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."
SECTION LXI.
On that foremost of those capable of charming people, the righteous Rāma, repairing to the forest, Kauçalyā crying in grief said unto her husband, "Your great fame has spread over the three worlds; and the descendant of Raghu is kind, munificent and fair-speaking. Why then have you forsaken those foremost of men along with Sitā? Brought up in happiness, and now brought to misery, how can they bear it? And how can the youthful daughter of Mithilā of slender make, tender, and deserving of happiness, bear heat and cold? Having formerly partaken of (excellent) rice with curries, how will Sitā feed on wild rice? Having heard excellent vocal and instrumental music, how will Sitā hear the frightful cries of carnivorous lions? Resembling the gonfalon of the great Indra, where sleepeth the mighty-armed and exceedingly powerful Rāma, making his arm like unto a mace his pillow? When shall I behold Rāma's countenance hued like the lotus, with his hair ending beautifully (in curls), and his breath impregnated with the fine perfume of the lotus, and his eyes resembling lotus leaves? Surely my heart, without doubt, is made of the essence of the thunderbolt, since not beholding him, it is not cracked in a thousand fragments. It is because of your sad act that mine own, being thwarted, although worthy of happiness, are miserably ranging the wilderness. If after the expiration of the five and ten years, Rāghava does return, it does not appear likely that Bharata will renounce the kingdom and the exchequer. Some on the occasions of the Srāddha (first) feast their own friends, and having done this, they mind the choice Brāhmanas. But those twice-born ones that are meritorious, learned, and like unto celestials, do not at the last moment regard even viands resembling ambrosia. Brāhmanas of high respectibility endowed with wisdom never bear being entertained after the other twice- born ones have been feasted, even as bulls never quietly bear to have their horns cut off. Why will not an elder brother and one who has sterling merits, O monarch, disregard a kingdom which hath been thus enjoyed by his younger brother? A tiger doth not like to feed on food procured by others. Even so that tiger-like personage does not regard anything that has come to be tasted by another. Clarified butter, sacrificial cakes, Kuça, stakes of catechu having been used in one sacrifice cannot be used in another,—even so this kingdom which hath been already enjoyed, like unto liquor deprived of its essence or a sacrifice whose soma hath been eaten, cannot be accepted by Rāma. Such an ill treatment Rāghava will not put up with, even as a powerful tiger cannot bear the rubbing of its tail (by another). This world aided by the gods fear to encounter him in high conflict; but he restrains himself, thinking any such action on his part as unrighteous. Indeed, that righteous one brings back people to morality. Surely, that mighty-armed one endowed with exceeding prowess, can with his golden shafts burn all creatures and the oceans, like the Day at the dissolution of all. But such a man of men, possessed of leonine strength, and graced with the eyes of a bull, has been destroyed by his father, like a fish destroying his offspring. If you had believed in the morality prescribed in the scriptures, and which is followed by the twice-born ones, you would not have banished your son. But disregarding such morality, you have banished your virtuous son. One of the refuges of a woman is her husband, a second is her son, and a third is her relatives; and a fourth she has none. But you cease to be mine; and Rāma has been sent to the woods. I do not like to go into the forest; so I am entirely undone by you. This kingdom, your own kingdom, has been destroyed by you; destroyed are; along with the counsellors; destroyed am I with my son; and destroyed are the citizens: your son and your wife are alone delighted." Hearing these words uttered in heart-rending accents, Daçarātha exceedingly distressed, became senseless. And being afflicted with grief, he again remembered his evil act.
SECTION LXII.
Thus harshly addressed by the indignant mother of Rāma, the king aggrieved was plunged in thought. Having thought for a long while, that repressor of foes, the king, who had lost his senses through grief, regained consciousness. And having regained his senses, he sighing hot and hard, seeing Kauçalyā beside him, was again lost in thought. As he was thinking, the sinful act which he had through ignorance formerly committed by means of the shaft which hits by sound, rose up (in his recollection). Afflicted with this grief as well as that on account of Rāma, that lord, the king, burned in these two several griefs. Burning in grief and distressed, he trembling and with joined hands, with his head hanging down, addressed Kauçalyā, with the view of pacifying her, "I deprecate thy displeasure, O Kauçalyā, with joined hands. Thou art ever affectionate and dost not treat harshly even enemies. Verily unto women cognizant of virtue, a husband, whether he has any merits or not, is a very deity. Ever virtuous, thou, that hast seen both the virtuous and the vicious, although aggrieved, ought not to say anything unpleasant unto me who am weighed down with woe." Having heard these piteous words of the distressed king, Kauçalyā uttered words even as a water-way lets out fresh accession of rain. And weeping, she drew on her head the joined hands of the king resembling lotuses; and then flurried spoke these words hurriedly informed with extreme affection, "Be thou propitious; I beseech with (bended) head. I bow unto thee, falling on the ground. O reverend one, besought by thee, I shall be undone. I do not deserve to be forgiven by thee. She cannot be reckoned a gentlewoman, who is propitiated by her intelligent husband, worthy of being extolled in both the worlds. I know duty, O righteous one; I know that thou art truth-telling. And it is because I was exceedingly distressed on account of my son that I spoke harshly to thee. Sorrow destroys patience, sorrow destroys knowledge of the scriptures, sorrow destroys every thing; there is no enemy like unto sorrow. One can falling down bear beating from an enemy; but one cannot falling down bear ever so little sorrow. This is the fifth night of the banishment of Rāma, as calculated by me; and to me rendered cheerless by sorrow, this interval has assumed the proportions of five years. And fostered by thought on my part, this grief increases in my bosom, like the mighty waters of the ocean increased by the vehement discharge of rivers." As Kauçalyā was thus speaking auspiciously, the rays of the sun grew milder, and the night arrived. Cheered up by the words of Kauçalyā, the king overcome by grief, felt the influence of sleep.
SECTION LXIII.
Starting in a moment from sleep, king Daçarātha deprived (almost) of his consciousness by grief, (again) became a prey to thought. And in consequence of the exile of Rāma and Lakshmana, the king resembling Vāsava was overpowered by grief, like the darkness of Rāhu enveloping the sun. Then on Rāma's having gone along with his wife, the lord of the Koçalas, remembering his own misdeed, felt anxious to communicate himself to that lady having her eyes furnished with dark outer corners. And on the sixth night after Rāma had repaired to the forest, the king Daçarātha, when it was midnight, remembered his own unrighteous act. And then unto Kauçalyā aggrieved on account of her son, he spoke these words, "As are the actions of one, O auspicious one—whether good or otherwise— are the consequences, O gentle lady, reaped by the doer of them. He that on the eve of beginning an action either relating to this world or the next, does not take into consideration the fact that actions entail consequences light or grave, disagreeable (or otherwise), is styled a child. He that cutting down a mango grove, waters Palāsa trees, beholding the flowers (blooming), will covet fruits; and grieve when their season arrives. The person that without apprehending (the principle of causation) rushes to action, grieves at the season of fruits, even like him that watereth kinsuka trees (hewing down his mango grove). And in this way, I fool that I am having hewn down my grove of mangos and watered Palāças,—having renounced Rāma in the season of fruit, is grieving in the end. Having, O Kauçalyā, earned the expression—'The Prince can pierce his aim by sound alone,'—I, a prince and bowman, did this offence. Therefore, O noble dame, I have myself brought this misfortune on me. like a child who has eaten poison through ignorance. And even like another person fascinated by the sight of some Palāsa trees (and doing as mentioned above), I (did this act) not foreknowing the consequence that would follow my shooting by sound. O lady, thou wert then unwedded; and I was a youthful prince. And it was at this time that the rainy season increasing my desire set in. Drawing moisture from the ground and heated the earth by his rays, the Sun goes to the dreadful quarter whither repair the dead. The heat was immediately dispelled, and the gelid clouds showed themselves; and frogs and Sārangas and peacocks began to rejoice; and, finding it unpleasant, the feathered ones bathed and with the surface of their plumage shrunk up from the wet, took refuge in trees shaken by the wind and rain. And the hill graced by maddened Sārangas, covered by showers falling simultaneously looked like a mass of waters. And the waters although unstained, being mixed up with mineral substances and ashes from the mountain, flowed in serpentine torrents black and red. At such a sweet hour, I intent upon taking excercise, taking my bow and arrows and mounted on my car, sallied out for the river Sarayu, with the intention that I with my senses under control, should in the watery expense slay any bufifelo, elephant, or any other beast that might have come there in the night. And (coming there) while it was so dark that nothing could be discovered, I heard sounds of a filling pitcher proceeding from the waters; resembling the roars of an elephant. Thereupon raising up my shaft flaming and like unto a serpent of virulent poison, I desirous of hunting the (imaginary) elephant, let fly my shaft in the direction of the sound. Thereupon from the spot whereto the sharpened shaft resembling a poisonous snake had been discharged by me in the twilight, proceeded cries of 'Oh' and 'Alas' uttered by a forester pierced to the quick by the arrow, and falling into the water. And when he had dropped down, words spoken by a human being became audible. 'Why doth the weapon light upon me? I had come to this lone stream for procuring water. By whom have I been wounded by this arrow? To whom have I done wrong? And how can the slaying of one like me bearing a load of matted locks, and wearing bark and deer-skin, who subsists on what the forest yields and never injures others, be sanctioned by the scriptures? Who can serve any purpose by slaying me? And how can I have injured such an one? Such a purposeless act cannot but end in evil. This can never be reckoned as righteous; even like unto violating the chastity of a preceptor's wife. I do not so much lament my end as I lament it on account of my father and mother. To what will the old couple, who have ever been maintained by me, betake themselves when I am gone? My father and mother are old, and I their only son am slain. What boy is it of uncontrolled senses that has killed us all?"
"Hearing his piteous words, I ever anxious to follow virtue, was exceedingly pained, and the bow with its arrow fixed fell down from my hand to the earth. Hearing in the night, the pathetic words of the saint thus lamenting, I became frightened, and was deprived of my senses through excess of grief. And coming to the quarter, I exceedingly unnerved and with an excited mind, discovered on the banks of the Sarayu an ascetic wounded with a shaft, with his matted locks scattered about, his pitcher of water lying by, his body smeared with blood and dust and afflicted by the dart. Gazing with his eyes at me who was extremely agitated and ill at ease, he said these words sternly, as if consuming me with his energy, 'What wrong, O monarch, had I residing in the woods done thee, that coming to procure water for my parents, I have been thus afflicted by thee? By piercing my marrow with a shaft, thou hast slain both my aged and blind father and mother. Surely, they feeble and blind, who afflicted by thirst are remaining in expectation of me, will now bear (the stress and tension of) the expectation as well as the parching thirst. Surely asceticism and study carry no fruit with them, since I lying low on the ground, my father knows nothing about it. And what could he do, even if he knew it, being as he is incapable and unable to go about? One tree cannot rescue another that is being batttered (by the winds). Do thou, O descendant of Raghu, thyself going to my father, speedily inform of him this that has occurred. But take care that like a fire waxing furious consuming a wood, he in his ire do not burn thee. This narrow way, O king, will lead thee unto my father's dwelling. Do thou going there, pacify him, so that getting wroth he may not curse thee. Do thou (now), O king, take out the arrow. Thy sharpened shaft afflicts my marrow, like the tide of a river wearing away a hollow-heaving sand bank.' But touching the extracting of the arrow, this thought perplexed me: 'If the arrow is left alone, it pains; if extracted, death ensues.' As I was distressed, aggrieved and inflicted with sorrow, the son of the ascetic perceived my anxiety. Thereupon that one well versed in the scriptures sinking motionless, with his eyes rolling upwards, and waxing extremely weak, said with difficulty, 'Restraining sorrow, I by dint of patience become calm. Do thou remove from thy mind the grief caused by the consciousness of having slain a Brāhmana. O king, I belong not to the twice-born race: let not thy mind be pained. O lord of the foremost men, I was begot by a Vaicya on a Sudra woman.' As he, his vitals afflicted with the shaft, his eyes rolling, inert and trembling on the ground, with his limbs drawn in, was speaking with difficulty, I drew out the arrow. Thereupon, looking at me, the ascetic, growing affrighted, gave up the ghost. On beholding him with his body dripping with water, and mortally wounded, and breathing hard without respite, after he had bewailed his mortal wound, lying on the banks of the Sarayu, I lamented him and was, O gentle lady, greatly aggrieved."