The Ramayana (15 page)

Rama wondered at the harshness of her. There was such malice in her tone. “But you, Rama, can keep your father's oath. If you say you will, I will tell you what I asked him for.”

Dasaratha sat turned to stone; only the tears leaked on from his eyes. Rama cried, “You don't have to ask me, mother. I would gladly kill myself to keep my father's word. I think you know that.”

Kaikeyi said without emotion, “I want Bharata to be crowned in your place; and for you to spend nine years and five more in the Dandaka vana, wearing tree bark and deerskin like a rishi.” Her lip curling, she asked, “Would you do this to keep your father's honor? For he, I think, will never ask you himself.”

Dasaratha groaned feebly, but Rama's eyes did not so much as flicker. Without a moment's hesitation, he said, “Of course I will go to the forest if you want me to. Why is there such conflict over this? Or that Bharata is to be crowned? It only pains me that my father thought he would hurt me with this happy news. Let us send messengers at once to Kekaya to fetch my brother home.”

Kaikeyi said coldly, “You can leave the sending of messengers to me. You need not be in Ayodhya when Bharata returns. The king is so grief-stricken that one son of his shall be crowned and not the other, that as long as you are here he will not make Bharata yuvaraja. The sooner you leave for the forest the better.”

Rama whispered,
“Shantam paapam!”

*   *   *

Dasaratha swooned in his chair and Rama sprang to him. Now Rama's eyes were full, as he turned to Kaikeyi and said quietly, “Mother, you have not understood me. I am not anxious to have the kingdom. I never was. Didn't you believe that if you asked me yourself, I would gladly have gone away for your sake? It pains me that you doubted my love for you.

“I will go at once; and have no fear, I will not come back for fourteen years. But I must see my mother Kausalya and convince her that this is no tragedy but God's way for me, and a blessing for one as fond of the wild places of the earth as I am.”

Dasaratha wept again. Rama fell at his father's feet once more, and touched his lips and his head to them. Then he touched Kaikeyi's feet and, rising quickly, walked out of the room. Behind him, he heard his father break down, calling his name, sobbing like a child.

Lakshmana came out with his brother. But his face twitched in rage and hot tears had sprung in his eyes. Rama linked his arm in Lakshmana's. When he thought of seeing Kausalya and breaking this news to her, even Rama felt weak. He steadied himself, and his face showed no sorrow but was as radiant as ever. They walked through the sabha of the coronation, past the giant urns filled with water from the sacred rivers of Bharatavarsha for the abhisheka.

Rama's pang for his mother passed. He did not so much as glance at the urns, nor at the white parasol beside the throne, nor the long whisks of silk thread at the doors, but came straight to Kausalya's apartment. His mind was calm and had just one thought: how he would soften the blow for her. Rama was accosted by some that he knew along the way. He spoke amiably to them, and carried on. Beside his brother, Lakshmana controlled himself.

But word had leaked from Kaikeyi's apartment already, at Manthara's shrewd instigation, and spread like fire through the palace. As they neared Kausalya's chambers, the princes heard cries of shock from the women of the harem.

“Rama banished? For what?”

“It's just an evil rumor.”

“Has Dasaratha taken leave of his senses?”

“Rama banished to the forest? Today is Rama's coronation.”

Through the walls, along the winding passages, they heard cries of dismay, as the news caught and burned along. But they arrived before the news at Kausalya's apartment. Rama was as unmoved by what he heard around him as an aswattha tree is by the cries of the birds in its branches.

The old guard at his mother's door sprang up. He came toward the princes, crying,
“Jaya vijayi bhava!”

Rama smiled at him and moved on into his mother's rooms. Kausalya had spent the night in prayer. She sat before Narayana's image, pouring libations onto the fire for her son's fortune. Rama stood watching her offering arghya. As always, she wore thin silk. Her face glowed from the flames before her, her gracious features chiseled by the sorrows of the years. Rama looked at his gentle mother and he knew that in her life he was the single light. He knew it was years since her husband had seen her at all; so lost had he been in Kaikeyi's charms. But his mother had never said a word to Rama against Kaikeyi or his father.

Kausalya became aware of Rama and her face lit up with the same joy he saw on it whenever he visited her. She rose and came to him. He stood before her with his hands folded and his heart faltering. He knelt at her feet, as much to delay what he must tell her as for her blessing. She blessed him, laying both her soft palms on his head. Then she raised him up, and her eyes were moist.

“My noble child, may all heaven's blessings be upon you. Today your father will crown you yuvaraja, and I know you will prove a worthy heir to the Ikshvaku throne. May the Gods help you be as great a king as all your ancestors. Always be loyal and kind to your father, even after you are crowned. He loves you more than his life.”

She clasped him to her; she felt him tremble. With a cry, she held him at arm's length. “My son, you are shaking. Are you ill?”

At once Rama grew calm. Yet when he spoke to her, his eyes avoided hers and sought the floor at his feet. But his voice was steady as he said softly, “Mother, I must leave you to go away to the Dandaka vana. For fourteen years I must live in the forest, to honor my father's boon to Kaikeyi. But still rejoice, because your son Bharata is to be crowned yuvaraja.”

At first, she did not seem to know what he had said. He saw the shock in her eyes only when he had finished, and he leaned forward and caught her as she fell. He picked her up in his arms, easily as he might a child, and set her down in a jeweled chair. He sprinkled some water that Lakshmana fetched on her face, and she stirred again. As he knelt beside her, Rama could hardly look into her eyes.

“How will I bear this?” cried Kausalya. “Once my only sorrow was that I was a barren woman, whom her husband did not love. Oh, I would gladly exchange that sorrow for this one.

“Your father never loved me. His younger queens had their way with him and I was neglected. But when you were born, I thought the Gods had finally blessed me. I could bear anything then, even the snickering of Kaikeyi and her women. You are the light of my days, Rama. I cannot live without seeing your face, my son.

“I have always kept my vratas and worshipped the Gods unfailingly. But my prayers have been in vain, that this must happen to me now. I was born under an evil star and not all the prayers in the world can change my fate. I must have been a terrible sinner in my past lives; and my heart is made of stone in this one that it has not yet broken in a thousand pieces with everything I have endured.

“And now this? Oh no, Rama, this I cannot bear. I will come with you into the Dandaka vana. Yes, I have to!”

She buried her face in her hands, and her frail form shook with sobs.

 

9. Lakshmana's anger

Then Lakshmana could not stand it any more, and cried, “Our father has lost his reason! His love for Kaikeyi blinds him. But why should Rama sacrifice the throne for the whim of a greedy woman? For what crime is my blemishless brother banished to the Dandaka vana? A king should think of what is best for his kingdom, and not what suits his favorite wife.

“I will not allow this. Our father walks the way of sin. As God is my witness, I will kill him and his Kaikeyi, and the world will forgive my parricide.”

The distraught Kausalya cried, “You hear your brother, Rama. He has my blessing! I speak as your mother who has as much right to your obedience as your father does. I order you not to go to the forest, leaving me at the mercy of the younger queens. If you do, count yourself guilty of the sin of the lord of the rivers: of matrihatya. For I will die if you go.”

Rama remained silent. He let them vent their grief, knowing it was sorrow that spoke as anger and threat. He touched his mother's feet. Quietly, he said, “I cannot break my word to my father: that is how the ancient rishis have laid down the law for us. Think how Parasurama cut off his mother's head because his father asked him to. The dharma taught in the Shastras cannot be false. The Shastras say that a son who does not obey his father has no place in heaven.

“Lakshmana, you have sat at our guru's feet and learned dharma. You know about vairagya. You know a man should accept his destiny with equanimity, be it fortune or misfortune. I know you love me more than anyone else; but love does not turn to violent means for its satisfaction. Violence is never dharma and you must not give in to your anger. I must go to the forest; my fate lies there. I must keep my sacred pledge to my father and mother Kaikeyi.”

He touched Kausalya's feet again. “Say the mantras of fortune over me; let me go to the vana. I will return to you as soon as my exile is served. Put away your grief and bless me. It is the way of dharma I go on, and in this world there is no other path to salvation.”

Kausalya stared at her son. She saw he was perfectly calm and determined. For a long moment she stared, then she said slowly, “Rama, dharma clearly says that a man's mother is as sacred to him as his father. Both are equal gurus. I command you to stay here by my side.” But then she broke down and began to sob. “Oh, my son, I cannot live without you. Even if I see you for just an hour, it is enough for me, and I can bear the burden of my life.”

Lakshmana cried again, “I will kill the king and his Kaikeyi! You shall not go to the forest.”

Rama turned to him and said sharply, “You add your anger again to my mother's grief. You do not help me, Lakshmana.”

 

10. The way of dharma

Rama said, “Mother, the path I mean to tread leads straight to heaven, and any other to ruin. I must go to the forest. Bless me now; let me go in some peace.”

He paused thoughtfully, then said with a smile, “Just yesterday, my father wanted to crown me, and today he must banish me to keep his word. If this is not the hand of fate, then I am much mistaken. Until yesterday Kaikeyi never made any distinction between Bharata and me; why, you could say I was her favorite son. Today she spoke words that struck me like knives and even her voice was not her own. If this wasn't fate speaking through her, for a more mysterious end than any of us yet know, I am much mistaken.”

When he thought of Kaikeyi, there was anguish on his face. He said, “She would not have spoken to me as she did, and before her husband, unless I was paying for some sin of a past life. For in this one I have never hurt her before; nor she me. I tell you, Lakshmana, all this is fate working toward her own inscrutable ends. Not even the rishis who are masters of their senses are beyond fate; even they fall prey to the passions of destiny. Then how can we escape her? It is not that mother Kaikeyi is evil, or that she hates me; only that destiny uses her, even against her own nature. Do you think she feels no pain at what she does? No, she is the most wounded of all.”

But Lakshmana fumed, “Rama, it is folly to attribute what a common, greedy woman does to fate. There is cunning and design in her. How is it that only now, when you are to be crowned, she asks for her boons? She planned this all along, biding her time, pretending to love you, and made long fools of us all. Only a weakling accepts such a fate. If you let me take arms against this fate, I will show you which is more powerful: what you call providence or my arrows!

“Listen to me, Rama. No one, not the people, not the kings of the earth, not even the Devas will oppose your being crowned today. By force, if need be.”

But Rama smiled at him and ruffled his hair as one does to a child. He said patiently, “The way of the soul is longer than fourteen years in a forest. You want me to sacrifice immortality for a paltry fourteen years? No, Lakshmana, you are wrong. Calm yourself. Think with your intellect, not your burning heart, and you will see what I must do.”

Kausalya knew her son's mind was made up; nothing would persuade him to abandon what he saw as being dharma and obedience to his father. In a low voice she said, “I see you will go to the vana no matter what. Rama, take me with you.”

Rama looked at her and said gently, “How will my father bear my exile if you aren't at his side? You must not abandon him now. He needs you, mother, and your place is here with him. That is your dharma.”

She was silent. At last she sighed, “I will stay in Ayodhya. May Narayana give me the strength to bear this as well.”

Rama smiled at his mother. “Take strength in Bharata. He is also your son; he will look after you. Now bless me and let me go: the sooner I leave the sooner I will return to you.”

Kausalya said, “When fate is ranged against me, what else can I do? Go with my blessing and may your exile be more joyful to you than kingship. May Indra's Devas and Viswamitra's astras protect you in the jungle. May your path always be clear, my noble son, and your valor tameless. Come back to me the day your exile is over. I will wait for you each moment of the cruel years.”

She poured libation on the fire again, and prayed, “May the blessing that Indra had from his mother Aditi, when he went to kill Vritrasura, be upon you, Rama. May the blessing Garuda had from his mother Vinata, when he went after the amrita, be upon you. May the blessing Vamana bore, when he came to Mahabali's yagna, be upon you. May the jungle be a haven to you and a kingdom of joy.”

She grew calm with these incantations. She marked a tilaka on Rama's brow and tied a raksha of protection around his wrist. Her anxiety had left her, now that she recognized her own dharma. She embraced her son. Her weakness had passed, and she said, “I know you will return after fourteen years. I, who have waited so long, will wait a little longer. And I will see you in your rightful place, on the throne of your ancestors. Now go while I am strong, before my heart fails me again.”