SECTION LXIV.
Remembering the extraordinary death of the Maharshi, that righteous descendant of Raghu, lamenting his son, thus spoke unto Kauçalyā, "Having unwittingly commited that great sin, I, with my senses oppressed through grief, thought within myself as to how I could mend it. Then taking up the pitcher filled with excellent water, I went by the way mentioned and (at last) reached the asylum. There I found his aged, infirm, forlorn, parents, without a one to help them in moving about,—like unto birds whose wings have been severed, keeping up a talk about (their son) without experiencing any fatigue, and like helpless ones feeding on a hope which had been blasted by me. My senses overpowered by grief, and my consciousness almost lost through apprehension, I, arrived at the hermitage, was again overwhelmed with sorrow. Hearing my footsteps, the ascetic said, 'Why, my son, delayest thou? Bring the drink at once. Thy mother, O child, was exceedingly anxious in consequence of thy sporting in the waters. Do thou speedily enter the asylum. O child, it behoveth thee not to take to heart any unkind action that, O son, may have been done unto thee of high fame either by thy mother or myself. Thou art the resource of these helpless ones; thou art the eyes of these bereft of their sight. Our lives are bound up with thee. Why dost not answer?' Seeing the ascetic with a choked utterance indistinctly speaking thus with the letters not articulated clearly, I, dashed in spirits, yet concealing the real state of my mind by assuming a doughty tongue, communicated unto him the danger that had beffallen him in consequence of the calamity of his son: 'I am a Kshatria, Daçarātha (by name), and no son of thine, O magnanimous one. I have come by a misfortune in consequence of an act blamed by the good. O revered one, desirous of killing some beast of prey, an elephant (or some other), come to the waters, I went to the banks of the Sarayu bow in hand. Then hearing sounds from the water of a filling pitcher, I thought,—This must be an elephant.—I wounded it with a shaft. Next coming to the edge of the river, I saw an ascetic lying down on the ground almost deprived of life, with his heart pierced with an arrow. Then coming forward, I in accordance with the direction given by him as he lay in agony, suddenly extracted the arrow from his vitals. And as soon as the arrow had been extracted, he ascended heaven, O reverend sir, lamenting and bewailing you, both grown old. It is through ignorance that I suddenly wounded your son. This having been past, do you favor me with telling me what is now to be done, O ascetic.' Having heard these cruel words, the worshipful ascetic could well by his curse consume me to ashes. With eyes flooded with tears, and well nigh deprived of his senses by grief, that highly energetic one said unto me standing with joined hands, 'If, O king, thou hadst not of thyself immediately communicated unto us this unpleasant news, thy head would have been reduced to a thousand flaws. Not to speak of Kshatriyas, I can even drag the very weilder of the thunderbolt himself from his position, if he knowingly kills one, in especial, that has assumed the Vanaprastha mode of life. Thy head would have been severed in seven, if thou hadst discharged the weapon knowingly at such an asectic staying in austerities and versed in the Vedas. It is because thou hast done this through ignorance that thou (still) livest, else the race itself of the Rāghavas should be not,—and where art thou?' He then said, 'Do thou, O king, take us to the scene. To day will we look our last on our son besmeared with blood, his deer-skin garb falling off (from his body), lying senseless on the earth, and come under the subjection of the lord of righteousness.' Thereupon I alone taking them exceedingly disconsolate to the spot, made the ascetic and his wife touch their son. And having approached their son and touched him, those ascetics fell on his person, and then his father addressed him thus, 'Thou salutest me not to-day, nor dost thou speak to me. Why, my child, dost thou lie down on the ground? Art thou angry (with us)? If, my son, thou dost not feel kindly to me, do thou look up to thy virtuous mother. And why, O son, dost thou not embrace me? Do a thou speak tender words. At the small hours, from whom engaged in study, shall I hear the scriptures sweetly read in a way coming home to the listener's mind? Who, having performed his daily devotions and offered oblations unto the sacrificial fire, will bathe me, afflicted with grief for my son? And who procuring Kandas, fruits and roots, will feed me like an welcome guest, incapable of doing anything and furnishing provisions, and without any one to take care of myself? And, my son, how will I maintain this blind ascetic mother of thine, proud of her son, who is passing her days in misery? Do thou stay, my son, in my behalf. Tomorrow thou wilt go to Yama's mansion with me and thy mother. Distressed with grief and rendered miserable in the forest, both of us deprived of thee shall soon repair to the abode of Yama. Seeing Vivaswata's son, I will say unto him,—Do thou, O lord of justice, forgive me, and let this my son continue to maintain us, his parents. It behoves thee, O righteous and illustrious guardian of the worlds, to confer on me reduced to such a pass this one enduring dakshinā capable of removing our fear.— Thou, my son, art sinless, although slain by this one who has done an unrighteous act; and by the force of this truth, do thou repair to the world of warriors. Do thou, O son, go the supreme way that is gone by heroes who without turning back from the fight, are slain in open encounter. Do thou, O son, go the way that has been gone by Sagara and Saivya and Dilipa and Janamejaya and Nahusa and Dhundumāra. Do thou, O son, go the way that is gone by all creatures! even by ascetics engaged in the study of the Veda, by bestowers of lands, by those performing fire-sacrifices, by individuals each devoted to a single wife, men giving away a thousand kine, persons tending their preceptors, and individuals renouncing lives by fasting. He that is born in such a race cannot come by any evil case. Such a condition be his that has taken the life of thee, my friend.'
"Having thus piteously wept, he along with his wife set about performing the watery rites on behalf of his son. Thereupon speedily assuming a celestial shape, the virtuous son of the ascetic by his own actions ascended heaven in company with Sakra. Then (returning) along with Sakra, the ascetic comforting his aged parents, addressed them, saying, 'I have attained a high state in consequence of having served you. Do you also without delay come unto me.' Having said this, the ascetic's son of restrained senses ascended heaven by means of an excellent and commodious car. Having performed the watery rites, the highly energetic ascetic along with his wife speedily said unto me staying with joined hands, 'Do thou, O monarch, slay me on the instant. I do not grieve to die'—thou hast by thy shaft rendered me who had an only son, absolutely sonless. Since this sorrow arising from the calamity that has befallen my son, is at present mine (through thy instrumentality), I curse thee,—thou shalt even in this way find thy death from grief for thy son. As thou a Kshatriya hast through ignorance slain an ascetic, the sin, O lord of men, of slaying a Brāhmana will not envelope thee speedily; but thou shalt shortly come by this dreadful and mortal condition, like a donor of Dakshinās (coming by the things given away).' Having thus inflicted on me the curse and piteously lamented long, the couple ascended the funeral pile and went to heaven. O noble dame, the crime that I hitting by help of sound, had committed in my boyhood, has reverted to my recollection in course of thought. And, O exalted lady, even as a disease generated by one's taking rice with unhealthy curry, this danger is imminent in consequence of that act. O gentle one, the words of that noble- minded person are about to be verified in me." Having said this and weeping, the king said to his wife, "I shall renounce life through grief for my son. And I shall no more behold thee with my eyes. Do thou, O Kauçalyā, touch me. People going to the mansion of Yama no more behold (their friends). If Rāma touch me directly or otherwise, obtain the exchequer, and be installed as the heir-apparent, meseems, I may yet live. O noble lady, what I have done unto Rāghava is not surely like myself; but what (on the other hand) he has done by me is worthy of him. What sensible man forsaketh his son, albeit he may be wicked? And what son being banished, does not bear ill will towards his father? But I do not see thee with my eyes, and my memory fails. These envoys of Vivaswata's son, O Kauçalyā, urge speed upon me. What can be an object of greater regret than, that I during my last moments cannot behold the righteous Rāma having truth for prowess? Even as the sun drieth up a drop of water, grief for not seeing my son of incomparable acts drieth my spirits. Those are not men—those are gods who in the fifteenth year shall again behold Rāma's countenance graced with elegent and burnished ear-rings. O thou of graceful eye-brows, blessed are they who shall behold Rāma's countenance furnished with eyes resembling lotus-petals, with excellent teeth and a shapely nose, like unto the lord of the stars himself. Blessed are they that shall behold that fragrant face of his like unto the autumnal moon, or the full-blown lotus. Thrice-blessed they who with delighted hearts, shall behold Rāma returned from the forest and come back to Ayodhyā, like unto Sukra crowning the zenith? O Kauçalyā, my heart is weighed down with grief; and I do not perceive objects of hearing, feeling, or taste. My senses are growing dim in consequence of the mental stupor, like the rays of a lamp reduced to smoke, becoming dim when the oil has been exhausted. As the violence of a river wears away its banks. my grief occasioned through my own agency is destroying me, who am helpless and insensible. O mighty-armed Rāghava! O thou remover of my troubles! O thou that dost delight in thy father! thou art my stay, O my son, that hast gone away. O Kauçalyā, I do not see. O wretched Sumitrā! O cruel one, thou enemy of mine, thou Kaikeyi, who hast befouled thy line!" Having thus lamented in presence of Rāma's mother and Sumitrā, king Daçaratha breathed his last.
Thus that distressed lord of men, smitten with the exile of his beloved son, that one possessed of a gracious presence, when the night had been half spent, wrought up with the violence of his emotion, departed this life.