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Authors: Ramesh Menon

The Ramayana (102 page)

BOOK: The Ramayana
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“One day, Ila, the beautiful, seductive woman, came to a mountain in the midst of the forest of femininity. She saw a clear pool there, sparkling like a diamond. As she approached it, she saw the water shone strangely, with some other light than that of the sun above. It seemed as if the lotuses and water birds on the pool were also lit with this inner lambency.

“As Ila came nearer, she saw there was someone submerged in the pool. She gasped when she saw it was a Deva, surely, who sat in the water, obviously at tapasya. His body shone like a full moon. She did not know this, but that was Budha, Soma Deva's son by Brihaspati's wife Tara.

“Ila felt a fluid warmth fill her body. She turned away in shyness; but already the God in the pool had sensed the presence of the women. Budha opened his eyes and they fell on Ila. The Deva quivered; he had never seen anyone so exquisite in all his life. He had been with apsaras and naginas, with ethereal gandharvis; but the woman he saw now on the banks of the pool in which he sat in dhyana touched him as no other had before. There was a certain quality about her that no woman he had ever seen possessed.

“Just one thought filled his mind: ‘If she isn't already given, I must make her mine.'

“Like the moon rising from the sea, he climbed out from the pool and came up to Ila's companions. He said in his irresistible Deva's voice, ‘Who is your friend? I have never seen anyone so beautiful. What is she doing here, in the heart of this vana? What are you doing here?'

“They replied, tittering, ‘She is our mistress, brilliant one. And we all live in this vana and roam through it together.'

“Budha, the intelligent, was puzzled: something about their story seemed strange and incomplete. The Deva softly chanted the avartani vidya, in his mind, and the occult stotra informed him about Kardama and his soldiers, and how Siva's power had turned them into women. When he learned the fate of Kardama's men, who had turned into women forever, Budha Deva was moved to pity.

“Budha blessed those women, saying, ‘Let your lives be fruitful and full of joy. Become kimpurushis from now. Live on fruit, roots, and herbs, and let the kinnaras of the mountain be your mates'

“Instantly, the women were turned into female fauns and they vanished into the forest, to find the magical kimpurushas, who are masters of riddles. When the shimmering fauns had gone, Budha turned with a smile to Ila. ‘Lovely one, I am Soma's son Budha. Look on me with love in your eyes. I know all about you and I am determined to make you mine.'

“She flushed, she quivered with wanting him, and said softly, ‘I am yours, my lord, do what you will with me.'

“Soma took her in his glowing arms. He peeled away her single garment, and they lay together on the thick satin moss that grew beside the pool. Great Budha made love to his strange beloved for a month, without pause, and the month passed like a few delirious hours. Then, suddenly, Kardama awoke one morning, in the bed in the asrama, as if from a long sleep. He went out and found himself beside a clear pool, and he saw Budha Deva at dhyana, seated in the posture of the lotus upon the water, with no other support.

“Kardama did not remember how he came to be here; he remembered nothing of the curse of Siva, or of Ila. He asked Budha, ‘My lord Brahmana, I came into this jungle with my army. But I do not see any of my men. Do you know what happened to them?'

“Budha replied serenely, ‘Your men were all killed by a shower of rocks from heaven. But you fled into the asrama and fell asleep within. Take courage, O King, live here in this hermitage. There are roots, fruit, and game aplenty for you to feed yourself.'

“Kardama grew thoughtful for a moment, then said, ‘I will do as you say. But ah, I hardly want to live any more, when all my soldiers have perished. I have a noble son called Sasabindu; he will rule my kingdom.'

“And so it was. Whenever he was a man for a month, Kardama performed rigorous tapasya beside the forest pool, and served the meditating Budha; and when he was Ila, he made love with Soma Deva's son. Soon enough, Ila conceived and gave birth to a splendid boy, who resembled his unearthly father and whom they named Pururava. By Budha's power and Siva's, even at the end of a year Kardama knew nothing about Ila.

“When Pururava was a year old, Budha called some of the world's holiest rishis to the asrama. He called Samvarta, Bhrigu's son Chyvana, Arishtanemi, the blithe and merry Pramodana, Modakara, and the awesome Durvasa. Pulastya, Kratu, and Vasatkara arrived in that secret hermitage, as well. Budha told them all who Ila really was. He showed them their son, and said, ‘My lords, you decide what Kardama must do next.'

“The rishis spoke among themselves briefly, then they said, ‘We will undertake an aswamedha for the sake of Kardama; no yagna pleases the Lord Siva as the horse sacrifice does'

“Samvarta, who was Brihaspati's brother, reminded them, ‘Once, when my sishya, the king Marutta, performed the aswamedha, all his sins were washed from him, and he and his kingdom prospered.'

“So those munis undertook an aswamedha yagna in Kardama's name. They sent a white horse across the lands, and finally sacrificed it in the vana, in Siva's name. Siva appeared in a mass of light before those rishis and Ila. Laying his hand on her head, he gave Ila her manhood back, for good, and vanished from there. The aswamedha yagna completed, the rishis also left.

“Now Kardama was himself again, always, and he founded the city of Pratishtana in the heart of that forest and ruled from there for many years. Meanwhile, his son Sasabindu ruled over the old kingdom of Bahlika. Soon, Budha's son Pururava grew into manhood, and Kardama gave his kingdom to the wonderful youth. Kardama himself sat in tapasya for some years and then gained Brahmaloka.

“This, my brothers, is another story that tells how powerful the aswamedha yagna is. Indeed, it is said to be the most auspicious and potent sacrifice in the world,” said Rama, his eyes alight at the thought of performing the noble yagna himself.

“Lakshmana, we must gather the greatest rishis of the world here in this sabha: Vasishta, Vamadeva, Jabali, Kashyapa, and the rest, from all the Pravaras. And with their blessings and guidance, I mean to loose a horse of the noblest pedigree across the land of Bharata.”

Lakshmana's face shone at the prospect. He would not wait a moment, and cried, “Shall I fetch the brahmanas immediately?”

Smiling, Rama nodded that he might.

*   *   *

Very soon, those holy men of the earth were gathered like a constellation of stars in the ancient sabha of Ayodhya. Rama received each of them, washing their feet himself and offering them madhurparka. When they were all seated at the head of the sabha, Rama said simply, “My lords, I mean to perform an aswamedha yagna. I need your blessings.”

Each of those profound munis spoke in that sabha, turn by turn, and they were all delighted at what Rama planned. When they had finished, Rama turned in joy to Lakshmana. “My brother, send word to Sugriva in Kishkinda. Tell him what we mean to do, and tell him he must come to Ayodhya for the yagna, with his vanaras.

“Send word to Lanka, also; the sacrifice cannot begin until Vibheeshana is here with me. Let word be taken across all the kingdoms and let every king who calls himself my friend be at my side. Let every brahmana be invited, and let this aswamedha be not just for us but for the whole world's sanctity. Let singers and dancers from all over the earth come to us now, and take part in our yagna.”

Lakshmana asked, “Where will we perform the yagna, Rama?”

His brother had already decided. “In the Naimisa vana, so all this earth may be blessed. Let any man, woman, or child who wants to be there come to my aswamedha. Every one shall find honor at our yagna; let no effort or expense be spared.”

Rama asked for royal dwellings to be built at the site of the yagna, for the kings and their entourages who would attend the aswamedha. It is told a hundred thousand men carried the unbroken rice that would be used at the sacrifice. Another hundred thousand carried sesame seeds and beans, other grains, pulses, salt, oil, and spices.

Bharata led the party from Ayodhya that was dispatched to make the preparations. He took many millions of gold and silver coins from the treasury with him, by elephant, horse, and chariot, and in litters. Moving marketplaces, with their colorful stalls, went with Bharata, and throngs of cooks, actors, singers, dancers, and, inevitably, harems of lovely young women.

In time, all Ayodhya came streaming forth from the city gates, and flowed like a vivid river toward the Naimisa vana. Brahmanas walked in the interminable crowd and countless day laborers, carpenters, masons, tinkers, joiners, and men from every imaginable trade. Most went with their families. Kausalya, Sumitra, and Kaikeyi were borne to the sacred forest in golden litters. And in the most exquisite palanquin of all, another strange figure journeyed to Rama's aswamedha: it was the kanchana Sita, the golden image of his wife fashioned for Rama by the world's finest sculptors: the image he kept near him at all times and took with him wherever he went.

 

38. The aswamedha yagna

Rama, Lakshmana, Bharata, and Shatrughna entered the Naimisa vana. Sugriva's vanaras arrived in their merry troops, and Vibheeshana and his rakshasas came with their legions and Jambavan with his great bears. They came with their women, exotic and striking. When the rishis who sat over the yagna had been worshipped, Rama sent a black horse of the finest bloodlines to run through the kingdoms of Bharatavarsha, challenging any king to stop its careen. Lakshmana rode behind that horse, with an army.

The kshatriyas of the earth heard about the aswamedha, and they began to arrive in the jungle with gifts and tribute, pledging their allegiance to Rama. He received them with honor, and their comfort was seen to by his brothers and ministers, and by the vanaras and rakshasas. The poor came in droves to Rama's yagna, and his generosity was like a river in spate. Beggars who came to the Naimisa went away as rich men.

And, of course, the brahmanas who came to the sacrifice of sacrifices were rewarded with gold, silver, precious jewels, and fine silks that surpassed their every expectation. Some munis, old as the very earth, said approvingly that they had never seen such an aswamedha, since the time when Indra, Soma, Yama, and Varuna performed the auspicious sacrifice.

Into the midst of all that charity, there arrived a dark, tall rishi with two splendid sishyas at his side. Rama and the other munis at the aswamedha yagna received Valmiki with deep reverence. Valmiki did not enter the enclosures of the yagna.

He accepted the homage and the fruit and savory roots offered him at the entrance. Then he said to the strapping young men who had come with him, and who were obviously twins, “My sons, tomorrow you must go and sing the Ramayana I taught you: sing it in the streets of the yagnashala, sing it before the kings' dwellings; most of all, sing it before Rama of Ayodhya. And if he asks whose sons you are, only say you are Valmiki's sishyas.

“Sing the Ramayana for the great rishis who are performing the aswamedha; play on your vinas and sing twenty cantos every day. Have no care for the wealth the king may offer you; for you are hermits, my pupils living in an asrama, and what will the likes of us do with gold or jewels?”

Then with the queerest look on his face, he continued very softly, “But honor the king, my children, because it is said he is the father of all who dwell in his kingdom.”

So said the son of Prachetas, the great Valmiki, and the twins he spoke to were surprised that he repeated every detail many times, especially with regard to how soft or loud their vinas and their voices should be, and what taala they should keep, and where they should look as they sang.

Those pupils of his were Sita's sons Lava and Kusa. Valmiki said to them, “Tomorrow is the most important day of your lives. Come now, we will return to our asrama. You must sleep well, because tomorrow you must be fresh and strong.” He laid his hands on their handsome heads, “Yes, tomorrow is the greatest day of your lives.”

But when they asked why, he would not say. Lava and Kusa slept that night as blissfully as the Aswini Kumaras did when they had Sukra Deva's blessing. The night passed, and in its last yaama before the sun rose, the twins awoke, bathed, and offered worship to Agni. They arrived at the great hall of the aswamedha, and began singing the Adi Kavya.

Rama and his brothers, the visiting kings, and the holy rishis heard their inspired song, and they came and sat before the youths as handsome as two gandharvas; they were enraptured by their perfect playing and singing. In that audience were experts of the Puranas and others who knew music, every raga in the world. None of them had heard anything like the Ramayana before. They marveled at its resonance, its lyric beauty, its seamless construction and flow.

There were noted astrologers in the gathering, and they murmured among themselves that Valmiki had woven the threads of destiny into his poem, adroitly and without flaw. He knew exactly which planets had ruled Rama's life, when he was born, when Viswamitra arrived in Ayodhya, when Rama broke Siva's bow and married Sita, and when he was exiled.

There were famous poets in the sabha, who wondered at the perfection of the Ramayana. It was a poem, it was a song, and it was a treatise on dharma and tapasya. It was a Purana, it was a great epic; it was a love story and a story of war; it was a work of bhakti. Why, it was hardly mortal, and the most perceptive among them already whispered that only Brahma himself could have inspired such an immaculate kavya.

The rishis were in transport, the people were rapt, as were all the kings: absorbed in the Ramayana they heard and thrilled by the sight of the two singers, who were like beings of a higher world fallen to the earth.

Only some of the keen-eyed kshatriyas present said to each other, “Look, don't these youths look familiar?”

“Don't they resemble a king we know well?”

BOOK: The Ramayana
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