SECTION LX.
Then like one possessed by an evil spirit, and trembling again and again, Kauçalyā lying down on the ground like one dead, spoke unto the charioteer, saying, "Do thou take me where Kākutstha is and Sitā and Lakshmana: without them, I cannot live for a moment. Do thou without delay turn the car. Do thou take me also unto Dandaka. If I do not follow them, I shall repair to the mansion of Yama." Thereat the charioteer with joined hands comforted that exalted lady with ready words faltering and choked with rising vapour, "Do you leave grief and sorrow and the violent emotion. Renouncing grief, Rāghava is living in the woods. And in the forest, the righteous Lakshmana, having his senses under control, is ministering unto Rāma's feet and is thus adoring the gods for happiness in the next world. And even in the lonely woods, Sitā as if remaining at home, having fixed her thoughts on Rāma, is living a life of love. And there appears not the least trace of any distress afflicting her; and Vaidehi seems to me as if she were meant (by Nature) for a life away from home. And as formerly going unto urban villas she disported, she disports now even in the lonely forest. And although living in the lone forest, that one of a countenance resembling the infant moon, sports merrily like a girl, in the garden represented by Rāma's self. Ayodhyā without Rāma would have seemed a wilderness to her whose heart is fixed on him and whose very life depends upon him. Vaidehi is now asking (Rāma) concerning the villages and towns (in their way); and observing various trees and the courses of the rivers, Jānaki, asking Rāma or Lakshmana (for information), is learning all about them. And Sitā sports as she used to do in arbours stationed at the distance of only one krosa from Ayodhyā. This only I remember; but all that she had from sudden impulse communicated unto me concerning Kaikeyi, does not rise into consciousness." Suppressing this topic which had come up through heedlessness, the charioteer spoke sweet words cheering up that noble lady. "Neither through the fatigue of travel, nor the influence of the wind, nor excitement, nor the sun, hath Vaidehi's lustre resembling the lunar light suffered any diminution. The countenance of that fair-speaking one resembling the lotus and comparable unto the full moon in splendour, hath not waxed pale. Her feet now without the dye of the liquid lac, but naturally furnished with the roseate hue of the same, are gorgeous like lotus buds. Still Vaidehi decked in ornaments from affection for Rāma, goes gracefully, rebuking with her bangles the wavy gait (of cranes). Supporting herself on Rāma's arm, Sitā arrived at the forest, is not inspired with fear on beholding either an elephant, or a lion, or a tiger. Therefore they are not to be bewailed, nor your own self, nor the lord of men. This history of Rāma will endure for ever in this world. Renouncing grief and with cheerful hearts, well established in the life led by the Maharshis, they living in the forest on wild fruits as their sustenance, are maintaining the noble promise of their sire." Consoled by the truth-telling yet sweeet- speeched charioteer, that lady oppressed with grief for her son, ceased not to wail loudly—"My beloved," "My son," "Rāghava."