The Ramayana (42 page)

Sugriva's ministers ran in to him in panic. Their king rose unsteadily. He asked for water, with which he splashed his arms and face. The water stung him; he squealed at its coldness and shook his fur. At last, the vanara king was more or less awake. He stood swaying slightly before his nephew and his ministers. But now his eyes were wide open, and he asked in a clear voice, “What is all the fuss about?”

Hanuman said, “Rama and Lakshmana are princes of dharma. You swore friendship with them and they helped you recover your kingdom. Lakshmana stands at your gates with his bow in his hand, and our army is terrified because the unearthly thing shines so brightly. The prince's eyes burn in wrath, Sugriva. Tell him you mean to keep your word to Rama, or we are all dead.”

Suddenly Sugriva grasped the peril he was in. He gave a moan and cried, “I have done nothing to offend the princes of Ayodhya. Why does Lakshmana come here with anger in his eyes? Some enemy of mine has poisoned his mind against me. Not that I am afraid of him; I am not afraid of him or of Rama. But it pains me that our friendship is at risk. Oh, the mind is fickle, and the smallest slip is enough to kill sacred friendship. And you all know I owe Rama everything I have today.”

Hanuman said, “You must reassure Lakshmana that you have not forgotten your debt of gratitude. Rama is not really angry, only anxious. But you have lost track of the seasons. The monsoon is over, when skies were dark and rivers turbid; it has been tranquil Sharada for more than a month. While you have been happy at love and wine, Rama has pined for his wife. He counts not the seasons and months, but each moment of his life that passes without Sita; and every one is like a wretched year to him.

“He has sent Lakshmana to you in anguish. Don't be offended if the messenger's words are harsh; he has cause to be aggrieved. You say you are not afraid of Rama. But if he strings his bow, the three worlds cringe, because he can extinguish them with his arrows. He loves you, Sugriva; keep that love. Rama is more than you or I can imagine.

“Forgive me if I speak too plainly, but it is my dharma to save you from folly.”

Sugriva stood staring thoughtfully at his quiet minister. Slowly, the wine-sodden fog lifted from his mind. The vanara king bowed solemnly to Hanuman, to acknowledge his wisdom. Sugriva sent his doorkeepers to escort Lakshmana through the king's own underground passage.

Like the sun entering a rain cloud, Lakshmana came into Sugriva's palace. Along carved wooden terraces, curling corridors, and polished halls, he was led through the labyrinthine edifice. He paused at the threshold of the antapura. He heard exquisite music within, and saw the beautiful women of the vanara's harem. The tinkling of their silver anklets, the warm, breathy whispering of their voices, the fragrance of their delicate bodies invaded him like a seductive army.

Growing confused, he pulled violently on his bowstring and Kishkinda shook to its foundations.

 

14. The diplomacy of Tara

Sugriva turned pale when he heard the thunder of Lakshmana's bowstring. For all his boasting, he dared not face the angry prince. Terror gripped the vanara king and his fur stood on end. He turned to the lovely Tara and said, “My queen, this kshatriya's real nature is gentle, and he is as easily calmed as he is roused. Go to him, Tara; he will never show his anger to a woman. Pacify him, then bring him here and I will speak to him.”

Lakshmana waited alone in a corner, away from the eyes of the women of the harem. When the lovely Tara came to him in the wooden hall where he stood, she sensed his tenseness and his fury. Hesitantly she came, her long eyes cast down and only half open from all the wine she had drunk with Sugriva. Her slender body quivered with fear, like a lotus in a breeze. Yet she came with great poise, and was entirely queenly. Lakshmana knew who she was, but not why she had come. Thinking, even, that she had been sent to seduce him, he turned his back on her and stood glaring out a window. But Tara came softly up to him.

She said, “Be welcome to Kishkinda, O Kshatriya. But, great Lakshmana, you come in anger. Tell me, what is the cause of your rage, at which our city trembles? Who has been foolish enough to light a fire in a forest of dry trees?”

She touched him swift and deep. What man could ignore Tara's beautiful voice or her utterly feminine presence? This was not the kind of battle Lakshmana relished. With an effort, he steadied himself and quietened the disconcerting tumult in his body.

He said to her, decorously, “My lady, your husband has sent you to placate me. But don't be blind to what he has done. Once he became king, he has forgotten my brother Rama, who restored his kingdom to him. Wine and women are all he remembers, and dharma is far from his mind. These months that Sugriva has spent indulging himself, Rama has languished in the forest, with grief driving him to the edge of madness. Is this the friendship that Sugriva swore, with Agni as his witness? He has betrayed us, and an ingrate comes to a bad end.”

Lakshmana spoke quietly. But there was truth in his words and his eyes still smoldered dangerously. Tara did not reply at once; she considered what to say. Her task was a delicate and grave one, and she knew it.

At last she said, “Kshatriya, even great rishis fall prey to the temptations of Kama. What, then, of a fickle monkey whose nature you well know? After years of being denied in the wilderness, Sugriva could hardly help indulging himself. He fell so avidly to pleasure that he left even the governance of the kingdom to his ministers.

“But, noble Lakshmana, Sugriva had no desire to hurt Rama or you. It isn't that he does not value your friendship; he was merely lost in a sensuous dream. You have woken him from his stupor; now let Rama, who is tolerance embodied, forgive him.”

Lakshmana looked at this bewitching queen, and thought, who could refuse her anything she wanted? But he also made no immediate reply, only gazed evenly at her.

Tara said, “I think you should also know, my lord, that Sugriva has already ordered his vanaras to come to Kishkinda. He means to send them forth in every direction on the quest for Sita. He did this even before you came here. Hundreds of thousands of monkeys from all over the world already fly to us at their king's command.”

She saw Lakshmana give a start at this news she had subtly kept for the last. She saw his eyes soften and knew her little battle was won: she had saved Kishkinda and its king from immediate danger. Tara said, “Come with me to the antapura. I can see you are pure and strong, and will not be tainted by its sights. Sugriva is waiting for you.”

She walked before him through winding, climbing, simian corridors, along knotted branches of the ancestral tree into which the complex palace was built; and they came to the antapura, Sugriva's harem. Inside, the vanara king sat upon a couch of gaudy brocade. He wore fine ornaments. He sat among his women, with his arms around the delectable Ruma. Lakshmana's fury sparked alive again, and Tara sighed to herself at how indiscreet her lord was.

Sugriva sprang up when he saw Lakshmana. The kshatriya's eyes sparked with anger. But the ways of monkeys and men are a world apart, and little could Sugriva understand that seeing him with Ruma could infuriate the human as it did. He came forward guilelessly to greet the fair prince, shambling up to him, his long arms trailing the floor. He folded his hands solemnly to Lakshmana, and stood silent, his moist brown eyes gazing at the warrior's face.

Between his teeth, Lakshmana said, “A compassionate king, who is concerned about the suffering of others, gains fame for himself in the world. A truthful king, who remembers favors he has received and is grateful for them, deserves his renown. But a king who strays from dharma, who forgets his solemn oath sworn to his friend: there is no one worse than him. There is redemption from every sin in this world, prayaschitta for even the murder of a brahmana. But where is the salvation for an ungrateful man?

“Sugriva, you lied to us when you swore you would help find Sita. Rama kept his word to you; for your sake, he took Vali's life. But when you had what you wanted, you ignored Rama's need. The gates through which Vali went are not shut. If you don't honor your oath sworn before Agni, Rama's arrows will send you after your brother. Rama bids me tell you there is still time for you to relent. But hurry, Sugriva; before both your time and his mercy run out.”

Lakshmana spoke fiercely. It seemed the calmness that Tara had brought to his spirit was shaken at the sight of Sugriva at his dalliance, while Rama was waiting in anguish for the vanara to find Sita. Tara wanted Sugriva to be quiet, lest, in his inebriated anxiety, he say the wrong thing.

She said quickly, “You leap to the wrong conclusions, my prince. Sugriva is not a liar, nor has he forgotten his oath. Sugriva loves Rama. For Rama this vanara will sacrifice everything, even his kingdom. Why, he would gladly abandon Ruma and me, for Rama's sake. Even in my bed, my husband speaks of Rama. I have told you, mighty Lakshmana, Sugriva has already called his legion vanaras to him, to send them to the corners of the earth to seek Sita out. Shed your anger, good Kshatriya. The vanaras will discover Sita swiftly, wherever she may be hidden.”

As Tara spoke of Sugriva's devotion to Rama, the transformation that came over Lakshmana was quite marvelous. His body grew calm and a smile lit his handsome face like the sun breaking through dark clouds. Sugriva breathed a sigh of relief; his drunkenness had left him. He took Lakshmana gingerly by his hand and led him into his apartment.

He sat him down on a couch and, crooning in affection, said, “How can you ever think I would forget Rama, when I owe him everything I have today? Nothing can repay my debt to your brother. I may be just a vanara, but I am not such an ingrate. Not that a kshatriya who can shoot one arrow through seven sala trees needs my help. But for what it is worth, all my resources are Rama's to use. Why, my very life belongs to him.

“And when he sets out to kill the rakshasa who took Sita, I will follow him with my army. I will follow Rama anywhere: let him forgive me just this once.” Wringing his hands, he stood before Lakshmana.

The vapors of anger had risen away from that prince's mind. He said slowly, “With you at his side, loving Sugriva, Rama will surely vanquish his enemy. But now come with me to Prasravana. Rama needs to see you to restore his faith. As for me, I spoke harshly only because I have watched my brother's anguish these five months and found it hard to bear. Sugriva, forgive me for what I said impetuously.”

There was genuine sorrow in the vanara's eyes as he heard about Rama. He turned to Hanuman: “My monkeys from Vindhya and Himavan, Mahendra and Kailasa, march on Kishkinda even now. Send word to them to make haste. Fifteen days was the limit I set. Five have already passed. Rama is in pain; my people must be here in ten days.”

Before he had finished speaking, they heard an alarm in the streets below them, and the noise came toward the palace. Through the window, Sugriva saw that his colorful people had begun to arrive from far-flung parts of the earth. They came to his door with gifts for their king, and he welcomed them graciously.

When he had seen to the comfort of those first troops, Sugriva called for his palanquin. He climbed into it with Lakshmana and they set out for Prasravana. The hefty, long-limbed vanara carriers loped through the forest, flying lightly through the lower branches of the trees when passage was difficult on the ground. They arrived at the cave to which Lakshmana guided them with jungle directions of tree, rock, and stream. By now he was no stranger to the vana, and he knew how those who lived here found their way.

Sugriva alighted from the wooden litter; he came nervously into Rama's presence. As soon as the vanara saw the prince, he gave a low cry and stretched himself on his face at Rama's feet, his tail coiled, his eyes lowered for shame. But Rama raised up the great monkey and embraced him. Only gently did he chide him, saying with a smile, “My friend, dharma, artha, and kama should be of equal importance in one's life. To be aware only of kama is as dangerous as falling asleep on the brittle branch of a tree. I hope you remember your promise to me, Sugriva, that you would find my Sita.”

His eyes wandering everywhere except to Rama's face, Sugriva said, “You are like a God to me! Everything I have today is because of you. How can I forget what I promised you, Rama? Even as we speak, thousands of vanaras converge on Kishkinda. The first monkey tribes have already arrived. Soon the city and the hillside will swarm with my people.

“When they are all here, I will give the command and they will fly to comb the world. Wherever Ravana has hidden her, my vanaras will discover your Sita.”

Sugriva took Rama's hand and stroked it. “You shall not have long to wait; bear with me just ten days more.”

Rama saw he spoke the truth. He saw the monkey king's love in his eyes and, knowing his simple nature, he gladly forgave Sugriva. He put the delay down to his own karma, and hugged his friend. At least now he knew what arrangements Sugriva had made to find Sita. This was infinitely better than the hell he had been in, not knowing if the vanara meant to keep his word at all.

 

15. The quest for Sita

In swinging legions, the vanaras of the world poured into the cradleland of their race. By the tenth day after Sugriva met Rama at Prasravana, the hillside reverberated with their exuberance at being all together in the forest of their ancestors, as they had not been for centuries. The trees flashed bright fur, shining eyes, glittering jewelry, vivid scarves, caps, and clothes. Indeed great, they said to each other, must be the cause that brings all the monkey people on earth together at their king's gates. They were not particular about shelter and every tree in the forest housed ten husky males.

Sugriva came again to Rama's cave that overlooked the sea of vanaras on the hill below. Bowing to him, the monkey king cried, “My people have answered my call. Think that I have a hundred thousand bodies myself; for it is my spirit that goes abroad as my people to seek out Sita. Rama, the vanaras of the earth and their king are yours to command!”