A few parallels - 2

This misstatement of Sugriva is confined to Valmiki Ramayana alone. Kamban has observed this slip and has eliminated it in his version. Once again, critics of the Ramayana have discussed this ‘slip’ and come to weird conclusions. We know that Rama did not kill Vali at the first encounter and did so – remaining ambushed behind a tree – only when Vali and Sugriva were engaged in a duel for a second time. Some go to the extent of citing Sugriva’s ‘suppression of fact’ as one of the reasons for Rama not killing Vali during the first duel. That was Rama’s way of punishing Sugriva for this lapse and of course for putting him to test, twice, they argue.

This misstatement of Sugriva however is not strong enough to be termed as ‘falsehood.’ If this slip is to be called that way, he has to be impelled by some a reason, ulterior motive, bad intention or at least some kind of a purpose calculated to take an unfair advantage of Rama. Sugriva did not have any. He was trying to be helpful and he was very clearly not hiding facts for some kind of a hidden purpose, either to protect Ravana or to hold the carrot-and-stick, riding on Rama’s back, or to gain any – fair or unfair – advantage over Rama. It was a mere slip and nothing more than that. He was in a confused state of mind, being driven all over the world by Vali incessantly. He was dying almost every moment at the mere thought of Vali. We know how he ran away from the scene when he saw Rama and Lakshmana for the first time, taking them to be mercenaries coming after his life, at the behest of Vali.

If it is not natural, it is still understandable, for him to have slipped. It was only a slip of memory – inexplicable though it be – and that is that. There always are certain ‘whys’ in life that defy logical explanation, interpretation or conclusion. Scholars call such ‘whys’ as asoka vanikaa nyaya. The maxim of the Asoka Vana. That is, when there is more than one possibility of doing a particular thing, better ways of doing it too, it is not always possible to prove beyond a point that ‘this was the only good way’ of doing it. What was the reason for Ravana choosing the Asoka Vana for the isolation of Janaki? What was so good about that particular grove? Why should he – of all the places in all the three worlds that he ruled over – choose that particular grove? In what way was it a better choice of place over others? Nobody can explain. He preferred to do it this way and he did it that way. That is that.

Sugriva did not intend to suppress any information. He did not try to conceal facts. He did not intend to gain anything by that misstatement. Therefore it is safe to conclude that it must have been some minor lapse, slip of memory or some such shortfall. As far as he did not mean to harm Rama’s cause, this misstatement of Sugriva cannot be called ‘falsehood’ or even ‘pretence’.

Referring to this ‘lapse’ of Sugriva, Right Hon’ble Srinivasa Sastriyar says, “But I would hesitate a lot before I brought a charge against Sugriva of infidelity at the beginning of his contract…” and draws our attention to the way in which the passage starts. What Sugriva uttered to Rama was the second Sloka of Canto 7 of Kishkindha Kanda. Take a look at the first Sloka of the same Canto, which comes out from the lips of the Poet. “Spoken to as aforesaid by Sri Rama in distress, the monkey (chief) Sugriva, for his part replied as follows to Sri Rama (who had tears in his eyes) with joined palms and in a voice choked with tears.”

Rama was in tears. Sugriva was in tears. Sugriva was trying to comfort Rama. He could not do so because he was so deeply moved. Sastriyar says, “Sugriva was unable to talk clearly. So he is not likely to launch at once into a piece of falsehood and Rama had no suspicion whatever that anything had been kept from him.”

Studied in its proper perspective, Sugriva comes out clean and there can be no reason whatever, to hold him guilty of uttering falsehood. What he stated could only be described as ‘that which is not true’ and not as ‘untruth’ as such. May be a slip or may be a temporary failure of memory. He was not guilty, though his words were different from truth.

Let’s see a few more parallels.

When truth cannot be called truth

If what Sugriva uttered was not the truth but could yet be condoned, we know that there is this situation of another kind that does not allow a simple and plain statement of fact that was nothing but truth, to be considered that way. Yes, I am speaking about what Yudhishthira told his preceptor on the fifteenth day of the battle. We have discussed this scene to an extent earlier. (See: Weigh with reason) Let us go into it a little more fully.

After the fall of Bhishma, Acharya Drona took over as the commander-in-chief and led his side so ably and exhibited such skills that even Krishna concluded that victory was moving away from their hands. ‘Unless this man is made to throw his weapons away,’ he told the Pandavas, ‘we will not be able to win this war.’ Krishna suggested that they should find out some way of stopping this Brahmin. “Casting aside virtue, ye sons of Pandu, adopt now some contrivance for gaining the victory, so that Drona of the golden car may not slay us all in battle. Upon the fall of (his son) Aswatthaman he will cease to fight, I think,” Krishna said. (Mahabharata, Book 7, Drona Parva, Section CXCI)

It is noteworthy here that Arjuna did not agree for this game plan. Bhima, of course, could be convinced without much difficulty. Vyasa says, “This advice, however, O kin was not approved by Kunti's son, Dhananjaya. Others approved of it. But Yudhishthira accepted it with great difficulty.” Then Bhima quickly worked on the suggestion of Krishna. He killed an elephant that was named Aswatthaman. This elephant did not belong to the enemy ranks. It belonged to Indravarman, who was the king of Malavas, who stood by the side of Pandavas, and not the Kauravas. That is, Bhima killed their own elephant simply because it carried the name of Aswatthaman to enable Yudhishthira answer Acharya Drona in all truthfulness. (See http://www.sacred-texts.com/hin/m07/m07187.htm for a translation of the scene by Kisari Mohan Ganguli)

And then Bhima walked to the chariot of Drona and told him that Aswatthaman has been killed. Though the Acharya was not prepared to accept what Bhima claimed, ultimately the taunts of Bhima worked and as anticipated Acharya Drona turned to Dharmaputra to seek the information. Remember. Though he was their master, they were standing in the battlefield, opposing each other, bows bent and swords drawn. Acharya Drona preferred to seek the most precious of all information not from his own men, but from Yudhishthira, because he believed firmly that he won’t utter falsehood, even against his own interests. Which was not totally unfounded too. It is not without reason Vyasa says, “Hearing these words of their as also those spoken by Bhimasena, and beholding Dhrishtadyumna before him, Drona became exceedingly cheerless in battle. Burning with grief and exceedingly afflicted, he enquired of Kunti's son Yudhishthira as to whether his son (Aswatthaman) had been slain or not. Drona firmly believed that Yudhishthira would never speak an untruth even for the sake of the sovereignty of the three worlds.”

And don’t we know what Yudhishthira told his master? It is oft-quoted indeed that even a person with a cursory knowledge of the epic knows very well. Let me quote from the translation of Vyasa’s Sloka: “Hearing those words of Bhima and induced by the counsels of Krishna, and owing also to the inevitability of destiny, O monarch, Yudhishthira made up his mind to say what he desired. Fearing to utter an untruth, but earnestly desirous of victory, Yudhishthira distinctly said that Aswatthaman was dead, adding indistinctly the world elephant.” That indistinct addition was deafened by Krishna’s blowing of his conch, is how almost everyone puts it. But the translation is silent about it.

And tell me, Dharmaputra did not utter falsehood. He spoke the truth and nothing but the truth. But can it be considered truth in its entirety? If it can be, why does Vyasa add in the very same breath, “Before this, Yudhishthira's car had stayed at a height of four fingers' breadth from the surface of the earth; after, however, he had said that untruth, his (vehicle and) animals touched the earth.”

What goes to make a truth?

Though Sugriva said something which was not really true, his slip is winked at. He is condoned. In fact, it is not even right to say that he is condoned, for – with the exception of a few critics – almost all readers of the epic do not even take cognisance of what he said. That’s because what Sugriva uttered that day, was not intentional; was not motivated; was not triggered by reasons that do not appear on the surface. Despite what he told Rama, he plunged himself sincerely into the task at hand and he worked for what Rama stood for. If Vibishana was the knowledge-bank that stood behind Rama, a very vital logistics-support came from Sugriva. And therefore Sugriva’s misstatement cannot be looked at as ‘falsehood’. No fair-minded person can brand him of falsehood.

In sharp contrast, what Yudhishthira uttered – though it was truth in all respects – cannot be classed as ‘truth’. This is not to deny that Yudhishthira is the very embodiment of Dharma. In fact he was the son of Dharma and is known as Dharmaputra for that matter. It is accepted that he would not have done so but for the pressure of circumstances; but for the fact that the situation was masterminded by the Lord himself; but for the fact that Bhima and Krishna almost forced him to do so; but for the fact that almost everyone around begged with him to ‘save’ the situation for that was the only way left for them to eliminate Acharya Drona. I say ‘eliminate’ though the initial intention was not that. They intended to stop him from warring any more. Dhrishtadyumna, who was born for the killing of Acharya Drona, utilised the opportunity to behead him when he threw off all his weapons and sat down in the yogic posture with his mind set on giving up his life.

There are explanations; there are interpretations; there are strong arguments that stand by the side of Yudhishthira. Agreed. There can be no doubt at all that Yudhishthira was the one of very few great souls; greatest of human beings who trod the earth and stood tall and towering in the observance of Dharma. There was just one other person living in his own time with whom Dharmaputra stood shoulder-to-shoulder. Vidura. If Yudhishthira was the son of Dharma – Dharmaputra – Vidura was the reincarnation of Dharma himself.

Accepted. That was the only path that they could take that day. Drona was blazing forth like the proverbial fire that engulfs the world on the day of the doom. There was no way of stopping him. The Pandava army had to be saved from his skilled and powerful hands. I am unable to say that the ‘army had to saved from his wrath’ for he entertained no ‘wrath’ as such against the Pandavas. In fact Arjuna was his most endeared disciple. He was the only one who had learnt the launching and withdrawing of the most potent of all weapons known as Brahma Siras from the Acharya. This weapon is said to be more destructive than the Brahma astra. Even Aswatthama, the Acharya’s son, knew how to launch the weapon; but not how to stop it; withdraw it. Arjuna as a disciple learnt more from him than Ashwatthama as a son could.

Therefore, the Acharya was only discharging his duty while he had no hatred or enmity against Pandavas. If he had not held them close to his heart, he would not have sought that information from Yudhishthira, whom he was battling against. It is not denied that Yudhishthira was not initially for lending support to the claim that Ashwatthama was killed. But the fact remains that his intentions were different, he was motivated and he was impelled by a desire for victory, which was being walled against by the Acharya. He was justified in his desire for victory. And he was justified in adopting this war-strategy. But intellectual honesty demands it not to be called ‘truth’. That is acknowledged by Vyasa himself, who has not failed to record that the chariot of Dharmaputra that was moving about like a hovercraft, four inches above ground level, touched the ground, for the truth that he uttered was no truth at all. When the Acharya sought that information, he was not asking about some elephant. Yudhishthira was aware of it. And when he gave that information, he was not giving the information that was sought for. Yudhishthira was aware of it too. Inasmuch as he gave some irrelevant information and confused the Acharya, this truth is really not a truth.

Then there are several other famous lies. Like Karna’s lie. (See: Karna Learns Archery) A dispassionate researcher would not hesitate to draw a tangent to Peter’s denial of Jesus when dealing with the question of Sita’s denial of Hanuman. They are similar in several respects. But I prefer to refrain from doing so for the present. Let us return to the accusation on Sita.

The instincts behind a lie

We now have strong reasons to see that the quality of a statement does not always depend on its content. More often than not it is the intent that is the yardstick rather than the content to measure the quality of a statement, though on the surface level it may carry a label that might call it ‘truth’ or ‘untruth’ or as the gradation goes up, ‘falsehood.’

If that is so, it becomes necessary for us to consider the possible intentions that might motivate the human mind to move away greatly, or stir but a little lightly, from the path of truth. What might motivate a person to take to ‘concealment of a fact,’ is a question that might bring a variety of answers, for the human mind defies limits of every kind. However, it is possible to categorise them and analyse a few of them if we are to understand what Janaki uttered that day.

Self-preservation, or protection, might be one of the chief causes that drive a person to take to the other path. I want to escape from the consequences of an imminent danger that I perceive, if I am to speak the truth. When I say ‘I’, it includes ‘my group’; ‘my class’. In fact that was the prime reason behind Peter’s denial of Jesus. ‘Verily I say unto thee, That this night before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice,’ said Jesus and Peter replied, ‘Though I should die with thee, yet I will not deny thee.’ (Matthew, 26:34, 35) But it so happened that he came out with the answer that he did not know ‘who the man was’. When he did so for the third time, the cock crew.

Though this scene deserves a more elaborate analysis, let us stop with the observation that if Peter did so, he was aware that he could not help to change the situation that was going against his Master. And he was aware that an acceptance would only aggravate the situation that would trigger off events which would affect not just him, but all the other disciples too. Though he wept bitterly, he did the natural thing, as his master had predicted.

Or it may be for the attainment of a particular goal. Like what Karna did when he went to Parasurama to quench his insatiable thirst to master the bow. Or it may be motivated by a desire for personal gain to which even Yudhishthira succumbed, though justifiably. Or it may be a mere slip of memory.

If we return to Vaidehi with this background, where shall we place her? We know that there was absolutely no desire for a personal gain that was nagging her mind when she told the ogress guards that she did not know who the monkey was. We know that it was not a slip of memory too, as in the case of Sugriva. Hanuman was speaking to her less than an hour before. Or was it that she was looking for the attainment of some specific goal? Absolutely not. If at all she had anything at heart, it was only one. The keen and pure desire that her Lord should come to rescue her. And that she should be one with him again. Nothing more, nothing less. She was capable of coming out of it herself, as she herself proclaims, ‘ellai nIththa ulagangaL yaavum en sollinaal suduvEn’. All this universe would turn to mere ashes if I were to pronounce my curse with but one word of mine. (See: sollinaal suduvEn) But she wanted her Lord to do that and waited patiently for that to happen.

“It is the instinct of self-preservation, which is stronger than any moral precepts,” argues Right Hon’ble Srinivasa Sastriyar, and continues, “We try to get out of it by the easiest possible means. That is the law, from which nobody can escape, and from which Valmiki did not intend that his heroes and heroines should escape. He treats them as humans.”

Sastriyar does not stop here. This is not his only explanation or conclusion. However, I have to say here that despite my immeasurable respect for the Silver Tongued Orator, I am unable to see eye to eye with him here. I beg to differ, my respected Sir.

The question of self-preservation

The circumstances that demand, and the conditions that lead to what is perceived as ‘self-preservation’ vary greatly. “If a madman were to come into this room with a stick in his hand,” observes Samuel Johnson, speaking of self-preservation, “no doubt we should pity the state of his mind; but our primary consideration would be to take care of ourselves. We should knock him down first, and pity him afterwards.” The remark sounds like a joke. But how true it is! If that is what self-preservation means for Samuel Johnson, how many of us do not know what Jeremy Thorpe, the British politician said on the reshuffle of Macmillan’s Cabinet in 1962. “Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his friends for his life.” And of Joseph Heller who observed in Catch-22, “There was only one catch and that was Catch-22, which specified that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind.”

Concern for one’s own safety in face of dangers. That is what self-preservation is all about. It is there in the human instinct and is considered to be a ‘very natural trait.’ But can anyone say that was the reason why Janaki shrugged her shoulders and said that she had no idea whatsoever about the identity of the monkey that was destroying the Asoka Vana? Was she prompted by her instinct of self-preservation, as Right Hon’ble Srinivasa Sastriyar suggests initially, before coming out with a variant?

No. Absolutely not. We know that she had bravely fought Ravana for ten long months, remaining in his own prison and hitting him back the hardest, equating him with a mere blade of grass and addressing it instead of speaking to him direct. She had even gone to the extent of giving her life up, bringing to our minds the sacred pledge given at the time of wedding when the bride-groom places the bride’s foot on the mortar stone – ammi – which signifies, ‘When the challenge is immense and unbearable, when the pressure is too much, and beyond my control, I will break; not buckle. I will not bend. I would rather break like this stone, and not bend like steel.’

When she has gone almost over the precipice and was about to jump down from it, there is no question of that ‘fear of survival’ nagging her mind. Her instinct – if there was one in her – of self-preservation would have taken leave of her by that time. She has been above that right from the beginning and most certainly she was above that at that moment. ‘Kill me, you can’t. You will neither kill me nor will you kill yourself,’ she would laugh at Ravana later, when he unsheathes his sword threateningly, to slice her down. We are going to hear her uttering the bravest words articulated ever, at the point of knife. ‘ennnayum kollaai; innE ivanayum kollaai; innum unnayum kollaai.’ You would neither kill me; nor this one; nor yourself. ‘This one’ refers to the illusory Janaka that Ravana brought to persuade her.

That apart. I am unable to see the instinct of self-protection, or preservation, coming into play, which makes her retract now. No. She is above the fear of life. If at all she lives now, if at all she lived there in that prison of Ravana for almost ten months now, if at all she has agreed to live for one more month, it is because, as she herself states, ‘The life of Sri Rama (a scion of Raghu) who is endowed with immeasurable strength, as well as of his (three younger) brothers, as also the house of your king (Sugriva) is dependent on me, O mighty armed monkey!” (Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, Canto 37, Sloka 60) She says so, when Hanuman offers to carry her back to Sri Rama. She cites so many reasons why she should not leave Lanka stealthily and tells him that the life of her Lord is dependent on her. And on his life the lives of others depend.

Think for a moment. Would she be put to death or would she be harmed in any way if at all she said that she knew ‘this monkey’ and accepted what the ogress guards said: “(Please) tell us O large-eyed lady, who this creature is, whose messenger he is, whence and what for he has come and also wherefore talk was held by him with you.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, Canto 32, Sloka 6 and 7)

‘He would not harm her, whatever the reason be,’ would assure Vibishana, a crest-fallen Rama, much later when the war is on and Indrajit kills an illusory Sita. That was a fact known to everyone in Lanka and that was something Janaki herself knew, as we have quoted above from a later scene.

What else remain? Let’s go into them.

Protecting Hanuman, was she?

If she was not acting for her own protection, the next natural – and in the circumstances the only other – reason left for us to go into, is that of saving Hanuman from the hands of Ravana. Let’s listen to what Right Hon’ble Srinivasa Sastriyar says on this. “One word more on this point. Sita was not herself in trouble. It was not herself that she wished to protect. Somehow, as Hanuman had left her at that moment and the Rakshasis had detected their conversing together, she felt instinctively that Hanuman was in danger from Ravana’s indignation. Would she, or would she not in that in that predicament, have taken the easiest possible course to protect him?”

Now, ‘protection of Hanuman’ from the hands of ogres consists of two parts, at this particular point of time, as Sita could have perceived. Hanuman is destroying the Asoka Vana, the most endeared place of Ravana, the pleasance which is as close to his heart and as impregnable and inviolable as his gynaecium itself. She knew that Hanuman would be caught for that reason by some means and would be produced before Ravana. She could not have imagined that Maruti would be spared for that matter. It is abundantly apparent from the alarm that the guards are sounding that efforts would be on to catch him and Ravana would in every possibility, punish him.

Hanuman has just begun his destructive activities and she had no clue whatever about what he had in mind, what he intended to do and why he has ventured into the act of destruction, setting the guards on alert. In fact, he was just not setting them on alert. He was spreading peril. He was sending danger signals all about. None of this was discussed with Sita. She was not at all aware of what was working in his mind, as he left the grove. We know that it was a split-second decision that Hanuman made that morning, to leave the scars of his visit deep and ugly in the city and in the hearts of the demons at least until Rama and the Vanara army landed there in Lanka. He intended that to be remembered as a ‘curtain-raiser’ when the actual drama began. If one monkey could wreak destruction in extenso, what would an army of monkeys – numberless monkeys – do? He wanted to set the city on peril when they arrived, while using the opportunity to speak on behalf of Rama as his ambassador.

Sita had no clue whatever of what he intended to do. She just saw that he has assumed an enormous size, which unlike what she saw earlier, was sending waves of terror all around, by his size, appearance and acts. And the ogress guards wanted to get information about this monkey.

Could she have stopped the guards from running to Ravana, to inform him of what is happening in the Asoka Vana by her denial? Could she have stopped Ravana from sending legions and legions of his Rakshasa to nab him? Could she have stopped the imminent wrath and the consequent punishment that Hanuman would suffer if he is caught, by her denial? Impossible. She obviously had no control over that situation. This aspect of the situation resembles very closely the Biblical parallel. Peter had no control over the situation. His acceptance or denial would not have changed the course of events that were moving towards the crucifixion of his master.

Moreover, as Sastriyar observes, the person whom she wished to protect ‘did not want to protect himself.’ He was running in the streets of Lanka at the very same moment when Janaki was denying any knowledge about him. He was announcing his identity, letting out battle-cry and lashing his tail on the ground so loudly and menacingly. Though Kamban has skipped this ‘announcement of self-identity’ part, Valmiki paints a vivid picture.

We will see that. And we will also see the other possible cause that would have impelled that denial.

Untruth but not a lie

As we observed in our last instalment, at the very same moment when Sita was denying any knowledge of Hanuman, he was running in the streets of the well protected city, proclaiming loudly that he was the messenger of Sri Rama. Here is what Valmiki depicts:

“Assuming a gigantic form, the celebrated Hanuman, sprung from the loins of the wind-god, waved his tail to and fro, filling Lanka with its sound. At the loud and resonant sound of the swishing of his tail, birds fell from the air and he proclaimed in a loud voice. “Victorious is Sri Rama, who is possessed of surpassing strength and Lakshmana, who is endowed with extraordinary might. Victorious (too) is King Sugriva, protected on all sides by Sri Rama (a scion of Raghu). I, Hanuman, sprung from the loins of the wind-god, and the destroyer of hostile armies, am a servant of Sri Rama of unwearied action, the lord of Kosala. Not (even) a thousand Ravanas can stand my might in combat, (even) as I assail them with a myriad rocks and trees. Destroying the city of Lanka and greeting Sita (the princess of Mithila), I shall return fully accomplished of purpose, while all the ogres stand looking on.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, Canto 42, Sloka 31 – 36)

That gives all the information, fully and completely. Not a single word more is necessary for anyone to understand the identity of the person and the nature of the mission that he is engaged in. He is the son of wind-god and a servant of Sri Rama and of course, Sugriva. He has come here in search of Janaki and he would roll even a thousand Ravanas to the ground, destroy Lanka and return with his mission accomplished.

However, a close observer would not fail to notice that he has not mentioned anything about his meeting with Sita, at least for now. He does not mention that he has met her already. That gives us a clue as to what would have worked in the mind of Sita when she made that denial. Reckoning that she had no control over what Hanuman had already ventured and the possibility of his being captured for destroying Asoka Vana, the only possibility that is left now is the conclusion that she wanted to save the information that Hanuman had met her and that he is carrying her message to her Lord. Knowing the prowess of this monkey that had leapt across the ocean and seeing the power that he was displaying at the moment, she was convinced that he was capable of coming out of the difficult situation that was imminent.

It is possible that she might have wanted to ‘save’ the situation and salvage what best she could by concealing the fact that Hanuman was carrying the life-saving message of hers to her Lord, at least till Hanuman reached the presence of Sri Rama. That would mean, even if he is captured, the interrogation would be limited to the destruction of Asoka Vana – and the possible destruction that he might indulge in from then on till the capture – and would not possibly reach up to the message that he was carrying. But what Hanuman had already decided was different, of which she was not aware.

That concealment was of course was not necessary. As Srinivasa Sastriyar observes, “But that is life, and it seems to me that the Poet has shown here his knowledge of the shadows and the lights of life to the very depths. He is a very keen student of life. He just tells us that the very best of us who reach the peak of morality may fall in a moment of extreme temptation, also that the fall might well have been avoided.”

She might have avoided, or she might not have avoided. It was a quick answer and a natural reaction that was quite innocent and totally harmless. Sastriyar quotes from commentators like Govindaraja and Nagesa Bhatta and says, “It just conveyed her ignorance of Hanuman’s identity.” Yes. She was left with no option at that moment and she reacted instinctively. What she uttered might be ‘not true’ but certainly not a ‘lie’ inasmuch as it was totally harmless and was not calculated to gain an unfair advantage. Measure it against the statement of Yudhishthira to Acharya Drona. And I am sure anyone would take lightly of Janaki, especially in the light of the fact that she was not aware of what Hanuman had planned and how he intended to lead the drama to its next scene.

The case rests here. As Sastriyar says, “…we need not go behind them and discover meaning in the text or construct other excuses which seem to be a little far-fetched.”

Yes. She conveyed her ignorance of Hanuman. But did the ogress guards buy that?

The change of attitude – Part 1

The ogress guards hurried away to the presence of Ravana, on hearing the denial of Janaki. They did not persist any further in their attempt to coax Sita into admitting what had really happened. They however were not convinced about what she told her. They were very certain about what they had seen last night, bound as they were by the spell that Hanuman cast, in a state of semi-consciousness. But then they did not tarry there any more to question Sita further. They were nothing more than strong-armed boneheads. They were not trained in the niceties of eliciting information. If that was one reason, the other reason was that time was running out for them. Hanuman has to be stopped immediately. They had to keep their king informed, which was their immediate priority. And therefore says Valmiki,

“Arrived in the presence of Ravana, the ugly-faced ogresses for their part reported to Ravana of a monstrous and redoubtable monkey (in the following words):- “A monkey of terrible proportions and endowed with immense prowess stands O king, in the heart of the Asoka grove, having held a talk with Sita. Though questioned by us in many ways, Sita, Janaka’s daughter, whose eyes resemble those of a doe, however, does not wish to disclose the identity of the monkey.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, Canto 42, Sloka 12 – 14)

They are so convinced of what they saw last night that they so faithfully inform their king that this monkey who is now destroying the Vana ‘held a talk with Sita’. Of course, they questioned her as to its identity. She is not willing to divulge. They had no control over the situation and therefore they are bringing it to the notice of the terror of the universe.

Well, very well, that tells us that the guards did not believe in what Vaidehi uttered and stuck to their version. But tell me, do you not notice a very minor flaw in the drama? If the guards were to report that a monkey is destroying the Vana and that it is beyond their power to stop it, the king would no doubt order his soldiers to move in. But would he spare the guards if they inform him that ‘the monkey held a talk with Sita’? Would he remain silent when they tell him that they both were in conversation but Sita is not willing to give out the identity of the monkey that spoke to her? Would he not question them? Would he not ask, ‘What were you doing at that time?’ Were the guards not exposing themselves to a risk of a very high order when they made that statement to their king?

But that question is not raised in Valmiki’s drama. Ravana passes quick orders and the Kinkaras are pressed into immediate action. Kamban has noticed the flaw and he mends it when he makes not the ogress guards, who were witnesses to their conversation, but the (men) guards of the grove – and not the ogresses – to rush to the presence of Ravana. And therefore, the identity of Hanuman and the purpose of his venture remain a suspense until he is captured and produced before Ravana, in Kamban’s portrayal, whereas they are abundantly clear right from the word ‘go’ in Valmiki’s depiction.

‘nIr idu thugilar,’ says Kamban about the guards of the grove who ran to the presence of Ravana. ‘Their dress turned wet.’ For obvious reasons. ‘accha neruppu idu nenjar.’ If their dress was wet, their hearts were set on fire. The fire of fear. ‘nekkup pIridum uruvar.’ Most of them had their limbs broken, severed and dangling. ‘thetRip piNangidu thaaLar.’ They were limping their way. ‘pEzh vaai Ur idu pUsal aara uLaiththanar.’ They were howling and squealing so loudly that the entire city shook.

Frightening details indeed! Wet loins and broken limbs and howls of fright. When we go into what they report, we do not fail to notice that they just mention that they are shaken to the very roots of their lives because of a monkey of huge proportion. They do not say anything about the ‘conversation’ that had taken place last night. Because they were not the people who were close by at that time.

But the bypass of Kamban meets the main road of Valmiki in a later scene to confirm that the ogress guards were in no way convinced of what Janaki told them. They would come back to her at the end of the trial of Hanuman and when the preparations for setting his tail on fire were on.

But that act of Hanuman – combined with the good counsel of Trijata earlier, to which Hanuman was a witness last night – brought about a very important change in the attitude of the ogress guards. And that was what Hanuman wanted to bring about, among other things.

The change of attitude – Part 2

We have seen that in the previous night when Ravana departed from the Asoka Vana, he had instructed the ogress guards to go to any extent, adopt any means to force her in to accepting him. (See: The Assault on Identity) and the verbal torment that followed (See: What she went through Part I and Part II). Thinking about it again, I am not able to resist a smile at the mental make up of this person who believed that cruelty and threats would germinate love. That it was beyond him to make it germinate in the heart of Sita by adopting any other means is a different issue. Not denying that, it is possible only for Ravana and his likes to invent such a crude method to gain the love of someone.

We have also seen to an extent the extremities to which cruelty exhibited itself that night. The words of the ogress by name Candodari in particular would freeze anyone into inaction. Imagine you are isolated and are surrounded by a bunch of hooligans, one of whom says, “At the sight of this woman with eyes resembling those of a fawn and with her breasts shaking through fear, borne away (to Lanka) by Ravana, this great longing sprang up in my heart that I should feast on her liver and spleen, her swollen breast as well as her heart including its stem (consisting of veins and arteries), nay, all her limbs and head too. Such is my mind even now,” as Candodari hissed at Janaki that night.

Just think of it. Was it possible for anyone to stop this kind of a torment, when once it was started? That too, when their master wanted them to do so and when they found it so pleasurable to bathe their target in nothing but cruelty?

It would not have been, but for the timely intervention of Trijata, the daughter of Vibishana. Threats are quelled only by threats. She knew her lot and she knew how to silence them. “Devour yourselves O wretches (if you will),” she shouted, “you will not be able to feast on Sita, Janaka’s daughter and beloved daughter-in-law of Dasaratha. (Valmiki Ramayana Sundara Kanda, Canto 27, Sloka 4 and 5)

“(Therefore) get away (from this place) and watch how Sri Rama (a scion of Raghu) recovers Sita. Supremely intolerant (by nature) he will undoubtedly kill you (all) along with the ogres. Sri Rama (a scion of Raghu) would never suffer his beloved and highly esteemed wife, who had followed him in his exile, to be reproached or threatened (by you). Therefore have done with cruel words and let conciliatory words alone be spoken (to her). Let us crave her forgiveness; for this (alone) appeals to me. Rid of her numerous woes, that wretched lady about whom such a dream has been vividly seen (by me) will undoubtedly attain her beloved and highest object. Beseech her forgiveness O ogresses, even though she has been menaced by you. What will be gained through your anxiety to discuss the subject (any more); for a terrible danger from Sri Rama (a scion of Raghu) threatens the ogres. Sita (a princess of Mithila) daughter of Janaka, will get pleased with prostration alone. She is capable of shielding you from a terrible danger, O ogresses!” (Sundara Kanda, Canto 27, Sloka 41 – 46)

Rejoiced at the prospect of her husband’s triumph, that shy youthful lady thereupon said, “If that comes out to be true, I shall undoubtedly be your protector.” (Ibid, Sloka 54)

Moments of peace

The killing of Jambumali, son of Ravana’s maternal uncle Prahasta, the gruesome way in which prince Aksha – youngest son of Ravana – and the killing of large battalions of Kinkaras and others, combined with the burning down of Lanka, purchased a considerable time of peace for Janaki. She has specified a time limit of one month for Sri Rama to come to Lanka to rescue her. It is therefore obvious that the killing of Ravana would happen within a month from the date on which Hanuman departed, setting fire to Lanka.

Hanuman’s return to Kishkindha happens on the same day. It took twelve days for the monkeys to reach the ocean, from Kishkindha, says Kamban. ‘in nedum pazhuvak kundril pagal elaam iruththa pinnar,’ after travelling by foot for eleven days through hills and dales, ‘panniru pagalil sendru then dhisai paravai kaNdaar.’ he says. They reached the southern sea on the twelfth day. And the battle in Lanka lasted for about a week. ‘idai uvaavinil suvElam vandhu iruththu,’ Kamban accounts. They reached Mount Suvela in Lanka on an ashtami – eighth day from Full moon – ‘kadai uvaavinil iraavaNan thannayum kattu…’ and Ravana was killed on New Moon day. That accounts for about three weeks roughly. We have to add the passage of time spent in seeking the assistance of Varuna and the construction of the bridge across the sea, to arrive at the actual passage of time.

Whatever it was, the total time available was limited to a month. The nocturnal visits of Ravana to the grove stopped absolutely for the first week. Janaki was at total peace for the first week. For Ravana was not in Lanka at all during that time. ‘He could not stay there at all because the stench of burnt flesh, blood, bones, hair and the city was so strong,’ Vibishana would tell Sri Rama later. ‘vilangal vendhavaa vErini viLambuvadhu ennO?’ What more would one need to understand the extent of the damages caused by fire that day? (Would it not be sufficient if I say that) ‘alangal maalayum, santhamum andru thaan aNindha kalangaLOdum,’ with the garland that he was wearing and the paste of sandal that was smeared on his person, and with the dress that he was wearing on that day, ‘kadhir vaaL ilangai vEndhanum Ezu naaL visumbidai irundhaan,’ Ravana went to the Indra Loka and stayed there for seven days. He did not even have another set of decorations nor another set of clothing to change.

That indeed was a miserable condition for the terror of the universe! Let us not go into that now. What I am trying to mention is that for the first seven days, she was not troubled by Ravana. He would not trouble her again for the next couple of weeks too. We see him wandering into the Asoka Vana again only after Rama reaches Lanka. He would go there with a ‘made up head of Sri Rama supposed to have been severed while he was sleeping.’ He would put her under extreme pressure and stress as time slips through his fingers. Kamban has skipped this particular scene and has substituted it with the ‘Maya Janaka Padalam’ – Canto of the Illusory Janaka.

The total number of visits to the Asoka Vana that Ravana undertakes could be counted on the fingers of one hand. The occasions that the poets describe differ slightly. But for these interruptions – of course rude and excruciating – the days to come in Lanka for Janaki would be comparatively peaceful, especially with the ogress guards silenced permanently, until the very last moment. At the last moment, she assumes the role of their protector.

We will go into all that. I suppose we have to go through the less talked about Uttara Kanda too, before we can move on to the next character in the great drama.

Ocean at bay

The quick succession of events that followed the burning down of the city of Lanka was a bit too much even for a person like Ravana to remain calm any more. When on the other side of the sea, Rama was busy moving towards the sea, Ravana got the scent of his movements through one of his spies by name Sardula. For the first time ever in his long, long reign does he feel that the situation is going out of his hand. Ravana was a seasoned warrior. He was used to marching in on enemy’s territory. It was never the other way around. Lanka was never marched upon. The grand successes that he had established all over the universe alone were sufficient to guard the island against any kind of invasion.

As he himself would proudly question Vibishana in the War Council, he had never tasted defeat in his lifetime thus far. ‘Where was your Vishnu?’ he would scoff at Vibishana when he warns that Rama was none other than Narayana himself who has descended to the earth in human form, to destroy him and the Rakshasa race. ‘achcol kEttu, avan aazhiyaan endranai aayin,’ Hearing Vibishana (Ravana retorted), ‘If as you say he is the reincarnation of Vishnu, ‘kochchai dhun madhi eththanaip pOridaik kuraindhaan,’ tell me how many times that fellow of little intelligence did taste defeat at my hands! Numberless were the wars that we waged and equally numberless were his defeats.

‘ichchaikku Etrana yaan seydha itthanaik kaalam,’ I have been wandering about this universe, doing that which pleases me, unrestrained and unchallenged. ‘muchu attraan kol am muzhu mudhalOn?’ What was he doing all these years and where was he? Was he not in his senses? Did he not breathe all these years? Was he unconscious? Why could he not stop me all these years when I battled against Indra, when I broke the tusks of the celestial elephant Airavadha, the carrier of Indra, when I drove him back on every war that he ventured against me, why could he not stop me from being victorious? ‘siriyan kol nee sonna dhEvan!’ Was he a child all these days? Do you mean to say that he could not do anything because he was a baby and that he has grown up only now!

‘The backs of that ox of Shiva – Nandi – and the vulture of Vishnu – Garuda – bear the scars of my arrows,’ he crowed at Vibishana in the War Council.

Such was the glory of his successes that Lanka remained impregnable right from the beginning. If the valour of Ravana was the first ring of protection, the sea offered unmatched security. The copper inlaid bulwark built around the city, guarded by select band of ogres made it almost impossible for anyone even to think of set his foot on the land.

Well, Hanuman jumped the sea and returned setting fire to the land which was considered impenetrable even to the celestials. That had shaken Ravana quite a bit. Then came the message from his spy Sardula that Rama is marching on Lanka, with a very vast army of monkeys and bears. “Nay, the army (roughly) covers a space of ten Yojanas (or eighty miles) in all directions. You ought to ascertain the real situation immediately, O great monarch! Your spies ought to know things (quickly) O eminent king! (The expedient of) restitution or conciliation or sowing dissension (in the enemy’s ranks) may (then) be employed (as you deem fit) under such circumstances.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 20, Sloka 6 and 7)

Ravana took option number three that Sardula suggested, ‘to sow dissension in the enemy’s ranks’ and sent an ogre, Suka by name, to influence Sugriva against Rama. That didn’t work. Added to all this, Vibishana, his brother, his minister for such a long time, had already left him, exhibiting to the entire world that seeds of dissension have already been sown on his side, instead of that of the enemy’s.

No wonder that he did not find time for Sita. He could not visit the Asoka Vana every other night, deliver his lust laden lascivious desires couched in elegant words, beg for her love, touch her feet, et al and torment her, and leave the grove in disappointment and pointless anger.

But that did not last for more than a couple of weeks. He received information from his spies that Sri Rama has constructed a bridge across the ocean, reached Lanka, landed on Mount Suvela and that the defences of Lanka could not hold the ocean of the simian army at bay. Oceans are not kept at bay. Though the metaphor is mixed, the situation was really that.

What would a leader do in such circumstances? What should his first priority be and what did Ravana do? It was he – the ocean of terror that he was – who was at bay.

‘Was’ is not ‘is’

We have dealt with this scene to an extent in our studies on Ravana. (See: Strange kind of Valour Part I and Part II) A king in his proper senses should first collect his forces, organise his troupes and get ready to face the enemy who has already entered his territory. But Ravana’s mind was always hovering about Sita. Whenever Sri Rama or anyone of his team gained an upper hand, slighting his stout ego, his mind would be beset immediately with questions like, ‘What would she say now?’ ‘What would she think of me?’ ‘Would she laugh at me now?’

Kamban captures a piece of his mind for us when he is defeated in the first battle with Rama and walks his way back to Lanka. His hands hanging low and heads bent down, gazing at the ground, Ravana ‘nadandhu pOi nagaram pukkaan,’ sings the poet, drawing our attention to the shockingly pitiable condition of the person who came to the battlefield on the grandest of chariots drawn by a thousand horses and one who flew the skies in his pushpaka vimana. ‘He who came here on a thousand-horse-drawn-chariot, is walking his way back,’ the poet reminds us deftly and subtly.

Even at such a time of shameful suffering, Ravana’s mind was going around just one person. He was not ashamed of anyone or anything else. ‘vaan nagum’ He was not worried about the fact that the Devas of the other worlds would laugh at his plight. ‘maNNum ellaam nagum’ Nor was he troubled of mind that everyone of this world would laugh at him. ‘nedu vayirath thOLaan, thaan nagum pagaivar ellaam naguvar endru adharkku naaNaan.’ Ravana was not ashamed of the fact that he would be mocked at by the enemies whom he has been laughing at all these years.

What then? What else could have troubled him? The poet says, ‘mIn nagum nedum kaN,’ She whose eyes would laugh the fish to shame (by its shape) ‘chev vaai’ whose lips are ruddy, ‘mel iyal’ and of tender nature, ‘midhilai vandha,’ she who hails from Mithila, ‘saanaki naguvaL endrE naaNatthaal saambugindraan,’ would laugh at him. His frame turned bone dry at the very thought that Janaki would laugh at him now, having come back from the battlefield, tasting defeat at the hands of her husband.

If that would be the situation a few days from now, Ravana was shaken out of his mind at the message that Rama has reached Lanka and has camped in Mount Suvela, in his very own ‘impenetrable and fiercely defended land’. He never thought that this would happen any day. He never expected this to happen. If one goes back to his words to Janaki on the very first day on which she was brought to Lanka, it can be seen that he very proudly announces this to her.

“Accept my wholesome advice; what will you gain by thinking otherwise (fixing your mind on Rama)? (Therefore) look favourably on me; you ought to show grace to me, who am sore stricken with love. This (city of) Lanka is surrounded by the ocean, covers an area of eight hundred miles. It cannot be taken by storm even by gods and demons (taken together) including Indra (the ruler of gods).” (Valmiki Ramayana, Aranya Kanda, Canto 45, Sloka 18 and 19)

It could not be taken by the combined forces of gods and demons even if led by Indra. Yes. It was. But ‘was’ is not ‘is’. Now, the husband of this woman, who continues to slight him, addressing him through a blade of grass, who hits him back twit for twit, has crossed the ocean that surrounds ‘this city of Lanka’. He – a mere human being of just two hands – has penetrated his territory, despite the fact that it is defended on all sides by guards who are unmatched and invincible. A vast simian army has come with him. She has always been telling him that her husband would find her wherever she is, and would rescue her from him, rolling his heads on the ground. He was laughing at her all these months.

What she predicted seems to be coming true. A mere monkey appeared from nowhere and went back, setting this city on fire. And now a specimen of the weakest of creations, a man, has crossed the ocean. The city might even be taken by a storm. Ravana wanted to first set the account straight with Janaki. What she predicted appears to be taking shape. She might laugh at me now. Let me grab the moment and deny her the opportunity.

Starting from this moment, we are going to see Ravana employing the illusory trick every now and then whenever he feels that the ground is slipping from under his feet.

A wicked deed

As we narrated earlier in Strange kind of Valour Part I and Part II, Ravana quickly summoned one of his aides, Vidyujjihva by name, who it is said, was well versed in conjuring tricks. Handling such names and keeping a track of them needs quite an effort in reading epic poetry, especially in view of the fact that several such minor characters had similar names. If there was a Tirisira, a three headed demon, in the army of Kara-Dusana that Rama wiped out in Janasthana, another three headed demon with the same name would appear again in the Yuddha Kanda. If Vali had a son by name Angada, Lakshmana had a son by that name too, who appears in the Uttara Kanda.

One would come across such similarities across the epics too. The name of Duryodhana’s son – Lakshmana – is an example. The 19th brother in the line of a hundred, following Duryodhana, was named Karna. And therefore one has to be doubly cautious about which Karna is saying or doing what, while attempting to draw a character sketch.

Vidyujjihva is one such name. Anyone with some amount of knowledge of the epic would quickly recall to mind the name of Surpanakha’s husband. Though I have stated earlier, I wish to state again by way of abundant precaution that this Vidyujjihva is a different demon, inasmuch as the other Vidyujjihva, Surpanakha’s husband, was killed by Ravana in the war against Kalakeyas and Nivatakavachas, long back. Surpanakha was given a large army with Kara-Dusana as its head and was sent to rule the jungle outpost of Ravana in Janasthana, where Rama came to reside, just to compensate for the loss. The Vidyujjihva who is now summoned by Ravana is a different one, apparently. No detail, other than that he was a past master in conjuring tricks, is available on this particular demon, who appears just in this one scene.

And so our great hero, hoping to apply pressure on her, letting her know that her husband is dead, and that she is now left with no other option but to choose him, called Vidyujjihva to play a cruel trick on Janaki. ‘Let’s impose on Sita,’ Ravana told him, ‘by means of conjuring tricks. You fetch an illusory head of Rama; make a mighty bow that resembles his bow; bring a few arrows too and follow me to the Asoka Vana.’

To lend credence to the ‘happy state of mind in which he was supposed to be’, Ravana entered the grove with a flourish, calling his own name so loudly. “Approaching Sita and mentioning his (own) name with great delight, he then addressed the following impudent words to Janaka’s daughter,” says Valmiki. (Sundara Kanda, Canto 31, Sloka 13)

Announcing that Sri Rama has been finished off while he was asleep by Prahasta, Ravana rolled the story out to her quite elaborately, as we have described earlier in Strange kind of Valour Part I. Vidyujjihva was not in the scene all the while. He was standing aside. And then Ravana turned to one of his attendants. Have a look at the wonderful drama that Valmiki creates, bringing out the cunning – I should say stunning – ways that Ravana employed that day to give the much needed dramatic punch to his yarn.

“Ravana, the lord of ogres, who was most difficult to overpower, then spoke as follows to an ogress within the close hearing of Sita. “Bring politely (to my presence) the ogre Vidyujjihva of cruel deeds, by whom has the well-known head of Rama, (a scion of Raghu) been personally brought from the field of battle.” (Sundara Kanda, Canto 31, Sloka 37 and 38). Vidyujjihva moves onstage now, carrying the ‘head’ of Rama. He is holding a mighty bow in the other hand. He makes a respectful salute to Ravana, his head bent low. “King Ravana thereupon spoke (as follows) to the said ogre, Vidyujjihva, who had a long tongue and stood near by. “Place at once in front of Sita the head of Rama (son of Dasaratha). Let the poor woman clearly behold the ultimate condition of her husband,” he commanded. (Ibid, Sloka 40 and 41)

The head, severed at neck and dripping of blood, staining the sand particles that stuck to it was placed before her. Look at the minute details. The kill was supposed to have been taken place in the sea-shore and therefore a thick ring of blood-stained sand particles could be seen at the point where the neck was severed. It would shake anyone to the core. And it shook her that day to the roots.

‘A wicked deed,’ Srinivasa Sastriyar calls it. It is not just wicked. It is cruel, sadistic and childishly idiotic. Janaki could have read through the situation but for the emotions welling up from deep within her. It was a case of the mind getting mesmerized and going awry while knowledge stands by the side, watching helplessly. Yes. If she was that ‘mind’ her knowledge was standing by her side, unable to help her in anyway. Just like it happens to any of us in our lives.

Staying Tough – Part 1

‘When the going gets tough, the tough gets going,’ is perhaps one of the few phrases that have been around for sometime now, inspiring millions of hearts, cheering and exhorting them into action. I have heard it again and again, being bandied about when the global economy went off balance in recent years, during that unforgettable period termed as ‘bubble burst.’ How many of us did not chant the phrase, reminding ourselves again and again that we have to remain tough, if we are to last.

I think it is far easier to coin a wonderful phrase such as this one, and exchange it as part of everyday greeting, than the effort that is actually needed to stay tough. It takes a lot of mental energy, strength, character, unshakable faith and a lot more, apart from seeking and getting the right information from the right resources. One needs to have a clear vision, a clear mind and a clear sense of purpose as the basic ingredients if at all one is to stay tough. The mind that is not clear would set the vision off focus, colour every other situation, make a dinosaur of even innocuous events and people, create hallucinations out of the air and get more ill-at-ease in the process.

‘The intellect won’t be clear unless the mind is clear first,’ says poet Subramania Bharati in his introduction to Bhagavad Gita. ‘The intellect might be at point of clarity for a while,’ he continues, ‘and unless the mind rests firmly in equanimity, the clarity of the intellect would prove to be intermittent. It would go blurred again and again.’

If the mind has to remain calm and at equanimity, it should be able to rise above all emotions, especially the painful ones. It is very easy to analyse it and arrive at such conclusions. It is not that easy to rise above emotions, especially when one is faced with the situation that Janaki faced that day. Here is the head of her darling, her only hope, her very own life, severed and dripping of blood, placed before her on the ground.

And this IS his bow. It looks very much like his bow. For how many days has she picked it up, to clean it, to worship it! Does she not know it by its inches! “Having deserted me, a pitiable woman, and embracing the earth like a darling, you are lying here, O mighty-armed jewel among men!” is the least of her laments that I have the heart to quote and then she looks at the bow and says, “Here lies your bow decked with gold, which was always meticulously worshipped by me with sandal paste and wreaths of flowers and which was (so) dear to me, O gallant prince!” (Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, Canto 32, Sloka 16 and 17)

Many people think that she must have been slender and weak physically. It could not have been. One has to remember that they had to physically carry their weapons and a whole lot of supplies during their movements from place to place in the jungles. We would go into the kind of luggage they might have had to carry on another occasion. Wandering through the jungle, carrying such heavy weapons and supplies was not that easy. It is only apparent that she had shared quite a lot of the burden often times. One might recall the ease with which she carried the bows and arrows of both Rama and Lakshmana put together, when they walked out of the ashrama of Sutiksana at the beginning of the Aranya Kanda. (See: Here are your Weapons and You and your father)

And her lament above, about the bow adds another piece of vital evidence that she had handled the weapons of Sri Rama and Lakshmana with ease. She was courageous. She was strong. She was strong enough to sustain all the excruciating experiences that she had borne for such long time in isolation, without a clue even to such basic information as to whether her husband was able to get the information on her abduction by this demon or not.

But this was too much. What she saw appeared to be too true, too exacting and too close to what was real. However, when emotions can be whipped up and made to run wild, even half the accuracy is sufficient to create the illusion. The mind would supply the rest and make for what is actually not there. In fact that’s what happens even in the best of magic shows. ‘I only open the inner eye,’ said P C Sorcar once, ‘and the audience visualise the rest.’ The illusion that has been created now is extremely real and it had the desired impact on her mind.

A rude shock has been delivered; the mind has lost its balance and she is so totally out of control. Pray, spare me. I am not even able to quote the pathetic words that she uttered to the illusory head of Rama. Her intellect functioning from outside her body, her information bank, her resource person, was standing close by. Totally helpless and unable to console her.

Staying Tough – Part 2

Staying tough is a mental quality and is a continuous process that has to go on and on until at least the tough times last. One can relax for a while when the sky gets clear, if not completely, let’s say, relatively. That is to say, the mind has to remain focussed all the time when the crisis is on and a conscious effort has to be made to remain that way till it passes away. It doesn’t mean that one need not be focussed when the times are clam relatively. At other times, the mind is at peace and one stays focussed naturally. It does not require that effort – conscious or otherwise – to remain that way.

Every person needs two different kinds of resources to fight the demon. The demon may be a bad situation; a bad development or an impending danger or even a mere threat. Or the demon may be Ravana, or Hiranya or Kamsa or Sisupala. Demon or demonic. Every single demon of the epics and the Puranas lives among us, right in our neighbourhood. And the resources, as we observed, consist of two different kinds. You need material resources. More than that you need mental resources. Mental resources are more important. Of course the material resources are not any less important. They are important too. But, without proper mental resources, the best of material resources would be of no avail, for the battle is fought more in the mind than in the field.

Material resources can be procured, obtained, sought for or earned. They have to come from external sources. Mental resources need to be strengthened. The process of strengthening them is of course internal. Nonetheless, the strength does come from external resources too. Most of the times, in most cases, the strength within is derived from the source without. It has been our experience in our everyday life. We derive strength from a friend or a close relative or an associate. We derive peace from someone whom we love.

Therefore, even if the process of strengthening the vital mental resources takes place internally, the fillip has to come from external sources. That’s why Danu the Gandharva, who was cursed to turn into the demon called Kabandha – who was killed by Rama at the end of Aranya Kanda – tells Rama to seek for support, to secure the friendship of Sugriva. ‘puNai ilaadhavarkku vElak pOkku aridhu.’ It is difficult for the person to cross the ocean without the use of a boat – if not a ship. ‘annadhE pOl,’ Similarly, ‘thuNai ilaadhavarkku indraal pagaip pulam tholaitthu nIkkal,’ it is almost impossible for a person to eliminate the enemy and emerge victorious, in the absence of an ally.

Examine the simile again. It doesn’t say that it is ‘not possible’ to cross the ocean without the use of a boat. It says that it is ‘aridhu’. Difficult. Rare. A person without a boat may still be able to swim across. But the effort may not always be successful. The attempt is difficult. Rarely does a person come out successful. ‘Therefore, O Rama, seek the friendship of Sugriva! It is not that you cannot handle the situation alone. You can. With the right resources by your side, the Sri Rama that you are would remain the Jaya Rama that you are to be.’

If we examine the case of Rama, his crisis was multifaceted, the nature of which demands a deeper analysis. Let’s not go into that now. That is for a later day. If we just take a quick look at the sources that supported him in his fight against the demon, we find that his material resources came from Sugriva. Sugriva was his logistics provider. His mental resources were strengthened by Vibishana. We have seen how the pressure of the situation mounted so high that even Rama had to be pulled out of the morass. Lakshmana did that in the later half of the Aranya Kanda and in most part of the Kishkindha Kanda. Right from the beginning of Yuddha Kanda, Vibishana assumed that role and was a rich resources person both for Rama and for Lakshmana. We have seen several such situations extensively already, when we dealt with Vibishana.

Now, if Rama fought his demon on the ground, Janaki fought her demon in the mental plane. If he fought Ravana with bows and arrows, she battled against him aided by nothing but her will. When I say ‘will’ it would not mean that that ‘will’ never flagged. There were times, tiresome times and gruesome moments, when it faltered, sagged and dipped to the ground.

Rama had his resources person in Vibishana. And Devi had her resources person in Trijata, the daughter of Vibishana. Trijata was standing by her side now. But she could not do anything to pull her out of the hell that was spreading its tentacles around her.

The impossible was made possible. The rock was set on fire. She was pleading with Ravana to kill her.

Hari Krishnan