Janaka, are you?

Ravana was stung. Nothing in this world is dearer to him than Indrajit. He could not bear the retaliated. It was too much. ‘un magan uyirai emmOi sumithirai uyya iindra nan magan vaLi nakka,’ she said. The life of Indrajit would be licked clean by the arrows of Lakshmana, she predicted and did not stop with that. ‘naai avan udalai nakka,’ He would be just another dead body in the battlefield and you are going to see dogs eagerly feasting on his mortal remains. ‘Dogs would lick his body.’

Though it sounds harsh, it was nothing less than a prediction. Ravana would hear the news of Indrajit being slain in the battle. He would also come to know that Lakshmana beheaded him with his arrow, and carried the head away to place it at the feet of Rama. He would rush to the battlefield, look for the body of his son among the countless dead warriors and would be shocked to find the left hand of Indrajit holding the bow lying on one side and his headless trunk lying on the other. Squatting on the ground, he would clasp the trunk to his chest and lament, ‘ari uNum alangal mouli izhandha en madhalai yaakkai, I am left to see the body of my child sans the head that bore the crown decorated by garlands feasted on by bees, nari uNak kaNdEn,’ being eaten by foxes and wolves. ‘UNin naai uNum uNavu nandraal’ even dog’s feed is better than what I eat. If after all this I have to take my next meal, it would not be any better than what the dogs have. The prediction of Janaki did come true, after all.

Coming back to the scene in hand. Ravana lunged forward at her with his sword in hand. He was stopped by Mahodara. ‘Wait for a moment,’ he pacified his king. ‘You seem to have forgotten the father in chains. She would listen if her father advises.’

Look at the rush of events. The long drama came to a close with Ravana rushing on her with his sword drawn out. And now, ‘Janaka’ is made to plead with her for dear life. We have seen this portion in our earlier instalment on Ravana. (See: Maya Janaka IV) However, that was a part of our study on the character Ravana, keeping Ravana in focus. Nonetheless, we did mention about the diligence and courage that Janaki displayed.

Well, the illusory Janaka could be no different from his master and he overacted his role. ‘ennai en kulatthinOdum in uyir thaangi INdu nal nedum selvam thuyppEn aakkinai nalgi,’ Give unto me the liberation from this bondage. Restore my life back to me and restore the lives of our kith and kin. Make me enjoy the wealth and the power over the universe. ‘unnai vem sirayin nIkki, inbatthuL uyppai ennaa,’ And come out of this prison yourself. Live in peace and in pleasure. He did not stop there. True to his salt, he mimicked his master and, ‘pon adi marungu vIzhndhaan,’ fell at the feet of Janaki.

That was all that she needed to see through the trick. ‘This cannot be my father,’ she collected herself. Janaka was Dharma incarnate. He could never utter such words. He would not relent from his pursuit of the path of rectitude, whatever be the pressure. This person pleads with her to take the hand of Ravana and begs for his life!

‘aRam keda,’ she shot back in shock. You are pleading against Dharma. ‘vazhakku nInga,’ You are speaking against the established order; ‘arasar tham marabiRkku aandra maram keda,’ your words disgrace the chivalry your kingly tradition; ‘meymmai thEya,’ would impair truthfulness; ‘vasai vara,’ would beget nothing but scorn; maraigaL Odhum thiram keda,’ your words are against the scriptures ‘ozukkam kundra,’ and are against the laws of proper conduct, ‘dhEvarum pENatth thakka niRam keda inaya sonnAi.’ Did you dare speak these words against the very principle that is fit to be pursued even by the celestials! The list is quite long indeed. Think of it. How many of them could be packed in a short space of four lines! Her arguments end with a neat and pointed question. ‘sanakan kol ninayin ayyA!’ Are you Janaka? No! When I think over and reflect, I conclude, you cannot be my father!

That is what I call as staying tough. Remaining steadfast. Not moving an inch from what I stand for at the most testing and most demanding pressures of times. It is the waking up of the intellect when emotions overwhelm the heart. It is the ability to stay put in reason rather than in passion.

The turn of events

As the adage has it, tough times do not last long. The very fact that this ‘Janaka’ pleaded with Janaki to accept the hand of Ravana, let the cat out of the bag. There was no way that Janaka the wisest, the monarch reputed as a Raja Rishi would ever even utter such a word, under the most trying of circumstances.

Interestingly, Janaka was a title, which all the kings born in the lineage of King Nimi were known by. Strangely enough neither the Valmiki Ramayana nor the Kamba Ramayana mentions the real name of our Janaka, who is the father of Vaidehi. “By virtue of his extraordinary birth (or by reason of his being the progenitor of a new line of Kshatriya kings) the prince was called Janaka; born in the line of king Nimi (who remained without a body), again, be became known as Vaideha (son of Videha). Sprung from the process of churning and further because (the city of) Mithila was built by him, he came to be known as Mithila,” says Srimad Bhagavata. (Srimad Bhagavata, Book 9, Chapter 13, Sloka 13)

It takes about 17-18 generations from this Janaka for the Janaka, the father of Sita, to be born. He was known as Siradhwaja. Says the Bhagavata, “Of Hraswaromä was born Siradhwaja. (The divine) Sita (the spouse of Sri Rama) appeared from his ploughshare while he was ploughing the earth for the purpose of a sacrifice; hence he is remembered as Siradhwaja (who owed his celebrity to a plough).” (Ibid, Sloka 18)

The very lineage of Janaka was so reputed and the endeared father of Vaidehi – Siradhwaja – was highly respected for his erudition, wisdom and his strong predilection for Dharma. It was therefore preposterous for Sita that the ‘Janaka’ in chains standing before her should weep, wail and beg with her to step out of her marriage and solicit the hand of Ravana! She quickly grabbed herself. Her words so full of pride for her Rama slapped across the face of the ‘Maya Janaka’. ‘ariyodum vAzndha pEdai,’ I have been the one who lived with the lion. ‘angaNatthu azukkuth thinnum nariyudan vAzvadhu uNdO?’ Could a lioness ever be seen in the company of the fox that feeds in the gutter!

‘allayE endhai aanaai.’ It is very clear that you are not my father. ‘aaga thaan,’ If you are, if you happen to be my father, ‘alangal vIran villayE vAzthi, mItkkin mILdhi’ you better chant the name of Rama and remain in this prison until he comes and rescues you. ‘illayEl, irandhu theerdhi.’ Or else, you better die. I do not care.

Her words were so clear, merciless and bold that it was Ravana who was in a dilemma now. He did not expect this turn of event. She laughs scornfully at the true-to-the-life image of Janaka that he had brought! He had no other go now except to kill this person masqueraded as Janaka. That was the only door left open for him. He quickly put the sword to the neck of Janaka, who really was the demon Maruththa. By now Janaki had solidified and could see through the scheme so very clearly. ‘ennayum kollaai,’ she mocked at Ravana. ‘You pretend as though you are going to kill this person. You will neither kill me. ‘innE ivanayum kollaai.’ Nor will you kill this person. ‘innum unnayE kollaai.’ (You speak of committing suicide) You never dare killing yourself. ‘pinnayum em kOn ambin kiLayodum pizhayaai,’ It is for Rama to kill you Sir, you and all your clan.

The situation now turns similar to one of those mock fights in the market place. One element lunging at the other and a third element holding the first one in a ‘desperate’ attempt to stop him from ‘harming’ the second and the first acting impatient in the clasp of the third. Mahodara tried to dissuade Ravana from killing the poor Maruththa. Like it happened in Valmiki’s Ramayana, when Ravana had to leave the presence of Sita, making the illusory severed head of Rama melt in thin air, a messenger appeared right at the moment, from the battlefield, carrying the news of the killing of Kumbakarna. ‘irandhanan numbi, ambin kondranan iraaman,’ he said, right in the presence of Sita. ‘Your brother has been slain by the arrows of Rama.’

Now, what Lakshmana was to Rama was Kumbakarna to Ravana. The most endeared brother. ‘aNdatthu aLavum inaya pagarndhu, azaitthu, paNdaith than naamatthin kAraNathaip pAritthaan,’ Kamban puts it. He wailed so loudly that the walls of the universe echoed his voice. Ravana, after all, has a reason to be known as Ravana. (It may be remembered that Ravana was the name conferred on Dasagriva by Parmeswara. ‘Ravana’ means, ‘one who wailed loudly’. See: Thus he became Ravana)

‘thoNdaik kani vaai thudippa,’ continues the poet. Her ruddy lips fluttered, bloomed into a smile. ‘mayir podippa,’ goose bumps appeared all over. ‘keNdaith thadam kaNaaL uLLE kiLu kiLutthaaL.’ Her mind overflowed with joy.

That leads us to another question. If she remained tough and unswerving, Ravana was unswerving too. He did not move an inch from his position. He did not sway at all even after the killing of his brother, his major part of the army, his blood relatives, his son Atikaya, until the killing of Indrajit. He had no choice but to continue the war after the killing of Indrajit. On the last day he went to the battlefield as a warrior in the real sense of the word, which was why Rama sent him back on the first day of the battle, to return as a warrior and not as the lust-laden minion that he was.

And then, where lies the difference? If she remained tough in the wake of excruciating times, he remained unyielding in the face the most painful losses and unbearable agony that was building up by and by. How do we see this?

On obstinacy

We recently discussed the so-called ‘lie of Sita’ and looked at various examples and examined what goes to make a truth, what makes a fact not be considered as truth, and what makes for a situation when even a lie can be winked at, condoned and sometimes even considered good. (See: When truth cannot be called truth and What goes to make a truth?) The quality of a statement, we concluded, is in reality, based on the intention behind it and not always directly on its relationship to the facts on ground.

We know that if Janaki was steadfast in her stance, Ravana remained equally unrelenting, unmoving and strong in what he stood for, that is to say, winning the hand – if not the heart of – Sita. He was stopped right at the beginning by Märïca, his maternal uncle, whom he approached for assuming the form of a golden deer. “May all be well with all the ogres O dear Ravana! Let not the infuriated Rama render the worlds empty of ogres. api te jiivita antaaya na utpannaa janakaatmajaa | api siitaa nimittam ca na bhavet vyasanam mahat || Would that Sita (the daughter of Janaka) were not born to compass the end of your life. Would that no great calamity befell you on account of Sita,” was how Märïca reacted to Ravana’s plan. (Valmiki Ramayana, Aranya Kanda, Canto 37, Sloka 4 and 5) He was not for the abduction and his arguments and counsels against Ravana’s design are three-canto long – or 88 Slokas – in Valmiki. Kamban’s Märïca shows a similar – nay even harsher – distaste for Ravana’s desire to abduct the celebrated wife of another man.

We had occasion to mention how every important character in the epic – on the side of the ogres – chided him, showed their scorn. Vibishana and Kumbakarna even scoffed at him. Vibishana walked out while Kumbakarna fought for Ravana, though he was against what he did. Nothing moved Ravana from his position. He was the same person right from scene one, starting from the arguments with Märïca, until he was overwhelmed by the pain of the death of Indrajit. Even Indrajit begged with him to send Janaki back, at the last moment, after the destruction of Nikumbhila. ‘You are afraid,’ Ravana laughed. ‘You go and take rest and I will handle this myself,’ he told Indrajit, when Indrajit informed Ravana that the Narayana-astra that he aimed at Lakshmana did not harm him and came back to his quiver, circumambulating him.

Remaining tough, like truth or falsehood, is also measured by the motive behind. A person’s action of staying put, remaining unyielding is impelled by two extremities. It may be prompted by a reason that is worth standing for, that which is to be upheld, that which is right and that which is rational. And it may also be prompted by reasons that are not. “If thou shalt find anything in this mortal life better than righteousness, than truth, temperance, fortitude……,” says Marcus Aurelius in his Meditations and continues after a long list of such traits, “apply thyself unto it with thy whole heart, and that which is best wheresoever thou dost find it, enjoy freely.” On one condition, however. “Do thou therefore I say absolutely and freely make choice of that which is best, and stick unto it. Now, that they say is best, which is most profitable. If they mean profitable to man as he is a rational man, stand thou to it, and maintain it; but if they mean profitable, as he is a creature, only reject it; and from this thy tenet and conclusion keep off carefully all plausible shows and colours of external appearance, that thou mayest be able to discern things rightly.”

The ability to discern things rightly. That was what Ravana was lacking seriously. It is not that he was made this way and remained this way from the beginning. If he was, he would not have been able to make it to the top. He had the will, the determination, the courage, the efforts and the spirit. But one can see that he was not able to discern things rightly, at least from the moment he was blessed with his boons. ‘pEdhamai enbadhu yaadhu enin,’ says Valluvar, ‘If you ask me what is folly, (I would say) it is that which’ ‘Edham koNdu, Udhiyam pOkka vidal’ ‘seizing that which is ill and letting the good slip.’

Remaining unyielding and unmoving is not difficult for Ravana and his likes. One can take the case of Duryodhana for instance and go into his character threadbare. He was a good king, a very good friend, a good administrator and has so many other ‘goods’ to his credit. But he was not a good man. These people are obstinate. They cannot be classed as the ‘tough’. Obstinacy and steadfastness appear to resemble each other on the surface. But they germinate from different seeds. “Obstinate are the trammels, but my heart aches when I try to break them,” wrote Tagore. The heart would ache when trying to break the trammels. It is easier for the obstinate to remain unchanging, unyielding. It takes a lot of effort to remain tough, real tough.

‘naaNaamai, naadaamai, naarinmai, yadhu ondrum pENaamai pEdhai thozhil,’ says Valluvar. A fool has no sense of shame, or curiosity, or love or regard. That Ravana had none is acknowledged by a lamenting Mandodari, who embraces the body of her husband in the battlefield and says, “How cowardly it was on your part that the aforesaid consort of Sri Rama was borne away by you after luring away Sri Rama from his hermitage by recourse to a fraud in the shape of an (illusory) deer and also removing Lakshmana (from the scene).” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 111, Sloka 67 and 68)

However great, however valorous, however strong, however rich, however powerful, a man – a man who stood tough in his lifetime – would not have to be called a ‘coward’ by his very own wife, over his dead body. That is where the ‘tough’ differ from the ‘obstinate’.

A quick summing up

It has been quite a long journey indeed from the day we saw this girl playing in the bowers of Mithila when perchance she saw Rama walking down the streets of the city along with Lakshmana and Viswamitra, when they fell in love with each other. She has been a delight to watch right from scene one, spreading a fragrance of happiness all about wherever she moved. She stood a silent and proud witness to her husband, a slip of a boy, so very effortlessly taking the bow from Parasurama, the scourge of Kshatriyas, and quelling his pride in a trice.

We saw her getting prepared for the coronation of her husband and how she took the news of his exile to the forest, as calmly and as lightly as he did. No complaints, no remorse, no hard-feelings about the turn of events. She just wanted to accompany him to the jungle, joyfully. We saw the firmness with which she fought with Rama in Valmiki and the calmness and readiness with which she surprised him in Kamban, coming back to him attired in the hermit’s weeds and taking his hand, with a smile, even as he stood contemplating on her question, ‘nin pirivinum sudumO perum kaadu?’ would the mighty forests burn more badly than the pain of parting?

‘ninayum vaLLal pin vandhu ayal nindraaL.’ She stood a step behind Rama who was given to contemplation, by his side. ‘panayin nIL karam patriya kayinaaL.’ And took his hand in hers as if to say, ‘Come on, let’s go.’ ‘ellai atra idar tharuvaai,’ he said. That was all he said. ‘Think of the consequences. If it is your decision to come along with me, you will be the cause for endless troubles.’ ‘en thurandha pin inbam kolaam?’ she teased. ‘So what do you mean to say? You will be happy after discarding me?’ If his words contained a forewarning of what is to come from the end of Aranya Kanda till the end of Yuddha Kanda, her words carried a foretaste of what is to come in the Uttara Kanda.

The challenges began even at the very commencement of their life in the jungle. Virädha carried her away even as they entered the Dandaka-Aranya. For the first time in her life she witnessed her Lord up in arms and the ease with which the brothers could kill the demon. It is not just that she witnessed that day. The Gandharva by name Tumburu, who was cursed by Kubera to turn into the ogre called Virädha, requested Rama to set him free of the curse, with his feet. Rama, the ‘bhayeSu abhaya daH’ bestower of shelter in times of fear, did so. She was a witness to Virädha’s praise in devotion when those feet set him to liberation – ‘pAdhangal ivai ennin padivangaL eppadiyO’ – if these are your feet, my Lord, what am I to say about your forms!

Ten years of peace and joy melted away. Surpanakha arrived and then arrived the golden deer. That was the last time that we saw her in a broad and joyful smile. Pleading, pouting and pestering her lord to go behind the deer. The smile vanished from her face for a very long time from then on, until perhaps the arrival of Hanuman in the Asoka Vana. And we saw her laughing within, as Ravana let out a loud wail on hearing the news of the killing of Kumbakarna, even as he held his sword against the neck of the Maya Janaka. The tormentor was tormented. He left the grove in a hurry.

Once again Trijata stepped in. ‘undhai endru unakku edhir uruvam maatriyE vandhavan maruththan endru uLan oru maayayaan,’ she pacified her. ‘Do not be afraid. It was not your father who was dragged to your presence in chains. It was Maruththa, the ogre, in masquerade.

‘sangayum, innalum, thuyarum thaLLinaaL,’ says the poet. On hearing what Trijata uttered, she came out of all doubts, pains and woes.

But there was a greater shock in store for her before the war was over. And did they ever stop sloshing afterwards!

Cantos of Naga Pasa and Brahmastra

The scene that we are going to take up now – sIdhai kaLam kAN padalam or the canto of Sita witnessing the battlefield – occurs after the Brahmastra Padalam in Kamban, whereas Valmiki places it after an earlier battle, known as nAga pasap padalam or the canto of the Serpent Noose in Kamban. Both these battles were fought with Indrajit, who had an upper hand, in both. The order in which the battles take place differ to a great extent in Kamban as compared to that of Valmiki’s work. Excepting for the first and the last battles with Ravana, the sequence differs greatly, while the events remain the same.

I remember the controversy that was raging high when Ramananda Sagar televised the Ramayana and had included the serpent noose incident in his serial. Indrajit lets loose the serpent noose that bound Lakshmana down and held him in near stupor. We have studied this scene earlier, while we took up Lakshmana. (See: Error of judgement II, The divine will and A compliment from the enemy ranks) and also when we studied Vibishana for whom this became a very delicate situation. (See: A faggot burning on both sides)

Well, the controversy was that Ramananda Sagar was flooded with questions from his viewers – authorities and the not-so-authorities of the Ramayana – saying that the scene in question was not to be found in Valmiki and that it was a figment of his own imagination. And then Ramananda Sagar himself had to appear on the screen and explain that this was to be founded in Kamban. I am not able to recall whether or not Ramananda Sagar said that this scene is depicted in Valmiki too.

I am not aware of the recension of the Valmiki Ramayana the critics were referring to then. But the Gorakhpur edition of Valmiki Ramayana contains this scene of the Serpent Noose. And the translation of Ralph T. H. Griffith does contain a reference to it. His translation reads as follows: “He bound them with the serpent noose, The magic bond which none might loose”. Griffith defines the serpent noose as, “A mysterious weapon consisting of serpents transformed to arrows which deprived the wounded object of all sense and power of motion.”

Anyway, that it exists in Valmiki Ramayana is clear, and its description in the Kamba Ramayana is beyond all questions. Bent upon breaking the strong will of Sita, Ravana arranged her to be taken in his aerial car to see the plight of her husband and her brother-in-law, who were lying motionless and appeared dead in the battlefield.

As we have been discussing, Kamban always removed the effect of any weapon on Rama. It does not matter for him even if Valmiki says Sri Rama was bound by the cobra noose and was lying in the hero’s bed. “Sri Rama lay on the heroes’ bed, quitting his gold-plated bow, which was (still) strung and bent at three places (viz., the two ends and the middle) in that the grip of his fist had (now) relaxed (due to his feebleness)” says Valmiki. (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto XLV, Sloka 24) Kamban would eliminate him from the scene. Rama would be far removed from the scene when the action takes place. He would come in later and find Lakshmana lying grievously hurt and almost mortally wounded, and would be overwhelmed by grief, lie in a swoon by his side. This happens in the nAga pAsa padalam (Canto of the Serpent Noose) as well as in the Brahmastra Padalam (Canto of the Brahmastra) in Kamban.

Ravana had, till the very last moment, the hope that Sita would somehow or the other accept him, only if he can prove that he was better than Rama if not in character, at least in valour. When I say valour, I mean just that part which a warrior needs to engage himself in war and not the noble qualities that are associated with that word.

As I said, the scene of Sita being taken to the battlefield occurs in two different places in Valmiki and in Kamban. Let’s take a quick look at the scenes in the words of both the poets, before Sita is brought in to witness the field, for we need to know what she witnessed and how she witnessed.

The final hope – 1

Indrajit letting loose the cobra noose is an occurrence that takes place on the first day of the battle in Valmiki, much before the ignominious defeat that Ravana suffered at the hands of Sri Rama, whereas this very same incident is narrated as a later development in Kamban. There, we see Indrajit entering the battlefield only after the fall of Kumbakarna in the second day of the battle.

Contrary to the popular belief that battles in those days were called off with sunset, it was a nocturnal engagement, says Valmiki, when describing the war that extended to the night of the first day. In fact the 44th canto of the Yuddha Kanda begins thus: “While the aforesaid monkeys and ogres were still fighting on that occasion, the sun actually sank below the horizon and the night fell, which proved destructive to life. Then ensued in full swing a nocturnal fight between the redoubtable monkeys and ogres, whose enmity for one another was deep-rooted and who were burning for victory. The monkeys put the question (to their antagonists): ‘Are you an ogre?’ while the ogres made the inquiry ‘Are you a monkey?’ Then (alone) they struck one another on the field of battle in that terrible gloom.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 44, Sloka 1 and 2)

The calling off of battle for the day with sunset was a rule confined only to the Mahabharata. We see the rules of war set down and both sides agreeing to certain conditions before the commencement of war in the Mahabharata. It was possible there because of the presence of Bhishma who was respected by both sides. It was Bhishma who set the rules and they were followed only till he headed the Kauravas. Even the Mahabharata speaks of ‘nocturnal engagements’ from the 14th day of the war.

Anyway, this is only to show that there is no ‘rule’ as such in a war – especially in a war with the demons who have a special advantage of their strength doubling with the sunset and who would not stop, even if the other side stops. The simian army was gaining an upper hand on the first day of the battle when Indrajit quickly decided to let loose the serpent noose on Rama and Lakshmana. “Pierced in all their limbs and covered all over with the heads of arrows (transfixed in their bodies), the two princes then began to shake violently like a pair of banners raised in honour of the mighty Indra (the rulers of gods and freed from their cords. Staggered and enfeebled on account of being pierced in their vital parts, the two gallant princes, who were sovereigns of the globe and wielded mighty bows, fell to the ground.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 45, Sloka 16 – 18)

I need not have to go into the chaos that this would have led the Vanara army into. It is an established fact that the fall of the main heroes would bring the morale of the entire army down. We have seen how Vibishana took charge of the situation and brought sensibility and strength and restored the faith of the Vanaras until the serpents that bound Rama and Lakshmana slithered away with the appearance of Garuda. (See: Tears of Love)

Rama and Lakshmana were bleeding profusely and were bound by the mysterious noose. At the instance of Vibishana, the most valiant of the Vanara warriors stood in guard around them, with the hope that the brothers would regain their consciousness soon, as assured by Vibishana, based on their physical appearance – or what is known as ‘bodily marks’ in epic poetry. “Restore yourself to confidence, as well as me, forlorn as I am,” Vibishana tells Sugriva at this time, “O monkey! Fear of death does not haunt those who are devoted to truthfulness and piety.” (Ibid, Canto 46, Sloka 33)

On the other hand, a triumphant Indrajit goes over to Ravana, announcing the ‘death’ of the brothers. Embracing his endeared son to his chest and smelling his head proudly, Ravana’s mind immediately started working on the next design. This aroused his hopes once again. Listen to his orders.

“Speak to Sita (the princess of the Videha territory) about Rama and Lakshmana having been killed by Indrajit. Placing her in (the aerial car) Puspaka, then show (to her) the two princes killed in battle. That husband of hers, proud of whose support she does not submit to me, has been killed with his (younger half-) brother in the van of a battle. Rid of fear, free from perturbation and having lost (all) hope (of meeting her husband), nay, adorned with all her jewels, Sita, a princess of Mithila, shall (now) wait upon me. Having turned back (to the Asoka grove) on seeing Rama fallen under the sway of Death with Lakshmana on the field of battle, and finding no other haven, nay, rid of (all) hope, the large-eyed lady will seek me of her own accord today.”

Let’s now turn to Kamban’s portrayal.

The final hope – 2

The Brahmastra Padalam in Kamban, which precedes the canto in which Sita is taken to the battlefield, is the second of the three battles that Lakshmana and Indrajit fought. In the first battle, Lakshmana was bound by the Naga Pasa, in the second he was hit by Brahmastra and in the third battle Lakshmana kills Indrajit. Lakshmana was precluded by Rama from the use of any divine weapon in the battle and therefore, he could not counter the attack of Indrajit. Indrajit had earlier moved away from the field, giving an impression to Lakshmana and others that he had retreated and gone back to the city of Lanka. This was narrated when we studied Lakshmana, and when we took up Vibishana too. (See: He is at it again…)

The point that remains to be seen here is that Rama had moved away from the scene of action when Indrajit gave the impression of beating a retreat, but was in fact lying in camouflage behind the clouds. ‘dheyva vAn perum padaikku varan murai thirundhu mey koL pUsanai iyatrinam vidum,’ Rama had told Lakshmana. ‘I guess we may have to resort to the use of divine weapons. But as per the code of conduct, it is necessary that the necessary rites have to be performed to the weapons before we can use them. Therefore, I am going away from the spot. ‘naan avai aatrinen varuvadhu Or aLavum kai koL sEnayaik kaa,’ he ordered. ‘Stand in guard till I come back from the rituals. Protect the army on all sides.

Before leaving, Rama pointed to the delay in arrival of food supplies to Vibishana. ‘iravum nan pagalum peru nedum seru iyatri uravu nam padai melindhu uLadhu.’ Our army has been fighting non-stop, day and night and is emaciated now. ‘arundhudharkku uNavu varavu thaazndhadhu.’ The food supplies have not yet arrived. It seems they are getting delayed. ‘vIdaNa! vallayin Egi tharavu vENdinen,’ You go personally, Vibishana, and see to it they arrive quickly.

This verse needs to be discussed a bit more elaborately for this brings out the administrator in Sri Rama and the way he pays attention to details and takes care of the needs of his army. An army marches on its stomach. Unless that need is taken care of, no leader can expect results. We will examine this again in detail when studying Rama. Now, back to the scene in hand.

Take a look at the scene of action. The simian army is gathered in one place, and is guarded by Lakshmana, Hanuman and other monkey chiefs. Rama is not there. Vibishana, the most reliable information bank is not around. Indrajit takes advantage of the situation and sends his army headed by Mahodara and others, masqueraded as Indra, the celestials and the Rishis. That confuses Lakshmana. ‘Why and for what should Indra come in war against us!’ he turns to Hanuman to get clarified, in the absence of Vibishana. Indrajit fires the Brahmastra right at that moment. (For a description of the scene, See: A friend in deed is a friend indeed and Brahmastra Padalam III)

Rama returns to the field only to find the entire army lying on the ground bleeding and dead. He found Lakshmana among those who have fallen. Do I have to narrate kind of shock that overpowered him at that moment? Overcome by great anguish and pain, he fell unconscious by the side of Lakshmana. He would lie there until the arrival of Vibishana, who wakes Hanuman up and comes to him. Hanuman would depart for fetching the Hill of Herbs subsequent to that.

But, in the meantime when the brothers were lying side by side Ravana quickly worked out the plan. He desired that Sita should be taken in his aerial car to the battlefield to witness the gory scene for herself. To add effect to the eerie sight, he ordered his aide, Maruththa to remove the corpses of all Rakshasas from the field and throw them in the sea so that all that Janaki surveys would be the ‘mortal remains’ (so to say) of the Vanara army and that of Rama and Lakshmana. But Ravana paid dearly for this move, later. Had he not done so, all the Rakshasa warriors would have been restored to life when Hanuman brought the mountain of herbs!

That is the scene now for Janaki to witness. A large army – 70 Vahinis strong – of Vanaras and Rama and Lakshmana lying on the ground, motionless, unconscious and seemingly dead.

The guardian of her own self

We have gone through two different occasions that precede Sita being taken to the battlefield in the portrayal of Valmiki as well as that of Kamban. Now, take a look at the common elements. Both these scenes follow the battle with Indrajit. Both the brothers are lying unconscious on the ground, and appear dead. She is taken to the field in the Puspaka Vimana and allowed an aerial view – a quick and fleeting glance and not a very closer view – as the Vimana encircles the field from above. And in both the scenes, the intention behind the action remains the same. Ravana strongly believes that she would change her mind after seeing the ‘pathetic end’ that had come over Rama and Lakshmana.

“Having turned back (to the Asoka grove) on seeing Rama fallen under the sway of Death with Lakshmana on the field of battle, and finding no other haven, nay, rid of (all) hope, the large-eyed lady will seek me of her own accord today,” we have heard him say in the 47th Canto of Yuddha Kanda in the Valmiki Ramayana, in our recent posting. (See: The final hope – 1). Kamban’s Ravana echoes the very same hope. ‘dheyva maanathidai Etri, manidharkku utra seyal elaam, thaiyal kANak kAttumingaL,’ he commands. Take her in the aerial car and show her the fate of those humans. ‘kaNdaal andri ayyam nIngaaL.’ She would not believe unless she sees for herself.

Was Ravana a fool to have come to such a conclusion? Is that not a childish dream to think that, ‘the large-eyed lady will seek me of her own accord today’ when she ‘sees for herself’ what has happened to her husband and her brother-in-law? No. This was a challenge that he was throwing to the strong will of Janaki. He has already isolated her. He has separated her from her roots and has been hoping against hopes to deepen her sense of insecurity. He knew by experience that that common human foible would break the strongest of minds and would allow the emergence of a sense of self-preservation that would enable the striking of a compromise, allowing the acceptance of what was anathema, and the setting in of erosion of self-esteem, which alone can aid him in achieving his goal.

Unfortunately for him, the mind of Janaki was too hard to crack. I need not elaborate the agony that she went through on seeing her husband lying on the ground. She is seeing him after the passage of nearly a year in isolation. She had pinned great hopes on him. What she is now witnessing was the most unbelievable, but nonetheless seemingly convincing scene. This could not have happened. But it seems to have happened. However, the one-upmanship with which Ravana had hoped to win her over, did not work with her.

‘mazhu vaaL uRinum piLavaa mananOdu azhuven,’ she weeps. Here I stand weeping with a mind that is unbreakable even for an axe or a sword. ‘ini en?’ What remains now? ‘aarida yaan vizhuven avan mEniyin mIdhil,’ Let me console myself by jumping down from here, on his body, and breathe my last by his side. So saying, she attempted to jump down from the aerial car.

It goes to the credit of Trijata to turn her to logic and reason. ‘aaziyaan aakkai thannil ambu ondrum urugilaamai.’ See for yourself that the body of Rama is unaffected, and that there are no arrows on his person. ‘iLayavan vadhanam innum oozhi naaL iravi enna oLirgindradhu.’ And the countenance of Lakshmana shines as bright as the Sun on the day of the doom for the world. Know this to be another deception played on you by Ravana. Do not give unto grief. Do not despair. Collect yourself. Nothing is lost. They are alive. They are unconscious and would be restored to their normal state soon.

‘sirai kaakkum kaapu evan seyyum?’ asks Valluvar. Of what avail is a prison? Could it ever stop a soul that goes astray? ‘magaLir nirai kaakkum kaappE thalai.’ It is the woman who is the guardian of her own self.

She was her own guardian. And we saw the challenges she faced and how valiantly she stood against the assaults on her identity and rose up high. That was the last of all her woes in the prison of Asoka Vana. We are going to meet her with Hanuman, with the message of the slaying of Ravana.

In interregnum

We are moving towards the most dreaded but inevitable turn in the story. No. We are not discussing the scene of Agni Pravesa for now. We will have to wait for a few more days to take that burdensome task upon ourselves. It is, I should say, one of the most discussed and disputed scenes ever in the realms of religion as well as literature. What we are looking at now is a prelude to that scene.

But even before taking up that onerous responsibility, let us remind ourselves of an important point. Any incident in life needs to be viewed, thought of, assayed and understood from the points of view of every person involved in that particular incident. Like every incident in life, the scene of Agni Pravesa is also to be looked at from the points of view of two different personalities – indisputably great personalities at that – Rama and Sita. Inasmuch as we are studying Janaki, there is not much scope for discussing Rama now and presenting the case from his point of view. We will mostly confine ourselves to that aspect of the scene from the point of view of Janaki, more than that of Rama, for now. I say for now.

Nonetheless, we will, of necessity, have to study the events involving Sri Rama that preceded the scene of repudiation, for only then will we be able to gain a glimpse at his heart, though I can never say that I will be able to justify the words that he flung at her most mercilessly, callously and I would say, against his own heart. We will look at the scene in detail, commencing from the events that followed the slaying of Ravana, until the very last moment in which the couple divine faced each other, in the presence of a very large number of mixed spectators. Remember, Sugriva who accepted Ruma back from the clutches of Vali, was present in the scene.

As I said, we will look at it from the perspective of Janaki alone in all fairness. And we will take note of the events that preceded that scene of high emotions and high drama. We will take up the threads at a later and appropriate date, when we take up Rama for study, to gain a glimpse into the mysterious chambers of his heart. A dispassionate commentator going threadbare into this question, may be successful in throwing light, however inadequate it is, to point to his side of the story, to understand what impelled him to do so; however, will never be able to justify those words that scalded and burnt more than the Agni that she chose to walk into. We know that Rama himself would not be able to justify those harsh accusations that he made on that day. Not a single word that he spoke on that was based on facts. And he was aware of it.

Was it that he spoke against his own heart? Yes. I have no hesitation in saying that. There is plenty of evidence in the text that he was not speaking his heart out. He was not saying what was lying deep in his heart all these days. One has to observe each and every little incident that took place, as we observed above, from the death of Ravana, to the day on which they came in the presence of each other. One has to observe the way in which Rama gives his heart out concerning her at every other step until that moment. And one would be able to see that the accusations that he heaped on her did not emanate from his heart and his mind did not for a moment either before – up to the last moment – or after, even after the events in the Uttara Kanda, entertain the ‘suspicion’ of which he accused of, though the facts of this particular scene are otherwise.

Let me say this again. We will deal with the scene, in part from the perspective of Janaki and prepare the ground for a more detailed discussion later, when we take up Rama. Let this be remembered. We are trying to understand this part of the story and this particular scene better and we are not trying to judge the great personality in question. None of the little hearts that we are can ever imagine doing that.

The foe ideal

The behaviour of Sri Rama is rather unusual – if not strange – for a husband, I should say a loving husband, who has suffered the pangs of separation for such a long time, not to have summoned Sita to his presence immediately after the killing of Ravana. He waits. He has his own priorities; his own promises to keep and protocols to observe. Though in exile, he has always been a king. Or, I should say, kingly. One would not fail to observe his impeccable ways right from the beginning, especially from the beginning of his life in the forest till the very end of the war. Be it the protection that he grants to the sages and the promise that he makes for the elimination of the ogres that trouble them; be it the unconditional surrender – setting his priorities aside in Kamban – that is given to Sugriva; be it the way he is consecrated by Lakshmana, since he has been precluded from entering into any city during the period of his exile or be it the way in which he accepts Vibishana into his fold – or the simpleton Guha for that matter – he carries himself around admirably, wonderfully and remarkably. I have picked up some incidents at random. We will be going into every one of them more fully, soon.

As I said, anybody else would have wanted to call his spouse to his presence immediately on achieving the goal – the killing of Ravana – and it is understandable that way. But Rama has a promise to keep. He would not go to step three when the step two is yet to be observed. Though it is perfectly within his power and is perfectly acceptable to everyone around – in fact they would have wanted him to do so – he would not bend. He would not overstep. He would not violate the royal order, the regal procedure. If he observed that with everyone, the demand that he placed on himself on such matters was absolute and uncompromising. (I know questions like the killing of Vali would arise now. That question has already been dealt with elaborately and would be spoken again in an appropriate context. We are not going into that now.) Rama had his other priorities now.

The consecration of Vibishana was his immediate priority now and nothing could precede that. Even before that business could be taken up, there is another and very important duty to be discharged. A duty to the dead. The cremation of the very person that he was fighting against just moments ago. Here is Vibishana, who is rather reluctant to accept that responsibility. “Though worthy of adoration by virtue of his seniority in that he was my elder brother,” he says, “he does not merit my respect. (On my refusing to perform his obsequies) people on earth will (surely) brand me as ruthless, O Rama. On hearing of his blemishes, however, all will speak of me as having done well.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 111, Sloka 93 – 95)

‘He may be my brother. But he does not merit my respect. People may talk ill of me when they come to know that I refused to perform his obsequies. But they would understand me when they look at his blemishes.’ Rama’s response is stunning. I am sure he would have left Vibishana breathless. I am deliberately keeping this portion short and am moving rather quickly, without giving the due attention that it merits because of the context in which we are looking at it. It is enough for me to quote his response. Here is a combination of his responses from Kamban and Valmiki.

‘vIdaNaa, thakkadhu andraal,’ he remonstrates. This is not right, Vibishana. ‘ennadhO nI irandhaan mEl vayiriththal?’ How is that you nurture enmity on someone who is dead? “Hostilities endure till death (only). Our purpose (too) stands accomplished (now). Let his obsequies be performed. He is as well mine as yours.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Canto 111, Sloka 100-101) The words suggest, ‘If you do not perform his cremation, I will.’ He was an ideal son, ideal friend and an ideal foe too.

Of course, Vibishana did not have the temerity to resist Rama after that and he accepted his responsibility and did perform the last rites. Anyone reading Kamban’s version would be moved to tears as he does so. His lament – sincere though he refused to perform the last rites – is so moving. It no doubt praises his valour, nevertheless, censures – though helplessly and pitiably – the way Ravana conducted himself.

Remember. Janaki is not yet aware of anything as yet. She would not come to know of anything for some more time to come. Some natural time has to pass from the time of cremation to the installation of Vibishana as the king of Lanka, however short it is. Rama would not violate the demands of hierarchy in the least. If the king of Lanka placed her in prison, another king of Lanka should be in place before she is set free.

On his permission

One has to see how strict Rama has been in carrying out the conditions of his exile and in observing the code of conduct meticulously, every time establishing the fact that at heart he is conscious of the fact that he is a king, though in exile, and has to so conduct himself as to make it abundantly clear that everything that he speaks or does is strictly in accordance with the accepted norms and values.

Technically speaking, he continues to be a king although in exile. It was he who was ruling over Ayodhya, through Bharata. Bharata was ruling the country through his authority and was reporting to his sandals. Rama had sent him back to the country with the strange sounding phrase, ‘I beg of you to go back to Ayodhya and rule the country under my order.’ ‘yAn unai irandhanen.’ I beg of you. ‘ini en aaNayaal aanadhu Or amaidhiyin aLitthi pAr.’ Administer the country on my orders, under my authority. This strange co-existence of two opposing words ‘beg’ and ‘order’ in one phrase, was discussed earlier when we studied Bharata. (See: Let me be the deputy of your sandals Part I and Part II and Trusteeship and transparent administration) Rama was a king, no doubt in exile. He was aware of what his kingly responsibilities demanded of him and he observed them meticulously, cautiously and consciously.

One may recall that Sugriva was consecrated to the throne by Lakshmana, since Rama refused to enter any city as the orders that he received from Kaikeyi prevented him from doing so. Even when Vibishana was symbolically installed to the throne of Lanka on the seashore, before the bridge across the sea was constructed, when Vibishana came to him seeking his protection, Rama observes a clear distinction on role, responsibility and rituals. He promises the kingdom of Lanka to Vibishana. He has no hesitation in doing so. But he does not perform the act of consecration himself. He orders Lakshmana to do so. “Embracing Vibishana, while he was speaking as aforesaid,” says Valmiki, “Sri Rama for his part (joyfully) said to Lakshmana. ‘(Please) fetch water from the sea and consecrate at once the highly sagacious Vibishana with it as the king of ogres, now that I am pleased (with him) O bestower of honour (on others).” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 19, Sloka 24-25)

Kamban repeats the portrayal of Valmiki exactly. ‘thAz kadal ilangaich chelvam ninnadhE, thandhEn,’ he declares. ‘The kingdom of the sea-surrounded Lanka is yours. I grant you.’ The promise is his. The act that would enable Vibishana to ascend the throne is his. In fact, Rama says, ‘Lanka is yours until the worlds and my name exist.’ And he adds, ‘thandhEn’ I give you. Who can deny that he is playing his kingly role of benevolence when he says that! But observe. The act of consecration – though symbolic it be – is not done by him. He asks Lakshmana to perform that ritual. He turns to Lakshmana and tells him, ‘thunjal il nayanatthu ayya! sUttudhi magudam.’ My dear Lakshmana, ye of unsleeping eyes, let him be crowned by you.

He does the very same thing now. He summons Lakshmana and asks him to complete the rituals in order to install Vibishana on the throne. “The aforesaid son of Kakutstha then spoke (as follows) to Lakshmana, son of Sumitra, who was full of courage and free with spirit and standing nearby. ‘Consecrate, O gentle one, on the throne of Lanka the yonder Vibishana who is fond of, nay, devoted to me, and has done good offices to me in the past. It is my foremost desire, O gentle one, that I should see this younger brother of Ravana, Vibishana, consecrated on the throne of Lanka.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 112, Sloka 8-11)

‘Go with Hanuman and other Vanara warriors and install him to office,’ he would tell Lakshmana in Kamban. ‘sOdhiyaan magan vaayuvin thOndral matru Edhil vaanara vIrarodu Egi nI,’ Go along with Hanuman and others. The word ‘Egi’ – go – clearly indicates that it was Lakshmana who went into the city, while Rama waited in the outskirts, not entering the city. “Having inherited that great kingdom bestowed (on him) by Sri Rama,” says Valmiki, “and consoled his subjects, the celebrated Vibishana forthwith sought the presence of Sri Rama.” (Ibid, Sloka 19) That he ‘sought the presence of Sri Rama’ makes it abundantly clear that Rama was not present during the ceremony of enthroning of Vibishana.

It is only after every single one of the rules of the code of conduct has been executed in its minutest detail that Rama summons Hanuman to deliver his message to Sita, who is not at all aware of any of the developments, though at least a period of 24 hours must have passed by this time. Read his message now and we will discuss it in our next post.

“Thereupon Sri Rama addressed the following words to the valiant monkey, Hanuman, who resembled a mountain (in size) and stood in a suppliant mood with joined palms. ‘Taking the permission of this great monarch, Vibishana, O gentle one, and penetrating into the city of Lanka, inquire of Sita (the princess of Mithila) how she is doing. Also speak to Sita (the princess of the territory of Videha) about me as well as about Sugriva including Lakshmana being well, and (also) speak to her about Ravana having been killed in combat, O jewel among the eloquent. Communicate, O chief of monkeys, this agreeable tidings to Sita (a princess of the Videha territory) and you for your part should return hereafter receiving her message.” (Ibid, Sloka 23 – 26)

Go and deliver my message to her. But, take the permission of Vibishana.

Between message and message

It was only a couple of months back that Hanuman started on his mission southwards, along with his team, in the search for Sita. At that time, Rama felt intuitively that it was Hanuman who would return successful, spotting Sita in some remote corner of the world and therefore he singled him out to hand his ring over to him so that she may be assured that the messenger is genuine and therefore the message too is genuine. One has to juxtapose Rama’s message to Sita sent through Hanuman in the Kishkindha Kanda and the message as delivered by Hanuman in the Sundara Kanda, with the one that he is sending her through the very same Hanuman and examine the tone, tenor and the mood of both.

Valmiki does not portray Rama as giving out a long and detailed description of Janaki, and does not spell out his message to Sita in the Kishkindha Kanda. There he stops with handing his ring over to Hanuman and tells him, “Through this token, O jewel among the monkeys, Sita (the daughter of Janaka) unperturbedly recognise you to have arrived from my presence.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Kishkindha Kanda, Canto 44, Sloka 13) In the 17th Sloka of the said Canto he would say, “I depend on your might, O Hanuman, endowed as you are with surpassing strength. Exert yourself in such a way by dint of your great valour, O son of the wind-god, possessing as you do the might of the foremost of lions, that Sita, daughter of Janaka, may be found.”

Kamban’s Rama gives out a very long and detailed description of her in a parallel scene, to Hanuman. There we are able to see how tenderly Rama feels about her, how much strong is his love for her and what an amount of unshakeable trust and faith he has on her immaculate qualities. I defer the details for a later date. However, let me say this much here. The Rama of Kamban in this scene throws his heart open to Hanuman and to the careful reader and makes it known absolutely the strength of his love and the kind of trust he has for his darling.

Nonetheless, though Valmiki might have been a little short when Rama gives his message out to Sita through Hanuman in the Kishkindha Kanda, the message that Hanuman delivers to her in the Sundara Kanda is, without doubt, Rama’s message. One can still compare that message with the one that is being sent now to Janaki, at the end of war, which is the first of all his words on this particular occasion that is developing before our eyes. Here is how Hanuman starts his message from Rama to Vaidehi in Sundara Kanda.

“I have sought your presence, O godlike lady, as an envoy carrying a message sent by Sri Rama. Sri Rama, O princess of the Vaideha territory, is doing well. He has communicated his (own) welfare to you. (Nay) Sri Rama, the celebrated son of Dasaratha, and the foremost of the knowers of Veda, who knows the use of the mystic missile presided over by Brahma (the creator) as well as (the import of) the Vedas, o godlike lady, has (also) inquired of you about your (own) welfare.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, Canto 34, Sloka 2 and 3)

It may look like a very simple, ‘How are you, I am fine here,’ message exchanged a hundred times over and over again almost everyday. But one has to look at it from the point of view of two hearts – loving hearts – in desolation and one sending a message of welfare to the other and seeking to know the welfare of the other. This needs to be discussed a bit more elaborately, which, with the verses of Kamban, would add to the richness of Rama’s love for her. It has to be studied in a different background and a different context and therefore we will take it up later with Rama.

Now take a look at the message that he is sending through Hanuman. What is he to convey to her, on behalf of Rama? ‘vaidehyai maam ca kushalam sugrivam ca salakshmanam’ Inquire of Sita (the princess of Videha) how she is doing. ‘achakshva vadatam shreshtam ravanam ca hatam rane’ Also, speak to her about me as well as Sugriva including Lakshmana being well, and (also) speak to her about Ravana having been killed in combat.

The message sounds simple. We are going to learn through the way that Hanuman conveys his message to Sita that Rama wanted her to know that he has won her back after a very long time – several months or may be about a year – of sleepless nights.

What are we aiming at? Perplexing, is that not so? Just wait for a day more.

The message and its mood

Neither the message from Rama nor its mood nor the way in which it is delivered differs much in the Yuddha Kanda as compared to that of Sundara Kanda. There is of course one major difference in the mood. While the message conveyed in the Sundara Kanda tells her of the welfare of Rama and assures her that her woes would be over in a short time, the present message tells her that after many a month of sleepless nights, Rama has killed Ravana and that she should not entertain fear any more.

“Fear should no longer be entertained by you, living as you do in the abode of Ravana; for the dominionship of Lanka has now been placed under the control of Vibishana (who is our friend). Therefore, complacently be at ease. (Feel that) you are dwelling in your own abode. Nay, Vibishana (himself) who is very keen to see you, is coming (to pay his respects to you) highly rejoiced.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 113, Sloka 12 and 13)

Take a look at the message again. One can visualise from the confidence with which Hanuman delivers it, how happy he must have been. He is actually bubbling with joy. He would even take liberties with her and tease Janaki as she is overjoyed and fumbles for words to express her happiness. We will see that in our next post.

The point now is this. If Rama was really serious about the accusations – unimaginably harsh, scathing and absolutely unfounded – why is that there is not even a trace of what could have been going on in his mind for a long time, if it was at all a long time since he started nurturing such thoughts? Why is it so totally silent about what is going to follow in about a couple of hours from now? Why is it that even Hanuman, the able reader of the mind, one who can read the thoughts of a person from his gestures, gesticulations and grimaces, could not foresee – or sense it even remotely – what was lying in the heart of Rama?

The message conveys all. That Rama spent sleepless nights. That he has crossed the ocean to reach Lanka for the purpose of setting her free. That he wanted her to know that Ravana has been killed. That he wanted her to take heart and be void of all fear, now that she is in a Lanka that is protected by Vibishana, who is their friend. That Vibishana himself would come to see her presently. Is there any indication or suggestion to the effect that at heart Rama is troubled? At heart he is suffering? And that he has serious misgivings and ‘suspicion’ about what might have happened to her in the prison of a demon? No. It is absolutely devoid of any such idea.

If even Hanuman could not sense a difference in the attitude of Rama, what could have been the reason? It was to him that Rama conveyed his heart in the Kishkindha Kanda and he has seen him how he lost himself in tenderness in her thoughts. ‘varai sey thaaL vil irutthavan, am maa muniyodum virasinaan allaneEl viduval yaan uyir,’ he so fondly narrates to Hanuman. ‘Hanuman, we saw each other as I walked down the streets of Mithila along with Viswamitra and Lakshmana. And we were in love. I attempted to string the bow but I broke it in the attempt. When this news was communicated to her, she thought for a while and told to herself that she would die, if it turned out that it was not I who broke the bow.

This was something that Sita told herself when she was alone in her chamber of Mithila. (See: If it is not he) How is that Rama came to know of it! Well, the only possibility is that she must have told him. We will go into this more fully later.

Coming back to our discussions. Maruti was the one who heard from him in the Kishkindha Kanda and conveyed the message to her in the Sundara Kanda. If even he could not sense an iota of a difference in the words of Rama, what could it mean? It could only mean that Rama was absolutely placid, might perhaps even shown happiness, and that there was no indication whatever of trouble brewing in his heart. If there was trouble, I should add. Otherwise, Maruti would have sensed it. Therefore, until this moment Rama’s heart is devoid of the thoughts that poured acid on her on that day. This is just a couple of hours before that incident.

There are a few more incidents to follow that allow us to deduce more. But before that, let us turn our attention to Hanuman delivering the message to Sita and the happiness that flows around.

What it meant to him

It is necessary for us – engaged as we are in examining the events leading to Agni Pravesa – to take note of the moods of the various characters involved in the high drama till we reach the final moment. We mentioned that Hanuman was highly exited in carrying Rama’s message to Janaki. He has every reason to feel exhilarated or even elated to convey it and to have the opportunity to see the first smile that blooms on her, putting an end to all her misery.

In a sense, this means a lot to him personally. In the first place, it was he who was identified by Rama as the one who would come back with the good news of having spotted her and was entrusted with his signet, to show her in the anticipated event of finding her. He was the one who spotted her, saw the miseries that she was going through and the bravery and patience with which she was facing them all; stopped her from the act of suicide that she was about to commit and returned to his lord Rama with the joyous news, who understood even from a distance – from his act of prostrating to the south – ‘kaNdadhum uNdu; avaL kaRpum nandru,’ ‘He has seen her and she is safe, pure and chaste.’ Note the phrase, ‘avaL kaRpum nandru,’ ‘She is pure and chaste,’ in what Rama tells himself, as he saw Hanuman running towards him on the Mount Prasravana, in the Sundara Kanda, when the latter prostrated on the ground in the direction of south.

It is just not that. He was moved beyond words at her sufferings and took delight, indeed became proud at her steadfastness and developed emotional bonds with her. We studied the complex pattern of relationship that developed between the two of them. Hanuman looking at her as the Lady – the mistress of his Lord – and as his mother, from what appears on the surface, from his posture and body language and holding and perceiving her internally as his child, his daughter, from the way he strengthens her heart and fortifies her hope. And Janaki looking to him as her own father. (See: As he left and Thou art my father)

It is also apt to bring to mind the travails that he went through when Indrajit killed the Maya Sita in his presence. (See: When the very purpose of the war is nullified…Part I and Part II) ‘velvikka vandhu, ninnai mItpikka andru,’ he bewailed then, taking the illusory Sita that Indrajit killed to be true. ‘Did I not come here after all, to assist Rama in killing the demon and taking you back! ‘veydhin kolvikka vandhEn,’ ‘Did I come here to see you being killed cruelly by this ogre, O mother mine!’ This loss was so personal to him at that moment that he – shocked at the turn of events – expresses so very painfully, ‘am solaaL irundhaaL kaNdEn endra yaan,’ It was I who told Rama that I found her alive. ‘arakkan kollath thunjinaaL endrum sollath thOndrinEn.’ And it has now been given to me to convey to him that I saw her being killed by the demon.

One can understand the emotions that would have run wild in this affectionate messenger when he carried the happy message from Rama to her. He reached the presence of Sita. Kamban paints a vivid picture of the happy state of mind in which Hanuman was. ‘pAdinAn thiru nAmangaL panmurai.’ He would now chant the name of Rama again and again, many times. ‘kUdu saariyin kupputru,’ He would twine to the left now, twirl to the right next, and go round and round in ecstasy, ‘kUtthu nindru aadi,’ he would dance in glee. ‘angai iraNdum alangu ura, soodi,’ he would join his palms trembling (with the excessive emotions running in him) over his head in reverence.

You know when he danced like this earlier? It was when he returned to Sugriva, after meeting Rama for the first time. His emotions ran wild then too. If he was happy at that time because he carried the happy news about Rama to Sugriva, he was a little vengeful too because they found at last a way to kill Vali. ‘aalam uNdavanin nindru aru nadam puriguvaan,’ Kamban would say. He danced like Lord Shiva himself, who consumed hälähala the most deadly of all poisons. If he was impassioned at the meeting with Rama and infuriated at the thought of killing Vali then, he was overjoyed at the prospect of the emotions that he would evoke with the message of Rama to Vaidehi and was invigorated by the information that he was about to give on the killing of Ravana, now. Only, this was a dance of joy, pure ecstasy, void of the anger that found an expression last time, through his Rudra tandava.

Take a note of all this, as these are – apart from a narration of the present moment – material evidence giving out a clue to the heart of Rama.

In silence she responds

Speaking of personal bonds and tender feelings, one should read the way Hanuman opens his address to Sita, delivering the message of Rama in the Asoka Vana. Here is how Kamban puts it. I would prefer to give the verse in one piece rather than splitting it up and giving a phrase by phrase translation, because it is so precious to me.

'Ezai, sObanam! Enthizai, sObanam!
vAzi sObanam! mangala sObanam!
Azi Ana arakkanai Ariyach
chUzi yAnai thugaitthathu sObanam!'

'Ezai, sObanam!’ he says. ‘Blessed be ye O poor thing.’ That one word 'Ezai’ – poor thing – says it all. It simply drips with affection and compassion. Read over and over again, it reverberates and resonates deep in the heart, stirring feelings ineffable. Draw up a mental picture and visualise this moment. One would very clearly see a father figure touching the head of his child in tenderness and in benediction.

‘Blessed be ye O poor thing, blessed be ye O bejewelled! Benedictions! May you live long! Benedictions! May it be propitious! The best of elephants has trampled the demon, the sea (of wicked deeds)! Benedictions!’

The translation is close to the original but it cannot be as lustrous. One has to do it again in one’s own language to get a feel of it. This particular verse moves me whenever I read this portion, by the utter simplicity of its words and by the deep feelings that it is laden with. Especially that address, 'Ezai’ – poor thing. By whom! To whom! And the words ‘yAna’I’ and ‘thugaitthathu’. Elephant (Rama) trampled (Ravana). One can actually perceive the expression on the face of Hanuman, uttering these words. One can sense the powerful expression of anger seething through the words, as also the return of tranquility that it is all over.

This is followed by a short narration of the events of the war. Hanuman goes on and on with his narration only to find that there is no response from her. She was blank. She did not say anything. Her body of course showed signs of restoration, of recovery like goose bumps appearing all over et al. But she did not stir. ‘anayadhu aagi anumanai nOkkinaaL.’ (With her physical conditions showing signs of joy) she looked and looked at Hanuman, silently. ‘inayadhu innadhu iyambuvadhu enbadhu Or ninaivu ilaadhu nedidhu irundhaaL.’ She was unable to express herself. She did not know what to say. She did not even realise for a long time that she remains speechless.

In fact, Valmiki says that she could not recognise Hanuman for a while. “Seeing the said Hanuman, who was endowed with extraordinary might, duly arrived (but failing to recognise him), the godlike lady kept quiet in the first instance. Looking at him (again) and recognising him, she felt rejoiced at that moment.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 113, Sloka 5)

Valmiki speaks of this state of mind of hers. “Spoken to in these words, the divine Sita for her part, whose countenance shone like the moon, felt tongue-tied due to excessive joy and could not speak; so the tradition goes,” he says. Hanuman must have been intrigued by this silence. “Thereupon Hanuman, (the foremost of monkeys) spoke (as follows) to Sita, who was not making an answer. ‘What are you thinking of, O godlike lady? And why don’t you speak to me?’” (Ibid, Sloka 14 and 15)

One can sense the mischievous smile that runs across the lips of Hanuman and can almost see the twinkle in his eyes when he teases her in Kamban. ‘yaadhu idharkku ondru iyambuval enbadhu,’ What am I to understand of this silence, madam? If you remain speechless, ‘mIdhu uyarndha uvagayin vimmalO?’ should I understand it to be the result of your joy in excess, ‘thUdhu poykkum endrO?’ or do I have to conclude that you do not believe me, that you think that this messenger is lying?

Tell me. Would Hanuman have teased her, joked with her and spoken to her playfully, had he had the least little fore-knowledge of what is going to take place? Do you think that he would have not been able to read the bitter feelings of Rama, if there were any, when he was ordered by him? Do you think that it would be possible for Hanuman to carry himself as the poets have portrayed, if there was even a trace of remorse, if not in the words of Rama, in his voice and the manner of delivery, or in his body language?

As we have seen that message of Rama is simple, straight and clear. It is devoid of any such feelings. And Rama must have sounded quite normal at that time, as evidenced by Hanuman’s mood.

Hari Krishnan