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“If I agree with your scheme, the world will scorn me as an infatuated dog. But they will also scorn you, Kaikeyi. Can’t you see this?”
“You speak of hate, but I speak of truth,” Kaikeyi answered. “You are stubbornly avoiding your duty. You care only for Rama and Kausalya. Bharata and I are nothing to you.”
Observing their heated exchange, Rama felt he was not even there. Their hate was as exclusive as their love once had been, and yet Rama was the vortex around which it all swirled, at a dizzying speed.
“How will I face Kausalya,” Dasharatha asked, “after sending her son into the jungle? She deserves the kindest treatment, which I have failed to give, doting on you, serpent of a wife.”
“Praising Kausalya will certainly not sway me.”
“If I do as you say,” Dasharatha said, “Kausalya, Sumitra, and our sons will feel tortured.
Having thrown all of us into hell, you alone will be happy.”
Kaikeyi said nothing. Father slumped in his seat.
Kaikeyi turned back to Rama, her eyes ablaze. “Do not concern yourself with your father or his words. He is just mortified because you are his pet son. I advise you to leave as soon as possible. Until you leave, he will not recover himself. I doubt he will be able to eat breakfast or bathe until you are out of the city.”
The king crouched in his seat as if in pain. Rama ran forward to him; he understood clearly now that the exile was contrary to his father’s desire. Rama had grown to manhood without ever seeing his father so vulnerable. He kept his arms around his father.
For the first time, he reproved Kaikeyi. “I am not a slave of passion or greed, Mother. I would gladly have given you the kingdom had you only asked. What was the need to trouble Father? You could have simply asked me. I will always obey you.”
Kaikeyi’s eyes filled with tears. But she clenched her jaw and said softly, as if she was asking him to stay, “Make haste, Rama. It’s time. Go now.”
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Implored by his stepmother, Rama reluctantly let go of his feeble father and left.
Emerging from Kaikeyi’s chamber, Rama saw Lakshmana pacing furiously. He obviously had not missed a single word from within. Lakshmana’s fists were clenched, his knuckles white. His eyes were an explosion of red. While Rama was tightly withheld, Lakshmana was bursting with fury. “We will send her into exile!”
Rama quelled Lakshmana with one look and did not give his brother a chance to speak; he hurried to his mother’s palace. Lakshmana silently followed Rama’s rushed steps.
“I have to inform Mother personally about my exile,” he told Lakshmana. “If she hears the news from someone else, I fear she will break down and never recover.”
As Rama proceeded to his mother’s chambers, he felt keenly how his mother’s life revolved around him, how much she depended on him.
It was not his fault that he had to leave her, but it felt like it was. Rama schooled his face to calmness. He had to be prepared to see the shock of those close to him without compound-ing it with his own. The pain he felt came from Kaikeyi’s transformation and his father’s anguish. Rama realized that by carrying out the order, he was actually hurting his father, but there was no other choice. Rama did not want Kausalya to see his anguish, so he curtained off his mind as he walked into his mother’s quarters.
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chapter 52
A Mother’s Sorrow
hen Dasharatha had announced Rama as his heir, Kausalya had felt that Wall her years of observances had yielded their results. Although Rama was the firstborn son, Kausalya had not taken her son’s rights for granted. The king’s announcement and the explosive joy of Ayodhya felt like the crowning jewel making up for years of exclusion.
Kausalya had turned to the golden altar with joy, lighting every single flame, offering special oblations into the sacred fire, and offering an abundance of flowers.
She had given gifts to every person that she knew, which numbered in the thousands.
She had sent Rani and Divya and all the head maids to deliver the presents she could not personally see to. Now Kausalya sat by the altar in her private chamber, waiting to be summoned to her son’s side. She was instrumental in the consecration ceremony, for a son could do nothing without the blessing of his mother.
Sitting with her hands folded and eyes closed, Kausalya felt the strength of her purity. Her body over the years had grown lean, almost ascetic, due to her observance of vows. Her hair was pure white. She wore a rich silk sari that shimmered with pure gold. The Great Queen felt happy and peaceful, and when Rama arrived, her heart lit up, like the sacred fire blazing up when fed. Before Kausalya could express
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her happiness, however, Rama took both her hands and told her in quick words of Kaikeyi’s two wishes. Kausalya slowly lowered herself to the floor.
This was the final assault by Kaikeyi and Manthara, one so low, Kausalya had not seen it coming. She covered her eyes with her hands. She did not want Rama to see the bitterness drying up her face. That malicious Kaikeyi!
“This is unacceptable, my son,” she said through her fingers. “On what grounds are you being exiled?”
When Rama was silent, Kausalya took a deep breath and removed her hands from her face. She knew how close Rama was to his father. She took hold of his hand and pulled herself up, looking into his sweet face. Yes, her son was deeply aggrieved, though he tried to hide it.
Kausalya wanted to march out at once, pulling Rama by the hand, and confront Dasharatha and Kaikeyi. At the same time, a wave of remorse swept over her.
“This is all my fault,” she whispered.
Rama’s eyes widened. “Mother?”
“I warned them both,” she said. “Your father and your third mother. I had such a strong feeling that their love affair would be destructive to Ayodhya. They did not listen. And I did nothing.”
“Mother,” Rama said, compassion in his eyes and voice. He was being thrown out of his home, like a base criminal, and yet his concern was for her.
Kausalya drew herself up. Her ascetic purity blazed up within her. “I will not let this happen. I will use all my resources as the Great Queen to stop this.”
“Yes!” Lakshmana said, and Kausalya’s eyes flickered to him for the first time. His fists were clenched, and his nostrils flared.
“No,” Rama said quietly. “Give me your blessing so that I will return safely to Ayodhya once the fourteen years are complete.”
Kausalya covered her mouth, tears rising in her throat. Rama had made up his mind.
“I cannot accept that Rama follows the orders of that vulgar woman,” Lakshmana said, his breath laborious. “Mother, I want you to know that I am loyal to Rama and Rama alone.
Father has clearly become senile, controlled by lust and old age, and he will now do anything Kaikeyi proposes. I will not stand by while my brother is robbed of what is rightfully his. I am ready to take up my sword and fight for the throne. If anyone tries to stop me, I will annihi-late the entire city! I swear, if the king is against us, I am ready to kill even him!”
“Don’t speak like that about Father,” Rama said, still in a quiet voice. “I know your loyalty to me is unbreakable. But don’t be so quick to turn against Father.”
“I disagree, Rama! A guru or a father who has gone astray should be rejected. Father has proven beyond all doubt that he is not capable of following righteousness any longer. He should be rejected and overthrown.”
Kausalya assessed Lakshmana with discerning eyes.
“Brother, you are angry,” Rama said. “That’s why you think like this.”
“You should be angry too!”
“But has Father ever been unjust before this day? Have you ever seen him follow evil 432
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ways? He has taught us everything we know about goodness, and we should never forget this. He is not doing this out of misplaced attachment to Kaikeyi. I swear my life on it. You didn’t see him, Lakshmana. He is suffering. He has been trapped by his own words. Don’t forget the boons he gave Kaikeyi.”
Lakshmana faced his brother squarely, Kausalya standing between them. “You are forgetting that you are a warrior. You should fight for what is yours. Destroy your enemies and reverse this injustice. My arrows itch to subdue this uprising. I am prepared to die for you, brother. Instruct me and I will claim the land under your control. I am your servant.”
Kausalya’s eyes rested on Rama. Lakshmana’s words were aligned with a warrior’s way.
Rama said, “Brother, we are not speaking of enemies, but of our father and mother.
Check your anger, Lakshmana. Forget these insults and gather courage instead. Revenge is never a commendable path. Even if our father has wronged us, we must not wrong him in return. I have never consciously displeased any of my elders, and I will not begin today.”
“Kaikeyi. That snake. She is no mother. I will have her exiled for fourteen years!”
“Do not work against me, Lakshmana. Fate has cast her web, and we are her pawns.”
“Now is not the time for panic,” Lakshmana insisted, “which is surely the source of your response. Could a man like you talk this way were he not fearful of losing people’s respect?
How can you blame Fate, a contemptible, feeble thing? I despise this righteousness, which is completely clouding your thinking. Today you will see fate checked by my arrows, just as your royal consecration was checked by so-called Fate. This is the only path to please Ayodhya and its people.”
Rama’s voice rose. “The people will become satisfied as soon as Bharata is on the throne and they see that he is a good king. I must be far away from here by then. The people will not accept Bharata while I am still here.” Rama turned to his mother. “I insist, Mother, that you give me your blessing. Messengers have already been sent to bring Bharata home. I must leave as soon as possible.”
Kausalya did not move. She looked at Lakshmana. If only his powerful arguments could sway Rama from his misplaced sense of duty. Like Lakshmana, Kausalya felt no righteousness in this exile. It was the mere whim of a power-hungry woman.
Rama became stern. “Mother, now you are joining sides with Lakshmana without considering my opinion. I will honor my father’s promise. I will go to the forest wearing deerskin and matted hair for his sake. I will remain dutiful to my father’s word.” He took her hands again and said earnestly, “Mother, please do not make this hard for me. I am determined to protect my father’s honor. I don’t want to go without your blessing. Please grant it to me.”
Kausalya had carefully watched the exchange between Rama and Lakshmana. She knew that Rama would not waver. Not ever. A fierce pride rose in her heart. She had not taken the easy path when it came to Kaikeyi, but it had been the righteous one. Her son was doing the same. How could she dissuade him from such conviction?
Quivering with unshed tears, she called out to the elements to protect her son. “May the sun and moon protect you, my son. May the day and night protect you. May the rivers you cross, the trees under which you walk, the flowers on your path, and the animals protect you.
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May the path of righteousness protect you. May the knowledge of weapons you gained from Vishvamitra protect you. May the entire world protect you, and may you return safely. For the blessings of your mother protect you.”
She pulled his head down, kissing the top of his head.
Rama touched her feet. His hand lingered on her cheek. It took immense self-control to simply watch him leave. She who had closed so many chapters in her life, would she have the power to endure this next one? The queen had blessed Rama’s determination, it was true, but she could not silently stand by to see this farce go on. If she could stay the hand of Fate, she would. She would summon the eight ministers and face the king and his favorite. Furious with years of unspent words, Kausalya gathered her golden silks into her hands and departed for Kaikeyi’s palace.
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chapter 53
Sita’s Destiny
hen Rama returned alone, adorned the same way he had left, Sita knew Wsomething was wrong. Why had no one garlanded him or marked his forehead with auspicious pulp? Those questions disappeared when she saw the pallor of his face. At first Rama simply stood before her, his hands hanging by his sides. He looked like a tortured prisoner, pale and hopeless. Then Rama embraced her tightly.
As soon as Sita’s heart touched his, she knew what he meant to do. Rama was leaving her. Alarm rose in her like a volcanic tide, starting deep in her belly. She had not felt those tremors in a long time.
Then Rama spoke, confirming her deepest fear. He was leaving Ayodhya to honor his father’s promise. He offered many arguments in favor of leaving her behind. The forest was dangerous; women did not live there; blood-drinkers and other predators abounded; he could never forgive himself if anything happened to her.
Sita cared for none of those arguments. A terrible and unspeakable anger took hold of her. She pushed it down, down, intuiting its power. She looked at her beloved and just the tip of her fury spilled out into words. “You are the cruelest, most hardhearted person I have ever met. Those who praise your kindness are fools. You have tied me to you with the deepest bonds of love. Now that I depend on you and need you, you abandon me.”
sita’s destin y
It was unbearable. The spark at her core turned into fire. Sita trembled, but felt an immediate restraint and caution. Her emotions and thoughts had the power to transform the Earth. If she trembled like this, the Earth would quake in response. Sita severed her connection to her mortal frame and was cast away into darkness. Her frightened spirit flew up into the void.
The Great Mother rushed up toward her and caught hold of her spirit, bringing it back down to the Earth and then below its surface. The moment the goddess held her, Sita knew her mother.
Mother, Sita cried, but not in her earthly voice. She was not in that body. The mother here was not the mother Sita shared with Urmila, her little sister. This mother was more visceral to her; she was like Sita. They were one of a kind. Wrapped in the Great Mother’s warmth, Sita felt all the elements within her harmonize and come alive. Goddess Bhumi was made of the natural elements. Earth, water, fire, air, and ether were her form, as was Sita. The elements were extensions of her being, as strong as arms, limbs, and thoughts were to a human body. It was not with human eyes that Sita looked at her mother. Those eyes were left behind on the surface of the Earth, where Sita knew that she had fainted, closing her eyes to the reality before her: a life without Rama.
Sita’s soul blazed up when the name “Rama” grazed her consciousness.
He is yours and you are his, her mother’s caressing hands told her. And so it will be forever.
The goddess held Sita and allowed her to crash, to rise, and then to fall again. Sita could not find her center point, her anchor, when Rama was walking away from her. As Sita became still in her elemental form, she rested in her mother’s embrace. Until she faced the daylight and felt her mother’s warm hands withdraw behind her, Sita had not known what it felt like to be alone.
It was Bhumi who had lifted Sita up from the center of the Earth and pushed the little baby girl through the opening in the field, to face the sun for the first time. Sita remembered those first moments, seeing through the eyes of a newborn infant, a hazy vision. The bright light of the day had made her close her eyes and cry. That’s what her body needed to do to embrace the new embodied experience. Now she would be alone again when Rama left her and walked into the unknown.
The unknown took form on the horizon, growing from a dark mass into a vision Sita recognized the massive black gates. She stood by the gates and could not gain entrance. She remained frozen as the gates moved away from her, growing smaller and smaller. When they were a small speck on the horizon, the form containing the gates grew visible. A ripple of horror ran through Sita. She hid in her mother’s bosom, but could not help looking up at the form, knowing him to be the gatekeeper: her archenemy. With every one of his ten heads and twenty eyes, he looked at her watchfully; then his attention fragmented. His heads scanned the universe, Bhumi’s little daughter forgotten. The gates held his power; Sita would never gain entrance.
Bhumi claimed Sita’s attention. There was a time her mother said, when Sita and Bhumi had been one body, one mind. Sita had grown in her womb, an intrinsic part of her. It was the 437
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way any child was nurtured in her mother’s womb, only Sita’s mother’s womb was the entire Earth, and they had been connected to each other through the fires that shimmered at its core. Sita and Bhumi were connected through the great fire, through the water that covered her, through the mountain peaks, the wind within her sphere, and the force of gravity that contained it all. Sita experienced this truth with great wonder. She was kindred to every part of the Earth.
Why did I not remember you? Sita asked, wanting to keep this new wisdom with her always.
Bhumi’s fire began to scorch Sita. There are things you cannot remember when you are a human being. That is the price you pay. You, my daughter, must live that way too, veiled from knowing your true self. All you are and all that you know is always there beneath the surface. Just as I am. I walk with you in your dreams. Every time you touch the ground with your feet or any part of your body, I will rise up to greet you. I will be there.
Bhumi’s elements swirled around Sita, kissing her, embracing her, saying farewell.
Face your destiny bravely, my daughter. You are never alone.
With those words, she pushed Sita back up to the surface, as if she was being born again.
Sita’s eyes snapped open. She blinked, focusing her eyes on Rama’s beloved face.
Rama’s arms held her; his concern was all for her. His love made Sita’s pain and confusion disappear, as if it had never been.
