SECTION XX.
There arose a great uproar of cry in the apartment of the females, when that best of men went out with clasped hands. 'That Rāma, who used to serve all the females in all matters even without his father's permission, who was our stay and protector, is going to the forest. Rāghava from his birth pays as much attention to us as to his mother Kauçalyā. He, who being cursed, does not get angry, pacifies the wrathful and studiously avoids words and deeds that excite anger in others, will repair hence this day unto the forest. Senseless is our king, who forsakes Rāghava who is the stay of all people, and thus kills his subjects." Thus the queens of Daçarātha, like unto the cows that have lost their young ones, began to blame him and cry aloud. Hearing this terrible uproar of cry in the female apartment, that lord of earth, racked with sorrow on account of his son, hid himself in the seat (with head hanging downdards). Rāma too, having control over his own self, experiencing sorrow (for his relatives) and sobbing like an (enchained) elephant, entered into his mother's apartment together with his brother. He saw a venerable old man, sitting at the gate and many other persons. All those present, seeing Rāma, began to shower benedictions on him, the best of all victorious heroes, saying, "Victory unto thee." Having passed through the first apartment he saw in the second, many old Brahmins, versed in the Vedas and honored by the king. Having bowed down unto them, Rāma saw in the third apartment, women, boys, and old men, all engaged in watching the gate. The female warders honored Rāma rejoicing, and entering his mother's apartment, communicated unto her speedily this pleasant news. Worshipful Kauçalyā, seeking her son's welfare, kept up the whole night being absorbed in meditation, and was, in the morning, worshipping the God Vishnu. Wearing silk-cloth, pleased, and accustomed to the performance of religious rites every day, she, performing benedictory ceremonies, was offering oblation unto the fire. Rāma entering the auspicious abode of his mother beheld her thus engaged in the sacrifice to the fire. The descendant of Raghu saw there, brought for the service of the celestials, curd, grains, clarified butter, sweetmeats, things fit for oblations unto the fire, fried paddy, white garlands, rice boiled in milk and sugar, rice sesamum and pea mixtures, sacrficial fuels and jars full of water. He saw his virtuous mother wearing white silk, pulled down by the austere performance of religious rites, and engaged in propitiating the deities with the offering of water. She seeing her son, ever advancing the joy of his mother, approach, became pleased, and stepped forward like unto a mare beholding her young one. Seeing his mother approach, Rāghava bowed low, and (Kauçalyā) embracing him in her arms smelt his head. Kauçalyā, out of motherly affection, spoke these sweet and beneficient words unto her own invincible son, Rāghava. "Mayst thou obtain the life and fame of the pious, old Rajarshis, and the virtue worthy of thy family. See, Oh Rāghava, how truthful is your father the king! That virtuous- souled one shall install thee this day as the heir-apparent of the throne." Rāghava, humble by nature, who was offered by his mother a seat and asked by her to eat something, streching forth a little his clasped hands, and with his head downwards with a view to show respects towards his mother, touched the seat, and began to relate unto her the object of his repairing unto the Dandaka forest. "O worshipful one, certain it is that thou knowest not the great impending calamity. It is for the distress of thine, Lakshmana and Vaidehi, that shall I wend my way unto the Dandaka forest. What is the use of a seat to me then? Now is the time come when I deserve a seat made of Kusa grass. I shall live in the forest for fourteen years abstaining from animal food and living on tuberous roots and fruits like unto the ascetics. The king shall confer upon Bharata the heir-apparentship and shall banish me as an ascetic into the forest. And I shall live in that solitary forest for eight and six years, feasting on roots, and fruits and performing the duties of a hermit." Like unto the stem of a sala tree cut asunder by an axe in a wood, like unto a female celestial fallen down from the abode of the gods, she fell down suddenly (hearing these heart-rending words.) Rāma seeing his mother, who deserved no distress, fall down like a plantain tree and insensible, raised her up, and finding her covered with dust all over her body like unto a mare risen up after rolling on the ground on account of toil of bearing heavy burden wiped oflf (her body) gently with his hand. She, deserving happiness, being racked with the destruction of her delight spoke thus unto Rāghava, that best of men, in the presence of Lakshmana. "Oh! my son, Oh! Rāghava, hadst thou not been born for my grief I would have been sonless only, but would not have been subject to this greater grief. A sonless woman has only one cause of mental affliction. Her only sorrow is "I have no child" and nothing else my son. I have not experienced in my life that blessing and pleasure which women generally feel when their husbands are devoted to them. I have sustained my life so long, O Rāma, only with the hope that I shall witness this and other happiness when I shall have a son. Myself, being the eldest of all the queens, shall have to hear unpleasant and heart-rending words from the co-wives who are all younger than I. There can be no greater misery for women than this my boundless grief and lamentations. Thou being present, they have reduced me to this miserable plight, I do not know what else they will do, thou being away; there is death certain for me, Oh my darling! Being disregarded by my husband I have been greatly insulted—I am equal to the maid-servants of Kaikeyi or even inferior to them. Those who serve me or are obedient unto me, shall not even speak with me when they will see the son of Kaikeyi (installed). She is always of fretful temper, how shall I, reduced to misery (on account of thy exile), eye the face of Kaikeyi, uttering harsh words. I have spent, Oh Rāghava, ten years and seven from thy (second) birth[118] expecting a termination of my sorrow. Even though worn out, Oh Rāghava, I shall not be able to suffer this great misery cosequent upon thy unending exile and the contempt of the co-wives. How shall I, of miserable life pass my days in grief not seeing thy face, effulgent like unto the full-moon. Wretched as I am, in vain have I brought thee up with fasts, contemplations and many other toilsome austerities. Surely, I consider my heart is very hard, as it does not rend like unto the bank of a great river in contact with new water in the rainy season. There is no death for me— no vacant place in the abode of Yama; otherwise why does not Death take me away like unto a lion snatching away a weeping hind; certain it is that my heart is made of iron, as it does not rend nor does my body being pressed down with this sorrow and falling) down on earth, break into pieces; verily have I no death before time. This distresses me that all my religious vows, alms givings, self-restraint and austerity, performed with a view of obtaining a son, have been fruitless, like unto the seeds thrown on a barren soil. If any body in this life, being pressed down with some great calamity, could meet with death of his own accord, I would have instantly gone to the abode of dealh, being cut off from thee like unto a cow from her young one. Oh, thou, having a countenance of moon-like splendour, wretched indeed is my life without thee—I shall follow thee to the forest out of great affection, like unto an enfeebled cow following her young one. Kauçalyā like a Kinnari unable to bear this great calamity, anticipating some great misfortune and seeing Rāma bound (with a great vow), began to lament in various ways.