SECTION XXXIX.
HEARING Rāma's words, and seeing him dressed like an ascetic, the king in the midst of his wives was deprived of his senses. And burning in grief, the king could not eye Rāghava, nor seeing him could that one of afflicted mind answer anything. Then remaining unconscious for a while, the mighty-armed lord of earth oppressed by grief began to bewail, thinking of Rāma. "I conclude that formerly I deprived many a cow of her calf, and took the life of many a creature, and it is for this that the present calamity has befallen me. (I infer) that life never departs from the body unless the time comes, for although sore tried by Kaikeyi, my life does not go out of me, and for I can see before me this one resembling fire, clad in the dress of an ascetic, having left his fine vesture. These people are in trouble in consequence of Kaikeyi alone striving by help of this craftiness to secure her interest." Having said these words, Daçarātha, his semes overpowered by the vapour of sorrow, exclaimed "Rāma!" and could not proceed further. Then soon regaining consciousness, the lord of earth with tearful eyes, addressed Sumuntra, saying,—"Yoking a riding car with excellent horses, do you come hither; and take the exalted one to the south of the kingdom. The virtuous and heroic Rāma is being banished by his father and mother. Even this methinks will be asserted as the fruit of the virtues possessed by the pious." Receiving the mandate of the sovereign, Sumantra endued with fleet vigour, yoking a car adorned with horses, came there. Then the charioteer with joined hands announced to the prince that the car adorned with gold was ready, yoked with excellent horses. The king, versed in time and place, and pure, speedily summoning his treasurer, said unto him these words firmly,— "Do you without delay bring unto Vaidehi excellent and costly attires and noble ornaments, counting these (ten and four) years." Thus desired by the foremost of men, that officer repairing to the treasury, procuring all those, speedily presented them to Sitā. Thereupon that pure-sprung one, Vaidehi, ordered to the forest, adorned her goodly limbs with those rare ornaments. And thus decked out, Vaidehi graced that chamber like the effulgence of the Sun irradiating the welkin with his rays. Then embracing with her arms Mithilā's daughter of noble behaviour, and smelling the crown of her head, Sitā's mother-in-law said,—"Those women that although having always been carefully tended by their husbands, do not regard them during the incident of adversity, are in this world reckoned as unchaste.—Even this is the nature of women: having formerly tasted happiness (at the hands of their husbands), they, on the accession of an inconsiderable misfortune, take them to task,—nay, forsake them utterly. Those women that are untruthful, unmindful, of evil ways, heartless, intent on unrighteous acts, and whose love is evanescent, are unchaste. Neither lineage, nor benefit, nor learning, nor gift, nor forbearance of faults, can secure the hearts of females,—surely their hearts are unstable. But chaste women of good character, abiding in truth, acting in accordance with the precepts of superiors, and maintaining the dignity of their race, single out their lords as the prime means of compassing their spiritual welfare. Therefore although my son is going to be banished to the woods, you should by no means disregard him. Whether he be wealthy or poor, he is unto you like a god." Hearing her mother-in- law's words fraught with virtue and interest, Sitā facing that lady, said with joined palms,—"I will do all that the noble one says. I know how I should act by my husband. I have heard all about that (from my parents.) The worshipful one ought not to place me on the same footing with unrighteous persons. As brightness doth not depart from the moon, so I cannot swerve from virtue. The Vinā without strings does not sound; and the car without wheels does not move,— so although having an hundred sons, a woman without her husband cannot attain happiness. The Father gives in measure, the father and the son give in measure,—but who does not worship that bestower of 'riches fineless'—the husband? O exalted one, having learnt from my superiors the principal as well the minor duties, shall I disregard (my lord)? A husband is a deity unto the wife." Hearing Sitā's words which went directly to the heart, Kauçalyā endued with purity of spirit, out of fulness of bliss and bale suddenly shed tears. Then with joined hands that foremost of virtuous ones addressed his mother, who, duly honored by all, was seated in the midst of his other mothers, saying,—"O mother, without indulging in grief, you should minister unto my father; and the term of my abode in the woods will shortly expire. You will find these five and nine years pass away as if in a sleep. Then again, getting me,you will see me surrounded by my friends and relatives." Having spoken out his mind unto his mother, Rāma attentively eyed his three hundred and fifty mothers. And with joined hands Daçarātha's son spake words fraught with virtue unto his mothers afflicted like Kauçalyā herseH "If I have said anything harsh to you in consequence a familiarity, or done any wrong through ignorance, do you forgive the same. I salute you all." These calm words of Rāghava informed with piety were heard by the ladies overwhelmed with grief. As Rāghava was speaking thus, then arose a loud wail proceeding from those wives of that chief of men, like unto the cries of Kraunchis. And the aboA of Daçarātha which formerly resounded with murajas, panavas, meghas,[141] was now filled with cries of distress and lamentations.
SECTION XL.
Then exceedingly distressed, Rāma, Sitā and Lakshmana, bowing down unto the king, circumambulated him. Then with the king's permission, the righteous Rāghava stupified with sorrow, in company with Sitā, paid respect unto his mother. Following his brother, Lakshmana saluted Kauçalyā; then he again took hold of his mother Sumitrā's feet. As the son of Sumitrā, was thus engaged in honoring his mother, his mother smelling the crown of his head, thus spoke unto the mighty-armed Lakshmana,—"Although attached unto thy friends here, thou hast my permission to go to the forest. When Rāma shall have gone (to the woods), do not, O son, show any negligence unto him. O sinless one, whether in prosperity or in adversity, even this one is thy way. That a younger brother should follow his elder is in this world the duty of the righteous. These are the legitimate duties ever observed by this race—charity, initiation into sacrifice, and renunciation of the body in the field of battle. Do thou consider Rāma as Daçarātha, and Janaka's own-begotten as myself; do thou regard Ayodhyā as a wilderness,—go my son, at thy sweet pleasure." Having thus spoken unto that dear descendant of Raghu, who had made up his mind (to journey to the forest), Sumitrā, again and again said unto him,— "Go! Go!" Then like unto Mātali addressing Vāsava, that one understanding humility, Sumantra, with joined hands humbly said unto Kākutstha,—"O illustrious prince, good betide you: do you ascend the car. O Rāma, I will speedily take you to wherever you will tell me. You will have to spend fourteen years in the forest, and your stay must commence from this very day. So the noble lady has ordered." Then having adorned her person, that best of her sex, Sitā, with a glad heart ascended the car resembling the sun. Counting the term of their stay in the woods, her father-in-law furnished Sitā following her lord with attires and ornaments. And then he placed in front of the car various weapons, coats of mail, a basket bound in hide and a hoe. At length the brothers Rāma and Lakshmana swiftly ascended the flaming car garnished with gold. And seeing them with Sitā for the third, mounted, Sumantra drove the car yoked with goodly horses resembling the wind in celerity. On Rāghava having left for the forest to stay there for a long period, the men and beasts within the city were deprived of their senses (by grief). And in the city there arose a mighty tumult in consequence of the hurrying of people, the elephants waxing mad and furious, and the neighings of horses. And the entire city containing young and old, extremely afflicted, rushed after Rāma, like persons oppressed with the heat of the sun rushing towards water.
At his side and back, the people bending forward with their faces covered with the vapour of grief, and sighing hard, said unto the charioteer,—"O charioteer, rein in the horses,—do thou proceed softly. We will see the countenance of Rāma, which we shall never see again. Surely the heart of Rāma's mother is made of iron, for it does not burst on witnessing her son resembling Skanda repairing to the forest. Vaidehi, attaining her desire, follows her husband, like a shadow—attached to virtue, she does not forsake him even as the Sun forsakes not meru. O Lakshmana, you are blessed, since you will serve your god-like brother ever speaking fair. This design of yours is great; this is your mighty good fortune; this the way to heaven that you are following him." Saying this, they could not supress their fears; and the men followed the beloved descendant of Ikshwāku. Then the king, his senses overcome by grief, surrounded by his distressed wives, went out of his house, saying—"I will behold my dear son." He heard before him a mighty noise proceeding from weeping women, like unto the roars of she-elephants, when a great elephant has been taken captive. Thereupon Rāma's father, the graceful Kākutstha, became shorn of his splendour, like unto the full-moon enveloped at the appointed time during the eclipse. Then the auspicious son of Daçarātha of soul incapable of being comprehended, ordered the charioteer, saying,—"Do thou proceed more speedily Rāma saying unto the charioteer,—"Go," and the people,— "Stay," thus desired on the way, the charioteer could not act both ways at once. As the mighty-armed Rāma proceeded, the dust of the earth raised by the car-wheels were laid by the tears of the citizens showering down. And in consequence of Rāghava's departure, the entire city filled with despair, and uttering with their senses lost exclamations of "Oh" and "Alas," became exceedingly afflicted. And the tears begot of heart's grief that flowed from the eyes of the females, resembled rain-drops scattered around from lotuses shaken by the movements of fish. And beholding the citizens absorbed in one thought, the auspicious monarch fell down in grief like a tree whose roots have been severed. Then seeing the sovereign senseless and stricken with exceeding sorrow, the multitudes at the rear of Rāma broke out into a loud tumult. And seeing the king weeping aloud with the inmates of the inner apartment, some exclaiming "Oh Rāma," and others, "O Rāma's mother," began to bewail. Then turning back, Rāma saw that his sorrow-stricken and bewildered father along with his mother, was following his track. As a colt fastened in a snare cannot see its mother, so Rāma fastened in the bonds of virtue could not look at his mother openly. And seeing his parents deserving of comfort and worthy of going in a carriage, going on foot, Rāma said unto the charioteer,—"Go thou swiftly." And that foremost of men was incapable of bearing the looks of his father and mother, like unto an elephant afflicted with the hook, (not being able to look at what is placed on its back.)
Rāma's mother rushed after him like a cow having a calf which has been fettered, rushing towards the fold, for the purpose of seeing it. Rāma beheld his mother Kauçalyā running after the car, bewailing aloud,— "Rāma, Rāma, Ah Sitā, Lakshmana," shedding tears for Rāma, Lakshmana and Sitā, and appearing as if she had been dancing incessantly. The king exclaimed,—"Stay," Rāghava said,—"On, On." Sumantra's mind vascillated like that of one placed between two hosts burning to encounter each other. Rāma said unto him—"When taxed by the monarch (on your return), you will say, 'I did not hear you.' But delay will impart me terrible pain." Thereupon, doing Rāma's bidding, the charioteer, telling the people to desist, made the horses already coursing, run faster. The retainers of the king stopped after circumambulating Rāma, but their minds did not turn back. But the others did not return either bodily or mentally. Then the courtiers said unto that mighty monarch, Daçarātha,—"He that is expected back should not be followed far." Hearing their words, the king endued with every virtue, with his body covered with perspiration and his countenance woe-begone, and exceeding distressed, stopped short and stood along with his wife looking at his son.
SECTION XLI.
When that foremost of men had gone out of the city with joined hands, there arose a chorus of cries proceeding from the females residing in the inner apartment. "Where goeth he that was the stay and refuge of the friendless, the feeble, and the helpless? He that although falsely accused, used not to be moved by anger, who pacified every enraged person by renouncing things calculated to fan anger and who felt equally for all, where goeth he? Where goeth that highly energetic and magnanimous one who conducted himself with us as he did with his mother Kauçalyā? Afflicted by Kaikeyi and commissioned by the monarch unto the woods, where goeth the deliverer of these people—of the entire world? Ah! the senseless monarch is sending to the woods the stay of all creatures—the righteous and truthful Rāma." Thus all the queens, oppressed with grief, burst out into lamentations like kine bereft of calves, and loud was the sound of their wailing. Hearing the loud tumult of lamentation in the inner apartment, the lord of earth burning in grief for his son was striken with sorrow. And oblations unto the fire had not been offered; and the Sun set; and elephants forsook their forage; and the kine did not suckle their calves. Trisanku, Lohitānga, Vrihashpati, Budha and the other Grahas getting at the Moon, remained with fierce aspects. The stars are shorn of their brightness; the Grahas deprived of sheen; and Viçakhā appeareth enveloped in haze. And clouds driven by the wind resembled the sea mounting the welkin; and the city shook on Rāma having departed for the forest. And the cardinal points are distressed, and appear enveloped in darkness. And no planet or star is to be seen. And all of a sudden the citizens have been striken with poverty: and no one turns his thoughts to eating or drinking. And ceaselessly burning in grief and heaving sighs, the people in Ayodhyā rage at the monarch. And with their faces washed in tears, the wayfarers betoken no delight, but all are being exercised with grief. And the cool air does not blow, and no moon of mild appearance is seen, and no sun heats the world, all the entire Earth is overwhelmed with woe. And sons depend not upon their parents, hurbands on their wives, and brothers on brothers; and all forsaking each other, think of Rāma only. And deprived of sense, and oppressed by the load of sorrow, the friends of Rāma forsook their rest. Like the Earth with her mountains bereft of Purandara, Ayodhyā, bereft of Rāma, shook, agitated by fear and grief; and the citizens with elephants and warriors uttered exclamations of distress.
SECTION XLII.
So long as he could see the dust raised by the car of Rāma setting out for the forest, so long that best of the Ikshwāku race did not turn his eyes from that direction. And so long as the king could discover his exceedingly virtuous and favorite son, so long he raised himself (on his toes) on the earth with the view of beholding him. And when the ruler of earth could no longer perceive even the dust raised by Rāma's car, then pierced with sorrow, and in heaviness of heart, he fell down to the ground. Then (raising him up), Kauçalyā held his right arm and walked with him, while the slender-waisted Kaikeyi walked by his left. Endowed with a sense of justice and with virtue and humility, the king with afflicted senses steadily eyeing Kaikeyi, thus spake unto her,—"O Kaikeyi, that hast decided for following sin, do thou not touch my person,—nor do I wish to see thee. Thou art no wife of mine—not even a maid-servant of a friend sharing his good graces. I am none to those that subsist on thy favour, nor are they anything to me. I renounce thee who solely seekest thy interest and hast abandoned virtue. I renounce all the advantages pertaining either to this world or the next which I am entitled to by virtue of having obtained thy hand and having made thee circumambulate the sacrifical fire. If Bharata is satisfied with receiving this entire kingdom, let not what he spends on account of my funeral obsequies find its way to me." Then raising the lord of men covered with dust, the noble Kauçalyā pierced with grief, stopped (along with the monarch). The righteous one remembering Rāghava repented himself, as if he had slain a Brāhmana through inordinate desire, or as if he had placed his hand in fire. And having stopped again and again, the visage of the monarch lamenting on beholding the track of the car, appeared dim like the Moon invaded by Rāhu. And stricken with grief, he lamented, remembering his beloved son; and thinking that by this time he had reached the precincts of the city, he broke out into the following,—"On the way are traced the foot-prints of those foremost of bearers that are carrying my son away; but that magnanimous one I do not find. And that meritorious son of mine, who, doubed with sandal, used to rest his head pleasantly upon a pillow, fanned by beauteous damsels decked in ornaments, will to-day surely take refuge underneath a tree, and lay his head on a wooden plank or a stone. Covered with dust, he heaving sighs will rise from the ground in sad guise, like a leader of she-elephants rising from the side of a mountain. The rangers of the woods will now see the long-armed Rāma resembling the lord himself of the worlds, rising from the ground and going like one forlorn. And that one so dearly loved by Janaka, worthy of being constantly ministered unto with comforts, is to-day going to the forest, fatigued in consequence of having been pierced with thorns. Unacquainted with the forest, she is certainly afflicted with fright on hearing the deep roars of ferocious beasts, capable of making one's hair stand erect. O Kaikeyi, do thou realize thy desire,—do thou becoming a widow, rule this kingdom. Without that best of men I cannot live." Thus lamenting, the king surrounded by the multitude, like one that had performed his bath after death, entered that best of cities filled with people enfeebled and smitten with grief, with its streets thined of men and its stalls closed. And beholding that entire city, with his mind fixed upon Rāma, the king lamenting, like unto the sun entering clouds, entered that city like unto an unagitated sea rid of serpents by Suparna,[142] the city without Rāma or Lakshmana or Sitā. Then with tears in his eyes, the lord of earth, lamenting, in unintelligible accents said these sad and broken words,—"Do you speedily take me to the room of Rāma's mother, Kauçalyā; for in no other place shall I find rest for my heart." When the king had spoken thus, the ushers taking him to Kauçalyā's chamber, made him lie down in lowly plight. And having entered Kauçalyā's apartment, the king having laid himself on the bed, was overwhelmed with emotion. And the king surveyed the mansion deprived of his two sons as well as his daughter-in-law, like unto the welkin deprived of the Moon. Beholding this, the puissant sovereign raising up his arm, burst out into lamentations, saying,— "Ah! Rāma, thou forsakest us both! Ah me! surely those blessed people are happy, who having passed this gap of time, will behold Rāma returned and will embrace him." Then when the night had come like unto his own fatal night, Daçarātha at mid-night addressed Kauçalyā saying,—"I do not perceive thee, O Kauçalyā. Do thou touch me with thy hand. My sight having followed Rāma doth not return yet." Then seeing that foremost of men absorbed in the contemplation of Rāma, that noble dame sat by him, and afflicted with greater grief, began to indulge a sorrow,[143] sighing heavily.