The question of touch

We have seen this particular portion of Valmiki Ramayana, showing Janaki advancing the argument that she cannot return with Maruti because he happens to be a male and that her modesty would prevent her from touching anyone else other than Rama. This is one of the three places in which she refers to her abduction and calls herself vivasha – helpless. (See: Helpless I am and This is what she has to say Part I and Part II)

She advanced several arguments against leaving Lanka on the shoulders of Hanuman, unknown and unnoticed and this was the last one. “Keeping (as I do) devotion to my lord in the forefront, O monkey, I do not wish to touch of my own free will the body of anyone other than Sri Rama, O jewel among monkeys.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, Canto XXXVII, Sloka 62)

Among other very strong and valid reasons, she might have felt uncomfortable about having to touch a male form other than her husband. That too, a stranger. However, we know that such arguments are not to be taken literally. Sometimes such words are true one hundred percent. At other times, they are just generalisations. One should not attempt to use these words as the yardstick for measuring standards or values.

There is a scene in the Uttara Kanda when Lakshmana is about to depart from her, leaving her in the deep jungle. ‘Lakshmana, look at me now,’ she pleads with him. ‘I am pregnant and it is for you to stand witness to my purity, when I give birth to Rama’s child in the jungle.’ Lakshmana is moved to tears and tells her, ‘How can I do that? I have not looked at you all these days. All that I know of you are your feet.’ The words carry all the dramatic impact and move the readers to tears. But, here again, these words are not to be taken as they are, literally.

We have seen earlier of various scenes in Valmiki Ramayana, where Lakshmana had to hold her while helping her to get into the ferry across the Ganges. (See: She is a delight to watch) Lakshmana always held her as his own mother and she looked at him as her own son. We are going to see how movingly she emphasises this fact in the message that she sends to Lakshmana through Maruti, presently.

What I wish to stress here is that the statement of Lakshmana is not to be taken seriously, word-for-word. That is a very moving statement, poignant and painful. That in fact comes with a very harsh criticism on Rama, expressed in the minimum number of words. We will go into that later.

The one that Janaki is making now is something similar to that. When she said ‘I have reservations about touching any male other than Sri Rama,’ she simply expresses how uncomfortable she is about the idea of Hanuman, considering that they are seeing each other for the first time. That is why she is necessitated to add the piece about her helplessness quickly, to ward off any possible – but natural and consequential – question about the manner in which Ravana brought her to Lanka.

Let us see those words once again. In the Sloka that follows, that is Sloka 63, she tells Maruti, even before he could think of a counter. “That I was forced into contact with Ravana was because, being helpless, without a protector and having lost control of myself, I could not do anything.” I was unconscious; I was alone, unprotected and helpless, and therefore could not do anything about it when Ravana picked me up physically.

Hanuman does not argue any further. He would not have, even if this reasoning was not put forth, elated as he is about Devi and her penance in the Asoka Vana.

We have already discussed about the deviation Kamban has made to the story on the manner in which Ravana took her to Lanka. He carried the parnasala – the hut in which they were living on his shoulders and in the Pushpaka Vimana. Therefore, this question of being “forced into contact with Ravana” does not arise at all.

Kamban employs this argument so very beautifully and effectively to strengthen the drama and as a strong message sent to Sri Rama. A point of order that she would raise in the scene of Agni Pravesa.

Set Fire to fire

She was the Fire that would singe the fire. She was the flame that would have set flame to flame.

Kamban plays upon words when Sita informs Hanuman about the manner in which Ravana brought her to Lanka. ‘thINdinaan enin iththanai sEN pagal INdumO uyir?’ she asks. A literal translation would read as, ‘Would life last for these many days, had he but touched me?’ It does not say whose life. On the surface of it, it appears to mean, ‘Would I be living now, if he had held me in his hands? Would I not have committed suicide there and then?’ But it also means, ‘Would that despicable creature be living this long a time, had he but touched me?’

‘ellai nIththa ulagangaL yaavum en sollinaal suduvEn,’ was her assertion. ‘I would turn this Universe to mere tinder for my word to burn.’ She, the Primordial Energy, the Mahashakthi, would have turned him to ashes. There need be no doubt about that. Though Valmiki has drawn a vivid picture of Ravana holding her by the waist, neck, legs et al, this is what Hanuman tells Angada and Jambavan and the team members on his return from Lanka after turning the country to embers. “The conduct of Sita is worth of that noble lady, O jewel among monkeys. She can sustain the worlds by virtue of her asceticism or, if enraged, she can reduce them to ashes.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, Canto LIX, Sloka, 3)

‘Do not think lightly of her. She is the force that is behind all the worlds. She is the one that protects all. And She would be the one that destroys all, if She is enraged.’ And then, how does Ravana survive even after holding her by her limbs? Maruti says, “That Ruler of ogres, Ravana (too), is very rich in asceticism in every way, in that his body was not destroyed by her askesis even while he laid hands on Sita. Even a flame when fully touched with one’s hand is incapable of doing that harm which Janaka’s daughter would, if stirred by anger.” (Ibid, Sloka 4 and 5)

‘If he is surviving now, it is obvious that he is rich in penance. How else could he have withstood the fire of her purity? Even fire cannot burn as fast as She does, when she is angered.’ ‘But that penance of Ravana is dwindling very fast,’ Maruti would add. ‘He would soon be rolling down on the ground, lifeless, for Sri Rama and Lakshmana would be reaching Lanka shortly.’

That is what Janaki tells Hanuman in Kamban’s drama. ‘He did not touch me. He brought me here, with the parnasala. He would have been burnt alive, had he but attempted to touch me.’ Once again the play on the word continues. ‘imaippin mun maaNdu thIrven endrE,’ ‘He was afraid I would die the moment I am touched.’ Or the beautiful line may also be read as, ‘He was afraid (and must have thought), ‘I would die the moment I touch her.’ ‘nilam kINdu koNdu ezhundhu Eginaan kIzhmayaan,’ That is why he dug the ground around the hut and rose to the sky with me still in the parnasala.

Therefore, she was no vivasha, helpless woman, as she pleads in the original. That is just a dramatic element that hides the reality. Though we listen to her and accept her reasoning in Valmiki, we really know that we are nobody to ‘accept’ what she says. We also know that she had restrained her anger, controlled herself from enflaming the evil, just because she wanted to let Sri Rama to play his role. As Valmiki himself acknowledges through Hanuman, she was the Fire that would singe the fire. She was the flame that would have set flame to flame. In fact, as Vibishana would tell later in Kamban, ‘it is her purity that burnt the city, and not a mere monkey.’

‘It is not only because of the desire to let Rama play his role,’ she seems to suggest. ‘It is so fortunate that the situation is amenable to my patience,’ she seems to convey. ‘If it was not for this fact, I would have taken care of the killing of Ravana,’ she seems to imply. Let’s listen to her.

Patience and punishment

The hand that protects is also the hand that punishes. The hand that bears all pain and restrains itself is also the hand that is capable of hitting back. Earth is the symbolism that is employed whenever Poets refer to patience – incomparable patience. Speaking of patience as the first of all virtues, Valluvar says ‘agazhvaarai thaangum nilam pOl, thammai igazhvaarp poruththal thalai.’ To bear with those who indulge in vituperative attacks is the first of all virtues. Look at the earth. It bears (up with) the one that digs it.

However, the same Valluvar again employs the same symbolism of earth, in an entirely different manner – in fact in a manner that no other Poet has used it. ‘sinaththaip poruL endru koNdavan kEdu, nialththu araindhaan kai pizhayadhu atru.’ Anger is not to be held as something good. The hand that strikes on earth, never fails to get punished (for that act of arrogance).

Yes. The earth bears the person even though he digs it. But do not take Her lightly. She is the one that bears you despite your arrogance. Try violating your limits. Slap on the face of the earth. It is your hand that would receive the punishment.

As the Earth that symbolises Patience as well as Punishment, Janaki who was found on the ploughshare, the daughter of Mother Earth, symbolises both extremes. She tells Hanuman that he need not be worried about her safety after he leaves. ‘I will be safe. You need not worry about it. The scoundrel cannot touch me.’ ‘mEvu sindhai il maadharai mei thodin, thEvu van thalai sinduga nI,’ Your heads would burst into pieces, if you attempt to touch a woman, when she considers that undesirable. ‘ena pUvil vandha puraadhanan pugal saavam uNdu,’ Brahma has thus cursed Ravana. Ravana cannot touch me, for he is afraid of that curse.

‘I know that there is such a curse. Trijata, the daughter of Vibishana, has told me that he is waiting for my consent just because that Brahma has cursed him this way. Therefore, you need not worry about my safety. I will remain here until you bring Rama and Lakshmana. But keep in mind. I will live for just another month. The time limit that Ravana has specified for me to express my acceptance expires in another two months. But I will live for just one more month for Rama and Lakshmana to come here.’

‘I would have shed my life long back, had it not been for this curse,’ she tells Maruti. ‘aayadhu uNmayin,’ ‘Because of that fact’, ‘naanum adhu andru enin maayven mandra,’ ‘I am living now. I would have ended my life long back, were it not for this fact.’ She stops with that. She leaves the other portion unsaid. We know for certain that were it not for this fact, the Primordial Force would have manifested itself. But it is highly hypothetical and let us not go too much into what the Poets have not spoken about.

‘If I live here even after all this, bearing all this suffering and braving all this torture, it is just because I am convinced about two things. ‘aRam vazhuvaadhu.’ ‘Righteousness would never fail.’ It is not possible to translate either the word ‘aRam’ or ‘dharma’. Dharma has no English equivalent to match in all respects. And it is not an equivalent for the Tamil word ‘aRam.’ The Tamil word has a greater sweep, larger frontier. It covers whatever is covered by the word ‘dharma’ and it also carries deeper connotations. Similarly, the word ‘aRam’ cannot be employed in all the places where the word ‘Dharma’ is employed. They are synonyms, of course. Weak synonyms, however.

‘I am convinced that Righteousness would rule supreme. And I am also convinced of another thing. ‘naaygan vali eNNiyum.’ I am convinced of my Lord’s strength. I know that he would not let me down. I know that he would wage a war for my retrieval. I know that he would come to liberate me. And these are not the only reasons for my patience. I know I have a duty. I owe a duty to my Lord, to the household of Mithila and to my people. That is a sacred responsibility that I have to discharge. ‘naanudaith thUimai kaattavum.’ It is for the sake of establishing my purity to the world, unmistakably.

One for the Self

The interest of the self is seriously neglected in public; but keeps haunting one’s thoughts in private.

Every person owes a duty to one’s own self. Unfortunately, it is this duty that is neglected in the case of most of us. While defining the duties of a householder, Valluvar lists out the five principal personages whom every householder owes a duty to. ‘thenpulaththaar,’ he says. The first duty is to ancestors – ‘pitris’. ‘dheyvam’ Next comes God. ‘virundhu,’ The third one is towards (unknown) guests. ‘okkal,’ The fourth in the rank of importance is ‘peers’. Then finally comes, ‘thaan’. Your own self.

“Five are the duties of the householder,” Sri VVS Aiyar translates this Kural, “namely, the offering of oblations to the pitris, the performance of sacrifices to the Gods, the doing of hospitality, the rendering of help unto relations and the looking after of one’s own self.” Not only modesty but also the nature of duties demand that the ‘Self’ is placed in the fifth and the last position in the list. But it has to be seen that the duty to the self is there in the list. It is fifth in the order of importance. Nonetheless, it is there in the list of important duties.

Many tend to push the self to the backyard in the eyes of others, though the desire to take care of one’s own interest nags at the back of the head. They hide the very thought of letting others know the existence of such an element in their thinking. ‘He or she is a selfless person,’ is what most of us like to hear from others, about our own selves. The interest of the self is seriously neglected in public; but keeps haunting one’s thoughts in private. That is because we confuse ourselves between ‘selfishness’ and the ‘interest of the self.’

Janaki puts her ‘self’ here as one of the important reasons for not giving her life up in the prison of Asoka Vana. ‘If I die, there would be no cause for Rama to fight for. If I die, that would affect Rama. If he is affected that would affect my household, which would in turn affect the people.’ The list is long and we have seen most of them in our discussions. She hits the nail on the head finally. ‘It is not these alone. There is one more reason. If I die early, I may leave behind a shade of suspicion on my character. Only my continued existence at least until my liberation would enable me to establish my purity.’ ‘naanudaith thUymai kaattavum iththuNai thUnginEn.’ I deferred that thought (of giving up my life) all these days because (I owe a duty to myself and) I have to establish the fact that I am pure (to the whole world).

It is not denied that she attempted committing suicide a few hours back. She was pushed to that extremity by circumstances. She could not find a valid reason for her survival – for she could not find a convincing ground in her favour that she would be accepted, even if she is liberated. We have studied those dark hours already (See: What she went through and ‘The ‘not to be’ Part I, II, III and IV’) and it need not be gone into again.

Now that there is light, a ray of hope that stopped her from her decision, a ray that suddenly took the shape of floodlights and soon surpassed the dazzling light of the sun, has given her a very valid reason for continuing to live. Here is someone who stands witness to her position. Listen to what she pleads with Hanuman. Though the version of Kamban differs – it has to differ because of the change in the manner of abduction – we see the same kind of appeal that she makes to Hanuman in Valmiki Ramayana too.

“Communicate my welfare to Sri Rama and Lakshmana, together, O Hanuman! Nay, make a report in consonance with righteousness regarding my welfare, O jewel among monkeys, to Sugriva and his ministers, as also to elderly monkeys.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, Canto XXXIX, Sloka 6 – 8) Let Rama, Lakshmana and also those who are interested in his welfare come to know that I am safe. Tell them of my welfare. She continues. She emphasises on what Sri Rama has to be reported of.

“You ought to make efforts to see that that mighty-armed scion of Raghu delivers me from this ocean of sorrow. My case should be put by you in such a way, O Hanuman, that the illustrious Sri Rama may find me alive. Reap the virtue of rendering help to me by your words.” (Ibid, Sloka 9 and 10)

When you tell him about me, do not fail to tell him what you saw here. He would be stirred into action only by what you report to him. “The effort of Sri Rama (son of Dasaratha), who is ever full of determination to recover me, will be intensified on hearing the words uttered by me. Only after hearing from you the words conveying my message, the heroic Rama will duly set his heart on exhibiting his valour.” (Ibid, Sloka 11 and 12)

Does she not know that her husband is a man of principles and that he would put his principles in the forefront, before anyone else, even if it is his very own wife whom he loves out of his heart and for whom his heart is bleeding and would continue to bleed.

Eyes of inference

We ended our last instalment with quotations from Valmiki of what Vaidehi told Hanuman and how she wanted him to present her case with particular care and attention to details of what he saw there. Let us now turn our attention to Kamban. Though I need not emphasise again that Kamban’s portrayal of the manner of abduction is different from Valmiki, I have to recall it once again for the sake of continuity and for the sake of those few readers who might have missed it.

She mentioned earlier about the curse on Ravana that served as a firewall around her. It was not just an information for the ears of Maruti in order to put his mind at peace and assure him that she would be safe in Lanka till the arrival of Rama, Lakshmana and the Vanara forces. It was a message to be carried to Sri Rama, in order to let him know that apart from her inner strength that would not let Ravana to come anywhere near her, there is an external reason that shields her from the demon.

She now draws the attention of Anjaneya to the parnasala in which she stays. The present scene is taking place close to a lotus-studded brook. It may be recalled that Valmiki mentions about this stream when Hanuman spots the Asoka Vana for the first time and decides to remain perched on a tree in the hope of seeing her, for he expected her to come there to offer her ‘Sandhya’ rites. (See: Hanuman spots her)

‘I come to this stream often,’ she tells him in the verse that follows. The phrase ‘iv vIngu nIr,’ enables the inference that both she and Hanuman are close to the stream now. Therefore, the parnasala that she was brought in, and in which she usually resides, might or might not have been noticed by Maruti. ‘You see for yourself,’ she points to the hermitage, which must have been some distance away from where they were conversing.

‘aaNdu nindrum arakkan agazhndhu koNdu Indu vaiththdhu.’ ‘This is the one that has been brought by the demon and kept here.’ ‘iLaval iyatriya,’ ‘constructed by Lakshmana’
‘nINda saalaiyodu,’ ‘(a large chunk of land from Janasthana, along with the) spacious hermitage.’ This hermitage was built by Lakshmana. And this is the one in which Ravana brought me here. ‘nilai nindradhu.’ It still remains here. The hermitage still remains here, with a piece of the ground from which it was dug out. ‘kaaNdi ayya,’ See for yourself, O sire! ‘nin mey uNar kaNgaLaal,’ with your discerning eyes, with your eyes that enable you to infer the truth.

The emphasis on the details like who built it and the reference to the ground that surrounds the hermitage is obviously the message that Hanuman is supposed to carry back home, though she does not say that. ‘See for yourself,’ she says and adds ‘with your own eyes.’ And those eyes are no ordinary eyes. ‘mey uNar kaNgaL,’ she mentions specifically. The phrase is pregnant with meaning; laden with deeper connotations.

What is implied is simple to comprehend. ‘I am not showing you some hermitage over there and telling you that it was the one in which I was brought. It was erected by Lakshmana. But the structure carries no proof about it. Look at the base, the bottom portion. You may notice the difference in the soil. The piece of earth that surrounds it is not the same as the ground on which it stands. You may also see that the structure is constructed on this land. It is just placed on this earth and not built on it. There is no need for me to explain this to you in so many words. I know you are endowed with perceptive powers. I know that you do not merely ‘see’ something. Yours are ‘mey uNar kaNgaL..’ I know that your keen mind would study the details and draw inferences. Let me just draw your attention to these details.’

But the mere existence of the hermitage here does not signify anything more than the fact that I was brought here in it. It cannot evidence what happens everyday here, from the first day of my imprisonment in Lanka. Here, you have my words for it. Listen.

In penance I live

I do not stir out of the hermitage. I stay there. For this is my tapa. My mind is always set on him.

‘I stay in the hermitage in which I was brought here,’ Janaki continues. ‘thIrvilEn idhu oru pagalum.’ I do not move out of the hermitage. I remain there always. ‘silai vIran mEniyai maanum iv vIngu nIr naara naaL malarp poigayai naNNuvEn.’ If and when I move out of the hermitage, I come over her to this brook, full of lotuses, reminding me of Rama. I come to this stream because the lotuses here remind me of him. ‘sOrum aar uyir kaakkum thuNivinaal’ It is because only the memory of him saves my spirit that is withering otherwise.

Kamban is fond of the phrase ‘thaamaraik kaadu,’ in his references to Rama. In fact, it is not limited to Rama; he describes Maha Vishnu that way in the Bala Kanda when the celestials assemble before him for the sake of the avatar. ‘karu mugil thaamaraik kaadu pUththu,’ he says, singing of the arrival of Maha Vishnu in the assemblage of celestials. ‘The Lord of the complexion of the pregnant cloud, and a forest of lotuses.’ He is not tired of repeating the expression. If we go back to the scene of Rama going to the wedding hall, we see him described as ‘thaamaraik kaadu,’ once again. (See: They meet again) Eyes of lotus, face of lotus, palms of lotus and feet of lotus. And all the lotuses assembled in a manly, muscular frame of pure black! As black as the cloud!

That image of Rama is permanently etched in her mind. Listen to her. ‘I come to this stream often to look at the lotuses for it reminds me of him. I need this to rejuvenate my spirit. Otherwise I do not stir out of the hermitage. I stay there. For this is my tapa. My mind is always set on him. He remains in my mind while I am there in the hermitage. I perceive his face, eyes, palms and feet through the lotuses in the stream, whenever I come over here.

And therefore, Hanuman, it is not proper for me to return with you. ‘aadhalaan adhu kaariyam andru.’ It is not the right thing to do. ‘ayya, vEdha naayagan paal ini mINdanai pOdhal kaariyam.’ The right thing for you to do is to return. Go back to Rama and tell him of my condition. Tell him what is happening here. Inform him of my penance.

It is difficult to express such words as tapa, dharma, et al in English, though we manage to do so. The word penance is not an exact equivalent for tapa. It means ‘repentance or a punishment accepted for a past sin,’ in its proper sense. But somehow, as the violin has been adopted to mix with Indian music, the English language has acquired several other flavours and we are able to convey the Indian sense through the English language, though weak it may be.

‘nandru nandru iv ulagudai naayagan than thuNaip perum dhevi thavath thozhil,’ thought Hanuman. Amazing and laudable is the penance of the consort of the one who rules over all. The phrase ‘thavath thozhil’ is not the act of tending a sacrificial fire. It simply means setting one’s mind firmly on a particular purpose and remaining steadfast in reaching the intended goal. The student who is working for his way to excellence and the businessman whose mind is set in delivering the best are also doing only that. ‘She is firm in her ways. She is as pure as fire,’ Hanuman was overjoyed. ‘sindhai kaLiththu uvandhu Eththinaan.’ He was happy beyond measure and offered his obeisance.

Kamban adds, ‘nindra sangai idarOdu nInginaan.’ Those words wiped his mind of all doubts and distress. ‘I can leave now. She would be safe here. That fellow would not harm her; though she may have to undergo the suffering till Rama arrives here. It won’t last long. However, let me tell her this. ‘iruLum gnaalam iraavaNanaal idhu theruLum.’ Light would fall on this world that has been darkened by Ravana, ‘nI inich chil pagal thangurin’ if you live for some more days.

‘I am convinced my mother that you are safe. But do not indulge in what you were about to do,’ he seems to suggest. ‘Live for some more days here, in this place, for that would bring the death of the demon and rid the world of the darkness.’

‘It is time for me to go back,’ he says. ‘What should I tell Rama? What message do I have for him?’

A duty unto himself

I am not asking for my deliverance from this place on those counts. Remind him. He owes a duty unto himself.

‘I agree with your reasoning,’ Hanuman said. “What has been uttered by you, O divine lady of charming aspect, is most proper, being in accord with your feminine nature, and with modesty characteristic of virtuous ladies. Mounting on my back, you will not be able to cross the vast sea, a hundred Yojanas wide, because your being a woman. Again, the second plea, which you have given (for not accepting my offer to take you across the sea on my back to the presence of Sri Rama), O daughter of Janaka, full of modesty (as you are), saying ‘I ought not to touch a male other than Sri Rama is (but) worthy of you, a consort of that exalted soul, O godlike lady! For what woman other than you can put forward such a plea, O divine lady?” (Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, Canto XXXVIII, Sloka 2 - 5)

‘When I made that offer, I had several reasons in my heart, the foremost of them being the love I have for Rama. It was affection that prompted me to say so. “I wished to reunite you with Sri Rama (the delight of Raghus) this very day. (Hence) that proposal was made (by me) out of affection for the venerable Sri Rama and out of devotion (to you), not for any other reason.” (Ibid, Sloka 9)

‘I agree with you and let me go back. “If you are unable to come with me, O irreproachable lady, (pray) let me have some token by means of which Sri Rama (a scion of Raghu) may come to know that I have for certain met you.” (Ibid, Sloka 10) What you convey through me would not merely be a message; but manna for the distressed soul of Sri Rama. ‘maruLu mannavarkku yaan solum vaasakam aruLuvaai.’ Let your words put him at ease. Let me have your words that would soothe his soul.

‘I would remain alive for just a month from now. ‘pinnai aavi pidikkilEn.’ I will not live beyond that period. ‘andha mannan aaNai.’ I say this in the name of Rama. It is a vow by his name. Let other things remain aside. Coming to my rescue is a duty that remains to be performed by him is a duty that he owes to himself. ‘aaram thaazh maarbarukku,’ To that one, whose broad chest is adorned by the garland of victory, ‘amaindhadhu Or thaaram thaan alaLEnum,’ I may still not be the same old wife. He may still continue to love me. That is a different question. ‘dhayaa enum Iramthaan agaththu illai endraalum,’ May be his heart is dried of the ‘immeasurable ocean of mercy’ that he is known by. I am not going into that question as well.

I know he would rush to Lanka, raze this land with its evil minded king, out of the love he has for me as his wife. I know that the boundless mercy that he showed for the sages in the jungle, by which he unhesitatingly promised them to wipe the evil from the world. I am not asking for my deliverance from this place on those counts. Remind him. He owes a duty unto himself. ‘than vIram kaaththalai vENdu endru vENduvaai.’ Plead with him that he has a duty to establish his chivalry. He has to wage this war to save me for the sake of his own name; to clear the stain that has come on him because of this abduction.’

If that is the first message to her Lord, listen to what she wants Hanuman to convey to Lakshmana. ‘It is your duty to protect me, Lakshmana. It is your duty to come to my rescue.’ ‘man aruLaal enaik kaaththu irundha thanakkE kadan.’ You were the one who were standing guard at the behest of Rama, before I sent you in search of him. ‘idai kOththu vem sirai vIdu.’ You, my guard, my protector owe a duty to me to come to my rescue and take me out of this prison.

Rama owes a duty to himself and therefore he has to reach here. Lakshmana has the order of Rama to guard me and therefore he owes me a duty to come to my rescue. No. Not simply because of that. There is something else that demands him to do this. He is my son. He owes a duty to his mother. Listen to her.

A word for Lakshmana

Also let him know, Hanuman. I won’t live a minute more than a month from now. Make this known to Lakshmana in particular.

We have gone into the shocking words that Janaki hit Lakshmana with when she was in a state of anxiety. Many have expressed anguish at those words and are not prepared to take her lightly for what she uttered to him when she pushed him hard to go in search of Sri Rama, when the mimicked voice of Märïca called out their names. People so readily blame her for the words that she uttered to Lakshmana. There is no doubt that the accusations that she levelled against him that day burns the heart and made even Lakshmana to react strongly. (See: A heart lacerated)

As we had occasion to mention elsewhere (See: Truth and Falsehood and Weigh with reason) the nature and quality of a statement is to be judged more on the basis of the motive, the intention behind the statement rather than the content. Words uttered in anger singe no doubt. But then, who is not guilty of that sin? Who can be exempted? “If she was wiser, she might have refrained from using the harsh expressions that she did,” says Rt. Hon’ble Srinivasa Sastriyar and continues, “But who is wise in anger, in acute misery of that nature, and whose wisdom is under control at that time and brought into use?” When you are in the direst distress, in the greatest calamity, and all your fear is roused, are you likely to weigh your words? Does anybody do so? And yet we expect it of poor Sita?”

I have heard people saying, ‘The words uttered in anger give a clue to the mind, for they slip off when the mind is off-guard.’ That may be true in stray instances. But it cannot be the general rule and the guiding factor, always. Not certainly in the case of Sita and Lakshmana.

On the contrary, the better thing is to trust the words of the mind when it is calm relatively; when quietude of comparative terms rule over it. We listened to what she said in respect of her endeared husband. ‘Let him regard me as his beloved wife or not; let his heart be full of mercy for me or bereft of it. Yet he has a reason to come to my rescue. He has to save me, if not for the sake of his love for me, if not for the sake boundless mercy that impels him ever and ever, it is for the sake of his own honour.’ Of course, it is the opening remark and not the only reaction to Hanuman’s request for a message to be carried to Rama. But it is the first of all messages that she sent him.

However, look at the message she had for Lakshmana. ‘Lakshmana, it is your duty to come to my rescue.’ There are no ifs and buts and the all-knowing, yet teasing ‘even ifs’ are totally absent here. ‘man aruLaal enaikk kaaththu irundha thanakkE kadan.’ Realise that ‘it is my duty to rush to her rescue, for I was the one who was protecting her under the orders of Rama.’

Also let him know, Hanuman. I won’t live a minute more than a month from now. Make this known to Lakshmana in particular. ‘thingaL ondrin en sei thavam thIrndhadhaal.’ My penance would come to an end in a period of a month. ‘ingu vandhilanE enin,’ if he does not turn up here within that time, ‘yaaNar nIrk gangai aatram karai,’ let him not come here at all. Let him go to the banks of the Ganges. ‘adiyErkkum than sengayaal kadan seyga endru seppuvaai.’ Let him perform my last rites there in the banks of Ganges, with his palms of the colour of lotus petals.

If they do not come within the specified time limit, let them go back to Ayodhya and let Lakshmana perform my last rites in the banks of Ganges, for I would not be living any more.

That speaks volumes of the love that she has for Lakshmana as their own child. Who else can perform the last rites, but the son? And tell me, which are the words that are born from her heart, the words that she uttered to Lakshmana in Janasthana or the words that she is uttering now to Hanuman in Asoka Vana?

Let this be my word

This is not just a message to Sri Rama. This is an assurance she needed from herself. She is reassuring herself about the unswerving attitude of her husband now

Distress has its powerful sway over the human mind. It does not allow it to remain at peace, even after great endeavours to move away from it. The personality of Janaki, we have seen often, has been alternating between the mundane and the divine. From praying to the river for the welfare of Rama and offering worship before the banyan tree, when they started on their exile, we have seen her delightful ways of adorning the garb of an ordinary woman and also playing the majestic role of a dignified wife, discussing with Rama on his decision to wipe the evil from the face of the earth.

We have seen her flying like the stormy petrel that flies deeper into the ocean, braving the cyclone even as it intensifies, hitting back at Ravana word for word and challenging him bravely, until at least he leaves her presence. We have also seen her heartbroken and moving towards the decision of the desolate. She stood up with trust and relief at the arrival of Hanuman. But now, her very own words weigh her down.

‘Ask Lakshmana to perform my last rites, if they don’t turn up in a month,’ she tells Hanuman and the next moment she is reminded of her mothers-in-law. ‘Ah! Lakshmana! ‘aRaththin naayagan paal aruL inmayaal marakkum.’ May be Sri Rama may forget to convey this. ‘aayinum nI maravEl ayya!’ Even if he forgets, you don’t do so. Remember to convey to my mothers-in-law that Sita who is dying here conveyed her respects to them.

‘But Hanuman, do you know something? My husband is not an ordinary man. I know his love for me is abundant. You know what he told me when we got married? ‘vandhu enaik karam patriya vaigal vaai,’ When he took my hand in marriage, ‘indha ip piravikku iru maadharai sindhayaalum thodEn endra sev varam thandha vaarththai,’ he gave me word that he would not even think of a second woman throughout this birth (incarnation). ‘thiru chevi saatruvaai.’ Let him hear those words again from you.

People attribute esoteric connotations to the phrase ‘iru maadharai sindhayaalum thodEn.’ Devotees take delight at the Lord’s assurance that He would not even think of the other two Consorts, till the purpose of this incarnation is fulfilled. Others smile at the clever employment of the phrase ‘indha ip piravikku,’ ‘for this one incarnation,’ with the emphasis on the word ‘this’ which is repeated twice in two different forms. ‘He is so very specifically – and cleverly too – limiting His assurance to Rama avatar, since there is no guarantee about what he would do in His next incarnation as Krishna!

Esoteric meanings apart. The words are coming from a heart that has pinned all its hopes, trust and love on that one soul. This is not just a message to Sri Rama. This is an assurance she needed from herself. She is reassuring herself about the unswerving attitude of her husband now, for that is what her mind needs now. ‘Just ask him for one more boon. If it so happens that we are unable to unite again, tell him that I begged for the boon of being with him in the next birth. I may or may not see him seated on the throne. Tell your king, Sugriva, to take care of him and follow him to Ayodhya to see him adorning the throne.’

‘Do not worry my mother! It is not possible that Rama would forget you that easily. I know what kind of suffering he is undergoing. You should have seen what happened to him when he touched your ornaments. Be well O mother mine! You will see him, seated on my shoulders and Lakshmana on the shoulders of Angada, very soon. If he does not come within the time limit that you specified, mark my words, ‘paraavarum pazhiyodum paavam patrudharkku iraavaNan avan.’ Endless sin and infamy would be his and let him be known as Ravana, ‘ivan iraaman,’ and let this fellow in Lanka be known as Rama!

It is as impossible as his becoming Ravana and this fellow turning a Rama.

The incident of the crow

The incident of Kakasura is very limited in Kamba Ramayana. Kamban prefers to restrict the incident to not more than six verses in length and the bare minimum details are given. The version of Valmiki runs to more than half a canto long. And the latter version reads like an intimate love story. Apart from the messages, Hanuman had requested her to narrate an incident that is known only to the two, so that he can convince Rama that he had seen her, for sure.

We know the story completely and there is nothing new in that. What is amazing is that Sita, while narrating the incident to Hanuman, re-enacts it completely, re-living every moment of it again. The narrative suddenly takes the form of a conversation. Without her being aware of it, she speaks to Rama, addressing him in the second person, thus indicating that she is mentally in the presence of her own Rama. Or else, she would not have been able to describe such intimate moments to this naishtika brahmachari! ‘You had sported in the waters of the river Mandakini and came walking to me, dripping and sought my laps. It was then that the crow appeared. Full of greed for flesh, it began pecking at my breasts. I picked up little clods of earth and kept it back.

“In order to pierce me, the said crow, however, who lived on fragments of food offered at meals, remained in hiding on that very spot and would not leave its prey, desirous as it was of food. As my skirt slipped while I was pulling its string (in order to tighten it), angry as I was at the bird, I was actually seen by you in that state and laughed at. I felt nettled and abashed at that moment. Pecked (once more) by the crow, who was avid of food, I sought shelter with you. Feeling exhausted, I sought your lap as though angry, seated as you were, and was duly comforted by you, fully delighted (as I was with your presence). (Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, Canto XXXVIII, Sloka 15 – 19)

And the rest of the story follows, from here on, as a narrative addressing Hanuman. She tells him how Rama wiped her tears and comforted her, took a blade of Kusa grass, invoked Brahma with the appropriate mantra so that the blade of grass was presided over by him, turning into Brahmastra. It followed the crow wherever it went, seeking the protection of each and everyone. Knowing the potency of the ‘astra’ that was following the crow, none was prepared to offer the protection that was sought for. The crow then came back and fell at the feet of Rama and surrendered unto him. Rama spared its life, destroying its right eye.

Once again, Janaki addresses Sri Rama directly. Her mind goes back to her lord once again. “A missile presided over by Brahma was discharged (by you) at a mere crow on my behalf. How (then) O ruler of the earth, do you bear with him who wrested me from you?” (Ibid, Sloka 37)

You resorted to the use of the most potent of weapons when a mere crow annoyed me. How then is it possible for you to remain silent all these days? My darling, I learnt what ready and unhesitating compassion is, from you. “From you alone have I heard that (motiveless) compassion is the highest virtue.” (Ibid, Sloka 39)

Going a little deep into the differences between the version of Valmiki and Kamban, one can notice that Valmiki limits the description of the crow to a bird and bird alone whereas Kamban develops the story a little more – within the short narrative to which he preferred to limit his version of the incident – and says that it was Jayantha, the son of Indra, who had assumed the form of a crow, which annoyed her that day.

Kamban has another interesting incident for us.

Would it smell as sweetly?

“What is in a name,” is perhaps one of the most widely quoted and very readily recognised phrases the world over. The listener would almost always join the other person who quotes the ‘question’, with a smile, and complete it together, “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” It is a pet quotation, which is oft bandied and always accepted. Who can dispute the pure logic that it contains! And there are situations in life that fit as neatly as a glove into that thought provoking query that make it a joy to accept its validity.

Yes, of course the rose would smell as sweet even if someone calls it by the name ‘gutter,’ or ‘sewer.’ There is another aspect to consider. The only trouble is that that name would not bring the charm, the beauty, the tenderness, the colour, the dew drops and perhaps the bee that buzzes past, to the mind when it is uttered! Who can recall to the mind the sweet smell of a rose when the word ‘gutter’ is uttered! Impossible. Is that not so?

Let us now consider the christening of a new-born. That’s a familiar situation. These days we receive requests by e-mail for help in naming a baby. People ask for information on web-pages that contain a list of names from which to choose. We are keen on one thing in our choice. ‘The name should be that of a person whose life brings pleasant and happy memories to the mind. The character that walked the earth with that name should be really good, pleasant and agreeable.’

Sita, and all the other names associated with her, is one among the preferred names, for christening a new-born daughter in the family. Kausalya, Sumitra, and even Sabari – the devoted woman who appears just in one canto – find a place in the list. (I agree that the name Sabari has a different flavour and import and represents an entirely different entity now. I am not going into that). But tell me, how many lists would contain the name Kaikeyi? How many of us would come forward to name – or suggest for naming – our daughters as Kaikeyi? Is that an agreeable name? Is there a person by that name in your locality? Or in the long list of friends and relatives that one has?

If that name is so very detestable and carries such a strong dislike with it and leaves a person with unpleasant feelings, what should it represent to the person who was directly affected? And to the person who shared his heart and life? Listen to Janaki narrating an incident to Hanuman.

‘en Or uyir men kiLikku yaar peyar IgEn manna endralum,’ I had a pet parrot. On the day it came to me, I wanted to name it. And I asked Rama to suggest a name. ‘Tell me, by whose should my pet be known? Whose name would you like this parrot to be called by?’ ‘maasu aru kEkayan maadhu,’ he said. ‘The name of the daughter of the king of Kekaya.’ It is not simply Kaikeyi. ‘maasu aru,’ is the epithet that precedes that name. The unblemished, the unstained, the pure of heart.

Rama did not stop there. ‘maasu aru kEkayan maadhu, en annai than peyar aaga.’ Call it by the name of name of the daughter of Kekaya, ‘en annai’ my mother, the pure of heart. Rama, are you joking? The name of your mother is Kausalya. Did you suggest the name of Kaikeyi sarcastically? No. It was with love he did so, says Janaki. ‘ena anbinodu an naaL sonna meym mozhi,’ He mentioned that name with love. I tell you it was ‘meym mozhi.’ Those were words of truth. That came from his heart. He uttered the name with affection. That name, despite all that has happened, is respected, venerated by him. And by me. Remind him of this incident. Bring joy to his heart by letting him know that I remember this incident and that I recall that name as well as that moment with pleasant feelings.

There are times in the epic when Janaki – and even Rama not more than twice in Kamba Ramayanam and a few instances in Valmiki – have uttered that name with not so good feelings. But such instances are rare and are to be read with reference to the context. The couple did not nurse any ill-feelings for that character which is hated by all of us. There was no hatred in their heart.

Why then would she add – of all the incidents – this one in the list of ‘most private happenings’ between the two, if that name carried even the trace of unpleasantness for either of them?

The transition

Our discussions on this particular scene in the Sundara Kanda have been quite long and extended; but they still are not exhaustive. We have covered many intricate points. It is my duty to keep the reader informed that though we have gone in depth into this portion, we have confined ourselves only to that portion, which is needed to show the transformation of the mental state of Janaki from diffidence to the ‘fighter-spirit’ that she always has been. Hanuman played the catalyst, helping her to see things as they are and to restore herself to her original self.

The details may be required for a later discussion during the Agni Pravesa scene and we will take them up as the context demands, later. It is sufficient for now to know that she was calmed; her mind was at ease and she was relieved of a major point of order that may arise after her release from the prison of Asoka Vana. We have seen all the questions, including this point, earlier. (See: The ‘not to be’ Part I, II, III and IV)

Now she has somebody who has seen her condition, the way she is living and the penance that she has undertaken and all the troubles that she has been undergoing so that Rama can play his part; so that the reason for his fight with the evil remains valid and sound. She is now convinced that Hanuman would be able to narrate the happenings in Lanka and that the question 'yaanudaik karpinai ep parisu izhaiththuk kaatuvEn?' what do I tell him when he says that I am not worthy of acceptance any more, and how am I to establish my purity in the eyes of the world?’ need not trouble her.

Or so she thought. The events took a cruel turn when she was subjected to that question. Let us not go into that moment now. It is a question that needs to be held in balance and examined, taking all that is evidenced by the events described by the Poets. Rama was performing a difficult duty and there is no evidence in the text that points to even an iota of suspicion in his heart, until the particular second that he uttered those cruel words to her in public. In fact, the events that precede that moment point to the fact that he was not unhappy with Janaki. Not only that. He even spoke about the desire of the masses that thronged the place when she was brought to his presence, to see them together. Anyway, a detailed discussion is possible only after we go into all the intricate details that the Poets describe. What we discuss now form a part of the main body of evidence. This would be required later, again.

Coming back to the scene in hand. Janaki conveyed her message to her Lord, Lakshmana and also narrated various intimate moments that only the two were aware of. Now for the physical evidence that Hanuman met the right person. She took her ‘chUdaa mani,’ the diamond studded jewel that is worn on the head. Kamban is very careful to mention that she was not wearing it. The noble lady was not wearing her ornaments at that time. ‘sUdayin maNi, kaN maNi oppadhu,’ she says. Here is my headwear that is as dear – and as precious – as my eyes. ‘thol naaL aadayin kaN irundhadhu.’ This was knotted and concealed in my saree for a long time, ‘pEr adayaLam,’ This would be most ideal evidence for your having seen me. ‘naadi vandhu en uyir nalginOi!’ You, who came in search of me, who took so much effort to save my soul, ‘kOdi,’ here, take this.

Valmiki shows Janaki pleading with Hanuman when he prepares to leave the place, to stay with her for some more time, till the dawn. Let’s see that. And one more thing remains for us to see in this scene. The famed ‘lie’ of Janaki.

Let it last a little longer

Everything good in life must come to an end,’ we murmur to ourselves at the end of any really good event. There however is a strong desire to ‘make it last a little longer.’ ‘You should have spoken a little longer,’ is almost always the way in which any good orator is complimented. Only the orator knows that it is right, proper and wise to end his speech while it is still enjoyable and while the feeling ‘let it last a little more’ lasts among the audience, and before the signs of its waning appears. That applies only to the orator who has his finger on the ‘pulse’ of the audience, of course!

How many of us have not asked an endeared guest, ‘Why don’t you stay with us a day more?’ Of course, I agree with you that such occasions are few and far between! Any good guest leaves us with the feeling, ‘Why didn’t it last a little longer?’ We know very well that this ‘parting’ has to happen one day or the other; but our hearts are never ready enough to accept that fact and we ache for a little more, always.

In fact, that was the state of mind in which Dasaratha was when Sri Rama was about to take leave of him. ‘You need not listen to me, you need not obey my commands, my boy!’ said the king to his son who remained unswerving in his decision to serve the term of exile. “I have been deprived of my senses by Kaikeyi through a boon (granted by me in her favour) O scion of Raghu! Taking me captive, (therefore), be you the king of Ayodhya today,” he pleaded. (Valmiki Ramayana, Ayodhya Kanda, Canto XXXIV, Sloka 26)

‘I did so because I am bound by my words. You, however, are not bound by them. You need not listen to me. Imprison me. Throw me away in gaol and take the kingdom that rightfully belongs to you, by force.’ Rama didn’t listen to these words of his father. That would take us to the question of what ‘pitir vaakya paripalanam’ actually means, for if it means just ‘carrying out the words of the father’ – or any elder for that matter – Rama had the choice of carrying out this ‘order’ of his father! Let’s not go into that now, for this needs to be discussed ‘a little longer’!

Well, I actually wanted to draw the attention of the reader to this appeal of the king who was moving towards the end of his life by this separation from his son, knowing that he would not change his mind on his decision to go on exile, Dasaratha pleads with him. ‘Ok. Go. But do not go now. Let me have your presence by my side this night.’ “(Pray) do not leave in any case today and stay at least for this night (with me), so that I may live happily by your sight at least for a day.” (Ibid, Sloka 33)

‘Let it last a little longer. Let it not end now. Not this moment, O please!’ The voice is so very familiar. Dasaratha knew so very well that Rama would leave for the forest. But he could not bear the thought and that yearning to make the good time last a little longer made him beg with his son, though that order for ‘exile’ was supposed to be his.

We see Janaki in a similar state of mind when Hanuman prepares to leave her presence, taking her ‘chUda maNi’ with him. “If you deem fit, O hero, halt for a day, O tamer of foes! Resting in some covered place, you may leave tomorrow.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, Canto XXXIX, Sloka 20)

‘Go. I want you to go. Please reach the presence of Sri Rama quickly and hand him this ornament and convey to him all the messages that I have for him. Go immediately. But don’t go now! Stay here by my side a little longer. You may go in the morning.’

‘Go quickly,’ she says now. ‘Don’t go now!’ is the appeal that follows. Let this good time last a little longer.

Hari Krishnan