong To Lakshma?, for their love is strong.

But Bharat, Oh, of this be sure, Must evil at his hands endure.

Come, Rama from his home expel An exile in the woods to dwell.

The plan, O Queen, which I advise Secures thy weal if thou be wise.

So we and all thy kith and kin Advantage from thy gain shall win.

Shall Bharat, meet for happier fate, Born to endure his rival's hate, With all his fortune ruined cower And dread his brother's mightier power!

Up, Queen, to save thy son, arise; Prostrate at Rama's feet he lies.

So the proud elephant who leads His trooping consorts through the reeds Falls in the forest shade beneath The lion's spring and murderous teeth.

Scorned by thee in thy bliss and pride Kausalya was of old defied, And will she now forbear to show The vengeful rancour of a foe?

O Queen, thy darling is undone When Rama's hand has once begun Ayodhya's realm to sway, Come, win the kingdom for thy child And drive the alien to the wild In banishment to-day."

Canto IX. The Plot.

As fury lit Kaikeyi's eyes She spoke with long and burning sighs: "This day my son enthroned shall see, And Rama to the woods shall flee.

But tell me, damsel, if thou can, A certain way, a skilful plan That Bharat may the empire gain, And Rama's hopes be nursed in vain."

The lady ceased. The wicked maid The mandate of her queen obeyed, And darkly plotting Rama's fall Responded to Kaikeyi's call.

"I will declare, do thou attend, How Bharat may his throne ascend.

Dost thou forget what things befell?

Or dost thou feign, remembering well?

Or wouldst thou hear my tongue repeat A story for thy need so meet?

Gay lady, if thy will be so, Now hear the tale of long ago, And when my tongue has done its part Ponder the story in thine heart.

When G.o.ds and demons fought of old, Thy lord, with royal saints enrolled, Sped to the war with thee to bring His might to aid the Immortals' King.

Far to the southern land he sped Where Da??ak's mighty wilds are spread, To Vaijayanta's city swayed By Sambara, whose flag displayd The hugest monster of the sea.

Lord of a hundred wiles was be; With might which G.o.ds could never blame Against the King of Heaven he came.

Then raged the battle wild and dread, And mortal warriors fought and bled; The fiends by night with strength renewed Charged, slew the sleeping mult.i.tude.

Thy lord, King Dasaratha, long Stood fighting with the demon throng, But long of arm, unmatched in strength, Fell wounded by their darts at length.

Thy husband, senseless, by thine aid Was from the battle field conveyed, And wounded nigh to death thy lord Was by thy care to health restored.

Well pleased the grateful monarch sware To grant thy first and second prayer.

Thou for no favour then wouldst sue, The gifts reserved for season due; And he, thy high-souled lord, agreed To give the boons when thou shouldst need.

Myself I knew not what befell, But oft the tale have heard thee tell, And close to thee in friendship knit Deep in my heart have treasured it.

Remind thy husband of his oath, Recall the boons and claim them both, That Bharat on the throne be placed With rites of consecration graced, And Rama to the woods be sent For twice seven years of banishment.

Go, Queen, the mourner's chamber(270) seek, With angry eye and burning cheek; And with disordered robes and hair On the cold earth lie prostrate there.

When the king comes still mournful lie, Speak not a word nor meet his eye, But let thy tears in torrent flow, And lie enamoured of thy woe.

Well do I know thou long hast been, And ever art, his darling queen.

For thy dear sake, O well-loved dame, The mighty king would brave the flame, But ne'er would anger thee, or brook To meet his favourite's wrathful look.

Thy loving lord would even die Thy fancy, Queen, to gratify, And never could he arm his breast To answer nay to thy request.

Listen and learn, O dull of sense, Thine all-resistless influence.

Gems he will offer, pearls and gold: Refuse his gifts, be stern and cold.

Those proffered boons at length recall, And claim them till he grants thee all.

And O my lady, high in bliss, With heedful thought forget not this.

When from the ground his queen he lifts And grants again the promised gifts, Bind him with oaths he cannot break And thy demands unflnching, make.

That Rama travel to the wild Five years and nine from home exiled, And Bharat, best of all who reign, The empire of the land obtain.

For when this term of years has fled Over the banished Rama's head, Thy royal son to vigour grown And rooted firm will stand alone.

The king, I know, is well inclined, And this the hour to move his mind.

Be bold: the threatened rite prevent, And force the king from his intent."

She ceased. So counselled to her bane Disguised beneath a show of gain, Kaikeyi in her joy and pride To Manthara again replied: "Thy sense I envy, prudent maid; With sagest lore thy lids persuade.

No hump-back maid in all the earth, For wise resolve, can match thy worth.

Thou art alone with constant zeal Devoted to thy lady's weal.

Dear girl, without thy faithful aid I had not marked the plot he laid.

Full of all guile and sin and spite Misshapen hump-backs shock the sight: But thou art fair and formed to please, Bent like a lily by the breeze.

I look thee o'er with watchful eye, And in thy frame no fault can spy; The chest so deep, the waist so trim, So round the lines of breast and limb.(271) Thy cheeks with moonlike beauty shine, And the warm wealth of youth is thine.

Thy legs, my girl, are long and neat, And somewhat long thy dainty feet, While stepping out before my face Thou seemest like a crane to pace.

The thousand wiles are in thy breast Which Sambara the fiend possessed, And countless others all thine own, O damsel sage, to thee are known.

Thy very hump becomes thee too, O thou whose face is fair to view, For there reside in endless store Plots, wizard wiles, and warrior lore.

A golden chain I'll round it fling When Rama's flight makes Bharat king: Yea, polished links of finest gold, When once the wished for prize I hold With naught to fear and none to hate, Thy hump, dear maid, shall decorate.

A golden frontlet wrought with care, And precious jewels shalt thou wear: Two lovely robes around thee fold, And walk a G.o.ddess to behold, Bidding the moon himself compare His beauty with a face so fair.

With scent of precious sandal sweet Down to the nails upon thy feet, First of the household thou shalt go And pay with scorn each battled foe."

Kaikeyi's praise the damsel heard, And thus again her lady stirred, Who lay upon her beauteous bed Like fire upon the altar fed: "Dear Queen, they build the bridge in vain When swollen streams are dry again.

Arise, thy glorious task complete, And draw the king to thy retreat."

The large-eyed lady left her bower Exulting in her pride of power, And with the hump-back sought the gloom And silence of the mourner's room.

The string of priceless pearls that hung Around her neck to earth she flung, With all the wealth and l.u.s.tre lent By precious gem and ornament.

Then, listening to her slave's advice, Lay, like a nymph from Paradise.

As on the ground her limbs she laid Once more she cried unto the maid: "Soon must thou to the monarch say Kaikeyi's soul has past away, Or, Rama banished as we planned, My son made king shall rule the land.

No more for gold and gems I care, For brave attire or dainty fare.

If Rama should the throne ascend, That very hour my life will end."

The royal lady wounded through The bosom with the darts that flew Launched from the hump-back's tongue Pressed both her hands upon her side, And o'er and o'er again she cried With wildering fury stung: "Yes, it shall be thy task to tell That I have hurried hence to dwell In Yama's realms of woe, Or happy Bharat shall be king, And doomed to years of wandering Kausalya's son shall go.

I heed not dainty viands now Fair wreaths of flowers to twine my brow, Soft balm or precious scent: My very life I count as naught, Nothing on earth can claim my thought But Rama's banishment."