When the heart speaks II

It has been preordained that I have to live in the forest and it has come true now. Ever since I heard that prediction, I have been nurturing a desire in my heart…

Valmiki, as mentioned earlier, portrays the conversation of Sri Rama and Janaki vividly in three Cantos, Sita’s emotions intensifying degree by degree, Rama remaining unruffled by her feelings almost till the very last moment. It begins with Rama informing her of his decision; Sita pleading with him to take her and Rama refusing and Sita losing her temper. Finally she breaks down in his hands, in tears.

This conversation between Sri Rama and Janaki gains importance from many points of view. It is the only piece of dialogue between the two that runs this long in the entire epic. It brings out the depth of love that prevailed between the two. Apart from that, the Poet has very beautifully planted a clue to Rama’s personality, a personality that perplexed everyone in the scene of Agni Pravesa.

As we mentioned, Sita’s stance keeps alternating from a child to an adult and vice versa until Rama stops her and explains in twenty-five Slokas, a full Canto, on the difficulties of life in the jungle. In her opening address to Sri Rama she speaks extensively of the joys of the life in the forest and turns into the frolicking child once again when she says, “I shall walk ahead of you and shall take my food (only) when you have finished your meal. After that I long to see mountains, ponds and lakes, remaining fearless everywhere, with you as my wise protector. Accompanied by you, a heroic prince, I wish happily to see lotus-ponds teeming with swans and water-fowls and abounding in lotuses.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Ayodhya Kanda, Canto XVII, Sloka 17 and 18)

My joys are entwined around you. My heaven is in the forest, if you are there. I cannot live without you even for a moment. “Spending with you (say) thousands of years or even a hundred thousand years, I shall never experience any sorrow. Heaven too will not be acceptable to me otherwise. Even if an abode devoid of you is vouchsafed to me in heaven, O scion of Raghu, I shall never find pleasure in it without you, O tiger among men!” (Ibid, Sloka 19, 20)

The first part is full of love, entreaties and assurances to the effect that she would joyfully accept the life in jungle, and that when Rama was there to protect her, there was nothing to worry about her safety. Rama remains unmoved. Then she plays yet another card. ‘It has been foretold even when I was a child, that I would have to dwell in the forest.’

“Moreover, in the days gone by while living at my father’s, O highly enlightened prince, the prophecy – which must come out true – was heard by me from the mouth of Brahmanas (well-versed in astrology) that I must dwell in the forest. Having heard the prophecy at my (parents’) home from Brahmanas able to interpret marks on the body I have ever cherished a longing for forest life, O highly powerful prince! The truth of that prediction about forest life must be realised by me. I must accordingly accompany you, my husband, O darling; it cannot be otherwise.” (Ibid, Canto XXIX, Sloka 9 and 10)

It has been preordained that I have to live in the forest and it has come true now. Ever since I heard that prediction, I have been nurturing a desire in my heart to live in the forest. Make the prophecy come true. Now, take me with you. I know you cannot leave me behind because I have been fated to live there, already! And if you still do not feel inclined to take me with you, “afflicted as I am as shown above, to the forest, I shall resort to poison, fire, or water to hasten my end.” (Ibid, Sloka 21)

I will end my life by drinking poison, perform self-immolation or jump into the rivers. Even at this stage, Rama remains firm in his stand.

Threats to taunts

She is unable to control herself any further. And there occurs this Sloka that she utters to Rama…

‘I begged with him like a child; he did not listen. I appealed to his heart through my endearing words; he did not listen. I reasoned with him and reminded him of his duty that he owes to me, the affectionate wife that I am; he pacified me. I opened my heart and showed him how frail and tender it is, when it comes to the question of love that I have for him; he smiled my pleas away. I resorted to threats. I told him that I would drink poison, perform self-immolation or fall in a river! He is still not listening. On the contrary he is bent upon insisting that I remain here in the palace! Am I to sleep on the royal bed, when he rolls on dust? Would I be able to eat the delicacies of the palace when he survives on fruits, roots and leaves? Why doesn’t he understand me? Why is he reminding me again and again of the dangers of the life in jungle? Is he not capable of protecting me?’

Anger rises in her now. But that anger is impelled by love. With the intention of securing his permission to accompany him. It has to be remembered that she is not arguing against his decision to serve the term of fourteen years in jungle, accepting the order of his parents. She is not disputing that at all. Not a single word is spoken on that decision. No. She cannot be found wanting in that respect. There are moments during the initial years of the exile when even the words of Rama do spill out with a tinge of remorse, in the presence of Lakshmana and Janaki. (And it is essential that I add here that this is only as far as Valmiki Ramayana is concerned. The personality of Rama is different in this respect, in Kamban.) But there never is a moment that she could be seen unhappy until the fateful day on which Ravana arrived.

“Remember that Sita is driven to the last extremity and therefore says this extreme thing too,” says Srinivasa Sastriyar. He speaks of the threats of Sita; knowing fully well that the extremity has not yet been reached! See how firmly, even at this stage Rama refuses to listen to her. “Discouraged thus, the celebrated Sita (the princess of Mithila), for her part, fell a prey to anxiety, moistening the earth as it were with burning tears dropped from her eyes. In order, however, to divert her (from her resolve), the self-possessed Sri Rama (a scion of Kakutstha) for his part then pacified in many ways the said princess of Videha kingdom, who was overwhelmed with indignation (roused by love) and fell a brooding.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Ayodhya Kanda, Canto XXIX, Sloka 23 and 24)

She is unable to control herself any further. And there occurs this Sloka that she utters to him. “Securing you as his son-in-law, O Rama, did my father, Janaka (descended in the line of the Videhas), the king of Mithila, recognise you to be a woman in the form of a man?” (Ibid, Canto XXX, Sloka 3)

She moves from threats to taunts. Sita has been blamed for these words by critics and devotees. But remember. Nobody is more devoted to Rama than her and nobody is qualified to blame her. Listen to her words with the heart, and show that so called sharp-intellect to the back seat. To recall Tagore again, “A mind all logic is like a knife all blade. It makes the hand bleed that uses it.”

Everyday logic is not to be applied to this moment. In fact, logic has no place, when love rules supreme!

A thorn under the petal?

These words are usually brought against Sita as a tremendous transgression of duty on her part, as a violation of the limits that a woman should observe…

Right Hon’ble Srinivasa Sastriyar interprets Sloka 2 and 3 of Canto 30 in Ayodhya Kanda as follows: “I think of my father. He sought all the world for a bridegroom and at last he got you. If he thought he got hold of the best man for me, he was a fool. What he had got was a woman, a cowardly woman, dressed like a man.”

Shocking? Yes. Many critics have felt that way. Sastriyar observes, “These words are usually brought against Sita as a tremendous transgression of duty on her part, as a violation of the limits that a woman should observe even in her expression of her most profound grief. I do not agree at all.”

Even I do not. Sastriyar stands tall and majestic on the highest pedestal in my esteem when he says that. Just think of the day on which he uttered these words in the grounds of the Madras Sanskrit College, in the presence of many an orthodox scholar of the Ramayana, and the kind of shock waves that he would have sent around when he discussed this! It needs courage and conviction to make that statement.

‘If you leave me behind,’ Sita continues, ‘do you think the people of Ayodhya would praise your chivalry for that! You will be scoffed at by them. “Know me you to be as obedient to your will as Savitri (of historical fame) was devoted to the valiant Satyavan, son of King Dyumatsena. I will not cast my eyes even in thought on anyone else than you as any other woman bringing disgrace to her family would, O sinless one! I must accompany you O scion of Raghu!” (Valmiki Ramayana, Ayodhya Kanda, Canto XXX, Sloka 6 and 7)

‘I will not stay back here under the custody of anyone. No. It is not possible for me to live under the protection of Bharata or anyone else.’ “How do you, like a man who lives by his wife, intend to deliver to others of your own will me, your chaste wife, who was married to you before puberty and has lived with you for a long time, O Rama? (Ibid, Sloka 8)

Rama had told her that she would have to live back in the palace under the care of Bharata and that she should take sufficient care not to displease him and even desist from praising him (Rama) in the presence of Bharata. Janaki refers to that portion of Rama’s advice and taunts him, holding it under another shade altogether! Listen to what Sastriyar says on these Slokas. “She puts a severe, harsh, interpretation on Rama’s words. When Rama said, ‘You dwell with Bharata’, instead of understanding him in the proper sense to which it ought to be limited, she twists the words slightly. ‘Having brought me up from the time that I was a little creature, and having drawn me to yourself in so many ways, why do you hand me to other people like a sailusha, like a man who lives upon the earnings of a woman?’”

She does sound harsh. But remember what lies under these words is nothing but love. It has to be seen that the anxiety to accompany him and the distress caused by his repeated denials make her utter unpleasant words. It is not part of wisdom either, to overlook what she has been arguing this long. As beautifully summed up by Sastriyar, “Upon the remonstrances of Sita, the Poet has shown his utmost skill; threat, entreaty, preaching of duty, exposition of the sanctity of marriage, all these things are brought together in one sarga and put into the mouth of Sita.”

Sastriyar declares, “It passes my understanding how any but an arrogant male could take objection to this.” Why? Let us go into that. One more word. The words of Sita might sound unpleasant to us, ordinary folks. What is more important is to see how Rama looked at them.

Since I did not know

The words no doubt are abrasive. But only if one forgets who is uttering those words and in what context. If it was the Lord who was spoken to in that manner, it is none other than His Consort who persists in her rightful and loving demand. Srinivasa Sastriyar remarks, “A proud woman born in and married into a Kshatriya family and owning for her husband the greatest man on earth, was she to be told that she was a coward and could not live in the forest with her husband?”

He goes a step further and puts it succinctly, “It does her honour that she said those things, for a woman is entitled to say these things boldly to her husband. Her husband and she are one. Why should the husband resent the bold talk of the wife? This is a wicked thought that enters the mind of narrow-minded little-hearted men. I cannot forgive the people who speak ill of Sita.”

Rama knew that she is agitated. He knew the depth of love she has for him. He allowed her to continue till she expended her anger and energy and remained calm. It is highly probable that he must have even sported a smile. Though the Poet does not mention that, his answer to Sita carries that affectionate smile within it. Sita, obviously exhausted and unable to bear this torment any further, sought refuge in him. The Poet paints a very beautiful picture.

“Having wailed a lot in a piteous way as aforesaid, and closely embracing her husband, tormented as she was with grief, Sita, who now felt exhausted, cried at the top of her voice.” (Valmiki Ramayana, Ayodhya Kanda, Canto XXX, Sloka 22)

She embraced him. Teardrops rolled on his chest. Did Rama not know of this love for him? In the first instance, did he not love his Sita quite as much? Did he not, deep in his heart, nurse – but very ably camouflage – a desire to take her along with him? Was it against his will, was it only due to the persistence of Sita that he took her along with him? Neither does he nor the Poet answer this question directly. But there is ample evidence that under his long and eloquent advice, though sincere, lies hidden the desire – indeed the intention – to take her with him.

But let’s first come back to the allegations levelled against Sita. What all the critics of Sita seem to miss is that, our opinion does not at all matter in this respect! What really matters is how Rama looked at those words. “Was he displeased or annoyed? If he did not say so, who are we, the contemptible little creatures to say so?” asks Sastriyar. When he understood her perfectly, what business anyone has to find fault with her!

He held her in his arms, lovingly. “Folding her in his arms Sita, who felt distressed and had fainted as it were, Sri Rama then spoke to her as follows, fully reassuring her.” (Ibid, Sloka 26)

‘Can I take delight in residing even if it is in heaven, if it causes agony to you, my love? You told that I behave like a coward. No. I am not. I am not afraid.’ His words sound tender, loving and reassuring. “Alas, I find no delight even in heaven obtained by causing agony to you, O pious lady! Nor is there fear to me from any quarter any more than to Lord Narayana.” (Ibid, Sloka 27) Fear? Does it reside in the heart of the swayambu (Lord Narayana)? If it doesn’t, no, it does not it reside in my heart either.

Why then did you ask her to stay back in the palace? Rama says, tava sarvamabiprayamavignya shubhanane. Because I did not know what lies deep in your heart. I did not know your mind, your real opinion.

You have done me proud

His very tone changes now. It is no more a dispassionate voice, void of emotions. He is actually delighted now. That delight shows through in his words.

‘I advised you to stay back just because I did not know what you may really feel about accompanying me,’ says Rama. Now, this is a place where reasoning should have its fair share. No doubt we excluded what Sita said from the purview logic in this very same scene. But we did so because her mind was lacerated by emotions and she did not actually mean what she said.

It is not so in the case of Rama. Though he had come with a dull spirit to meet Sita to inform her of the reversion of the decision to appoint him the Prince Regent, he had soon solidified and his words sound dispassionate and are born out of keen intellect when he tells Sita to remain in Ayodhya, while went on exile. He is very firm in his decision and refuses to budge an inch from that position. He remains unaffected till he sees those tears from Sita’s eyes roll on his chest.

Or that is the way he appears to be. He might have desired to take her with him, even when sounding very serious and sincere about Sita living in the palace, while he leaves for the forest. The Poet does not give us any clue. But he opens the heart of Rama wide for us all to see, once he (Rama) is convinced that it is what Janaki desires sincerely.

His very tone changes now. It is no more a dispassionate voice, void of emotions. He is actually delighted now. That delight shows through in his words. ‘Follow me now,’ he tells her lovingly “as Suvarcala (nicknamed Samjna, wife of the sun-god) does the Sun-god”. (Valmiki Ramayana, Ayodhya Kanda, Cato XXX, Sloka 30). ‘Let us go together like the shining bright sun and his wife. You remain by my side always like the wife of sun remains by his side.’

“Since you were (obviously) born to dwell with me in the forest, O princess of Mithila, you are incapable of being abandoned by me even as compassion cannot be given up by a man of self-knowledge.” (Ibid, Sloka 29) As compassion becomes an inherent part of a person who gains wisdom, you have become an inherent part of me. If I am a man of wisdom, you are that compassion that resides in me, that cannot be taken out, nor can be left behind.

Rama, who has insisted in so many words for almost two Cantos that she should remain back in Ayodhya to such an extent that she broke down in tears, now says: “Beloved Sita, you have arrived at a most welcome decision worthy in everyway of my race as well of yours.” (Ibid, Sloka 41) Sastriyar elaborates on this Sloka as follows: “My family is honoured by you. Your family is also honoured by you. You have done a thing, you have made me do a thing, which is worthy alike of your house and my house.”

‘Your persistence has made my earlier decision to leave you here grow weak,’ he says. It is not her persistence alone that made his decision grow weak. If it was so, he would not have shown his happiness in approving her decision and applauding it as well as he did in Sloka 41 above.

Of options and decisions

It is not right to say that Sri Rama was ‘left with no option but to accept her decision.’ He was happy about what Sita did.

I am going into this question very elaborately because taking Sita with him to the forest was the most important of all decisions that Sri Rama made and here lies the very embryo of the events that are to follow. People tend to blame Sita for all the woes that followed. ‘Even at the very beginning he foresaw all the difficulties and did not want her to accompany him. But he was left with no option but to yield because she was so insistent and even called him names,’ is the argument that is advanced against Janaki. Since she is the paragon of womanhood, that interpretation is skilfully distorted to put women in general at a disadvantage, whenever convenient.

There was no doubt that she persisted. No denying the fact that she was driven to desperation. But it is not right to say that Sri Rama was ‘left with no option but to accept her decision.’ He was happy about what Sita did. He was delighted at her decision. He accepted that it was the right thing for a wife to do. He saw eye to eye with Janaki. And that is evident from all the happiness, satisfaction, approval and even pride that are displayed in his words. ‘You are created by Brahma to remain with me wherever I am,’ he says at the very beginning of his answer when he decides to change his stance.

This might cause at least some of us to look a little askance. ‘Then what does the almost two sarga long lecture of Rama mean? Did he not really mean what he said?’ Yes. He meant what he said. But his heart was with her. He loved her and it is only natural that he would have wanted her to accompany him. But he did not want to do so without knowing her mind, from her own words. He did not want to impose his will on her. A simple, ‘I am going on exile, and hope that you would want to join me,’ would have been a straightforward way of putting his words across to her. But that would have meant imposing his desire on her, in case she wanted to stay back in Ayodhya. That would have denied her an opportunity, had she desired otherwise. That would have put her under pressure of circumstances, if at all she was not for going with him.

Sri Rama was completely aware of the frailties and quick changing nature of the human mind. (Let us see the couple playing their human roles here, as visualised by the Poet.) We see him displaying this quality in more than once instance. ‘Observe him from a distance and after ensuring that he has not developed desires for the throne, let him know that I am coming back,’ he would instruct Hanuman when the latter was sent to Bharata to announce his arrival back to Ayodhya.

He very much desired to go on exile together with Janaki. But he wanted to ensure that her mind thinks on similar lines. He wanted to eliminate the possibility – however remote it might be – to push her into his decision, closing the other option of staying back. “Not knowing your full mind, O lady with charming countenance, I did not approve of your sojourn in the forest, though capable of protecting you,” is the Sloka (Ayodhya Kanda, Canto XXX, Sloka 28) that says it all.

‘I said all that because I was not sure what you really thought about coming with me. Now that I know your heart, I am delighted in accepting what you say.’ Notice the delight and pride in the words when he conveys his decision. He does not say, ‘Very well, I am not for your coming with me; but I accept to do so because you leave me with no other option.’

If we see that this was the same strategy that he adopted with Lakshmana, there will be no difficulty in seeing that it was Rama’s decision as well, and that he was not forced into it. In fact, as we have had occasion to mention in several instances, no decision could be forced on him against his will. He would not do anything, if he was not convinced about the fairness of it, in the first instance.

Of options and decisions Part II

Rama adopted the same strategy that he employed in respect of Sita, in the case of Lakshmana as well and not before knowing his heart did he…

Though it is too early to go more fully into Sri Rama now, we will see how he handles the situation with Lakshmana when the latter wants to join him in exile. His approach is not different in any manner. He speaks to Lakshmana in the same way he spoke to Janaki. We know that between the two of them – Lakshmana and Sita – Rama’s love for his brother ran a little deeper. He could have lived without Janaki and in fact he spent most part of his later years without her. But he is not to be seen without Lakshmana in any scene throughout the epic. In fact, he could survive the separation from Sita, towards the end of the epic, but could not do so even for a day when he had to be separated from Lakshmana.

Even so, we see Rama advising Lakshmana to stay back, in the same way he did with Janaki. “Full of affection (for me), devoted to virtue, resolute, constantly firm on the right path (as shown by Vedas) dear to me as life, amenable to my control and obedient, you are my boon companion too (and therefore worthy in every way of accompanying me),” he tells Lakshmana. (Valmiki Ramayana, Ayodhya Kanda, Canto XXXI, Sloka 10)

‘I agree Lakshmana. You are affectionate and you are a blessing to me. You have always been with me. You are worthy of being taken along with me. But.’ That ominous word falls from him once again. ‘You have a duty to perform here. Sita is coming with me. If you also choose to come with me, who is there to take care of our mothers Kausalya and Sumitra? Who will take care of the king?’ Then Rama says something that makes his personality a little complex. “Obtaining this kingdom Kaikeyi, the daughter of King Aswapati, will certainly not accord good treatment to her afflicted co-wives. Having attained sovereignty Bharata (too) will not maintain the extremely miserable Kausalya and Sumitra devoted as he will (naturally) be to Kaikeyi (his own mother).” (Ibid, Sloka 13 and 14) The reference to Kaikeyi is understandable; but certainly not the words that he utters about Bharata, especially in the light of what he is going to say about this very same Bharata later, to an enraged Lakshmana who misunderstand his intention when he comes to the Citrakuta to take Rama back to Ayodhya, though it cannot be denied that Sri Rama emerges as an excellent observer of human nature.

That is a detailed study for later. What we are concerned with now is Rama adopted the same strategy that he employed in respect of Sita, in the case of Lakshmana as well and not before knowing his heart – in explicit terms, through his own words – that he consented for Lakshmana accompanying him on exile.

That makes it abundantly clear that it was not against his will – left with no option – that he agreed to take Janaki with him, just because she persisted. It was his decision too. He did it with love, affection, approval and even pride at the decision of Sita to follow him. As mentioned earlier, no decision could be forced on him, even if it was Lakshmana who tried to argue against his decision.

Lotus bloomed on canvas

That is an important change in the personality of Rama that Kamban is making. What then could be the reason for the distress displayed by Sita!

Kamban moves very swiftly in this particular scene. This very same incident is just sixteen verses long in Kamba Ramayanam. He opens the scene in a similar manner, as does Valmiki, showing the shock and distress of Sita, on seeing Rama. But it is not because his countenance was not the ‘resplendent moon’ it used to be. Kamban’s Rama remains calm throughout, not only in the presence of Kaikeyi; not only in the presence of Kausalya; not only in the presence of the rest of every other citizen of the country, but also in the presence of his beloved Sita. He remained as calm as ever and his face was the very same ‘lotus in bloom’ as it used to be always.

‘meith thirup padham mEvu endra pOdhilum,’ Sita would reminisce later in the Sundara Kanda, in the isolation that she is subjected to in the Asoka Vana, recollecting this moment ‘ith thiruth thurandhu Egu endra pOdhilum,’ When he was asked to accept the office of Prince Regent and later when he was asked to give it up and go on exile, ‘chithiraththu alarandha sen thaamarayai oththirukkum mugaththai unnuvaaL’ his face remained as unchanging, fresh and unwithered as remains the lotus in bloom, painted on a canvas. He was as unaffected and unchanging as the picture of a full-blown lotus painted on the canvas.

That is an important change in the personality of Rama that Kamban is making. What then could be the reason for the distress displayed by Sita! She is pained and rendered speechless to see people accompanying Rama were lustreless and were in tears. The emotion that is displayed by Rama in the presence of Sita in Valmiki is shifted to the persons accompanying him. ‘azhudhu thaayarodu arum thavar, andhaNar, arasar’ Distressed and tearful mothers (Kausalya and Sumitra), sages, Brahmins and kings ‘puzhudhi aadiya meyyinar pudai vandhu poruma,’ who were smeared with dust (obviously because they rolled on the ground, wailing, unable to bear the sudden turn of events, and the calm manner in which Rama encounters this situation intensifying their agony) surrounded him, weeping bitterly and choked in grief.

Now that doesn’t sound very good or befit the occasion that is only a few hours away! Why would they follow him with wails and bitter cries when he is supposed to assume office in a very short time! What’s wrong with them! Sita now notices the difference. Yes. There is a difference in the appearance of Rama. But no. Not in his countenance. That remains as sweet as ever. The difference is in his appearance, in the apparel that he is wearing. He is not clad in the royal robes! And hey! What’s this! ‘pazhudhu seerayin udayinan,’ Rama was clad in the tree-bark worn by the hermits! ‘varumbadi paaraa,’ seeing him thus, ‘ezhudhu paavai annaaL, manath thuNukkamodu ezhundhaaL’ the comely Sita was taken aback.

The wearing of hermit’s weeds by Rama is a later scene in Valmiki. Kamban has rearranged the order of events in such a way that Kaikeyi promptly sends him the robe of tree-bark no sooner than he reaches the chamber of Sumitra, pacifying Lakshmana, to seek her permission first to go on exile – even before he seeks that of Kausalya. When Rama moves over to the palace of Kausalya, he is already in the hermit’s weeds. This rearrangement intensifies the cruelty of Kaikeyi, while achieving the purpose of showing Sita shocked and taken aback, and while not necessitating a change of mood in Rama.

A natural decision

She was emboldened to wear the hermit’s weeds by herself. She did not wait for his ‘yes’. She asserted her right as his wife to accompany him…

Though she is shocked beyond words at the appearance of her husband in the hermit’s weeds, Kamban’s Sita does not wait for his permission. She does not ask for it nor does she argue for it. ‘poru il embi puvi purappaan,’ explains Rama. ‘It is my incomparable brother, who would rule the world. ‘pugazh iruvar aaNayum EndhinEn.’ I have accepted the orders of both (my father and mother). ‘karuvi maa mazhaik kal thadam kaNdu naan varuvEn eeNdu.’ I will go and see the cloud-clad mountains in the forest and come back (soon). ‘varundhalai nee.’ You (remain here) and be not distressed.

‘My brother, who has no peer to compare, will be installed as the Prince Regent. I am under the orders of my parents.’ It is another interesting point to see the firm stand taken by Kamban to insist that it was not under the orders of Dasaratha alone that Rama was sent on exile. It is under the ‘orders of both’ when Rama speaks of it. Whenever others refer to the exile, the Poet employs the term ‘thaayin aaNai’ or an equivalent phrase. As far as Kamban is concerned, the responsibility does not vest with Dasaratha.

‘naayagan vanam naNNal utraan endrum, mEya maN izhandhaan endrum vimmalaL.’ Sita wept. But it was not because of the fact that her husband has been exiled or due to the fact that he has lost the (promised) kingdom. ‘nee varundhalai neenguven yaan endra theeya vem sol sevi sudath thEmbuvaaL.’ She could not bear those words of her husband ‘I am leaving; do not be distressed.’ How at all can he say that! ‘She could not bear his separation and followed him to Ayodhya from the Ocean of Milk,’ says the Poet. How can she bear the very thought of separation now!

‘It is the right thing to do,’ she says. ‘I agree with you that you have accepted the orders of parents. It is splendid of you to do so. But how can you leave me behind!’ ‘parivu igandha manaththu, oru patru ilaadhu oruvugindranai.’ Your mind seems to be void of sympathy, compassion and love for me. Otherwise, would you have thought of going alone, leaving me here? You suggest that I am not strong enough to bear the jungle’s scorching heat. ‘oozhi arukkanum eriyum enbadhu yaaNdayadhu?’ Would the heat of even the sun at the time of deluge be more unbearable than your separation? ‘nin pirivinum sudumO kaadu?’ Would the blazing heat of the jungle be greater than your separation?

‘He pondered,’ says the Poet. Rama was not able to bear the tears of his endeared wife and thought for a while as to what is the right thing for him to do now. But then, she did not allow him any time. ‘anaya vELai aga mania eydhinaaL.’ She went into her chamber while he remained there, thinking over the question. ‘punayum seeram thuNindhu punaindhanaL.’ She was emboldened to wear the hermit’s weeds by herself. She did not wait for his ‘yes’. She asserted her right as his wife to accompany him. ‘ninayum vaLLal pin vandhu ayal nindraaL.’ She then walked towards Rama and stood behind him, who was debating the question in his mind, still. ‘panayin neeL karam patrinaaL.’ She took hold of his strong arm, entwined her fingers with his and stood by his side.

If you are exiled, it goes without saying that I am exiled too. There is no question of any debate or discussion. I am following you wherever you are. Because my darling, my heaven is where you are.

Is this all?

She pouted. ‘So this is the only thing that causes pain?’ This question has another shade as well…

Her disappearance from the scene, wearing the hermit’s weeds by herself and her re-entry takes place even before Rama realises what is happening as he is debating the question in his mind. ‘aNNal anna sol kEttanan. andriyum uL nivandha karuththum uNarndhanan.’ He heard what she said. More over, he understood her feeling and what she desires to do. ‘kaNNin nIrk kadal kai vida nErgilan.’ He could not leave her behind because he saw her in tears. ‘eNNugindranan en seyar paatru ena.’ He pondered deeply on what is the right thing to do at this moment.

This scene is a total re-creation. There is no debate. There is no discussion. Even as he is thinking over the question, she comes back in complete preparedness to leave with him. He did not even notice her arrival in her new attire. She comes to him from behind, takes his hand in hers, and stands by his side. This detour from the original takes the stings away. The supposed ‘harsh’ words spoken by Sita are not at all included in the text of Kamban as he skilfully circumvents the debated issue.

Rama turned to her. Having realised what she has done, he spoke gently to her. ‘முல்லையும் கடல் முத்தும் எதிர்ப்பினும்,வெல்லும் வெண்ணகையாய்! ' (My darling) whose smile is brighter than the pearls and  jasmine!  'விளைவு உன்னுவாய்’ Just think of the consequences. ‘அல்லை, போத அமைந்தனை ஆதலின்'
Because of this decision ‘எல்லை அற்ற இடர்தருவாய்' you will cause endless troubles.

The conversation takes place in two different levels. The words exchanged sound very plain. At the same time, they very powerfully convey what is going to follow. ‘You don’t seem to realise the consequence and you are coming in total readiness to accompany me. This is going to bring endless troubles.’ The Poet places Rama in a totally different plane with these words. The words sound like prophecy. However, Kamban carefully cuts further arguments on this and stops here. Rama’s role is elevated to his divine nature when his words sound close to a prediction. But the purpose of the avatar would suffer a great deal if any further emphasis is placed on this aspect now. Kamban therefore stops there and moves to her reaction.

She pouted. ‘ உற்று நின்ற துயரம் இது ஒன்றுமே? ’ So this is the only thing that causes pain? And this answer once again has another shade as well. ‘Do you think that taking me along with you is the only painful thing?’ She seems to suggest, ‘If I do not come with you, how are you going to accomplish the alleviation of suffering all around? Don’t you see the pain that people are undergoing because of Ravana? Have we not come here to kill and cause his killing?’ ‘en thurandhapin inbam olaam’ Does your pleasure lie in casting me away? The rhetorical question of Sita is constructed so wonderfully well that it conveys more than what is meant in the context. But we have to wait till Uttara Kanda to see all the answers that are packed into these simple sounding four words.

‘ பிறிது ஓர் மாற்றம் பெருந்தகை பேசலன் ‘ He did not answer,’ says Kamban. And the three walked down the streets of Ayodhya. ‘சீரை சுற்றித் திருமகள் பின்செல,’ With Mahalakshmi – the Mother of wealth – following him in tree-bark,   ‘மூரி விற்கை இளையவன் முன்செல,’ and with Lakshmana leading, walking ahead of him, Rama walked down the streets, with those words of Janaki. The entire drama gets a different perspective with the question unanswered.

Hari Krishnan