But  I have promises to keep – I

That question of Maruti woke her up as though from a dream. Embarrassed, she must have been. She must have smiled to herself. ‘I was overjoyed,’ she tells him, in answer. ‘She babbled,’ says Kamban. ‘mazalaip paNimozi,’ She babbled like a baby. ‘Happiness is something like liquor,’ smiles the poet. ‘kanittha in kaLi, kaLLin kAttumO?’ Happiness, as matured as wine, robs the mind of all the words. ‘nunitthadhu ondru, nuvalvadhu ondru aayinaaL.’ She thought something and said something else. The alignment between her thought and speech went off the mark.

It takes quite sometime for her to regain her composure. ‘baakkiyam perum pitthum payakkumO?’ she puts the rhetoric to herself as well as within earshot of Hanuman, as if to tell him what happened to her. ‘Is good fortune capable of driving you mad?’ Don’t mind me Hanuman. I went mad with joy for some time. My mind was not in my control. I was robbed of all my thoughts as well as words.

‘There is something more to it, Hanuman. I really do not know how to pay this debt back to you. I am unable to find a gift, a fitting reward, a token of my gratitude that would match at least to an extent all that you have done for me. ‘munnai nIkkuven moy sirai endra nI,’ It was you who assured me that you would lead me out of this prison. ‘pinnai nIkki, uvagayum pEsinaai.’ And you did what you said. You assisted my husband in his endeavour to root out that scum, which was the cause of all my misery. And once again, here you are back with me, giving me the happy news. ‘enna pEtrinai Iguvadhu?’ What am I to give you O Maruti! What is there in the world – nay, in all the universe – for me to give you, which would be a fitting reward? ‘enbadhai unni, nOkki urai marandhu OvinEn.’ I am stunned by this very thought, Hanuman. I was rendered speechless because I was lost in finding an answer to that question.’

And now she makes that most moving of all statements that would move even the hard-hearted to tears. ‘ulagam mUndrayum udhavarkku oru thani vilai ilaamyum unninEn.’ I was just thinking O Maruti that even if I were to gift you all the three worlds, they would never match the priceless help you have done me. ‘mEl avai nilai ilaamai ninaindhanen.’ Even if it is assumed that they would match to some extent – if not wholly – your help, they are not lasting. They are of impermanent nature. They are not as enduring as the help that you have rendered. ‘ninnai en thalayinaal thozavum thagum thanmayOi.’ It is only befitting for me to bow down at your feet, with my head.

Remember. It is the mother of all universe who is uttering these words. She is going to tell Rama of the divine nature of her birth in a short time, in answer to his accusations. She is going to remind him of the epithet ‘ayoni sambhava,’ by which she is known. (See: Not born of a womb) It is not that she is not aware of her divinity. She makes it very clear, she proclaims and she reminds that She is the Primordial Energy, in several instances, one such being her assertion, ‘I would turn all the worlds into mere embers with a word of mine,’ made to Maruti in the Sundara Kanda. (See: sollinaal suduvEn…) And yet if she tells Hanuman, ‘The only thing that remains for me to give you in return is my namaskara. Let me bow to you. Let me bow down to you with my head,’ one can understand how deeply she is moved and how highly and dearly she holds Hanuman.

Listen to the answer of Hanuman which once again confirms the happy state of mind in which Rama was, when he departed from him.

Arthatascha maya praptha devarajyadhayo gunah     |
hatashatrum vijayinam ramam pasyaami susthitham ||

“Nay (all) the blessings like the rulership of gods have been truly attained by me in that I see Rama victorious and happy, now that his enemy (Ravana) has been killed.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 113, Sloka 24)

Rama is victorious. Rama is happy. That’s all the reward that I need. It is like winning the kingship over the gods, seeing him happy and victorious.

‘enakku aLikkum varam, empiraatti!’ he submitted. The only boon that I need, O noble lady, is that, ‘nin manak kaLikku,’ befitting the happiness that wells up in your mind, ‘am maanavan thanakku aLikkum paNi,’ to take you along with me to the presence of Rama. Let me take you with me. But then, Hanuman could not have meant it. It was his desire and it stops with that. For, he was not ordered to bring Janaki to Rama’s presence. His command is fulfilled with the communication of the message and it stops there. It was beyond the purview of Rama’s order to take her along with him to the presence of Rama.

And then he remembered that he did want a boon. He was thirsting for this moment ever since he saw her for the first time in the Asoka Vana. Was he not a witness to the harassment to which Janaki was subjected to by the ogress-guards! Was his heart not smouldering for long at the cause of the terror, the panic that unnerved Janaki on that night, when he spotted her?

‘But, mother, give me one boon. Just only one,’ he begged.

But I have promises to keep – 2

‘Give me your permission to kill all these ogress-guards, with the exception of Trijata,’ pleaded Hanuman. The anger that he nurtured in him all these days, shows through in his words, for it is not just ‘killing’ that he desires. Both Valmiki and Kamban detail out the ways in which he wants to give a free run to his fancy to employ the most gruesome methods of putting them to death, by kicking, biting, tearing the limbs piece by piece, subjecting their bodies to the pain that Janaki’s mind was put through by them all these long days. ‘I have seen them doing all this to you,’ he tells her. “These cruel ogresses of hideous aspect and conduct and with still more cruel eyes and distorted features were heard by me at this (very) place addressing you, who are (so) devoted to your husband, more than once in unkind words at Ravana’s command when you were suffering hardships in the Asoka grove, O divine lady! (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 113, Sloka 31 and 32)

‘urai alaa urai unnai uraithuraai,’ They spoke such words to you that are not to be uttered. ‘viraya Odi vizunguvam endruLaar,’ They rushed to you (many a time) and threatened you that they would gobble you down. ‘vari sey mEniyai vaL ugiraal piLandhu,’ Let me with my sharp nails tear their mountainous bodies to pieces ‘irai seyvEn maRalikku,’ and make a feast of them to Yama.

His anger, though muted for a moment because of the presence of Sita, does not permit him to observe restraint. ‘The best of communicators’ gives a free vent to his desire for avenging the wrongs done to her. He says, “I wish to make short work of these ogresses, who have spoken harsh words to you and wronged you, striking them down with my fists, kicks, long arms, the blows of my shanks and knees, as well as by causing pain to their teeth biting off their ears and nose and pulling out their hair.” (Ibid, Sloka 34)

The fine art of torture gets more violent when he says this in Kamban. ‘kudal kuRaitthu,’ I will spill their bowels out. ‘kurudhi kuditthu,’ I will drink their blood. ‘ivar udal murukki ittu uNguvEn.’ I will slice their limbs to pieces and devour them.

Knowing Hanuman as we do, this takes us not by surprise, but by shock. We have seen him in battle. We have seen ways he adopted to strike terror in the hearts of the enemy. We have seen the ways that he adopted to kill Jambumali and prince Aksha, the youngest son of Ravana, in the Sundara Kanda. (See: The self-appointed ambassador II) But when he did so, he did it as a fine-art of warcraft. Not with anger but with a purpose. With the purpose of letting panic loose in the city. In fact he did that with the ease and self-control of Rama, of whom Ravana recalls after the first war, ‘Even when he shoots his arrows, he does so playfully and with a smile as though he were aiming the clay-tipped shafts on the hunchback of Manthara.’

Though we have seen Hanuman in battle, we have not seen him seething with such anger. Right Hon’ble Srinivasa Sastriyar says, “I consider that Hanuman fell a great deal below his own level, much below his own standard of propriety, when he offered to exercise not merely his physical strength but his teeth and his nails.” But he could not have done anything else. His anguish was such. Sastriyar continues, “His anger was so great, his blood boiled to such an extent when he saw the tormentors of the lady of his ideal.”

Very true. One can imagine how helpless he would have felt on the day one, when he saw them for the first time, tormenting her, unable to stop them in any way.

When the ogress guards heard him say all this, they huddled around Janaki. ‘adal arakkiyar, annai nin paadhamE vidalam, meych charan,’ they cried. ‘We come to your feet; we hold them; we surrender unto you, it is for you to save us.’

And then follow the finest of words that Janaki speaks in the epic. As Sastriyar remarks, “I almost think that Hanuman used these harsh, unworthy words and spoke these very bad sentiments in order that Sita’s best nature may be roused in the answer that she gave him. It is one of the noblest pieces. No plea of forgiveness, tolerance, or general benevolence would reach such a great height as the words that she spoke.”

But I have promises to keep – 3

There is a popular saying among devotees that He comes to your protection only when you go to Him and surrender unto Him, whereas She comes to you so very readily in Her motherliness and extends Her protection unasked. The scene that we are discussing now is an example. This was a situation that Trijata foretold in the Sundara Kanda when the ogress-guards made her tremble with their vile words and violent ways. ‘Do not think that you can get away with this. Rama is going to raze this city down and would be angry to hear that you put her to agony. You will all be punished at that time. And that time is not far away,’ she had predicted. (See: The change of attitude – Part 2) Rama of course did not come there to the Asoka Vana to avenge for the wrongs done to her. It is the first of his devotees that desires to do that.

It may be remembered that at that time the words of Trijata did nothing more than to silence the guards. They did not ask for her forgiveness nor did they seek her protection. She meant nothing to them at that time. She, at the most, was a prisoner of their king who was foolish enough to turn down the offer of the hand of the one who ruled over all the three worlds. ‘aRindhaar anna much-chadai enbaaL adhu solla,’ when the clairvoyant Trijata told them thus, ‘piRindhaar sItram’ they gave up their anger. They stopped uttering harsh words.

That was the only change in their attitude at that time. They were actually silenced by Trijata. If they mellowed a little, it was not because they realised the validity of the words of Trijata, but because she was the one in charge. If their king wanted them to torment her, their immediate superior wanted them to refrain from doing so. That is that and nothing more.

But, even when they did not surrender unto her, even when they did not seek her protection, Janaki in all kindness assured them right at that time, ‘avochadhyadhi tat tayam baveyam sharanam hi vaha’ If that comes out to be true, I shall undoubtedly be your protector. (Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, Canto 27, Sloka 54)

Right Hon’ble Srinivasa Sastriyar, while translating this portion, adds a line by way of interpretation, thus. “Without your begging me, before you ever fall at my feet, I will give you the pardon. If ever what Trijata says happens, then be sure that I will protect you all.”

Speaking of the granting of protection, one is reminded of Rama’s words when Vibishana comes to him, seeking to surrender unto him and the debate that follows among the leaders of the simian army, everyone of whom with the exception of Hanuman, advises against accepting him. At that time Rama says, ‘I would grant my protection even to Ravana,’ but there is one condition, ‘if he comes to me.’ “I vouchsafe security against all living beings to him who comes to me only once and seeks protection (from me) saying ‘I am yours’; such is my vow. Bring him hither, O jewel among monkeys, be he Vibishana or Ravana himself, O Sugriva! Security has (already) been granted in his favour by me.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 18, Sloka 33 and 34)

‘It is enough if he comes to me just once,’ he says. ‘It is enough if he seeks my protection; if he says that he seeks to be protected.’ And he would grant his protection if that person comes to him and asks for it, even if it was Ravana who has come to him. But what Janaki gave was a promise unsolicited. The surrender was accepted before it was made. The promise was given before it was asked.

And now the situation has come. It is now that the ogress guards run to her like children running to the mother. ‘We hold your feet. We will not leave them forever. We surrender unto you. It is for you to protect us.” They are asking for a protection which has already been granted. The time has now come for her to do what she assured them unasked. ‘annai anjanmin, anjanmin nIr enaa,’ says Kamban. ‘Do not be afraid; don’t worry,’ said the mother. It is not without reason that the poet has employed the word ‘annai’ – mother – here!

Let bygones be bygones

We have come across various incidents in our lives as also in the recorded human history, where the captor subjects the captured to both mental and physical abuse. We have read of the atrocities committed during World War II and on the Iraqi prisoners of war. It is not for us to go into that question here. Those are crimes committed against a large number of people and the one we are speaking about is limited to – divine or not – an individual.

But the role of a subordinate in such circumstances is not always that happy. There are subordinates who carry out the dictates that stem from sadistic superiors with gusto and add their own doses in executing them. If the action percolates from the top, it grows in size when it permeates to the bottom. And there are also subordinates who carry such orders out because they have no choice but to obey. They are not their masters. The crimes committed by them are considered to be an ‘act of valour’ and ‘part of duty’ when they are committed, and inhuman and heinous as time moves past when events are old enough to be called history.

As I said it is not for us to compare these with what we are discussing now. Nonetheless, they can be juxtaposed to an extent in that Janaki speaks about the role of a subordinate, who is placed in circumstances somewhat similar to that of what we witness in our times. They are comparable only to an extent by deed and not by size. Even Janaki’s views that we are going to see in the matter might not have been the same, if the suffering was not limited to her, and extended to her people.

‘Do not be afraid, do not be worried,’ she told the guards that collected around her in fear. ‘mannum mAruti mugam nOkki,’ she looked gracefully at Hanuman and asked, ‘vEru enna thImai ivar izaithaar, avan sonna solinadhu allaal?’ What wrong did they do unto me? They just carried out their orders. If they were harsh, they were instructed that way. Maruti, it was my misfortune that I went through this suffering. ‘yaan izaitha vinayil iv-idar thaan aduthadhu, thAyinum anbinOi.’ Hanuman, your love excels that of a mother. (With such abundance of love, such thoughts should not haunt you.) Listen to me. It was my misdeeds in some bygone times that resulted in the agonising times that I experienced. They are in no way responsible for what they did.

She raises a pertinent question about those who are in service and those who have no choice but to obey their superiors. “Who will be angry, O prince of monkeys, with obedient maid-servants, who are dependent on a king because of their being in his service and (as such) act according to other’s command? All this is being reaped by me as a result of my own fault in the shape of adverseness of fate, nay on account of a misdeed committed in the past; for the fruit of one’s actions is reaped (in one’s life). ………I condone the fault of the slaves of Ravana, feeble hearted as I am in these matters. The ogresses threatened me because they had been ordered by the ogre to do so. Now that he has been killed, they no longer threaten me, O offspring of wind-god! (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 113, Sloka 34-42 [Extract])

They were bound to obey him, in whose service they have been. They tormented me, no doubt, when he was alive. Now that he has been killed, they do not do so any more. That is proof enough of their intentions. I am sure they would not have done so but for the compulsion of their position. They had no choice. I condone their faults. Because the virtuous do not resort to the maxim of ‘eye for eye’. “The following is an old maxim, conformable to righteousness, actually uttered by a bear in the presence of a tiger. (Please) hear it, O monkey-chief! ‘A superior man does not take into account the sin of those who have committed an offence (against him). The vow of not returning evil for evil must be redeemed at all costs; (for) the virtuous account good conduct as their ornament.” (Ibid, Sloka 43 and 44)

As far as the version of Kamban is concerned, the question of ‘forgiving’ does not arise at all here since what her guards did was under orders. Kamban must have thought that when they were not responsible for their action, not just the question of ‘not punishing’ them but even the question of forgiving them does not arise. We are not able to see his Sita ‘condoning’ the guards. ‘What was the wrong did they commit against me, O Maruti, who excel a mother in love? ‘kUniyin kodiyaar alarE ivar!’ They are not as hard-hearted as the hunchback, Manthara, after all! When she schemed, she did so of her own. She did not stop with that. She incited Kaikeyi and started this chain of events. These poor souls acted on instruction. They did not act on their own as did Manthara. Anyway, ‘pOna ap poruL pOtralai’ do not mind them anymore. Let them be bygones.

She does not stop with advising Hanuman, in Kamban. She asks for a boon from him.

Let this be your boon

Right Hon’ble Srinivasa Sastriyar, while narrating this portion of the epic, commences with the observation, “Now follows the famous reply of Sita when she humbles Hanuman and teaches him a lesson that he could never forget.” Note the words, ‘she humbles’ and ‘teaches him a lesson.’ Sastriyar says that ‘Hanuman learnt a lesson that he could never forget.’

It does not appear to be so to me. This may probably because (unlike Sastriyar who could not have read Kamban at all) my knowledge of Kamban precedes that of Valmiki. I mean the study of the texts of Kamban and Valmiki and not the narrations and interpretations of doyens like Rajaji and Srinivasa Sastriyar. The impressions that I gathered as a youngster, going through the pages of Kamban, may still be haunting deep in my mind. (It is all the more necessary for me to say this here, before we take up the ‘Agni Pravesa’ in a couple of days, apart from the discussion of the present scene, because the approach, the way the events are handled and the way the characters are constructed vary in both the versions.)

The desire of Hanuman to put the ogress guards to slow and painful death by kicks, bites and by the use of nails etc. do sound ‘lurid in its tenor’ as Sastriyar observes. It is more lurid in Kamban (See: But I have promises to keep – 2) where he wants to spill their bowels and drink their blood. However, though it is lurid, it is not unnatural. It may be shocking to hear such words from him for his stature and to an extent, for his nature. I do not say this because the guards were women. This is one of the reasons why some critics find it difficult to accept what Hanuman expressed. No. An office is an offence, be it a man or a woman who committed it. Gender considerations should not in any way come between the assaying of a crime and the punishment that it deserves. Viswamitra (in Kamban) gives a long list of women offenders who were punished in the past, to Rama, in the Bala Kanda, when Tätakä was to be killed. In fact, if the ‘maiden’ kill of Rama was a woman, the first one to be killed – this is restricted to the events described in the Ramayana – by Hanuman was also a woman, Lankini or the spirit of Lanka.

The desire of Hanuman is understandable, though Sastriyar feels that ‘he falls a great deal below his own level.’ My understanding is prompted by my training in Kamban, where Janaki does not at all say that she ‘condones’ the ogresses nor does she ‘admonish’ Hanuman in any way. (Some editions carry the words ‘thus admonished’ for the Sanskrit words ‘evam uktas tu’ in Sloka 47 of Canto 113, Yuddha Kanda, though I have my own reservations about the validity of this translation. It may at the most mean, ‘thus spoken to’.) As Srinivasa Sastriyar rightly observes, the Hanuman’s anger was uncontrollable.

Kamban’s Janaki displays an understanding of his anger, while stopping him from harming the ogresses and reasons with him. ‘Give me a boon, Hanuman,’ she pleads with him in a trice, when he was begging her for one. ‘enakku nI aruL iv varam,’ Do grace me with this boon. ‘thIvinai thanakku vAzvidam aaya sazakkiyar manakku nOi seyal.’ Do not cause pain to the minds of these ogresses though they may be the refuge for all evil. Look once again at the use of the words ‘manakku nOi seyal.’ Do not cause pain to the minds of these ogresses.

If he wanted permission for putting them to slow and painful death, she so very elegantly and subtly points out to the tone of his words and the terror that they cause. ‘See Hanuman! They are listening. The words you utter are terrible. They are all frightened. You are seeking to kill them, piece by piece. I would not want you to cause pain even to their hearts. Stop speaking thus. Do not utter such words any more. Let them not be pained; let them not be hurt; let them not be harmed – not physically as you wish, but even mentally. And that is not my order. Grant me this boon. I would consider it your boon to me, if you promise me not to utter such words any more.

‘endra pOdhil irainjinaan.’ Hanuman heard these words and bowed to her. ‘embiraan than thuNaip perum dhEvi dhayaa,’ he muttered. ‘You are the consort of my Lord. You cannot but be full of grace.’ Yes. That cannot but be called the height of nobility.

But that ‘Lord of grace’ was preparing the ground for the scene inevitable, on the other side, at the same moment.

Valmiki’s clue

It is from this point that Valmiki gives us some clues about the trouble brewing in the heart of Rama, though Kamban is silent about it even at this time. Though Valmiki indicates the change that has come about in Rama’s stance indirectly, through the reactions of Vibishana and several others standing around, I am not able to find a valid reason for such reactions as described. The words of Rama sound perfectly normal. The poet’s description of his body language does not reveal much. Here is how he was when he heard the report of Maruti from Sita. ‘You have to see her now,’ says Hanuman. ‘She is overjoyed at your victory,’ he continues, ‘her eyes are full of tears,’ he describes and ‘bhartāraṃ draṣṭum icchāmi kṛtārthaṃ sahalakṣmaṇam,’ he reports. She said, ‘I long to see my husband along with Lakshmana. [There is a minor difference here in the Gorakhpur edition which says, ‘I desire to see my husband,’ and her eyes grew wild (with emotions).”] (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 114, Sloka 4)

Hearing these words, Rama became thoughtful. ‘evam ukto hanumatā rāmo dharmabhrtām varah agacchat sahasā dhyānam āsīd bāspapariplutah’. (Ibid, Sloka 5) “Appealed to as aforesaid by Hanuman, Sri Rama, the foremost of those who uphold the cause of virtue, became a bit thoughtful and got bathed in tears.” ‘He became thoughtful and was drenched in his tears.’ The reason for turning thoughtful and shedding tears is understandable. Rama is deeply moved with her thoughts and is shedding tears at the very thought of his beloved one. He is going to see her after a long time. The tears may be a sign of the joy at the thought of their reunion.

That is one way of looking at it. But it does not seem to be limited to that. There seems to be some other reason also that made him thoughtful and made him tearful. The poet very skilfully drops a phrase in passing, which makes us lift an eyebrow. ‘dīrgham usnaṃ ca nisvasya medinīm avalokayan uvāca meghasamkāśam vibhīsanam upasthitam’. (Ibid, Sloka 6) “Drawing a deep audible breath, and casting his eyes on the ground, he spoke (as follows) to Vibishana who closely resembled a cloud (in hue), standing near.”

He sighed. He spoke to Vibishana. Not looking at him, as would do anyone, in the normal course. ‘medinīm avalokayan’. He spoke to Vibishana, looking at the ground. That would mean that his eyes were lowered and head was bent down. This, combined with his sigh would, again, signify that his mind was engaged in something else; he was lost in some other thoughts while he was speaking to Vibishana. He probably was enacting the drama in his heart. He probably was rehearsing. What was it due to, we do not know now. Let us move on, looking for more clues.

‘Bring Sita here,’ he ordered Vibishana, still looking at the ground. How was she to be brought? He does not leave it unsaid. He is very clear and specific about it. ‘divyāngarāgām vaidehīm divyābharanabhūsitām iha sītām sirahsnātām upasthāpaya māciram’. (Ibid, Sloka 7) “Bring here Sita, a princess of the Videha territory, after she has bathed her head, has been anointed with heavenly cosmetics and adorned with celestial jewels.” Let her bathe, let her be perfumed, let her be dressed up excellently, let her be adorned with ornaments before she is brought to my presence. Every single one of the detail is spelt out, as is wont of the administrator in him. Rama’s way of detailing out instructions, taking extra care for being specific about what he wants to be done et al are points for mention today, and for detailed discussion on a later day.

We are able to hear him sighing. We are able to see his person getting drenched in tears. We are able to see him speaking to Vibishana, looking at the ground. Vibishana is not able to sense any difference in him at this point of time. He might have thought that Rama is so deeply moved and filled with tears that he is unable to look at him straight in his face and issue orders. It is a natural conclusion and we get a similar impression as well, now.

But it appears that Rama must have been struggling internally. Fighting hard to get himself ready for what he is going to utter in a short time from now. But the evidence we have is not enough, at this point of time.

Kamban, as we mentioned above, remains silent about the unheard commotions that could have wracked his mind at that time. Valmiki gives a clue in passing. Kamban remains totally silent. According to his version, Rama is absolutely normal even now. This poet, who would spend at least 25 verses – a hundred lines – for the mere description of the way in which Ravana walked into the Asoka Vana, draws a very quick line here and ends his narration of Rama’s order in half-a-verse. Just two lines of a quatrain. You will remember the verse that we saw in our last post, where Hanuman bowed to Sita and wondered at her nobility. (See: Let this be your boon – penultimate paragraph) He continues from there. Let’s see the verse in full here:

endRa pOthin, iRainjinan, 'embirAn
than thuNaip perun thEvi dhayA' enA
ninRa kAlai, nediyavan, 'vIdaNa!
senRu thA, nam thEviyai, sIrodum.'

The order of Rama is just seven words – or five feet – long. (By the way, ‘foot’ is the English equivalent of what is known as ‘cIr’ in Tamil. It does not mean ‘one line of poetry,’ as some tend to think.)

‘When Hanuman was spoken to thus, he bowed down to her and muttered, ‘You cannot but be full of grace because you are the consort of my Lord.’ At the same time, on the other side, Rama told Vibishana, ‘You go and bring our Lady, decorated befittingly.’

To bear or not to bear

“She hangs like a star in the dew of our song;
She springs like a beam on the brow of the tide,
She falls like a tear from the eyes of a bride.”
                                                     --  Palanquin Bearers, Sarojini Naidu

It cannot be said that Mythili was all that happy to hear that order of Rama, conveyed to her through Vibishana. Though the poets do not mention this, it can safely be inferred that she would not have but been happy to see the messenger from her husband, the king of Lanka, the person who played a considerable role in the victory of Dharma over adharma. But the message he conveyed did not make her that happy. Or at least, she was not comfortable with what Vibishana told her.

divyangaraga vaidehi divyäbharana bhusita
yanam aroha bhadram te bharta tam drastum icchati

“Having taken your bath, (nay) anointed with heavenly cosmetics and adorned with celestial jewels, (pray) mount the palanquin. May prosperity attend you. Your husband desires to see you, O princess of the Videha territory!” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 114, Sloka 10)

‘Your husband desires to see you. I have been ordered to bring you to his presence, duly decorated. Take your bath. Wear these rich ornaments. Be perfumed. And come with me. Please get into the palanquin, which is waiting for you.’

What is important to observe here is that in the message that is communicated to Sita, there is a minor modification – or I should say addition. The detailed order of Rama does not specify that she is to be brought in a palanquin. But Vibishana requests her to get ready for the occasion and seek the presence of Rama ‘yanam aroha’ mounted in a palanquin. Either the Poet has – intentionally or unintentionally – left that word unsaid or it is that Vibishana has understood it that way.

It is not unusual to find an additional information – as compared to the original information that is asked to be conveyed – in the words of the messenger, when he conveys it to the person concerned. And we understand that the Poet has omitted it there and added it here, because the messenger would not communicate what has not been ordered.

It may therefore be that Rama himself specified that she is to be brought in a palanquin, as otherwise Vibishana would not have mentioned that to her and taken her to him in a palanquin. Or, it is also possible that Vibishana understood Rama’s order that way because if he was to carry out the order ‘senRu thA, nam dhEviyai, sIrodum’ ‘bring our Lady, in a proper, befitting manner,’ he has to do this after all! A queen cannot be asked to walk the distance! See the use of ‘royal we’ in the order that Rama issued. nam dhEvi. Our Lady. And not en dhEvi, or my wife. It is more than obvious that Rama the king wants Sita his queen to be brought to his presence. As we said, it is also possible that Vibishana understood the order to mean that way. The text does not help and the circumstantial evidence supports both the possibilities.

‘Fine. What is the need for such an elaborate discussion on a very simple and minor deviation in the way the message was communicated to Janaki?’ one may wonder. Please make a note of this for now and we will discuss in an appropriate context, later. The point to remember is that the order of Rama does not specifically mention to bring her in a palanquin; but it can be seen in the message that is conveyed by Vibishana to Sita. And that it was Vibishana who made the necessary arrangements. He could not have acted on his own.

And we said that Mythili was not all that happy – or at least she was not comfortable – with what she was told. She was rather hesitant about carrying it out. Let’s see the reason behind this.

Let me come as I am

Her strong instinct and her razor sharp intellect must have told her that there is something wrong; that there is trouble brewing. After all, she knew this man by his inches. She has lived with him for twenty-five years now. Twenty-five full years. Only the 26th year was spent in the prison of Ravana. A thirteen of these twenty-five years were spent in the forest. And that means the couple were – with the exception of Lakshmana – all alone in the company of each, for more than half the time of their wedded years, which afforded them a lot of opportunity to know and understand each. And therefore, she could read his mind as easily as a book written in the language one is proficient in. I would even say that she could sense his thoughts even before he could think that way.

I am not making tall claims on her behalf. A couple of months back she foresaw this moment – that is to say, read his thought months before he could think so – in the Sundara Kanda, moments before Hanuman appeared before her. ‘If he tells me that you are unworthy of my acceptance and that ‘il pugath thakkalai’ you are not fit any more to step into the portals of Ayodhya, what would I do?’ ‘en pazhi thudaippavar, ennin yaavarE?’ ‘Who else could wipe the stain on me, but for myself? Who at all can come forward to lend me a helping hand in that situation? That would be a moment when I would be left to myself to establish my purity and even he can’t be of any help, with all his love for me.’ This was the thought that made her shudder and we saw that this was why she decided on ending her life. (See: The ‘not to be’ – Part IV and The transition)

Since she has foreseen this moment, she shrunk back. ‘Why should I be bathed, costumed and jewelled before I see him? It would be most appropriate for me to appear before him as I have been living here. When he casts his first glance on me, I should not be standing like the bride that I was in the palace of Mithila. I should just be the woman who has spent about a year without a second saree to change. Everybody should see me in this dirty saree, a considerable portion of it torn on one side (which I used for wrapping my jewels that I threw amidst those monkeys). Everyone should see and everyone should know that I was living this way, when I meet my Rama.’

And she told Vibishana, “Without having bathed, O king of ogres, I wish to see my husband (immediately).” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 114, Sloka 11) ‘yaan ivaN irundha thanmai,’ The way I spent my days here (should be seen by) ‘imayavar kuzhuvum,’ all those groups of celestials, ‘engaL konum,’ our Lord (meaning Rama; the word ‘engal’ or ‘Our’ is the same as ‘royal we’ and would mean ‘my’) ‘am munivar thangaL kUttamum,’ the assemblage of Rishis (who would be there) ‘kulatthukku Etra vaan uyar karpin maadhar Ittamum,’ and by all the women who live a life of purity in consonance with their family tradition. ‘kANdal maatchi.’ That would make my position clear. That would make everyone know what I actually am.

She was very particular that more than anyone else her lord and all the other women of noble life should see the condition in which she was living so that they understand her perfectly well. It may be recollected here that one of the thoughts that made her desperate in Sundara Kanda was, ‘How am I to stand before, to face those women of purity, who lead an unblemished life, even if I am rescued, accepted and taken back to Ayodhya?’ (See: The ‘not to be’ – Part III)

But Vibishana suggested ‘No.’ ‘tasyas tadvacanam srutvā pratyuvāca vibhIsana| yathāham rāmo bhartā te tat tathā kartum arhasi’|’| Hearing her aforesaid answer, Vibishana submitted in reply: - You ought to do the bidding of your husband, Sri Rama, (precisely) as he as enjoined you to do. (Ibid, Sloka 12)

Right Hon’ble Srinivasa Sastriyar, speaking on this particular Sloka, observes: “Vibishana perhaps thinking that he had already seen signs of trouble on Rama’s face, tells her, ‘I think you had better follow your husband’s order.’ Perhaps admonished, Sita does as she was bidden and when she appears before Rama, she is carried in a palanquin.”

I am not able to see any admonition in the submission of Vibishana, though Sastriyar qualifies his remark with the adverb, ‘perhaps.’ To me there is no ‘perhaps.’ (Once again my sense of honesty demands that I have to make it clear, riding as I am on the backs of two thoroughbred Arabian horses, that my understanding may be more impelled by my training in Kamban.) He could not – or rather would not – have admonished her or even spoken to her sternly. The tone underlying his submission needs a sympathetic understanding. Let us clear him from getting embroiled in the crossfire that is going to ensue. Let us weigh his response on the basis of what Kamban has portrayed.

Where does he stand?

Let’s think for a while on the role of Vibishana here, in this particular scene. He is not more than a messenger, assigned to convey a particular message and to complete a particular task – that of bringing Sita to Rama’s presence according to the orders issued. He may be the king of Lanka but he is one of those who have accepted the supremacy of Rama in all respects. He owes his loyalty to Rama, though one cannot say that what he had for Rama could be limited to or measured by that one word. This was one of the chief qualities that best describe the relationship between Vibishana and Rama. Loyalty, respect, love, devotion are – once again – a few of the qualities that we find in Vibishana, in abundance. We have studied this character in 52 instalments and I do not have to elaborate on this any more here.

Looking at the scene again, one would not fail to see the fact that there were two different messengers from Rama on the same day, one following the other on two different but necessarily related matters, which could have been handled by just one. It was not difficult for Hanuman to convey the message of the slaying of Ravana and to bring her to Rama’s presence. And it is not that Vibishana was incapable of delivering the message of Rama while going to her for bringing her from the Asoka Vana. Any one of the two could have performed both the tasks, though Rama specifically sends two different messengers, one for each task.

The only difference between Hanuman and Vibishana is that Hanuman had met her earlier, though he did not know much about her before their first meeting whereas though Vibishana knew about her earlier, had never met her. Hanuman might have been preferred for conveying the happy message for this reason. But that is not all. ‘Why Rama did not ask the same person to perform both the tasks,’ is a question that needs to be studied with reference to other finer details like why he sent Sugriva to receive Vibishana when he came seeking his protection, why he let Lakshmana speak on his behalf on more than one occasion etc. It would be sufficient for now to know that Rama was impelled by considerations of protocol, as he always was. We will go into this question later in detail, when we take up Rama.

But look at the situation from the point of view of Vibishana. If he is carrying the message of his master – a great personality and one he respects highly – to do this, this and this in this and this manner, he is going to a person whom he has placed on the highest pedestal in his heart, even before he quit Ravana and sought Rama. Who can forget his words concerning Sita in the war council of Ravana, when the latter frets and fumes about a ‘mere monkey’ setting fire to the well protected city! ‘kOnagar muzuvadhum nin kotramum,’ he says, ‘The city of Lanka together with your sovereignty ‘saanagi enum peyar ulagin tham-anai aanavaL kaRpinaal vendadhu,’ was burnt down to ashes by the fire of purity of the mother of universe, who is known by the name Janaki. ‘alladhu, Or vaanaram suttadhu endru uNardhal maatchiyO?’ Would it not be folly to look at it as the deed of a monkey?

The above is just only one of the verses in which Vibishana refers to her with utmost reverence as the ‘mother of the universe.’ When that being so, it is not possible for him to ‘admonish’ her, or even speak to her sternly. One can easily see how hard put he would have been to find an answer to Sita’s line of thought, which goes against the orders conveyed through him. If the order specifies Janaki to appear before Rama in a particular manner, it ordains on Vibishana in whom vests the responsibility – as the event manager – for carrying out those orders in every respect.

But Vibishana is facing two great personalities, both of whom are held by him with the greatest of respect. And he is facing a diagonally opposite view point from Janaki, whom he held with the highest regard, months before he came to Rama, seeking his protection. The validity of the point that Janaki is making must have appealed to him. But he has no choice. He has to carry out the orders of his master in every respect. That was what he was assigned. One can see his predicament. One great person giving out an order and the other great person very reasonably, logically and very validly too, speaking against it. And one can see too, Vibishana playing the ‘Yes, but’ game that Transactional Analysis (TA) enthusiasts are familiar with.

“Hearing her aforesaid answer, Vibishana submitted in reply: - You ought to do the bidding of your husband, Sri Rama, (precisely) as he as enjoined you to do.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 114, Sloka 12) ‘endranaL iraivi.’ So said the lady (goddess, Devi). ‘kEtta iraakadharkku iRaivan,’ the King of Rakshasas hearing her words (said) ‘niilak kundru anaan than paNiyin kurippu idhu.’ This is what the order of Rama implies.

That is to say, ‘Yes. I do understand madam. I do see your point. But this is what I have been ordered to do. I am under orders and the words of Rama do imply all this.’ Janaki does not seem to be convinced. She just replies with only one word, ‘nandru.’ ‘Well.’ ‘Be it so.’ But she had to accept it. It was not that she had to make her choice the hard way, for she was left with no choice.

What could Vibishana have done in the circumstances! He did his best. His answer to Janaki can only be considered as ‘submission’ and not as ‘admonition’. Neither did he play any personal role nor did he influence any event or decision. But for the issue of the palanquin. However, the answer to this point – as we said – cannot be ascertained from the text or circumstantial evidence.

Let’s move to the main course of events now.

The point of the palanquin

This particular section that we are taking up for discussion now is confined to Valmiki Ramayana. Kamban has skipped this portion and it cannot be seen in his version. Please do not get the impression that this portion is considerably long. This consists of not more than five Slokas that give out a clue to the change of stance that is coming over Rama. Not only that. It raises a question that evades all answer either by means of the text or through conjecture that can be supported by evidence of any manner – material or circumstantial. May be this is the reason why Kamban skipped this portion. Anyway, we will see what Valmiki has to say.

Valmiki emphasises the fact that Vaidehi accepted to what Vibishana submitted because of the respect she had for her husband. It was because she was ‘bhrātrdevatā bhartrbhaktivratā’ he says, meaning, ’who looked upon her husband as a god and was adorned by devotion to her husband.’ If he says so in the 13th Sloka, he makes it abundantly clear in the two Slokas that follow:

tatah sitām sirahsnātām yuvatibhir alamkrtām    |
mahārhābharanopetām mahārhāmbaradhārinīm ||

āropya sibikām dīptām parārdhyāmbarasamvrtām  |
rakshobhir bahubhir guptām ājahāra vibhīsanah     ||

“Prevailing upon Sita to ascend a brilliant palanquin covered with an exceedingly valuable cloth and guarded by numerous ogres, after she had laved her bath and had put on costly robes and had been adored with exceedingly valuable jewels and decorated, Vibishana then brought her (to the presence of Sri Rama).” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 114, Sloka 14 and 15)

The point to note is that, she was prevailed upon by Vibishana to get dressed, decorated and to ascend the palanquin. Rama heard that she was arriving. That is, he is yet to see her. The palanquin and the retinue that follows are yet to be sighted. Because the poet says, ‘tām āgatām upasrutya,’ ‘He heard that she was coming.’ And the next moment he must have seen the approaching palanquin. He was overcome with mixed feelings. He was filled with three different feelings, says Valmiki. ‘harso dainyam ca rosas ca trayam rāghavam āvisat.’ Three different feelings filled him. ‘harso dainyam ca rosa.’ He was overcome by joy; felt miserable and was angered. (Ibid, Sloka 16)

Of these three, we can find a reason for two emotions. One can understand why he was happy. Because he was going to see her after a long time; he has won her back. That happiness might have been short lived and the clock on the time-bomb has already started ticking. But, that he was happy can never be denied. That is one of the strong points, which evidence his love for her even at this point of time – minutes before the screen is going to be lifted up on the scene.

And one can find a reason for his getting angry, though we are not able to understand why. For the poet states the reason in the next Sloka. We know why he was happy. Because he was about to see her. Why was he angry? Because he saw her coming in a palanquin! ‘tatho yanagatäm sitäm savimarsha vicharayan vibishanamidham vakyamahashtro raghavombravit” “Feeling distressed on considering with deep thought the question of Sita having come (all the way) in a palanquin, Sri Rama (a scion of Raghu) then spoke to Vibishana as follows.” (Sloka 17)

He was happy. And he was distressed. Distressed to see that she has come all the way in a palanquin. But the question that remains unanswered is why he was distressed because of that. She was not in any way responsible for that. Rama, if she arrived in a palanquin then it must have been because of your order, or the way Vibishana understood your order. The explanation for that has to come from Vibishana. But the poet remains silent on this point. There is neither a direct answer in the text nor is there any indirect clue by which we can adopt a convincing conjecture, at least for now. As I said, this may perhaps be the reason why Kamban skipped this portion.

Then there is a third emotion that filled him on seeing the palanquin. ‘dainya,’ which is defined as, ‘wretchedness, affliction, depression, miserable state’. He felt miserable, afflicted, depressed. This probably holds the key to his intentions. But a discussion on this is not possible now, because this has to be supported by evidence if not from this scene, from other scenes that establish a clear behavioural pattern of Rama. That requires a study of Rama and I defer this for a later day, when we arrive at this scene in the study of the main hero.

Now, back to the scene in hand.

Let her walk her way

‘Let her seek my presence,’ is the next order that issues from Rama to Vibishana. This order and the Slokas that follow in the manner of a short speech of Rama, once again, form part of that portion which has been skipped by Kamban. However, this portion contains certain important clues to the mind of Rama, which sound perfectly in order and in due empathy for Sita. But Valmiki shows us the reaction of Sugriva, Vibishana, Lakshmana and other monkey chiefs, at the end of what Rama says, which leads us to believe that though the words wear a gentler and understanding garb, his tone was not that kindly. The red signal is turned on at this point. I wish to add that I am referring to the version of Valmiki when I say so.

The answer to the question as to why Kamban preferred to move away from his forerunner here and join with him later, taking just a slice from Rama’s speech and presenting a modified drama, would lead us to another topic, which would not be directly related to our present discussions. However, let me say this for now. If these Slokas by their presence divulge the mind of Rama, their absence serves to divulge the mind of Kamban. This is a topic for another day and we will take this up along with our study of Rama.

“Let Sita (a princess of the Videha territory,” ordered Rama, “duly seek my presence soon, O suzerain lord of ogres, O gentle one, ever intent on scoring a victory for me!” (Valmiki Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Canto 114, Sloka 19) The point to note here is that this is a very simple order and does not specify the manner in which she is supposed to appear before him. This is specified only after ten Slokas.

Hearing that order, Vibishana quickly swung into action, clearing the way. The place was naturally crowded. A very large simian army that fought with Rama for her liberation is present there. Every single one of them, eager to get a glimpse of Vaidehi vied with one another and surged forwards, making it difficult for the retinue to move. Vibishana ordered his men to clear the ground and make way, obviously for the palanquin to be borne to him. It has to be noticed that though Rama was displeased about this palanquin affair, he has not yet mentioned anything about it to Vibishana or anyone else, until now.

“Ogres clad in jackets and wearing turbans, their hands carrying staffs which made a jingling sound, paced all round, dispersing the aforesaid warriors.” (Ibid, Sloka 21) The ogres pushing the Vanara warriors away and the latter refusing to move and resisting resulted in pandemonium. Rama noticed this and turned indignant. He could not tolerate the Vanaras being chased away from the place. They have been loyal to him and they have a natural desire to have a glimpse of the person for whose sake they fought so valiantly, facing all the difficulties and dangers of the war. He was moved by kindness for the Vanara warriors and turned angry at Vibishana and his men for dispersing them. “Why, disregarding me, are these people being molested by you?” he told, “(Pray) stop this annoyance. They are my people (‘svajano mama’).” (Ibid, Sloka 26)

‘Who asked you to drive them away? They are my people. Let them stay here. Let them see her. There is no harm in my people seeing her.’ Perfectly true. They bring the nobility of Sri Rama out. And then he continues, “Neither apartments nor costumes nor a protective wall nor again royal honours constitute a veil for a woman. Her character (alone) is her shield.” (Ibid, Sloka 27) Very true indeed. This in fact is precisely what Valluvar says when he asks, ‘sirai kaakkum kaapu evan seyyum?’ Of what avail is (the attempt to preserve the dignity of a woman) by confining her? Stone walls do not a prison make! (See: The guardian of her own self) Rama goes on to mention the places where and when a woman can appear in public. “In times of adversity, in straits, in conflicts, during the selection of a husband (by a princess or daughter of a Kshatriya at a public assembly of suitors, at a sacrificial performance or at the nuptial ceremony.” Okay. Now we can see to an extent why Kamban preferred to keep this portion away from his work.

What does Rama say? A woman’s shield is her character. And her character is in her own keeping. Fine. Then, what do you, Rama, think about your Vaidehi? Is her character her shield or not? Rama says, “The yonder Sita is in distress and beset with difficulty. (Hence) there is no objection to her appearing in public, particularly in my presence.” (Ibid, Sloka 29)

She is in distress and is beset with difficulty. The only distress that she is in is due to her separation from her husband. What may cause distress to a woman if she is considered ‘characterless’? And if her character is thought of to be otherwise, why should Rama say that, ‘there is no objection to her appearing in public, particularly in my presence.’ Rama adds as a last line, “Therefore leaving the palanquin, let Sita seek my presence on foot alone.” (Ibid, Sloka 30) The displeasure comes out and the manner in which she is expected to seek him is expressed. ‘Let her come out of the palanquin and walk her way to me.’

But for the last Sloka (Sloka 30) the words of Rama sound as if they are born from a heart that understands her perfectly well. (I wish to add that it may be that it is true too, while deferring the discussion on this.) But his tone must have been harsh. Valmiki says, “Becoming thoughtful when commanded as aforesaid by Rama, Vibishana reverently conducted Sita to the former’s presence.” (Ibid, Sloka 31) He became thoughtful. Why he became thoughtful can be discerned from the Sloka that follows. “Lakshmana and Sugriva as well as the monkey chief, Hanuman, thereupon felt greatly distressed to hear the order of Sri Rama.” (Ibid, Sloka 32)

Now let us turn to Kamban. Let us see how he portrays this scene.

Calm before the storm

Unlike in several other places, Kamban has been following Valmiki on his heels, event for event, in this scene that leads to the Agni Pravesa. But we saw that he circumvented a small portion in the drama of Valmiki that we have been discussing lately. When he does so, he does so with finesse, without letting the reader feel that there is something missing here. No doubt, a few of the vital clues that point to the real intentions of Rama get missed out when he does so. But he deftly makes up for this by other means.

The detour from Valmiki starts from the point where both the poets show the exchange between Vibishana and Janaki, in their own styles. Valmiki shows Janaki ascending the palanquin, prevailed upon by Vibishana, in the Sloka that follows immediately. Kamban takes a little more time in describing the beauty of Sita as she gets decorated. This is a favourite theme for him. You can see this happen at every available opportunity. He has not been able to do so for about 5000 verses now, commencing from the Sundara Kanda and one can see him giving his free vent to his favourite theme even at such a critical time.

And then she is taken to the presence of Rama. On the way a large crowd was gathering. A very large assemblage of the celestials, Rishis and their spouses, came down there to that field and added to the immensely large army of Vanaras. It was getting difficult for Vibishana to bring Sita to Rama’s presence. ‘marungu mun pin sela vazhi andru ennalaai nerunginar.’ Every one of them lunged forwards and the retinue was surrounded on all sides. They could neither move forwards, nor backwards. ‘neunguzhi,’ When they so surged closer, ‘nirudhar Ochalaal,’ because of the ogres pushing them back, ‘karung kadal muzakku enap pirandhadhu kambalai,’ there arose a commotion that equalled the roar of the waves of ocean.

The difficult and inexplicable question of the palanquin is bypassed. There is no mention about the palanquin at all. Rama getting agitated over her arrival in a palanquin, his ordering Vibishana to bring her to his presence, Vibishana and his men pushing everyone around to make way for her are pushed to a side. The main element of the drama is preserved. The ogres are pushing the people around, even before Vibishana, and the group escorting Janaki could reach Rama and there is commotion.

Rama has no means of knowing the reason for the commotion. Remember, Vibishana is yet to arrive by his side – as in Valmiki Ramayana – and is still some distance away. Rama looked at the Rishis who were standing by his side and enquired; and the Rishis informed him that the ogres are pushing the people away, to make way for Janaki. Immediately Rama turned indignant. He addressed Vibishana and chided, ‘thagaadha nI seydhiyO punidha nUl katru uNar pundhiyOi!’ Vibishana, you master of the sacred texts! How come that (of all the people) you are doing things that are unacceptable?

Rama’s voice picks up an edge. His anger knew no bounds. ‘On whose permission are you doing this?’ he pulled Vibishana up. ‘kadum thiral amark kaLam kaaNum aasayaal, nedum thisaith thEvarum nindra yaavarum adaindhanar.’ If the celestials and others have gathered here, it is because of the fact that they are desirous of seeing this battlefield (in which I fought). ‘uvagayin adaigindraargaLaik kadinidhida yaar sonnaar?’ Who asked you to chase away these people, who are gathered eagerly and with happiness?

Valmiki’s Rama says that there is no harm in her appearing in public, for a woman can be seen in public on certain specific occasions, one of which is when she is in distress. And since Janaki is distressed, it is in order for her to be seen in public, especially in view of the fact that he, her husband, is by her side. Kamban places his Rama in another plane. Listen to him.

‘parasudaik kadavuL,’ Be it Lord Shiva, the wielder of the battleaxe, ‘nEmip paNNavan,’ or be it Lord Vishnu, the holder of the discus, ‘padhumathu aNNal,’ or be it Brahma, who resides in the Lotus, ‘arasudaith therivaimaarai indriyE amaivadhu uNdO?’ could they ever be seen alone, not accompanied by their respective consorts? ‘karai seya ariya dhEvar EnayOr kalandhu kaaNbar.’ And it is in the company of their consorts that every single one of the celestials and demi-gods appear.

Vibishana, even the very Gods appear along with their consorts. Tell me which one of the pantheons appears alone? Which people would take delight in seeing – having a dharshan of – their Gods all alone, not accompanied by their consorts? If that applies to Gods, would it not apply to others? These people – my people – are gathered here eagerly to see the two of us together. ‘virasurin,’ If they rush in to have a glimpse of us together, ‘vilakkuvaarO vEru uLLarkku?’ would anyone chase them away?

The volcano wears a very calm outer, even when only a few seconds are left for it to erupt. Not only that. This volcano-to-be points to the desire of the people to see them together and restrains Vibishana from pushing them away. One has to see the calm that Rama maintains even at this moment. That is to say, according to Kamban, he is absolutely at ease and at peace even seconds before the drama is due to start. This forms part of the evidence that we need later.

‘Let all of them remain here.’ Yes my dear and revered Lord, to witness what!

With their blessings…

Sitting at my desk today to continue with the events, I shudder at the immensity of the task ahead. This is a place in the epic which most of the commentators would either like to steer around or find excuses to plead on behalf of Rama. Some even go to the extent of finding faults with the acts of Sita in the past so many years – from her calling Rama a sailusha, to her imputing motives to Lakshmana (See: A thorn under the petal? and Motivated, you are) – in order to ‘save’ Rama and ‘protect’ his name. I know that people have gone to the extent of calling them as ‘sins of Sita,’ so that Rama’s words can be considered in the light of chastisement. My only appeal is to see, examine and analyse every single one of the verse that the poets have given and try to get a feel of the import, rather than inventing reasons of our own. Rama does not require props from us. He does not have to be defended. He has a stature of his own, which would stay tall and towering always.

It really needs a great deal of strength to record this event faithfully. I am stunned at the sense of honesty that the poets have displayed, especially here. They could have modified or toned down the words of Rama, had they but desired to do so, if they had this desire to ‘save’ Rama. Kamban has, no doubt, modified and toned down the speech of Rama as found in Valmiki. But even then it remains scathing and shocking.

Some of the later poets have played it around. They have not gone into this scene at all and have in one quick sweep built a protective wall around Rama, doing sheer injustice to Sita. The Ramayana has been re-written down the ages, over and over again. It has been retold even a couple of centuries ago. Let’s take for instance the Rama nataka kIrtthanai of Arunachala Kavirayar, who has covered all the major events of the story in kirthana format, to be sung. He comes to the scene of Hanuman carrying the message of Rama to Sita and in the very next kirthana moves on to show Sita rising from the fire. However, there is a virutham that precedes the kirthana in raga Bilahari, ‘ezundhaaLE pUngodhai,’ where the poet zooms through this event in a quick single-line. ‘thavathOrukku aruLum seeraman thanadhu kurippu vEraaga,’ Since the (train of) thoughts of Rama, who blesses the ones in penance, went otherwise, ‘saami adiyEn seydha pizhai sagippAi endraaL,’ it says, ‘Bear with me my lord, for my misdeeds.’
So saying, she jumped into the fire and rose up, the poet continues in the kirthana mentioned above. Not denying the greatness of the poet, this does not in any way give the right picture, apart from making her plead guilty and beg for forgiveness.

We do not have to travel this long a time in history, from Kamban to Arunachala Kavirayar. There is a miniature version of Kamba Ramayanam in the Uttara Kanda of Ottakutthar, sung through the words of Lava and Kusa. While Valmiki does not spend much time in capturing the Ramayana sung by the children, in the presence of their father, Ottakutthar does so. With a rare reverence that one poet shows to another – especially his contemporary – he recapitulates every major event in the epic, meticulously taking into consideration all the changes that Kamban has brought about. Thus, if we are not able to see Ravana going with the illusory head Rama to Sita – a scene that is found in Valmiki – we are presented with the Canto of Illusory Janaka, a creation of Kamban and which is specific only to Kamban. He pays the utmost care to the version of Kamban – depicted as his arch enemy in the literature of later years – and follows his footsteps with due respects.

Our interest gets the keener as we approach this scene, as the dramatic element and its impact in the moment is tremendously high. Children singing the suffering of their mother to a father who does not know them as yet to be of his own blood. That holds immense potential for a poet of the calibre of Kamban, or Ottakutthar to work upon. But Ottakutthar simply polishes this over and moves on without even giving cognisance to the dramatic value that lies under this wonderful scene. He finishes the entire event in a single line. ‘iraaman nOkki,’ Lava-Kusa sing. Rama looked at her, who was led by Hanuman and Vibishana. ‘nandru nin seydhi enna,’ And when he (in his anger) told her (sarcastically), ‘Excellent has been your ways,’ ‘nadunginaL’ she trembled. ‘eri pukku uyndhaaL,’ She jumped into the fire and found her salvation.

The scene is such. The personalities involved are such. The way Rama has established himself is such. In fact, that was one of the reasons why even Hanuman, Vibishana or even Lakshmana could not speak against him.

Now, let me narrate the scene as it is depicted by the two poets, going into the differences and their implications, first. And then we will take up a few of the defences and study their validity or otherwise, with reference to the text. Let Rama and my mother Sita, stand by me.

The body and the soul – 1

Let me get into the scene with Kamban, who has added five verses pregnant with meaning and structured with carefully chosen words and which are significant from the literary, philosophical and metaphysical points of view, before the scene opens, even as Sita sets foot on the ground and walks her way to Rama. I do not propose to go deep into them now. But I wish to point out that these are there – parallels of which are not to be found in Valmiki, who lets Rama squeeze the trigger right from the word ‘go’ – adding tremendous dramatic as well as philosophical value to the scene. Now they sound a little romantic, now they sound a little sarcastic, now they sound a little ironic; but their quintessence underlines her purity and his love for her. And there occurs a metaphor, which is repeated again and again with such stunning consistency. Let us see them in brief now and go back to Valmiki’s version again to start our discussions.

By the first verse, the poet shows us the backdrop. It is the battlefield where vultures and fiends are feeding on corpses. And the hero, who was the cause of this fiendish feast, was standing amidst them with the bow in his hand. ‘parundhodu kazugum pEyum pasip piNi thIrumaaru, virundhidu villin selvan.’ The archer, who enabled the goblins, kites and the ghosts to assuage their hunger stood amidst them. ‘vizha aNi virumbi nOkki,’ Sita set her eyes eagerly on him, wearing a look of such festivities. (The festivities are nothing but the feast that is going on in the backdrop. What is meant here is the manliness of Rama holding the bow and the look of a warrior. It is her warrior after all.) Take a look at the phrase ‘vizha aNi’ once again. Wearing a festival look; celebrating the glorious victory. Her eyes and heart were filled to the brim. ‘karum thadam kaNNum nenjum kaLitthida inaya sonnaL,’ She turned to Hanuman who was close by, with her eyes and her heart flowing with joy and she spoke thus. The backdrop and the way she feels! Quite romantic indeed.

The second verse blesses Hanuman for enabling all this happen. ‘siilamum kaati,’ You have been a witness to my purity, Hanuman, and you enabled everyone to see it; ‘en kaNavan sEvagak kOlamum kaati,’ you enabled the world to see the valour of my husband, ‘en kulamum kaati,’ in addition to these, you enabled my family to establish its glory. ‘naaL araak kAlamum kaatum kol en kaRpu.’ ‘May you live long, forever. Would my purity unblemished not make this happen! I bless you on the strength of my purity.’ The blessing is in the name of the very quality on which the showdown is going to start now. Sounds a little ironical. But then, it is more than obvious that the poet does not mean it that way.

By the third, we are once again shown her drinking his handsomeness with thirsty eyes. And speaking to herself. And the poet joining her, in paying her the compliment that is her due. ‘pachcilai vaNNamum pavaLa vaayum aay, kaich chila Endhi nindraanaik kaNNutraaL.’ She looked at him, who is of the hue of the leaf and of ruddy lips, standing with his bow in his hand. ‘echcil en udal, uyir EgitrE,’ She mutters to herself. ‘My body which has been polluted (because of my being brought to Lanka and living in the demon’s prison) is dead now. That does not exist any longer. ‘ini nachchu ilai.’ There is nothing left for me now to desire. ‘That polluted body of mine is dead. The soul has gone away. If at all I live now, it is because my soul is renewed. Anyway, I have seen him again. I have nothing more to desire. There is no desire left in me. Sounds a little philosophical and a little clairvoyant too.

The fourth verse returns to the metaphor, which the poet repeats in a minimum of three different places, the first one being in the Aranya Kanda, when Rama returns anxiously after killing Märïca, who died calling Sita and Lakshmana, mimicking his voice. The second is the scene in which Janaki is taken back in the Pushpaka Vimana, after she is taken to the battlefield to have an aerial view of the ‘supposed-to-have-been-dead’ Rama and Lakshmana. (See: The final hope – 2) And the third one is the present verse we are taking up.

If the poet so very meticulously repeats this metaphor, with the precision and consistency that he is known for, it cannot be without significance. There are 5285 verses between the first and the second occasions and 1284 verses between the second and the third. The famed ‘kamba sUthiram’ or the golden knot of Kamban actually gets completed between the first and the third, the second being used just for the sake of emphasis. If that is taken into consideration, there are more than 6500 verses between the beginning of the ‘knot’ and its completion. That goes to show the amazing forethought with which the poet drafted his work, re-writing being an almost impossible task, if we remember the fact that his medium was the Palmyra leaf.

The third verse spoke about the ‘body polluted’ dying and being renewed with its soul. The metaphor in the fourth verse goes around this particular theme of ‘body and soul’ and tells us who is the body and who is the soul, of the couple.

The body and the soul – 2

It is in the Aranya Kanda – as we mentioned in our last post – that the poet prepares us for the verse that we have in hand. It is that moment in which Rama comes running back, along with Lakshmana who met him on the way, after Märïca died mimicking his voice, piteously calling out the names of Sita and Lakshmana. He is shocked beyond senses to find that Sita and their parna sala were not to be seen; that they disappeared. There was a large pit on the ground, caused by the digging out of the hermitage. ‘Odi vandhanan,’ says the poet. He came running back. ‘saalayin sOlayil udhavum thOdu ivarndha pUnjuri kuzalaaL thanaik kaaNaan.’ He could not find either the hermitage or Janaki, the one with the flower-bedecked plait.

And then he says. ‘kUdu thannudayadhu pirindhu aar uyir, kuriyaa thEdi vandhu, adhu kaNdiladhu aam ena nindraan.’ He stood there as helplessly as the soul that left its body behind for a while, and coming back looking for it with the intention of residing in it again, only to be faced with the rude reality that it is not to be seen.

It is not difficult for us, familiar as we are with the stories of Adi Sankara, Thirumular and Arunagirinadhar, to grasp the import of the analogy. Adi Sankara left his body behind to reside in the body of a dying king, in search of answers to the question of Sarasavani. And he came back to reside again in his original frame. Thirumular, a great siddha purusha, taking pity on the distress of the cows at the death of their cowherd, Mulan, left his body aside and entered the frame of Mulan. When he came back, he could not find the body that he left behind and he spent the rest of his life in the body of the cowherd, Mulan and hence came to be known as Thirumular. Arunagiri, in his mission to fetch the heavenly flower for curing the blindness of the king left his body in the tower of Tiruvannamalai temple. But the frame was cremated by Sambandhandan, who considered Arunagiri as his rival.

If we bring these stories back to mind, especially that of Arunagiri, we will be able to see clearly what the poet means. Rama felt as helpless and as miserable as the soul that had left its body behind for a while, returning to reside in it again, shocked and left lurching in the large, by its absence. That is to say, Rama is the soul and Sita is the body. This soul remains without a body now and that body remains without a soul.

And then, when Sita is taken back in the aerial car, after being shown the battlefield where Rama was lying unconscious by the side of Lakshmana in a state of stupor, giving her a false impression that they are dead, (See: The final hope – 2) Kamban rolls the metaphor again silently, to be observed only by the careful reader. ‘They took her back in the Puspaka Vimana, like the Yama Dutas – messengers of the lord of Death – away from her lord. But see what these fools are doing! The Yama Dutas would leave the body behind and take the soul away. These Dutas are doing the reverse.’

‘mey uyiur ulagatthu aaga,’ even as the soul imperishable was lying down there on the ground, ‘vidhiyaium valimayaal kadandhu,’ trespassing the unsurpassable rule (that the soul is to be taken away) ‘poy udal koNdu sellum namanudai thoodhar pOndraar,’ those (ogress guards) who resembled the messengers of the lord of Death, took the perishable body away.

‘Funny,’ the poet seems to laugh to himself. ‘These fools do not know the simple rule that the soul is to be carried away and they are breaking it. They are in the service of Ravana and can break any rule, of course. Look here. The soul is lying down on the ground and they are carrying the body away.’ Though the verse wears the garb of black humour, it serves to emphasise what the poet wants us to realise, a continuum of the analogy that started in the Aranya Kanda. Rama is the soul and Sita is the body.

And now, when Janaki is brought to Rama, Kamban remembers his old analogy and beautifully ties the ends up to complete the golden knot. ‘maana mIdhu arambayar sUzha vandhuLaaL,’ he says. She is brought in the aerial car, surrounded by the celestial women. ‘pOna pEr uyirinaik kaNda thaan adhu kavarvurum thanmaithaam ena,’ Like the perishable body that found its great soul that left it long back, desiring to grab it back, ‘aananam kaatura, avani eydhinaaL’ her feet touched the ground, so that her face could be seen by him.

Notice the consistency with which the phrase, ‘poy udal’ is employed in the second and third verses. The body that was taken away by Ravana in the Aranya Kanda is coming back to its soul in the Yuddha Kanda. And it thinks that its ‘body polluted’ (See: The body and the soul – 1) is dead and that it is now being renewed with its soul. This body remained without its soul for about a year now while the soul remained without a body. Naturally that body is dead and is being renewed now.

In the light of the above, the usual and seemingly ordinary metaphor that Kamban uses when the two of them fall in love, ‘orungiya iraNdu udarkku uyir ondru aayinaar’ ‘the two became one (See: pEsavum vENdumO?) ‘A single soul residing in two different bodies,’ turns unusual and extraordinary.

Metaphysical and philosophical discussions are for a later day. Now for the fifth verse

Hari Krishnan