SECTION XXVII.
Being thus addressed angrily by Sitā, some of those Rākshasees, beside themselves with ire, proceeded to relate this unto the vicious-souled Rāvana. And approaching Sitā those grim-visaged demons again addressed her with words rude and rough. "O vile Sitā, O thou bent on committing sin, we Rākshasees shall to-day devour thy flesh to the best of our satisfaction." Beholding those vile demons threaten Sitā, a Rākshasa matron, wise and old, named, Trijatā cried—"O vile demons, do ye eat your own persons[334] but do not devour Sitā, the daughter of Janaka and the esteemed daughter-in-law of the king Daçaratha. I dreamt a terrible dream last night which made my down stand on their end. And in that dream I foresaw the overthrow of the Rākshasa race and the conquest of her husband." And being thus addressed by Trijatā, those demons, exercised with wrath and terrified, accosted her with the following words,—"Do thou relate (unto us) what sort of dream didst thou dream last night." And hearing those words proceeding from the mouths of the Rākshasees, Trijatā began to describe the dream she had at the latter end of the night,—"I saw Rāma, wearing garlands and clothed in white, ride in a celestial charriot, along with Lakshmana, made of ivory, traversing the etherial regions and drawn by a hundred steeds. I saw in my dream to-night, that Sitā, clad in the purest white, appearing on a snow-white hill beaten by the waves of the ocean, had at last met Rāma, like unto light joined to the Sun. And I again saw Rāma and Lakshmana appear in effulgence, seated on a huge elephant, having four tusks and resembling a bull. Thereupon those two (brothers), resplendant like unto the Sun by their own effulgence, and wearing white garlands and clothes, appeared near Janaka's daughter. And the lotus eyed Jānaki, on the top of the hill situate on the welkin, first fell on the lap of her husband and then stationed herself on the neck of the elephant guided by her husband. Then I saw Sitā rubbing the Sun and the Moon with her two hands. And then that best of the elephants, with those two princes and the large eyed Sitā on him, stood high above Lankā. I again saw Rāma, clad in white, and adorned with garlands, ride along with Lakshmana in a charriot drawn by eight white bullocks. I again saw that highly energetic, best of men—Rāma, having truth for his prowess, along with his brother Lakshmana and Sitā flee to Northern realms, ascending a celestial flowery charriot resembling (in brightness) the Sun. And I saw Rāvana too, shaved and shorn, besmeared with oil, wearing a crimson cloth, drinking honey, wearing a garland of Karavira flowers, fall down on earth from the flowery charriot. And dragged by a woman, shaved, wearing a red cloth and garlands and sprinkled with crimson paste, Rāvana was again seen by me riding in a charriot drawn by asses. And quaffing oil, laughing and dancing, that one of agitated senses, forgetting himself sped on the charriot to the South.[335] And I again saw Rāvana, the lord of the Rākshasas, stricken with fear, fall, headless, down on the earth. And then rising all on a sudden, and uttering obscene and inconsistent words like unto a maniac, Rāvana overwhelmed with fear, and amazement, and intoxicated, fell into a mass of dirt, stinking and resembling the very hell. And again proceeding to the South he entered into a lake devoid of mud and water. And a dark woman, clad in a crimson cloth, and bedaubed with mud, dragged the Ten-necked demon, entwining herself round his neck. Then followed the mighty Kumvakarna[336] and all the sons of Rāvana, shaved and shorn and besmeared with oil. And they all proceeded southward—the Ten-necked demon on on a boar, Indrajit[337] on a porpoise, and Kumvakarna on a camel. I saw only Biveesana, with a white umbrella and accompanied by four courtiers, range in the welkin. And there was audible in the large assembly sound of music and stringed instruments. And all the Rākshasas wearing crimson clothes and garlands, were quaffing oil. I saw the royal and picturesque city Lankā with her steeds, cars and elephants, drowned in the ocean, having her gateways and ornamented arches broken. And in Lankā, covered with dust, Rākshasa women, laughing; and making terrible sound, were engaged in quaffing oil. I saw all the leading Rākshasas—Kumvakarna and others, dark-hued and wearing crimson clothes, emerged in an abyss of cow dung. Do ye therefore fly at some distance, and will find that Rāghava shall regain Sitā. And exercised with ire he shall destroy you all along with the Rākshasas. Rāghava shall never brook, his esteemed and beloved spouse, living in the forest, being taunted and threatened by you. No more with rough words therefore; do you console the lady and humbly pray her to forgive you. This I think proper. Surely shall she, divested of misfortune, be reconciled to her beloved and excellent husband, regarding whom, in her misery, I have dreamt such a dream. Ye Rākshasees! You have threatened her, do ye implore her forgiveness—no more with harsh words. Forsooth, from Rāghava shall proceed the mighty disaster of the Rākshasas. If Maithilee, the daughter of the king Janaka, be pleased with you (for your imploring her forgiveness) you might be saved from the mighty disaster. I do not perceive any inauspicious mark on the person of this large-eyed dame. It appears from the paleness of her countenance that she hath been overcome by misfortune. And I saw (in my dreamt this worshipful damsel, unworthy of any misfortune, stationed in the welkin. Verily I do perceive, before me, the satisfaction of Vaidehi's end, the destruction of the lord of the Rākshasas and the conquest of Rāghava. Behold I there, her left eye, spacious, as a lotus-petal, is dancing to hear this pleasant dream announcing the satisfaction of her own end. And her left arm is also dancing with joy, all on a sudden. And her excellent beautiful left thigh, resembling the trunk of an elephant, is also dancing as if indicating, that she shall at no distant date, be reconciled to Rāghava. And the birds, again and again, entering their nests, and highly delighted are pouring forth their notes announcing the advent of a happy occasion." Thereupon that modest dame, greatly delighted in the prospective conquest of her husband, said— "If this be true I shall save you all."
SECTION XXVIII.[338]
Hearing those unpleasant words of Rāvana, the lord of Rākshasas, Sitā, racked with sorrow on account of her husband, became terrified, like unto a she-elephant, worsted by a lion on the skirt of a forest. Threatened by Rāvana and encircled by the Rākshasees, that timid damsel bewailed like a girl cast off in a lonely forest. "Truly the sages say that death in this world doth not come untimely. Or else would I have, vicious as I am, lived for a moment, being thus sorely threatened. Forsooth, my mind, divested of happiness and full of misery, is firm or else why is it not broken in sunder like unto the summit of a hill clapped by a thunderbolt. Nor am I to blame for this—I am worthy of being killed by this demon of uncomely presence. As a Brahmana cannot impart instructions in Vedas unto the people of other castes so I shall not confer my mind on Rāvana. If that lord of the people doth not come within the appointed time, forsooth shall that vile lord, of the Rākshasas, mince my limbs with his arrows like unto a surgeon cutting off the limbs of an embryo.[339] Two months shall pass away in no time and I shall have to suffer the pain of death, overwhelmed with sorrow as I am, like unto a thief, confined in stocks, at the command of the sovereign to receive death the next morning. Rāma! Lakshmana! O Sumitra! O Rāma's mother! O my mothers! I am worsted in this ocean of grief, like unto a bark, driven hither and thither by the blast, in the midst of an ocean. Verily for me, those two powerful, lion-like sons of the king, have been killed by (this demon) effulgent like the lightning and assuming the semblance of a deer. Unfortunate as I am, forsooth I was tempted then by death wearing the shape of a deer and thus foolishly lost Rāma and Lakshmana, the sons of the worshipful sire. O Rāma, O thou of truthful vows, O thou of long arms, O thou having the countenance of a full moon! O my life! engaged as thou art in the welfare of the people, dost thou not perceive that I am about to be killed by the Rākshasas. Alas! this my devotedness unto my husband, my forgiveness, my lying down on the bare earth, my observance of religious vows, my wife-like virtues, are lost like unto service done for an ungrateful wight. In vain are my pious rites, and in vain is my devotedness unto my husband—since I do not behold thee, am pale and feeble in thy absence and have given up all hopes of seeing thee. And duly satisfying thy sire's command, and returning successfully from the forest, thou shalt fearlessly sport with many a damsel having large eyes. (But for me) O Rāma, I was for my own destruction, devoted, soul and heart, unto thee. Oh! fruitless is my asceticism and wifely virtue! Oh fie on me! I shall renounce this my unfortunate life. I desire to do away speedily with my being by means of poison or a sharp weapon. But there is no one in this city of the Rākshasas, who bringeth me this poison or weapon." Bewailing thus in various accents, and remembering Rāma with all her heart, Sitā, having her countenance dried up, and trembling, got at the biggest tree enveloped with flowers. And thinking thus, Sitā, stricken with grief, took up in her hand, her braid of hair and thought—"I shall soon hang myself with this braid and reach the abode of Death. And that one of tender person reached the tree, and holding a branch, began to think of Rāma, Lakshmana, and the glory of her race. And on her person were perceived many auspicious marks, well-known in the world, removing grief, fostering patience, and announcing the advent of future welfare.