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.
SECTION LXV.
When the night had gone away, on the morning of the next day, eulogists, accomplished bards, genealogists skilled in reciting, and singers versed in musical permutation, presenting themselves at the place of the sovereign, began to perform separately. And as they eulogized the monarch with benedictions loudly uttered, the palace resounded with the sounds of the eulogies. And as the bards hymned the monarch, palm-players celebrating the deeds of the kings of the Raghu race, began to play with their palms. And awakened by those sounds, birds on boughs and in cages worthy of the royal race, uttered notes. And the sacred words uttered (by these), the notes of Vinās, and the valedictory songs of singers filled that mansion. And as on former occasions, men practising purity and well up in serving, with numerous women and eunuchs entered appearance. Persons acquainted with the ceremonials connected with bath, according to the ordinance and in due time, in golden vessels brought water impregnated with hari- sandal powder. Pure females together with many virgins brought kine &c, which were to be touched, Ganges water for sipping, mirrors, cloths, ornaments and other articles. All the things that were procured (for presentation unto the monarch) were worshipped in accordance with prescription, were furnished with auspicious marks, and were of excellent virtues and possessed of auspiciousness. As long as the sun did not rise, all these people remained expecting the presence of the king; but then they were alarmed as to what had occurred.
Those ladies that were beside the bed of the lord of Koçala, were consoling their husband. And engaged in tending the monarch with mild and pliant words, those females knowing the condition of sleep, feeling him as he lay in his bed, did not perceive any action in the ever-moving pulse. Thereupon apprehensive for the king's life, they began to tremble like a blade of grass on a torrent. Filled with doubts at sight of the king, the ladies at last concluded that what had been apprehended (by the monarch) had certainly taken place. Overcome by grief for their sons, Sumitrā and Kauçalyā were sleeping as if they were dead, and had not yet awaked. Deprived of lustre, pallid, stricken by sorrow, and lying with her limbs contracted, Kauçalyā looked like a star enveloped in darkness. And after Kauçalyā, the king, and after him, Sumitrā; and with her countenance faded from grief, this noble lady did not look particularly lovely. Finding these two ladies asleep and the king seeming as if sleeping, the inmates of the inner apartment showed themselves as if their lives had departed out of them. Thereupon exceedingly distressed, those paragons of their sex, like she-elephants in the forest deprived of their leader of the herd, broke out into wailing. At the sounds of their lamentations, bpth Kauçalyā and Sumitrā suddenly regaining consciousness, awoke from their sleep. And Kauçalyā and Sumitrā looking at the king and feeling him, felt down to the earth, exclaiming, "Ah lord." As the daughter of Koçala's lord rolled on the ground, she covered with dust did not appear in all her loveliness, like a star fallen from the sky to the earth below. And when the king had departed this life, the women saw Kauçalyā fallen on the earth like the slain mate of an elephant. Then all the wives of the monarch headed by Kaikeyi, burning with grief and weeping, were well nigh rendered senseless. And the loud sounds emitted by these, mingling with those (who had been lamenting before them), attained greater proportions and filled the hall. And the mansion of the king became filled with people exceedingly excited and frightened, eager to know all about the matter,—became filled with lamentations, with friends afflicted with distress, its joy instantaneously vanished—a scene of distress and dole. Knowing that the lord of earth had departed, his wives surrounding that illustrious one, smitten with excess of sorrow and weeping bitterly and piteously, holding the king's hands indulged in lamentations, like forlorn ones.
SECTION LXVI.
Seeing the king had ascended heaven., like unto a fire that has cooled, or an ocean deprived of its waters, or the sun shorn of his splendour, Kauçalyā afflicted with woe, taking on her lap the head of the king, with tears in her eyes, said, "O Kaikeyi, attain thou thy wishes: do thou enjoy this kingdom rid of thy thorn. O cruel one, O thou of wicked ways, thou that forsaking the king had set thy heart (on having thy son crowned), Rāma had gone away, forsaking me; and now my lord has ascended heaven. I can too longer bear to live, like one left lone in a wilderness by her companions. What other woman except Kaikeyi lost to righteousness, having lost her deity, her lord, wishes to carry on existence in another's kingdom? As a covetuous person taking poison (through anger or some other passion), does not consider himself guilty, (so Kaikeyi) having done this evil through Mantharā's incitement, does not bring her guilt home to her mind. It is through the instrumentality of the hump-backed woman that this race of the Rāghavas has been destroyed by Kaikeyi. Hearing that the king being made to do an unrighteous action, has banished Rāma together with his wife, king Janaka will be filled with grief as I have been. That virtuous one does not know that to-day I have become helpless and been widowed. Rāma of eyes resembling lotus-petals has living been removed from my sight. The fair daughter of Videha's king unworthy of hardship, in ascetic guise is leading a life of trouble and terror in the woods. Hearing at night the dreadful roars of birds and beasts crying, she exceedingly frightened takes shelter with Rāghava. Old and having an only daughter, he revolving in his mind thoughts of Vaidehi, shall, smitten with grief, surely renounce his life. I ever faithful to my lord will die this very day, embracing this body; I will enter fire." As embracing the (dead) body, that unfortunate lady was bewailing, the courtiers had the distressed (queen) removed from there. Then placing the corpse of the king in a (capacious) pan with oil, the courtiers performed the mourning rites of the monarch. But well versed in every thing, the counsellors, in the absence of his son, did not perform the funeral obsequies of the king; and therefore they placed his body stretched in the pan of oil. Alas! at length concluding it for certain that the king was dead, the ladies burst out into lamentations. And raising their arms, with tears trickling down their faces, they in dire affliction and extremely exercised with grief, lamented, "O monarch, why do you forsake us, who have been already deprived of Rāma ever speaking fair and firm in promise? Renounced by Rāma, how shall ye, rendered widows, stay with the wicked Kaikeyi, co-wife with us? That one of free soul is our master, as he is the lord of yourself. Rāma has gone to the woods, forsaking regal dignity. Deprived of you as well as that hero, and overwhelmed with misfortune, how shall we live reprimanded by Kaikeyi? She that has renounced the king, Rāma, and Lakshmana along with Sitā— whom can such a one not renounce?" Thus with tears in their eyes, the wives of that descendant of Raghu, joyless and convulsed with a huge passion, displayed signs of sorrow. Like a night without stars, like a fair one forsaken by her husband, the city of Ayodhyā without the magnanimous monarch did not appear delightful as it had done before, with the populace filled with tears, the ladies uttering exclamations of distress, and the terraces and courts deserted. On the lord of men having ascended heaven from grief, and the wives of the king remaining on the earth, the sun, his journey done, set, and the night began her course. The idea of consuming the king's corpse in the absence of his son did not recommend itself to the assembled adherents (of the departed). Thinking this, they in that way laid the king endowed with an inconceivably dignified presence. And with her terraces overflowing with tears that flooded the throats of the mourners, the city appeared like the welkin without its splendour in the absence of the sun, or the night with the stars enveloped. And on the demise of that illustrious personage, in the city men and women in multitudes, censuring Bharata's mother, became extremely distressed, and did not attain peace of mind.
SECTION LXVII.
AT length the weary night in Ayodhyā. rendered cheerless by lamentations, and populous with men with voice choked with tears, was spent. And when the night departed and the sun had arisen, those officers of the royal house-hold belonging to the twice-born order, Mārkandeya, Maudgalya, Vāmadeva, Kāçyapa, Kātyāyana, Gautama, and the highly famous Jāvāli, assembled together along with the the counsellors, spoke each on different topics. Then facing the royal priest, the eminent Vasistha, they said, "That night that had appeared like unto an hundred years has at last been painfully passed. The king racked by sorrow for his son has breathed his last, the mighty monarch has ascended heaven, Rāma has taken refuge in the woods, the energetic Lakshmana has gone with Rāma, and both Bharata and Satrugna— repressors of foes—are staying in Kekaya in pleasant Rajagriha, the abode of their maternal grandfather. Do you select some one this very day from the descendants of Ikshwāku, be king here. Verily doth a kingdom go to ruin, when without a king. He that goes garlanded with lightning, and has a mighty voice, even the cloud—doth not with skyey shower drench the Earth in a kingdom without a king. In a kingless kingdom no one sows corn. In a kingless kingdom the son does not obey his sire, or the wife her husband. A kingless kingdom possesses no wealth, and wives are hard to keep in such a place. This great fear attends a kingless country. And where is other morality (besides that detailed above) to be found at such a place? In a kingless country men do not form themselves into associations, nor do they, inspired with cheerfulness, make elegant gardens or sacred edifices. In a kingless country, the twice-born ones do not celebrate sacrifices. In a kingless country, in mighty sacrifices wealthy Brāhmanas do not confer (on the officiating priests) the dakshinās (which they receive according to the ordinance), In a kingless country, neither social gatherings, nor festivities characterised by the presence of merry theatrical managers and performers, increase. In a kingless country disputants cannot decide their point; nor are persons given to hearing Purānic recitations pleased by those delighting in the practice. In a kingless country, bevies of virgins decked in gold do not repair to gardens for purposes of sport. In a kingless country, the wealthy are not well protected; nor do shepherds and cultivators sleep with their doors open. In a kingless country pleasure-seeking people do not in company with females go to the woods by means of swift vehicles, In a kingless country long-tusked elephants sixty years old, bearing bells on their necks, do not walk the highway. In a kingless country one hears not the clappings of persons engaged in shooting arrows constantly. In a kingless country traders coming from distant lands, loaded with various kinds of merchandise, do not with safety go along the roads. In a kingless country the ascetic with his subdued senses, himself his sole protector, who makes his quarters wherever evening overtakes him, cannot walk contemplating the Deity. In a kingless country, one cannot protect what one has, or procure what one has not. In a kingless country, the forces cannot bear the onslaught of the foe. In a kingless country men cannot at will go on excellent and high-mettled horses and ornamented cars. In a kingless country persons well versed in learning can not engage in controversy, repairing to woods and groves. In a kingless country, persons with intent hearts do not offer garlands, sweets, and dakshinās, for worshipping the gods. In a kingless country, princes smeared with sandal and aguru, do not look graceful like trees in spring. Even as a river without water, a wood without grass, a herd of kine without a keeper, is a kingdom without a king. The sign of a car is its pennon, of fire is smoke, and our banner the king, has gone to heaven. In a kingless country a person hardly preserves his life; and like fishes people eat up one another. Even those heretics who having disregarded the dignity of social morality had met with chastisement at the hands of the king, their fear removed—give themselves airs. As the sight is engaged in the welfare of the body, the king—that fountain of truth and religion—is engaged in compassing the good of the kingdom. The king is truth, the king is morality, the king is the racial dignity of those possessed of the same, the king is the father, the king is the mother—the king compasseth the welfare of men. By virtue of magnanimity of character, a king surpasses Yama and Vaiçravana and Sakra and Varuna endowed with mighty strength. If there were not a king in this world to adjudge fair and foul, darkness would overspread (the face of the earth) and people could not distinguish anything whatever. As the ocean keepeth within its continent, we even while the monarch lived, did not disregard your words. Do you, O best of Brāhmanas, beholding our acts rendered nugatory, and this empire become a wilderness for want of a king, install that descendant of Ikshwāku or any other as king of this realm."