The Ramayana Part 41

He soothed her in her wild distress With loving touch and soft caress.

She, meet for highest fortune, eyed The hero watching by her side, And thus, while Lakshma? bent to hear, Addressed her son with many a tear!

"If, Rama, thou had ne'er been born My child to make thy mother mourn, Though reft of joy, a childless queen, Such woe as this I ne'er had seen.

Though to the childless wife there clings One sorrow armed with keenest stings, "No child have I: no child have I,"

No second misery prompts the sigh.

When long I sought, alas, in vain, My husband's love and bliss to gain, In Rama all my hopes I set And dreamed I might be happy yet.

I, of the consorts first and best, Must bear my rivals' taunt and jest, And brook, though better far than they, The soul distressing words they say.

What woman can be doomed to pine In misery more sore than mine, Whose hopeless days must still be spent In grief that ends not and lament?

They scorned me when my son was nigh; When he is banished I must die.

Me, whom my husband never prized, Kaikeyi's retinue despised With boundless insolence, though she Tops not in rank nor equals me.

And they who do me service yet, Nor old allegiance quite forget, Whene'er they see Kaikeyi's son, With silent lips my glances shun.

How, O my darling, shall I brook Each menace of Kaikeyi's look, And listen, in my low estate, To taunts of one so pa.s.sionate?

For seventeen years since thou wast born I sat and watched, ah me, forlorn!

Hoping some blessed day to see Deliverance from my woes by thee.

Now comes this endless grief and wrong, So dire I cannot bear it long, Sinking, with age and sorrow worn, Beneath my rivals' taunts and scorn.

How shall I pa.s.s in dark distress My long lone days of wretchedness Without my Rama's face, as bright As the full moon to cheer my sight?

Alas, my cares thy steps to train, And fasts, and vows, and prayers are vain.

Hard, hard, I ween, must be this heart To hear this blow nor burst apart, As some great river bank, when first The floods of Rain-time on it burst.

No, Fate that speeds not will not slay, Nor Yama's halls vouchsafe me room, Or, like a lion's weeping prey, Death now had borne me to my doom.

Hard is my heart and wrought of steel That breaks not with the crushing blow, Or in the pangs this day I feel My lifeless frame had sunk below.

Death waits his hour, nor takes me now: But this sad thought augments my pain, That prayer and largess, fast and vow, And Heavenward service are in vain.

Ah me, ah me! with fruitless toil Of rites austere a child I sought: Thus seed cast forth on barren soil Still lifeless lies and comes to naught.

If ever wretch by anguish grieved Before his hour to death had fled, I mourning, like a cow bereaved, Had been this day among the dead."

Canto XXI. Kausalya Calmed.

While thus Kausalya wept and sighed, With timely words sad Lakshma? cried: "O honoured Queen I like it ill That, subject to a woman's will, Rama his royal state should quit And to an exile's doom submit.

The aged king, fond, changed, and weak, Will as the queen compels him speak.

But why should Rama thus be sent To the wild woods in banishment?

No least offence I find in him, I see no fault his fame to dim.

Not one in all the world I know, Not outcast wretch, not secret foe, Whose whispering lips would dare a.s.sail His spotless life with slanderous tale.

G.o.dlike and bounteous, just, sincere, E'en to his very foemen dear: Who would without a cause neglect The right, and such a son reject?

And if a king such order gave, In second childhood, pa.s.sion's slave, What son within his heart would lay The senseless order, and obey?

Come, Rama, ere this plot be known Stand by me and secure the throne.

Stand like the King who rules below, Stand aided by thy brother's bow: How can the might of meaner men Resist thy royal purpose then?

My shafts, if rebels court their fate, Shall lay Ayodhya desolate.

Then shall her streets with blood be dyed Of those who stand on Bharat's side: None shall my slaughtering hand exempt, For gentle patience earns contempt.

If, by Kaikeyi's counsel changed, Our father's heart be thus estranged, No mercy must our arm restrain, But let the foe be slain, be slain.

For should the guide, respected long, No more discerning right and wrong, Turn in forbidden paths to stray, 'Tis meet that force his steps should stay.

What power sufficient can he see, What motive for the wish has he, That to Kaikeyi would resign The empire which is justly thine?

Can he, O conqueror of thy foes, Thy strength and mine in war oppose?

Can he entrust, in our despite, To Bharat's hand thy royal right?

I love this brother with the whole Affection of my faithful soul.

Yea Queen, by bow and truth I swear, By sacrifice, and gift, and prayer, If Rama to the forest goes, Or where the burning furnace glows, First shall my feet the forest tread, The flames shall first surround my head.

My might shall chase thy grief and tears, As darkness flies when morn appears.

Do thou, dear Queen, and Rama too Behold what power like mine can do.

My aged father I will kill, The va.s.sal of Kaikeyi's will, Old, yet a child, the woman's thrall, Infirm, and base, the scorn of all."

Thus Lakshma? cried, the mighty-souled: Down her sad cheeks the torrents rolled, As to her son Kausalya spake:

"Now thou hast heard thy brother, take His counsel if thou hold it wise, And do the thing his words advise, Do not, my son, with tears I pray, My rival's wicked word obey, Leave me not here consumed with woe, Nor to the wood, an exile, go.

If thou, to virtue ever true, Thy duty's path would still pursue, The highest duty bids thee stay And thus thy mother's voice obey.

Thus Kasyap's great ascetic son A seat among the Immortals won: In his own home, subdued, he stayed, And honour to his mother paid.

If reverence to thy sire be due, Thy mother claims like honour too, And thus I charge thee, O my child, Thou must not seek the forest wild.

Ah, what to me were life and bliss, Condemned my darling son to miss?

But with my Rama near, to eat The very gra.s.s itself were sweet.

But if thou still wilt go and leave Thy hapless mother here to grieve, I from that hour will food abjure, Nor life without my son endure.

Then it will be thy fate to dwell In depth of world-detested h.e.l.l.

As Ocean in the olden time Was guilty of an impious crime That marked the lord of each fair flood As one who spills a Brahman's blood."(288)

Thus spake the queen, and wept, and sighed: Then righteous Rama thus replied: "I have no power to slight or break Commandments which my father spake.

I bend my head, dear lady, low, Forgive me, for I needs must go.

Once Ka?du, mighty saint, who made His dwelling in the forest shade, A cow-and duty's claims he knew- Obedient to his father, slew.

And in the line from which we spring, When ordered by their sire the king, Through earth the sons of Sagar cleft, And countless things of life bereft.(289) So Jamadagni's son(290) obeyed His sire, when in the wood he laid His hand upon his axe, and smote Through Renuka his mother's throat.

The deeds of these and more beside.

Peers of the G.o.ds, my steps shall guide, And resolute will I fulfil My father's word, my father's will.

Nor I, O Queen, unsanctioned tread This righteous path, by duty led: The road my footsteps journey o'er Was traversed by the great of yore.

This high command which all accept Shall faithfully by me be kept, For duty ne'er will him forsake Who fears his sire's command to break."

Thus to his mother wild with grief: Then thus to Lakshma? spake the chief Of those by whom the bow is bent, Mid all who speak, most eloquent: "I know what love for me thou hast, What firm devotion unsurpa.s.sed: Thy valour and thy worth I know, And glory that appals the foe.

Blest youth, my mother's woe is great, It bends her 'neath its matchless weight: No claims will she, with blinded eyes, Of truth and patience recognize.

For duty is supreme in place, And truth is duty's n.o.blest base.

Obedient to my sire's behest I serve the cause of duty best.

For man should truly do whate'er To mother, Brahman, sire, he sware: He must in duty's path remain, Nor let his word be pledged in vain.

And, O my brother, how can I Obedience to this charge deny?

Kaikeyi's tongue my purpose spurred, But 'twas my sire who gave the word.

Cast these unholy thoughts aside Which smack of war and Warriors' pride; To duty's call, not wrath attend, And tread the path which I commend."

Rama by fond affection moved His brother Lakshma? thus reproved; Then with joined hands and reverent head Again to Queen Kausalya said:

"I needs must go-do thou consent- To the wild wood in banishment.

O give me, by my life I pray, Thy blessing ere I go away.

I, when the promised years are o'er, Shall see Ayodhya's town once more.

Then, mother dear, thy tears restrain, Nor let thy heart be wrung by pain: In time, my father's will obeyed, Shall I return from greenwood shade.

My dear Videhan, thou, and I, Lakshma?, Sumitra, feel this tie, And must my father's word obey, As duty bids that rules for aye.

Thy preparations now forgo, And lock within thy breast thy woe, Nor be my pious wish withstood To go an exile to the wood."

Calm and unmoved the prince explained His duty's claim and purpose high, The mother life and sense regained, Looked on her son and made reply: "If reverence be thy father's due, The same by right and love is mine: Go not, my charge I thus renew, Nor leave me here in woe to pine, What were such lonely life to me, Rites to the shades, or deathless lot?

More dear, my son, one hour with thee Than all the world where thou art not."

As bursts to view, when brands blaze high, Some elephant concealed by night, So, when he heard his mother's cry, Burnt Rama's grief with fiercer might.

Thus to the queen, half senseless still, And Lakshma?, burnt with heart-felt pain, True to the right, with steadfast will, His duteous speech he spoke again: "Brother, I know thy loving mind, Thy valour and thy truth I know, But now to claims of duty blind Thou and my mother swell my woe.

The fruits of deeds in human life Make love, gain, duty, manifest, Dear when they meet as some fond wife With her sweet babes upon her breast.

But man to duty first should turn Whene'er the three are not combined: For those who heed but gain we spurn, And those to pleasure all resigned.

Shall then the virtuous disobey Hosts of an aged king and sire, Though feverous joy that father sway, Or senseless love or causeless ire?

I have no power, commanded thus, To slight his promise and decree: The honoured sire of both of us, My mother's lord and life is he.

Shall she, while yet the holy king Is living, on the right intent,- Shall she, like some poor widowed thing, Go forth with me to banishment?