.”
“I’m dressed and ready, as you see. . . .”
“If it is your wish to discard fine clothes because I wear none, you may do so, though it’s not necessary.”
“I’m coming with you; my place is at your side wherever you may be. . . .”
Rama saw the determination in her eyes and made one last plea. “You have your duties to perform here, my father and mother being here. I’ll be with you again.”
“After fourteen years! What would be the meaning of my existence? I could as well be dead. It will be living death for me without you. I am alive only when I am with you; a forest or a marble palace is all the same to me.”
When he realized that she could not be deflected from her purpose, Rama said, “If it is your wish, so let it be. May the gods protect you.”
A large crowd had gathered outside the palace when Rama, Lakshmana, and Sita emerged in their austere garb, as decreed by Kaikeyi. Many wept at the sight of them, and cursed Kaikeyi again and again among themselves. A silence ensued as Vasishtha arrived with every sign of urgency. The crowd watched expectantly, a spurt of hope welling up in their hearts of a last-minute development which could transform the scene magically. For the first time people saw the sage Vasishtha looking forlorn and tired. Stepping up before Rama, he said, “Do not go. The King desires you to stay and come back to the palace.”
“It is his desire I should be away. . . .”
“Not his. He never said it, it is your stepmother’s order. She has . . .”
Rama did not want him to continue his comment on Kaikeyi and interrupted. “Forgive me. It is my duty to obey her also, since she derives her authority from my father, and he has given her his word. How can it be different now?”
“Your father is deeply grieving that you are leaving him. He may not survive the separation, in his present state. . . .”
Rama said, “You are our teacher in all matters. Please comfort my father, see that he realizes the nature of our present situation—of my duty as his son in keeping his word. A word given is like an arrow, it goes forward. You cannot recall it midway. . . .” He made a deep bow to indicate that he had nothing more to say. Vasishtha turned back without a word, and withdrew, unwilling to be seen with tears in his eyes.
When Rama took a step, the whole crowd stepped forward, and it stopped when he stopped. No one spoke. Considering the vastness of the crowd, the silence was overwhelming. There were tears in several eyes. Rama told someone nearest to him, “Now, I’ll take leave of you all,” and brought his palms together in a salutation. They returned the salutation, but moved when he moved, showing not the least sign of staying back. They surrounded Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana. The crowd was suffocating. After they had proceeded along for some distance, the crowd made way for a chariot which pulled up. Sumanthra got out of it and said, “Get into the chariot. Sita Devi may not be able to walk through this crowd. . . .”
Rama smiled to himself. “She has undertaken to keep me company and may have to go a long way on foot yet.”
“Still, when a chariot is available, please come. At least you can leave the crowd behind and get ahead. . . .”
Rama helped Sita up into the chariot. The horses started to gallop, but not too far—to no purpose actually, as the crowd made it difficult for the vehicle to proceed except at a walking pace. Rama said, “Let us go slowly; no harm.” Lakshmana added, “Our stepmother has at least refrained from specifying how fast you should get away!”
They reached the banks of the river Sarayu and camped there for the night. The citizens who had followed also spread themselves out on the sand, not in the least minding the discomfort. Past midnight, fatigued by the trekking, the whole gathering had gone off to sleep. Rama said softly to Sumanthra, “This is the time to leave. You may go back to the palace and tell my
“I’m dressed and ready, as you see. . . .”
“If it is your wish to discard fine clothes because I wear none, you may do so, though it’s not necessary.”
“I’m coming with you; my place is at your side wherever you may be. . . .”
Rama saw the determination in her eyes and made one last plea. “You have your duties to perform here, my father and mother being here. I’ll be with you again.”
“After fourteen years! What would be the meaning of my existence? I could as well be dead. It will be living death for me without you. I am alive only when I am with you; a forest or a marble palace is all the same to me.”
When he realized that she could not be deflected from her purpose, Rama said, “If it is your wish, so let it be. May the gods protect you.”
A large crowd had gathered outside the palace when Rama, Lakshmana, and Sita emerged in their austere garb, as decreed by Kaikeyi. Many wept at the sight of them, and cursed Kaikeyi again and again among themselves. A silence ensued as Vasishtha arrived with every sign of urgency. The crowd watched expectantly, a spurt of hope welling up in their hearts of a last-minute development which could transform the scene magically. For the first time people saw the sage Vasishtha looking forlorn and tired. Stepping up before Rama, he said, “Do not go. The King desires you to stay and come back to the palace.”
“It is his desire I should be away. . . .”
“Not his. He never said it, it is your stepmother’s order. She has . . .”
Rama did not want him to continue his comment on Kaikeyi and interrupted. “Forgive me. It is my duty to obey her also, since she derives her authority from my father, and he has given her his word. How can it be different now?”
“Your father is deeply grieving that you are leaving him. He may not survive the separation, in his present state. . . .”
Rama said, “You are our teacher in all matters. Please comfort my father, see that he realizes the nature of our present situation—of my duty as his son in keeping his word. A word given is like an arrow, it goes forward. You cannot recall it midway. . . .” He made a deep bow to indicate that he had nothing more to say. Vasishtha turned back without a word, and withdrew, unwilling to be seen with tears in his eyes.
When Rama took a step, the whole crowd stepped forward, and it stopped when he stopped. No one spoke. Considering the vastness of the crowd, the silence was overwhelming. There were tears in several eyes. Rama told someone nearest to him, “Now, I’ll take leave of you all,” and brought his palms together in a salutation. They returned the salutation, but moved when he moved, showing not the least sign of staying back. They surrounded Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana. The crowd was suffocating. After they had proceeded along for some distance, the crowd made way for a chariot which pulled up. Sumanthra got out of it and said, “Get into the chariot. Sita Devi may not be able to walk through this crowd. . . .”
Rama smiled to himself. “She has undertaken to keep me company and may have to go a long way on foot yet.”
“Still, when a chariot is available, please come. At least you can leave the crowd behind and get ahead. . . .”
Rama helped Sita up into the chariot. The horses started to gallop, but not too far—to no purpose actually, as the crowd made it difficult for the vehicle to proceed except at a walking pace. Rama said, “Let us go slowly; no harm.” Lakshmana added, “Our stepmother has at least refrained from specifying how fast you should get away!”
They reached the banks of the river Sarayu and camped there for the night. The citizens who had followed also spread themselves out on the sand, not in the least minding the discomfort. Past midnight, fatigued by the trekking, the whole gathering had gone off to sleep. Rama said softly to Sumanthra, “This is the time to leave. You may go back to the palace and tell my
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