Rama - Part 3

A penchant for Truth

The popular version of the story is that during the battle with Sambara, the axle of the chariot-wheel of Dasaratha broke and Kaikeyi inserted her finger in the place of the axle and endured until Dasaratha killed Sambara, and thus saved the situation. We have seen in our studies of Kaikeyi that this version does not agree with Valmiki’s own narrative. (See: Boon or bane?) She removed Dasaratha who was ‘lacerated with weapons and missiles,’ and in an ‘unconscious state.’ He was saved thus twice and therefore offered two boons to Kaikeyi.

The Emperor, had he at all preferred to do so, could have easily told Kaikeyi that it was not possible to grant those boons and could have firmly told her to ‘ask something else.’ It was that easy for him to come out of the situation. And it is not right to conclude that he was not able to do so, out of his excessive love for Kaikeyi. He repudiates her the moment he finds her to be so very cruel, unyielding, adamant and persisting in her demands against all established norms, and the precarious situation of the emperor, who would not be able to face the people, if he is going to reverse his decision at the last moment.

‘சொன்னேன் இன்றே, இவள் என் தாரம் அல்லள்; துறந்தேன்,’ he declares the moment he comes to know that Rama has already left the city at the behest of Kaikeyi. ‘Let it be known here and now. She is not my wife any more. I have given her up.’ The Emperor does not stop there. His anger does not appease with that. He repudiates Bharata as well. ‘மன்னே ஆவான் வரும் அப் பரதன் தனையும் மகனென்று உன்னேன்; முனிவா! அவனும் ஆகான் உரிமைக்கு’ O my master, Vasistha, I do not consider that Bharata, who would come back to assume the throne, as my son, from now on! Let him not perform my last rites!’ The Emperor precludes Bharata from performing his obsequies, foreseeing his impending death and that Bharata would be the person who has to act in the absence of Rama. It is Satrughna who performs the last rites of the emperor in Kamban, though Bharata is spared to perform the last rites in Valmiki. Dasaratha repudiates not Kaikeyi alone; but Bharata as well. That takes the element of ‘love’ away in his – unwillingly though – allowing Kaikeyi in twisting his arm against himself.

We would go into the reasons later. What I wanted to emphasise here is that if Dasaratha acceded to what Kaikeyi pressed for, it was not due to his love for her; but due to his unswerving penchant for the honour of his words. Contrary to the popular opinion, the Emperor was pulled in opposite directions not because of his supposed vulnerability to love – or if I may use the word that almost everyone uses, lust. On the other hand, what he was caught by, and held by was with the noose of his own words. For him, the words once given are irreversible. Cannot be changed in the least. For he considered one thing above his own self. Sathya. This was in his blood. He is coming in a line in which Harischandra was born.

Rama was a replica of Dasaratha in almost every way, save for a trait or two. Valmiki says of Rama, “He was indeed possessed of physical charm, full of valour and free from censoriousness. He was incomparable on earth as a son and was a replica of Dasaratha in point of virtues.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Ayodhya Kanda, Canto 1, Sloka 9) He resembled his father in every way, especially in his penchant for Truth. If it was Sathya that turned the father a helpless witness to the exile of Rama, it was the same predilection for Truth that made Rama to accept that exile with a smile.

That leads us to a question. If Rama accepted the exile on him, if what he considered as the most important thing in life was ‘pithru vakya paripalana’ or honouring the words of his father, what exactly was this ‘pithru vakya’? Dasaratha never told Rama to go on exile and allow Bharata to be installed in his place! It was Kaikeyi who ‘conveyed’ the ‘order’ of the king. On the contrary, we see throughout the text in the exchanges between Rama and Dasaratha, the latter trying desperately to stop him from accepting the so-called order to go on exile. We have seen that Dasaratha goes to the extent of suggesting Rama to wage a war against him and wrench the kingdom from his hands! (See: Did he mean it?)

If going on exile was the ‘pithru vakya’ that Rama was firm in carrying out, not venturing on exile was also a ‘pithru vakya’! The earlier one was something conveyed through Kaikeyi, and was not an order given to Rama directly by the emperor. The direct order – or to put it more appropriately, request, or what Dasaratha virtually begged of Rama – was not to go on exile. If Rama chose the first order, conveyed to him indirectly and not the subsequent order – or pleads – of the father himself, what was the reason, or justification? Which one of the two was actually supposed to be the ‘pithru vakya’?

It is here we see Kamban beautifully circumventing the difficult situation. It is ‘mAthru vAkya,’ in Kamban, throughout. Excepting in the eyes of Rama, that is to say, for once. ‘தாயும் வரம் கொள்ள, தந்தையே ஏவ,’ he would tell Vasishtha. ‘By the boons of the mother and at the behest of the king.’ But for this one and only instance, it is ‘தாய் உரை,’ or, ‘mother’s order’ throughout the epic, be it in the words of Rama, or in the words of any other character.

‘தரை அளித்த தனி நேமித் தயரதன் தன் புதல்வர் யாம்;
தாய்சொல் தாங்கி, விரை அளித்த கான் புகுந்தேம்...... ‘

he would tell SürpaNakhä. ‘We are the sons of Dasaratha. We are on exile at the behest of our mother.’

And therefore, we are faced with two questions now. The right interpretation of the phrase ‘pithru vakya’ and this conceptual change – shift in the very basic idea on which the epic is constructed – in Kamban.

Let’s go into these. But before that Viswamitra calls our attention.

A strange situation

Despite everything, there are a few characters in the epic that are aware of the divine nature of the hero and the purpose of the avatar, though the hero himself is not aware of it, and is not supposed to know it until the killing of Ravana. Sometimes we see some of the citizens getting a whiff of the scent, which take the shape of their admiring exclamations. But these are passing remarks. Almost all of the sages that we come across in the epic have an insight into this divinity. You can see this right from Vasishtha to Agastya. From Atri to Sarabhanga or Sutiikshna. That includes the demons Viradha and Kabandha. If Vibishana realises this divinity, Kumbhakarna expresses it in his last advice to Ravana; Indrajit acknowledges it. And even Ravana realises it on the very last day of the war, at the very last moment, minutes before his death, as he perceives his trident turning to piece with Rama raising the sound of ‘hmmm’ in anger. ‘இவனோதான் அவ்வேத முதல் காரணன்,’ Ravana realises in shock. ‘He is neither Shiva, nor Brahma, nor Vishnu. He is the One that the Vedas point to as the Supreme.’ But it was too late then.

If that is so, there are two very important characters of the epic, which are happily unaware of any such thing as ‘divinity of Rama’ or the idea of an ‘avatar’. One is unable to see. The other refuses to see. Dasaratha and Rama. Dasaratha is unable to see the super-human nature of his son, despite the killing of Tataka, the killing of Subähu and the hurling of Märïca, despite the breaking of the bow of Shiva, despite the quelling of Parasurama, despite everything. Rama is nothing other than his ‘endeared child’ throughout, until the very last breath of the emperor. He might have grown up sufficiently to accept the responsibilities of a king; but he is no more than a child. He could not see anything else of Rama. In fact, he was unable to see beyond that because of his excessive love for Rama, his child.

And the other person, of course, Rama, turns a deaf ear to such statements that tell him of his divinity, after the fall of Ravana. The appearance of Garuda in the battlefield means nothing to him. The words of Agni or Brahma or anyone else for that matter in the scene of Agni Pravesa on his divine nature go unheard. The appearance of Agastya in the battlefield is seen as an act of unbounded mercy. The appearance of the chariot of Indra which is sent to him for his last battle with Ravana is looked at with a bit of askance. Rama does not give cognisance at all to any of the references to his divinity on more than one occasion towards the end of the Book, until Yama comes to him to remind him that He has to ascend His abode. That is the only occasion when Rama perceives what He is. Save for only one occasion, when blessing Hanuman at the time of Vibishana Saranaagathi.

That is the difficulty in moving the drama. The main character is in blissful oblivion of His nature; while a few around him possess that knowledge. And those few are supposed to initiate such events and make the wheels roll in their intended direction. When they do so, they are not supposed to divulge in the least the reason why they are doing this and this deed, which would cause a direct awareness of His own true Self. They do things so very imperceptibly; naturally and prepare the ground for the avatar to move towards its purpose. That demands all the skills of the poet to move the drama to move smoothly, without letting inconsistencies and incongruities hold their sway!

Now, Viswamitra is one among those who was aware of this purpose behind the avatar, apart from Vasishtha. And that’s how we see his appearance in the court of Dasaratha. He needs Rama to be sent with him. That’s how the story of Rama begins, after his birth. This is the first time that we are going to see our hero on the screen. The reason that he gives out to Dasaratha, for sending Rama along with him, sounds neither convincing nor logical. But he wants Rama to accompany him! He is not able to listen to Dasaratha’s reasoning, or the suggestion of a viable and logical alternative. He is touched to the quick and his eyes spit fire at the moment Dasaratha pleads for accepting him as the right choice to guard his Yaga.

Why is that Viswamitra’s request, is neither convincing nor logical? Think for a while.

What a choice!

Viswamitra’s arrival at the court of Ayodhya causes quite a flutter. Here is the king turned sage, whose penance had endowed him with such enormous power that he was out to help Trisanku ascend the heavens in his mortal frame; willed his way to create a parallel universe; did not stop with the attainment of the state of a ‘Maharishi’ or a ‘Rajarishi’ and pushed himself so hard until the very Brahma himself conferred him with the title ‘Brahmarishi,’ and persisted till Vasishtha recognised it. Therefore, if at all there was somebody in the world that Viswamitra considered to be a step ahead of him; or a level above him was Vasistha, for his austerities could not be stopped even when the Creator himself conferred him the title; which had to have the stamp of approval by Vasistha and none other than Vasishtha. Vasishtha, the Master of the race of Ikshwäkus was there in the court. Nobody else other than Vasishtha could have read the mind of Viswamitra and the purpose of his visit. For the request that he placed before the king was strange indeed.

He had a problem. He was performing a sacrifice, which could not be completed. Every time he sits down for it, perform all the rituals and is about to conclude it, his efforts are marred by two ogres, Märïca and Subähu. “I stand consecrated for a sacrificial performance for the realisation of my aim, O jewel among men,” Viswamitra says, and complains, “Two ogres capable of taking any form at will interrupt the said performance in conjunction with their associates. Towards its conclusion, when the sacred observance had been gone through in a large measure, however, these two notorious Rakshasas, Märïca and Subähu, who are not only possessed of (great) prowess but are highly trained (in the methods of warfare) covered the sacrificial altar with a (large) volume of flesh and blood (dropped from the air).” (Valmiki Ramayana, Bala Kanda, Canto 19, Sloka 4 and 5) With the purity of the sacrificial fire and the grounds getting fouled, the sages had to start the process once again from square number one, only to be faced with a similar situation again at the conclusion.

’I can handle the situation myself,’ says Viswamitra. ‘But I am forbidden from taking either a punitive or a preventive measure. I can stop them with a word of mine. But I am not supposed to stir until the completion of the sacrifice.’ “For such is (the character of) that observance no execration can be uttered in the course of it.”

‘There are only four places for us, sages, to take refuge when afflicted,’ begins Viswamitra, accepting the seat of honour offered by Dasaratha. ‘Where can we go? There are only four places that offer protection to sages in distress. ‘ வெள்ளிப்பனி வரையும் ,பாற்கடலும், பதும பீடத்து அன்னகரும்….. ..அயோத்தி என்னும் பொன்னகரும்…’ We can go to the Mount Kailaas and seek refuge in Shiva, or the Milky Ocean to solicit the help of Vishnu or the Brahma Loka. Apart from these three places, there is one city in this world that we can look forward to for protection, Ayodhya. ‘ சம்பரனைக் குலத்தோடு தொலைத்து நீ கொண்டு அன்று அளித்த அரசு அன்றோ புரந்தரன் இன்று ஆளுகின்றது’ What Indra is ruling over today is the kingdom that you won back for him, killing Sambara.

Fine. The sages in distress, whenever their askesis are interrupted by demonic forces can seek protection, and go either to the abodes of the Trinity, or to Ayodhya for alleviation of distress. Dasaratha has a track-record. He has assisted Indra and killed Sambara in his super-human effort. Indra, the most powerful head of celestials got his heavenly kingdom with the prowess of Dasaratha.

Dasaratha was immensely pleased. The first impression that he got was that the sage was calling him to personally guard his sacrifices. ‘கரை செய்ய அரியது ஒரு பேர் உவகைக் கடல் பெருக ,’ a shore less ocean of happiness overwhelmed his heart. ‘அரைசு எய்தி இருந்த பயன் எய்தினேன்,’ said he. ‘I have attained the fruit of my kingship. This is the ultimate of duties that a king can perform. I am blessed today. Yes my revered sire, here we go.’

But, as we know, it was not the services of the much experienced battle-force, the slayer of Sambara that Viswamitra wanted. What he wanted was this inexperienced boy. Not more than sixteen years old. Who has not seen a single battlefield until then. Who has, perhaps, attained a senior level training in archery and the use of other weapons; but still had to undergo training in the art of war. The enemies that he was supposed to fight was not other simpler, skilled human beings; but demons. Demons who were in the words of Viswamitra, “possessed of (great) prowess but are highly trained (in the methods of warfare)”.

What a choice! Leave alone a father, which king would be prepared to entrust such a sacred duty, which calls for a skill of a superior kind, experience of extraordinary nature, established track-record, to a slip of a boy! This boy is still in the process of learning. His skills were untested; unproved and unknown at that time, though he has been acknowledged to be the finest of archers, as a student. And the persons he was supposed to ward off, and kill were giants, literally as well as figuratively in the art of war.

If Dasaratha shuddered at the very thought of sending Rama with Viswamitra, was he not justified! He would have felt the same way if Viswamitra had asked for someone else, who was equally inexperienced. But this was his ‘most endeared son’!

Fire fuelled by water

It is here that the most popular and oft-quoted sloka, referring to the age of Rama occurs.

ஊந   ஷோடசவர்ஷோ    மே    ராமோ      ராஜீவலோசந: |
ந யுத்த யோக்யதாம் அஸ்ய பச்யாமி ஸஹ ராக்ஷஸை: ||

“My lotus-eyed Rama is less than sixteen years old (yet). I therefore do not perceive his capacity to contend with the Rakshasas.”
                                                                               (Valmiki Ramayana, Bala Kanda, Canto 20, Sloka 2)

The Emperor is perfectly justified in his statement. As we mentioned earlier, despite everything, the ability of Rama was untested; unproved and unknown, though he had earned a good name and held all the promises of the finest of archers. But this is an onerous responsibility. Who would entrust this kind of a responsibility to untested hands? Have we not heard what Sita says of Hanuman, when she is spotted in the Asoka Vana? “Surely Sri Rama, who is difficult to overpower, would not send to my presence in particular, an untried hand without fully ascertaining the latter’s prowess.” (Ibid, Sundara Kanda, Canto 36, Sloka 11) ‘I know you must be matchless in prowess. For, Rama would not entrust this kind of a job in untested hands.’

It is therefore not surprising to find Dasaratha a bit hesitant and concerned about sending Rama along with Viswamitra. It is not a concern for his child alone, though the existence of such a concern cannot be denied. But, at the same time, one has to realise that the magnitude of the responsibility and the established record of the supposed protector did not – in the eyes of the emperor – match. He could not envision his ‘child’ standing guard against demons well-versed in the ways of battle, all alone and handling the situation, by himself.

If what he demanded did not sound like a very good idea, the reaction of the sage to the suggestion – a suggestion tendered with all respect and with a tinge of trepidation – is disproportionate. Totally and completely disproportionate. ‘நின் சிறுவர் நால்வரினும் கரிய செம்மல் ஒருவனைத் தந்திடுதி ,’ asked Viswamitra. ‘Send that black-one, the black-handsome boy, of your four sons along with me.’ The ground slipped from under the feet of Dasaratha. In a voice choked and trembling, he put forward the suggestion hesitatingly, ‘ புடை ஊற்றும் சடையானும், புரந்தரனும், நான்முகனும், புகுந்து செய்யும் இடையூற்றுக்கு இடையூறாய், யான் காப்பேன் ’ Whoever it may be that causes the interruption. Let him be the very Shiva himself, or Brahma or Indra. I would stand guard myself and protect the sacrificial fire. I will cause interruption to that interruption. May we go now, sir?’

The reaction of Viswamitra to this mildest suggestion proffered in the most polite language, and with ample logic behind it, crosses all understanding. Such wild and disproportionate reaction. He rose up instantly, his eyes reddened with anger and burning like coals, sending waves of terror all around, causing such fear in the minds of people that they would be witnessing the deluge, the end of the world, in a few moments. ‘kadaip puruvam netri mutrach chendrana,’ His eyebrows knotted in anger. ‘வந்தது நகையும்’ He laughed in uncontrollable anger. ‘சிவந்தன கண்’’ His eyes were bloodshot and reddened.

How else can one perceive this reaction, excepting as a put on show! Fire is not born of water! Dasaratha did not mean disobedience and he did not say anything that befits this kind of extraordinary exhibition of anger. But that was the only way in which Dasaratha could be made to accede to what Viswamitra asked for. If the sage asked for Rama to be sent with him, he had his purpose. He had his part to play and prepare the ground for the player to get into the field; empower him for the ultimate role that he has to play; train him in ‘astras’ or divine weapons and missiles and a whole lot of other things, which would be a by-product of this supposed ‘protection’ of his Yaga. May be, the end-product is this training and the handing over of astras, with the Yaga as the by-product! Who knows! Viswamitra knew what he was asking for and why he was doing so.

And, for once, the person whom he considered his rival, to equal whom he had performed penance of extra superhuman kind, saw eye-to-eye with him. Vasistha must have smiled within. He knew the reason. He knew the purpose. And he knew the reason behind this disproportionate display of anger. Viswamitra was trying to practically ‘wrench’ Rama from the hands of Dasaratha. Guarding his Yaga was not the sole purpose behind what the sage is trying to do. If that was so, his first choice should have been Dasaratha. There is something more to this. And therefore the Rajarishi turned Brahmarishi is enacting a drama to freeze Dasaratha’s mind from thinking; to stand in awe and in shock and to obey him without a word.

The process has to begin. And the ‘rahasya’ or the secret of the avatar need not be divulged to the emperor now.

For his good

The words of Dasaratha are a bit toned down in Kamban. What he speaks is limited to a four-line verse. It does not say much more than, ‘padayUtram ilan,’ Rama is yet to be trained (fully) in the use of weapons, ‘siRiyan,’ and is very young. By the next line, the emperor says that he would undertake that responsibility, ‘peru vELvikku ezuga,’ he virtually gets up. One can visualise the king walking towards the sage in preparation for accompanying him when he says, ‘Come on let us go.’ The arguments for and against sending Rama along with Viswamitra are a bit vivid and run a sarga long in Valmiki.

Though Valmiki’s Dasaratha states explicitly his inability to send Rama (which Kamban has preferred not to mention) he does say that he would come in person, himself. “Fully guarded (by me), the pursuit of the aforesaid observance (by you) will be rid of (all) obstacles; (for) I shall go thither (in person). You should not (therefore) take away Rama. A child (yet) and untrained (in the science of warfare), he cannot estimate the strength or weakness of the enemy. He is neither equipped with the strength of missiles (and other weapons) nor skilled in warfare.”

Dasaratha then understands that these two demons are related to Ravana, which only serves to intensify his concerns. At the end of the conversation, we find Dasaratha once again saying, “I shall (personally) proceed with hosts of my relations to give battle to either of the two. Otherwise, with my relations, I shall crave your indulgence (for my inability to comply with your behest.” (Ibid, Sloka 27) ‘Let me come personally; or else, kindly excuse me. I beg your pardon. I cannot part with Rama. He is too young.’

That the tone of Dasaratha’s response is a bit blunt cannot be denied. Nonetheless, the offer to stand guard himself, along with other seniors in his army, is still there. Established skills, superior experience and unmatched numbers. The sage could not have asked for more, if his intention was limited to seeking assistance from the emperor just to guard his Yaga from the demons. Obviously, it was not. And here again, we witness a Viswamitra who display an anger that is quite disproportionate to the response that he received.

There is a reason behind my underlining this aspect specifically, from both the poets. This attitude of Viswamitra, his spit-fire temperament, his seeming impatience and spontaneous and elaborate exhibition of his anger needs to be compared when he moves with Rama. When Rama hesitates a moment longer. Take a note of how Viswamitra displays his rage for the present. We will compare as the events take shape.

As we observed, Vasistha must have read the mind of Viswamitra. He understood the purpose behind Viswamitra’s insistence on Rama, rather than being followed and guarded by Dasaratha and his forces. ‘ஐய,’ he intervened and affirmed ‘நின் மகற்கு அளவு இல் விஞ்சை வந்து எய்து காலம் இன்று எதிர்ந்தது’ The time is propitious for your son to attain immeasurable skills; endless glory.

‘You should take into account, who is asking for Rama,’ Vasishtha seems to imply. Don’t you know that he was a king? Don’t you know that he can assay the ability of Rama, much better than you? Don’t you realise that if in your opinion your son needs to learn something more, it cannot be from anyone else, other than this Viswamitra himself?’ “Of such (extraordinary) might,” he draws the attention of Dasaratha to the glory of Viswamitra, “is the highly renowned and exceptionally glorious Viswamitra. You ought not (therefore) to entertain any doubt about sending Sri Rama (with him), O king! Though capable of punishing the Rakshasas himself it is for the sake of doing good to your son (Sri Rama) that sage Viswamitra (son of Gadhi) has sought you and solicited him as a loan.” (Ibid, Sloka 20 and 21)

The training, the weapons and missiles and the mantras that Rama would receive from the sage, and share it with Lakshmana, would be referred to later by Hanuman to Sugriva, in order to infuse confidence in him, about Rama’s superiority over Vali. It would be mentioned by Vibishana, to warn an unheeding Ravana. And would be discussed in hushed voices in the counsels of Ravana, sending tremors down the spines of Rakshasas.

An inseparable pair

What he asked for was only one; what he got was two! Be it according to Valmiki or according to Kamban, Viswamitra specifically asks for Rama alone to be sent with him.
“ ஸ்திரம் இச்சஸி ராஜேந்த்ர ராமம் மே தாதும் அர்ஹஸி ” is what he solicits, “If at all you seek the acquisition of religious merit as well as the highest renown for you on earth for all time to come, O king of kings, be pleased to make over Rama to me.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Bala Kanda, Canto 19, Sloka 16). ‘nin siruvar nAlvarinum, kariya semmal oruvanaith thandhidudhi,’ is the specific request in Kamban. ‘Give me one (only one) of your four sons. That black handsome, upright boy.

And here comes the interesting point. Dasaratha, who was at first a bit hesitant and even showed resistance, was relieved and felt satisfied at the saner counsel tendered by his master, Vasishtha. He went to fetch Rama, personally. Listen to Valmiki.

ததா     வஸிஷ்டே      ப்ருவதி   ராஜா    தசரத:   ஸ்வயம் |
ப்ரஹ்ருஷ்டவதநோ ராமம் ஆஜுஹாவ ஸ லக்ஷ்மணம் ||
                                                                                   (Valmiki Ramayana, Bala Kanda, Canto 22, Sloka 1)

‘When Vasistha spoke thus, with an air satisfaction, king Dasaratha himself personally – ’ராஜா தசரத: ஸ்வயம்’ – called for Rama, ’ஸ லக்ஷ்மணம்’ along with Lakshmana.’

Viswamitra did not ask for Lakshmana. What he wanted was only one of the four boys. But Dasaratha, while ‘personally’ calling for Rama, asks Lakshmana to arrive along with him. ‘வந்த நம்பியைத் தம்பி தன்னொடும் முந்தை நான்மறை முனிவர்க்குக் காட்டி’ is the way in which Kamban follows the footsteps of Valmiki. ‘Dasaratha showed (presented) Rama who came, along with Lakshmana’

This is the first instance in the epic that goes to show that the mention of the name ‘Rama’ includes the name ‘Lakshmana’ in it. There is no need to utter his name; there is no explicit order, or even gesture is required. Where there is Rama, there stands by his side Lakshmana. Any word or order pronounced on Rama goes to Lakshmana, by implication. It is so natural for Lakshmana to follow Rama that there was no need to call for him at all, separately. If something is spoken to Rama, it included Lakshmana. And that’s how we see Viswamitra addressing Rama – of the two – by name and speaking to him most of the times. It is quite amazing in that this is the introductory scene for the two to venture together, to youngsters following the sage, one is always spoken to and the other is included by what is known as upalakshaNa in Sanskrit – or the English equivalent figure of speech, synecdoche.

“Lakshmana was so much a part of Sri Rama and the fact, apparently, was so well known to everybody that as the story develops from sarga to sarga and Sri Rama and Lakshmana under the guidance of Viswamitra go through various adventures, observing great vows and learning great things and adding to their knowledge of everything, we find curiously enough that Viswamitra, who did not invite Lakshmana, takes notice of him only very rarely. If he talks to them, he only says, ‘Rama, Raghava’ addressing the elder brother. It would be uncharitable to assume that he did not like the presence of Lakshmana or that he wished intentionally to ignore him. I suppose in his mind too, as in the minds of everybody else, to speak of Rama was to speak to the other brother too. You need not specially have a form of address for it.”

Sastriyar then points to the fact that even when Viswamitra taught the mantras, balä and atibalä he did so to Rama. He points to the difficulty of the commentator who is faced with quite a curious situation. “The commentator,” he observes, “hard put to explain the matter, says that Lakshmana is also included in the word Rama by upalaskhana, the Sanskritic equivalent for one of the forms of the English figure of speech, synecdoche.”

Synecdoche is a figure of speech by which you mean the whole by referring to the part. Like in the phrase ‘The head-count came to fifty,’ or ‘we propose to add some hands,’ the words heads, or hands, representing the whole, namely, persons. In other words, Rama and Lakshmana made for one whole; and whenever the name Rama is mentioned, it meant Lakshmana too, for that was included in that term.

This initial scene itself emphasises that inseparable bondage between these two. But one has to be wakeful too. There are times – very crucial times for that matter – when the alter ego, Lakshmana is seen more by his absence. The most crucial turn that the epic took was one such moment.

That’s for a later day. Let’s now come back to Sri Rama’s first encounter. Let us watch what shape does this ‘impatient and instant incendiary of anger, inflammable at the quietest flutter of leaves,’ that Viswamitra displayed in the court of Dasaratha, take in the presence of Rama.

Convince me first

The sage and the princes walk their way through thick forests, riversides and sleep on beds of straw (kusa grass) as if it were a prelude to what is in store for them in the Aranya Kanda. During the course of their journey, the sage takes them through the region lying between the principalities of Malada and Karüsa, a territory blessed by Indra to remain ever prosperous and bountiful, rich in wealth and food-grains. But the regions wear a deserted look. There is none to inhabit the place; none even to be seen moving around, though the area is known to be holy and beautiful.

Kamban describes this land as a desert. Barren, parched and bone-dry. Rama is surprised to see a desert amidst plenty. A barren, wasteland, uncultivable and void of all vegetation, in the midst of a forest and flanked by two well-known principalities. ‘suzi padu gangai am thongal mOliyaan vizi pada vendhadhO?’ This place looks as if it has been singed by the third-eye of Shiva. ‘pazhi padar mannavan parindha naattin Ungu, azivadhu en?’ Why is this place as deserted as a country ruled by a despot, one who has no concern for the norms of kingship?

‘This is the place which is under the control of that dreadful Tataka, wife of Sunda, mother of Märïca and Subähu,’ explained Viswamitra. ‘She is a Yaksa woman turned into a demon by a curse, capable of assuming any form at will. She is roaming about this place, ravaging both the countries. This area, her favourite haunt, cuts across the road. And hence, people are afraid of crossing the road to reach either of the countries,’ Viswamitra continues. “The mighty Rakshasa (Märïca), who has a terrible form, is a perennial source of terror to the people, while Tataka who conducts herself like a wicked woman, constantly ravages these two principalities of Maladaa and Karüsa.
‘ஸேயம் பந்தாநம் ஆவ்ருத்ய வஸதி அத்யர்த யோஜநே’ As such she lives in an area of twelve miles obstructing the road.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Bala Kanda, Canto 24, Sloka 27 to 29)

The reason behind this uninhabited land, turned into a desert amidst plenty is explained; the nature of the woman who is thriving on human flesh is stated; the terror that she is striking in the minds of the people, which is the cause behind the blessed land of prosperity wearing the look of a desert, is stated. And now Viswamitra says that she has to be killed. There is none on earth other than Rama who could achieve this impossible feat of killing a demoness who is capable of assuming any shape at will, so says the sage. “For this very reason let us proceed in the quarter where exists the forest of Tataka. Relying on the might of your own arms, make short work of this ogress of wicked conduct.” (Ibid, Sloka 30)

‘I intend to take you two through this area. It is my intention that we should let her come our way. And then, I want you to kill her, for you are the only person who is capable of doing so.’ Viswamitra seems to have read the mind of Rama at this point. He adds, ‘மத் நியோகாத் குரு,’ (Do so) by my orders.

What we are going to witness now is one of the very basic qualities of Rama. He sought for more information on Tataka, a woman, the gender known for frailty, having been endowed with the strength of a thousand elephants. He cannot be ordered about. If he is supposed to do something, he should first get all the details. You can see this quality repeated at several crucial points of the story. At first he recalled to mind the order of his father when he entrusted them to the sage. Viswamitra patiently narrates the story of Tataka, daughter of a Yaksa called Suketu, given in marriage to Sunda, who earned the curse of sage Agastya and died. Tataka, capable of assuming any form at will, assumed the form of a demoness and together with her son Märïca, attempted to kill sage Agastya, to avenge for the death of her husband. And by the curse of Agastya, she was turned permanently into a demoness, the form in which she appeared before the eminent sage.

He cannot be pushed into doing anything without himself first being convinced about the validity of the reason behind the supposed act that he is required to undertake. Let’s now take a look at Kamban and the way the drama takes shape. And how our ‘spit-fire’ sage, the ‘impatient’ Viswamitra reasons out, supports his arguments with examples, quotes precedents, to make this boy shoot his first arrow.

Of decisions and conviction

Tataka appears before them even as Viswamitra was narrating her nature, with her trident raised in preparation for killing the three. Even at that point of imminent danger, and the threat to kill them and gobble them up, Rama stops for a while. ‘I know that the sage wants me to kill her,’ he tells himself. ‘uyirkkE thuN enum vinaith thozil thodangi uLalEnum,’ Though she stands there wielding her trident menacingly, and is about to hurl it on them, ‘peN ena manatthidaip perundhagai ninaitthaan,’ Rama did not act immediately. ‘She is a woman and therefore it is not right for me to kill her,’ he thought. We have studied this scene from Kamban in our discussions on the Vali Episode. (See: The maiden kill Part I and II)

As we saw in our earlier discussion of this scene, keeping the Vali Episode in perspective, Viswamitra quotes precedence and cites the instances of women of questionable character and those who violated the established order of the society, who were a threat to public peace, were killed in the past.

“It is heard that in the former days Indra killed Mantharä, daughter of Virocana (son of Prahläda) who desired to destroy the earth, O protector of men! Again, the wife of the sage Bhrgu and the mother of Sukräcärya (the well-known preceptor of the demons), who though devoted to her husband, desired to see the world bereft of Indra, was disposed of by Lord Vishnu in the past, O Rama,” Viswamitra affirms. (Valmiki Ramayana, Bala Kanda, Canto 25, Sloka 20 and 21) The list that Kamban gives – a synopsis of which was given in the earlier discussion – is adopted directly from Valmiki, though Kamban’s list is a bit wider.

The essence of what Viswamitra quotes boils down to one thing. A criminal is a criminal. A murderer is a murderer. The protector of men is not to be swayed by considerations of gender, when it comes to protecting the society. His priority is to protect public peace and to ensure public security. It is the first responsibility of a ruler, protector, to take the nature of the crime that is perpetrated and set other considerations such as gender, aside, in the discharge of his duties. The nature of punishment may vary from the minimum deterrent to stop the offender, as it would happen in the case of SürpaNakhä, or killing as it is now proposed in the case of Tataka.

‘A king has to administer; uphold righteousness; ensure the safety of the protected. His mind should not sway on any account in the discharge of his duties, if it is right that he stands for,’ says Viswamitra.

ந்ருசம்ஸம் அந்ருசம்ஸம் வா ப்ரஜா ரக்ஷண காரணாத் |
பாதகம்  வா ஸதோஷம் வா கர்த்தவ்யம் ரக்ஷதா ஸதா ||
                                                                             (Ibid, Sloka 18)

“For the protection of the people even that which is sinful or wrong must invariably be done by one whose duty it is to protect.” It is your onerous responsibility to protect. Do not let your mind go behind other considerations, when the question of ensuring common good arises. ‘paatakam vaa sadoSam vaa’ Be it sinful; or be it vilifying. ‘kartavyam rakshataa sadaa’ Your first priority is to protect.

Rama is now convinced. With folded hands he told the sage, “In the midst of (other) elders at Ayodhya I was instructed by my father conveyed in his (actual) words and out of respect for your father’s word the command of Viswamitra (a scion of Kusa) must be carried out (by you) without (any) scruple. His admonition (therefore) should on no account be ignored (by me). Having heard the (aforesaid) exhortation of my father and in obedience to the command of an exponent of the Vedas (in you) I shall accordingly discharge my foremost duty in the form of killing (the ogress) Tataka; there is no doubt about it.” (Ibid, Canto 26, Sloka 2 – 4)

What he heard from Viswamitra would govern the most important, difficult and crucial of decisions Rama would make. One of which is the killing of Vali. The Vali Episode should be examined with reference to this dictum of sage Viswamitra that Rama received at a very young age. There are a few aspects of the episode which remain to be discussed. We shall do so in due course.

The point now is. Rama does not allow anyone to force a decision on him. If at all he is to do a certain thing, he does so after he is convinced and out of his own conviction. His decisions are his own decisions. And not doctored. The trait he displayed here is the trait that he would display in a variety of ways and in widely varying situations. He does not succumb to either threat or pressure. The completely different stance that sage Viswamitra adopts with Rama – as compared to what he did in the presence of Dasaratha – is an example, if not proof.

The theory and the practice

The hesitation that Rama displayed for a moment gives us one more important clue. Look at this moment from the angle of Rama the man; and not the avatar. As we mentioned in the beginning, we would have to do this almost throughout our endeavour as this is the basis of what we are attempting. And that is what great stalwarts have emphasised too. T. R. Venkatarama Sastri, in his foreword to the ‘Lectures on the Ramayana’ Rt. Hon’ble Srinivasa Sastriyar points this out beautifully. “While Rama’s divine nature is to all devout Hindus an unquestionable fact, the chastening effect of the Epic on the minds of men comes out of the study of it as the unfolding of the drama of the highest human life. So at any rate it seems to me.”

If we look at the situation with this in mind, we would be able to see that the hesitation in Rama’s mind arose from the fact that what Viswamitra wanted him to do was in contravention to the instructions that he had received from Vasishtha. Vasishtha’s role in inculcating the highest precepts in the mind of his disciple is very well-known and needs no restatement. We are going to hear Viswamitra in the Court of Mithila, while introducing the princes to Janaka, ‘dasarathan aam porayodum thodar manatthaan pudhalvar ennum peyarE kaaN.’ If they are called the sons of Dasaratha, it is limited to the extent that they owe their birth to him; and that the emperor lends his name to them as their father. ‘upanayana vidhi muditthu,’ It was Vasishtha who performed their upanayana; ‘marai Odhuvitthu,’ It was Vasishtha who taught them the scriptures ‘vaLartthaanum vasittan kaaN.’ And it was Vasishtha who brought them up.

We are going to see Vasishtha giving his excellent lessons on administration and statecraft to Rama, the moment Dasaratha seeks to install Rama on the throne and asks for the opinion and acceptance of the elders and the public. We are also going to see how Rama argues his case not once, but twice against the words of Vasishtha on the question of exile. ‘எனது ஆணை ஐயா,’ Vasishtha would tell him in the forest, accompanying Bharata, on the second occasion. ‘Return to Ayodhya. This is my order, my command, as your teacher.’ And we would also see how Rama turns the table against his master, with the very same precepts that he received from him.

Coming back to the situation in hand. The idea that a woman is not to be killed is something that has been set deep in Rama’s mind by the words of Vasishtha. What Viswamitra teaches him is that any rule is situation-specific; and is to be adopted and discharged only with reference to the issue and the situation in question, keeping the welfare and the common good of the people, as the only consideration. The instruction of Vasishtha has all along been book-specific. That instruction takes its natural shape through the words of Viswamitra when he gives out his strong arguments for the killing of Tätakä.

‘aRam keduthavatkku aaNmayum vENdumO?’ asks Viswamitra. Here is someone who has gone against all established orders of the society; who is striking terror in the minds of the people; who is the reason behind this entire fertile area turning into wasteland and a desert. ‘Would you now have to think of the gender? Would you kill the person only if the body is that of a male, and spare if that cruelty takes the shape of a female?’

This that moment when theory is translated into practice. The adoption of knowledge and the application of the mind. The dictum and its spirit. ‘Do not think that I am pushing you into this out of some personal grudge,’ the sage adds. ‘iavL sIri nindru idhu seppugirEn alEn.’ I am not saying all this because of the personal anger I nurse against her. ‘Iru il nal aRam paartthu isaitthEn.’ I have the un-effaceable Dharma as the basis of what I say. Because it is your duty to protect, preserve and propagate the cause of righteousness.

‘That’s enough for me,’ Rama responds. ‘My Dharma is to obey your words.’ ‘aRan allavum eydhinaal,’ even if it is against all principles, ‘adhu seyga endru Evinaal,’ and if you order me to undertake such an act, ‘meyya, nin urai vEdham enak kodu seygain andrO aRam?’ is it not my Dharma to carry out your order, taking your words to be my Veda, my holiest of holy books?

We will be able to see the transition in the stance of Rama, if we go through the scene once again,. For, he hesitated for a moment because ‘peN ena manatthidai perunthagai eNNinaan,’ he thought this was a woman who is before them and the sage wants him to kill her. And now he firms up, solidifies and is strengthened by conviction. ‘Would I refuse to do even if it is unrighteousness that you command me to perform? Is it for me to question the right or not of your words? Is it not my duty to obey you implicitly?’

He plays it mild

The killing of Tätakä is a matter of another debate among scholars. There are stalwarts who argue that Rama should have felt a tinge of guilt at least for once for having had to kill a woman, that too at the very beginning of his career. The figurative ‘maiden kill’ was in his case a literal killing of a woman. ‘Should a person – that too the very embodiment of piety – kill a woman, however bad she is!’ is a question that has attracted much attention in the realms of literary polemics.

Prof. A S Gnanasambandan, while discussing the Ayomukhi incident – where Lakshmana severs the earlobes, nose and lips of the demoness who falls in love with him – points to a phrase in Rama’s praise of Lakshmana. We have given a quick sketch of this incident earlier, in our discussions on Lakshmana. (See: The Ayomukhi incident, Light of my light and Lakshmana the courageous) Though the incident has not been discussed as it deserves to be discussed, we have given the minimum outline, with Lakshmana in focus.

‘kollalai; naasiyaik koydhu nIkkinaai; vallai nI, manu mudhal marabinOi!’ says Rama to Lakshmana when the latter returns, severing the limbs of Ayomukhi. ‘(I am proud of you in that) you did not kill her. You stopped with severing her limbs. You know what is right. You are coming in the line of Manu, after all!’ ‘If this is what he feels about Lakshmana’s action,’ argues the professor, deduces and adds suggestively, ‘then it goes without saying that Rama must have felt bad about what he did in the Tätakä incident.’ I have not given the argument in its perspective here. But what the professor argues amounts to this. Sounds plausible; but not possible. If it is not dealt with in its proper context, this would lead one to think twice on the conviction of Rama; on the way he made decisions and would give rise to several other improbable oddities. We will take up the details later, at an appropriate time.

That would take us by amazement, if not shock. ‘Did Rama ever perform such an act that he regretted later?’ would be the first question that looms large in our minds by now, instantaneously. Yes. There are some three or four occasions of which Rama regrets later on his decision or action. The pursuit of the golden deer against the wise counsel of Lakshmana, for instance. But most certainly, the killing of Tätakä is not one among them. Even the killing of Vali, for that matter. “No agony is felt by me or any remorse for what I have done,” is what Rama tells Vali. (Valmiki Ramayana, Kishkindha Kanda, Canto 18, Sloka 37) These are questions for detailed discussion, on another day.

When one looks at this incident of Tataka’s killing, one has to see the way in which Sri Rama approached the issue, began and ended up. He did try milder forms at first. It was sufficient in the case of SürpaNakhä as well as Ayomukhi. They could be stopped with the minimum show of power, and milder forms of punishment. Not so in the case of Tätakä. ‘The sage wants me to kill her, O Lakshmana, but I don’t have the heart to do so,’ he tells his brother, before he steps out in action.

பச்ய லக்ஷ்மண யக்ஷிண்யா பைரவம் தாருணம் வபு: |
பித்யேரந் தர்சநாத் அஸ்யா பீரூணாம் ஹ்ருதயாநி ச ||
                                                               (Valmiki Ramayana, Bala Kanda, Canto 26, Sloka 10)

“Behold O Lakshmana, the formidable body of the Yaksha woman; the hearts of the timorous will break at her (very) sight.”

ஏதாம்     பச்ய     துராதர்ஷாம்    மாயாபல     ஸமந்விதாம் |
விநிவ்ருத்தாம் கரோமி அத்ய ஹ்ருத கர்ணாக்ர நாஸிகாம் ||
                                                                       (Ibid, Sloka 11)

“See how I put her to flight today once she has been deprived of her ears and the tip of her nose, even though she is difficult to subdue and equipped with the power of Maya.”

ந ஹி ஏநாம் உத்ஸஹே ஹந்தும் ஸ்த்ரீ ஸ்வபாவேந ரக்ஷிதாம் |
வீர்யம்   ச    அஸ்ய      கதிம்      ச   ஏவ ஹந்யதாம் இதி மே மதி: ||
                                                                         (Ibid, Sloka 12)

“I do not really feel inclined to kill her, protected (as she is) by her womanhood. Let me put an end to her prowess (capacity to worst others) as well as to her power of motion (by depriving her of her hands and feet and thereby rendering her incapable of further devastation); such indeed is my resolve.”

Therefore, though he was convinced of the fact that Tätakä did deserve to be punished, Rama’s first inclination was not to kill her. He tried with milder forms of punishment – what is known as ‘minimum punitive’ to deter her; stop her from treading her wicked ways. That worked with SürpaNakhä, as well as with Ayomukhi. Incidentally, it is Lakshmana who is involved in both these cases. But it did not work with Tataka.

Let’s see what the poets have to say.

Tataka, SürpaNakhä and Ayomukhi

We were discussing about the correctness or not, and the justification behind the act of killing of Tataka in the light of the fact that the offender in this case happened to be a woman, though a demoness she be. This is a happy target for non-believers who keep pumping the trigger against Rama. Most of the devotees give a sort of affected and offended excuses rather than looking at the plain facts as they are. Devotee or not, being a person of literature, I once again emphasise that we should see events as they are, as the great poets have painted, and not in the way we tend to interpret in defence. Any argument not supported by textual evidence is an excuse, which leaves us not even lame, but immobile altogether.

It so happens that the devotees feel ever so guilty, while the Lord did not feel even an iota of it, in the case of the killing of Tataka. To add to the confusion, some of the believers as well as scholars themselves come to hasty conclusions about Rama’s stance in this issue and pronounce their judgement that Rama must have felt somewhat guilty about having had to kill a woman, that too at the very start of his career. The maiden kill is a real maiden kill in the case of Rama, figuratively as well as literally.

Peculiarly, the maiden kill of Hanuman, the celebrated ‘siriya thiruvadi’ or the divine carrier number two (after the carrier number one, Garuda) also turns out to be a woman, Lankini, the protecting demoness of Lanka, even as he entered the city. This was his first kill, if one thinks of the first combat. If one takes into account challenges instead of combats, two more are the women who were torn apart at the hands of Hanuman, Surasa and Simhika, who were killed during his flight from Mahendra Mountain over the sea, to Lanka. Therefore, if the Lord killed just one woman for a beginning, the chief of His devotees killed three in a row!

Well, we have been laying stress on what the epic has been emphasising that no gender disparity is to be considered in the case of offenders. What is argued against Rama is that while SürpaNakhä and Ayomukhi were left with a minor punishment of severing of limbs, this woman alone was chosen to be killed. And we have quoted the line from Kamban (in our last post) whereby Rama appreciates Lakshmana for his observance of restraint and sparing Ayomukhi with severing the tip of her nose, earlobes etc. We had also pointed out what Prof A S Gnanasambandan, one of the most respected Ramayana scholars feels about this line, and the conjecture that Rama should have felt a little guilty about having had to kill Tataka.

I can only say that it is unfortunate that we fail to call a spade a spade. The incidents of SürpaNakhä and Ayomukhi cannot be compared with the killing of Tataka. SürpaNakhä pounced on Sita (in the presence of Rama in Valmiki and in his absence in Kamban) with the intention of killing her. Lakshmana severed her limbs and with that she ran away. It was a matter of duty; protection of his sister-in-law that Lakshmana was discharging and he could stop the offender with the minimum restraining offensive, since that was enough for the offender to give her act up.

As far as Ayomukhi is concerned, she fell in love with Lakshmana, as did SürpaNakhä with Rama, and made overt advances to him. “Approaching the aforesaid heroes and saying to Lakshmana, who was walking ahead of his (eldest half-) brother, ‘Come let us revel!’ caught Lakshmana by the hand,” says Valmiki. (Valmiki Ramayana, Aranya Kanda, Canto 69, Sloka 14). In the very next sloka Valmiki describes the way she embraced Lakshmana, against his will. “ உவாச ச ஏநம் வசநம் ஸௌமித்ரிம் உபகுஹ்ய ஸா.... ‘Saying so, she almost completely concealed Lakshmana in her hold.’ That is, Lakshmana was impaled – upaguhya – in her enormous frame, in an embrace. Kamban’s portrayal differs and we have seen a quick sketch of it earlier (See: The Ayomukhi incident, Light of my light and Lakshmana the courageous). Lakshmana is practically carried off in the hands of the demoness, in the version of Kamban. It is at this moment that Lakshmana draws his sword and severs her limbs, in self-defence, though the intention of the offender is not to kill, but to violate. Physical violation is as bad and intolerable in the case of woman as it is in the case of a man. When it is against the will. And that minimum show of power, restraining punishment was sufficient in the case of Ayomukhi too, who dropped Lakshmana and ran away.

We saw that Rama played it mild at the beginning with Tataka. His initial intention was to leave her, severing her limbs (See: He plays it mild), much earlier, before his celebrated brother could exercise a similar action on offending women, later in their lives. SürpaNakhä gave up her attempt at killing Sita and Ayomukhi ran away with the punitive minimum. Was that the case with Tataka?

Abnormal woman, abnormal step

Even as Rama was contemplating his first move, Tataka hurled her terrible Sulam – trident – on him. ‘ கோல வில் கால் குனித்தல் கண்டிலர்,’ sings an enthralled Kamban. ‘None could see as to when he bent his bow.’ Even before anyone could see the bow bending, an arrow was shot that turned the trident to pieces. And, next. The woman was undaunted. She started playing her conjuring tricks.

உத்துந்வாநா   ரஜோ   கோரம் தா தாடகா ராகவௌ உபௌ |
ரஜோ மேகேந மஹதா முஹூர்த்தம் ஸா வ்யமோஹயத் ||

                                                                           (Valmiki Ramayana, Bala Kanda, Canto 26, Sloka 15)

‘She baffled the brothers for about an hour – muhuurtam – by raising a massive cloud of dust.’ That did not stop there. She moved on next to rain a stream of rocks on the three – Rama, Lakshmana and the sage. Now, Rama’s action has to be based on the duty that he owes to his own self – self-defence – letting his brother defend himself, and on his responsibility of protecting the sage, who despite his enormous power, would not step out in defence or in offence. “Then falling back on conjuring tricks, she covered the two scions of Raghu with a tremendous shower of rocks,” says Valmiki. (Ibid, Sloka 16) ‘kallin maariyaik kai vagutthaaL,’ says Kamban. She created a rain of rocks with her hands. ‘avai villin maariyin vIran vilakkinaan,’ and Rama parried the rain of rocks with a shower of arrows. I should say that at this point Kamban has almost echoed the voice of Valmiki, who says, “சிலா வர்ஷே மஹத் தஸ்யா: சர வர்ஷேண ராகவ:” Rama stopped the shower of rocks with the shower of his arrows.

Okay. She hurled her trident, which was rendered to pieces. Then she created a cloud of dust, and from that cloud of dust followed a rain of rocks. Did Rama kill her now? Did he take that step of putting an end to her offensive once for all now? No. He severed her hands. Here is what Valmiki says. “Parrying the copious shower of rocks sent down by her with a (counter-) shower of shafts, Sri Rama cut off her arms with arrows (even) as she came running towards him.” (Ibid, Sloka 17) The severing of arms did not stop her. One is inevitably reminded of Rama’s battle with Kumbhakarna here. (See: A battle beyond compare Part I and Part II). Though this is a short narrative, we will go into details later, in this study of Rama. Nonetheless, this does remind one of the battle with Kumbhakarna, who surged on and on with increased vigour, even as he was losing his limbs one by one.

Tataka pressed forward after her arms were cut-off and could not be stopped. Lakshmana for his part acted in his own way. “Then out of anger Lakshmana (son of Sumitra, the second wife of Dasaratha) deprived her of her ears and the tip of her nose while she was roaring close by, exhausted with her arms severed.” (Ibid, Sloka 18) She could not be stopped even at that moment. She went invisible with her maya, or power for conjuring tricks and continued her showering of rocks.

‘Enough of your milder forms of restraint. She can’t be stopped with this,’ advised Viswamitra. ‘alam te ghRiNayaa raama paapaa eSaa duSTa chaariNii’ - Enough. Be done with your compassion. This is a woman of sinister and malevolent behaviour.’ ‘yajna vighna karii yaxii puraa vardheta maayayaa’. She causes hindrance to rituals and sacrifices. She would gain more power, in a short time (since nightfall is fast approaching).’ (Ibid, Sloka 21)

Having tried all milder forms of stopping this demoness, Rama then decided to kill her. He showed his special skill of hitting a target not visible to the eye. The ogress was covered with a network of arrows. Embedded with countless arrows, she continued her attack on the trio. And then Rama selected one of his sharpest and swiftest of arrows and shot on her. ‘kallaap pullOrkku nallOr sonna poruL enap pOyitru andrE!’ sings Kamban. The arrow penetrated her, flew out of her back and fell far beyond. The arrow did not stay in her, just as the good counsel given by elders to the uneducated ruffians, which do not stay in their hearts. Just enter their ears and slip out of their hearts. The arrow went through her and flew out of her from the other side.

When she fell, Kamban observes, ‘thalagaL thOrum mudiyudai arakkarkku annaaL mundhi uRpaadham aaga,’ portending the impending disaster to the demon king with a crown on each (of his ten) heads, ‘padiyidai atru vIzndha vetri am padhakai otthaaL,’ she fell down like the standard – flag of victory – flying magnificently on the chariot of Ravana. She signified the impending fall of Ravana, when she fell like the flag on his chariot. ‘With the fall of the grandmother of Ravana, the battle with the demons has begun,’ Kamban implies. Yes. It did.

One has to see that Rama was left with no choice but to kill her, as she could not be stopped with milder forms of punishment, as it happened in the cases of SürpaNakhä and Ayomukhi. And that this incident cannot be measured with the same scale that one uses for normal circumstances. He exhausted all less drastic ways of punishment before he decided on killing Tataka.

That is one of the typical cases which point to the amount of thought and restraint that Rama observes before taking a drastic action. This can be seen throughout, till the killing of Ravana.

On missiles and divine weapons

Viswamitra was happy beyond measure. Obviously. He who was just walking his way through the jungles and deserts with the brothers, and taught them nothing but the mystical mantras balä and atibalä for the first time thought of empowering the princes with astras, or mystical missiles. I call them ‘mystical’ because it is the normal practice to do so. But the question of ‘mysticism’ does not seem to arise in the case of many of the astras that the epics – both the epics – describe. Most of them – save for a few – seem so real and leads one to believe that it is possible that such missiles could have been used, when one goes into the vivid descriptions lying scattered throughout the epics, especially during the war scenes.

Basically, an arrow differs from an astra. An arrow is shot with a bow. An astra is fired. Of course, the epics talk about calling them, empowering them with mantras dedicated to the presiding deity of that particular missile. But in almost all the places, the poets do mention that they were fired. When Indrajit narrates to Ravana about his firing of his Brahmastra, he says, ‘dhaLam malar kizavan thandha padaik kalm thazalin saarthi, aLavu iladhu amaya vittadhu irAmanai nIkki andrAl.’ It was not that I excluded Rama from the force of Brahmastra, when I fired it. Notice the words ‘thazalin saarthi’. The simplest meaning is, ‘I lit it; put it on fire; activated it with fire.’ But the traditional commentators interpret the words to mean, ‘I worshipped the astra with camphor lit as a matter of ritual.’ The word ‘camphor’ is non-existent in the text; but finds its way in the commentary in the manner of routine academic way of looking at it. This happens wherever the expression ‘the missile was fired,’ is employed. It is my opinion that this needs the attention of persons more knowledgeable in the science of missiles.

There are missiles that needed to be fired and there are missiles that were just hurled with the mystical mantras. The aisika astra for instance, which is employed through the medium of a reed or stem of grass. This missile is variedly known as aisika astra, brahma siras, etc. This is the missile that Sri Rama receives from Viswamitra. We know that he empowered a reed with mystical power when he aimed it on Kakasura, (Jayanta, the son of Indra). And this is the missile that Aswatthama used on Pandavas, which finally was redirected to the womb of Uttara, in an attempt to destroy the son of Abhimanyu, the only progeny of the Pandava family, Parikshit who was saved by Lord Krishna. This astra is referred to as brahma siras in the Book of War of Mahabharata. And as aishika, when the Book begins with the laments of Dhritarashtra in the Adi Parva.

Therefore, the list of astras does contain many a missile that could be seen as a figment of imagination. But, there are astras in the long list that Valmiki gives – a hundred and odd in number – which Viswamitra handed over to Rama, which have a flavour of reality about them. The Mohana astra for instance, which sends the ranks and files of the enemy reeling in a swoon, which is a reality in our days. The Sosana, which sucks up moisture from the air, the results of which are obvious. The Santäpana, which generates excessive heat, scalding the enemy forces. The Prasvapana or the sleep-inducer. The vilaapana or the weep-inducer, which can be related to the tear-gas of the present days.

And one has to read the apprehensions of Rama, in the Book of War, where he more than once insists on Lakshmana to refrain from the use of astras, or missiles, which bring common destruction for all. ‘iindra andhaNan padaik kalam thodukkil iv ulagam mUndrayum sudum; oruvanAl mudigaladhu,’ he tells Lakshmana, at the commencement of the battle with Indrajit. ‘Do not resort to Brahmastra – or any divine weapon for that matter – for it brings destruction to all the three worlds. It is not easy for anyone to stop its after effects. It requires expertise of the highest order to handle such weapons and direct them only at the enemy forces and restrict the spectrum of destruction.’ And this is the same reason why he postpones the use of Brahmastra in his last battle with Ravana, until the charioteer, Mätali insists that that is the only way left for them. And then compare his apprehensions with what Jawaharlal Nehru said, “If war comes, it tends to spread, and it may become a tremendous nuclear war in which the world would be practically destroyed. There can be no victory or defeat in a nuclear war. It brings common destruction for all.” (Speech on the occasion of his first visit to Goa, after it joined the rest of India. Jawaharlal Nehru’s Speeches, Vol. V). One can easily draw a tangent from the hoary past to the present.

A serious study of the missiles, without that wry, unbelieving smile may take us to some unknown historical fact. May be some of the astras were nothing more than mere ideas. But then, every weapon was an idea in the beginning. The laser beam was nothing more than an idea in the ‘War of the Worlds’ of H G Wells, after all!

In the hands of Power

Imaginary or real, the astras – or the missiles – did represent enormous power. Destructive power. The recipient was empowered, indeed, endowed with immeasurable destructive power that gave him the power to hold the entire world under one toe. If the missiles stood for power – or formed an essential part of the power that one wielded – money is one of the important forms that power assumes today. Added to it are the hierarchical, bureaucratic, political and other forms of power. Climbing up the rungs of the ladder of power, a person naturally tends to lose his head. And that is why the popular saying is, ‘absolute power corrupts absolutely.’

I need not elaborate on what money and other forms of power can do to the present day man. We are witnesses to it. We are, however, most certain about one thing. Power by itself is neither good nor bad. It takes the shape of the whim of the person who wields it. That’s why Valluvar says,

பண்பிலான் பெற்ற பெருஞ்செல்வம் நன்பால்
கலந்தீமை யால்திரிந் தற்று.
                                                            (குறள் 1000)
“A boor’s great wealth is milk gone sour, in a can unscrubbed.” (Translated by P S Sundaram).

Money as such is neither good nor bad. It takes the shape of the quality of the person who owns and employs it. Milk in unclean vessel goes waste; money in unclean hands goes weird.

Numberless are the instances where we come across persons behaving so well, pious and extra-religious until the portals of power are opened wide for them. Once those doors are opened, the mask falls down. We see the real colour of the person under the skin. One of the ways to judge the quality of a person is to see the way in which he conducts himself or herself before and after the acquisition of power. That is where we see a yawning gulf, a shocking chasm and a bottomless pit of a difference between the two major characters of the epic, Rama and Ravana.

It is not that Rama was the first person, or the only person – save for Lakshmana – to have received the divine weapons – astras and shastras as they are called – in the epic. The Asuras – demons – had received the very same Brahmastra, Mohanastra, Vilaapanaastra et al that we have detailed in our last post, long, long number of years before Rama did.

In addition to what Rama received from Viswamitra, Ravana and Indrajit were in possession of various other divine weapons like the Nagastra or the serpent noose, Chandrahasa, which is the sword of Lord Shiva, and so many other missiles and weapons that Rama was not handed over. The destructive force masqueraded itself, performed gory penance and brought the very Creator to a situation where He could not deny what was sought for. Power. Destructive power that paved the way to the golden city of Lanka, a city originally ruled by Kubera, the elder half-brother of Ravana, which was taken away from him by emotional black mail; the pushpaka vimana taken away from Kubera by force; and once this power (of all the boons) led the way to become super power by way of the acquisition of Lanka and pushpaka vimana, the first thing that Ravana did was to go in war against the celestials, covet the supreme most position, go about seducing everyone – including his own daughter-in-law, Rambha, the wife of Nalakubara, who is the son of Kubera – the elder half-brother of Ravana. (See: Curse of Kubera’s son)

The path of Ravana is strewn with blood and unrestrained lust. He takes any woman by force until the curses of the Creator and Vedavati stop him from violating a woman against her wish. The thirst for war, blood and power had reached the ten heads of Ravana so high that he killed his own brother-in-law, VidyujjihvA, the husband of SürpaNakhä. We have gone in detail on the misdeeds of Ravana immediately on receiving the boons and on being empowered, in our study on him. Unless this was so, the avatar of Rama would not have become necessary at all! Both were endowed with the same power. One had power in his hands; the other let power to hold him in its hands.

Is it possible for a person with absolute power to conduct him in an orderly fashion? Is it at all possible to hold one’s head in place when endowed with enormous power? What did Rama do when he received from Viswamitra the very same – if not all – the divine weapons that Ravana and Indrajit received from the Creator, Lord Shiva and others? Was the absence of the hunger for power as well as the total absence of lust the only difference between these two major characters in the epic, Rama and Ravana? Or do they differ in any other respect?

Right to recall…

We were talking about the differences between an arrow and an astra. One of the most important differences is an arrow shot from the bow cannot be stopped, redirected, recalled. The word slipped from the tongue and the arrow loosed from the bow, can never be recalled. What is spoken is spoken and what is shot is shot. But in the case of an astra, it is not so. An astra is fired, may be launched from the bow or not, it is fired and the training in an astra comprises several steps.

First, the Guru does not grant the knowledge of every astra to every person. All and sundry. He does so only to the selected few. He ensures that the mindset of the person who receives training is proper and correct for training. He should be made of such a metal that he does not misuse the power that he would own. The disciple should pass this test first. And then he has to give an assurance, a promise, to the Guru, not to use the astra unless and until the situation becomes so bad that the person – and the persons protected by the proposed recipient – are in danger of being killed. One can see Parasurama taking such a promise from Karna when the latter lied to him that he was a Brahmin, but did not fail to assure his Guru to abide by the demand of self-restraint.

In other words, an astra is to be used only in extremely unavoidable circumstances; and not just like that in any scuffle, brawl and quarrel. The fact that an astra is to be handled with due fear and respect for life of fellow human beings and creatures and even plant life and the environment as a whole, is driven deep in the minds of the recipient of the training as the very first step. And thereafter, the training commences. The disciple learns the mantra for the specific astra. Rama learnt so many mantras – since the divine weapons were so many in number, more than a hundred and odd – difficult to learn; difficult to memorise; difficult to retain; difficult to recall, even by gods. “Getting purified (through ablutions etc.) and sitting with his face turned towards the east, Viswamitra (the foremost of hermits), who was highly delighted imparted to Sri Rama a string of Mantras (sacred texts capable of invoking the missiles) unexcelled by others (in their fields). The Brahmana (Viswamitra) then delivered to Sri Rama (as well as to Lakshmana) the missiles which could not be easily retained in one’s memory in their entirety even by gods.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Bala Kanda, Canto 27, Sloka 22 and 23)

The third stage in the training of an astra is controlling the direction, limiting its power to specific targets – if required – and changing the course of the missile while it is in flight. One can see Acharya Drona and similar masters asking the disciple at every stage, ‘Have you understood this?’ and the disciple acknowledging that he has understood.

Greatest care was exercised in the training of any astra, just any astra for that matter, which may not be as potent as the Brahmastra or the Brahma Siras. Training in even divine weapons of a comparatively minor potency included all these steps and one more, and most important step. Which for some reason unknown to us, has not been shown in the text explicitly, as being taught by the Guru, in the case of every student.

You may recall the last act of Aswatthama, of firing the Brahma Siras to efface all the Pandavas from the face of the earth and Arjuna, left with no option but to counter it, fired his Brahma Siras against it. Lord Krishna and Narada held them apart and chided Aswatthama for indulging in an unthinking act. They demanded both to recall their astras. Arjuna recalled, as his training in that missile was complete in every respect. Aswatthama could not, as he did not learn it from his father, Drona. Or so he said. I am not able to see Aswatthama as a liar. That makes it obvious that the Acharya taught Arjuna something, which he did not teach even to his son. And that makes it easier to understand that the Guru was always weighing the level of maturity of the disciple at every step, every stage, and his ability to hold himself, if he were to be endowed with superior power, his ability to restrain himself, not to exercise the power acquired for every little thing. And that’s why Arjuna’s training in this respect was complete, whereas that of Aswatthama, the Acharya’s own son, was incomplete.

One has also to see how Ravana, Indrajit and his likes received the weapons from the Creator. They did not go through all these stages. The weapons and the mantras were handed over and taught. Period. There is not one instance in the entire epic where either Ravana or Indrajit or anyone else (Kumbhakarna not being the recipient of any divine missile, excepting a trident and Vibhishana not needing any missile for himself) recalling a divine weapon after it is fired. That clearly shows the lack of their training in this aspect. They did not bother either. What they wanted is destructive power and as far as the missiles destroyed, they were happy and satisfied. What was the need to recall a missile after all!

And then, how about Rama? Did Viswamitra train him in the art of recalling the weapons? If not what did Rama do? And why was he so particular about learning this aspect that several of the distinguished archers ignored!

Hari Krishnan