The Ramayana Page 10

  But Sumantra said, “Not now, my prince. Your father wants to see you at once.”

  “But I have just come from him. What has happened since then?”

  Sumantra did not know. Rama felt the serpent of anxiety unfurl its hood again and hiss at him. He felt two opposing currents of fate pull against each other for the right to bear his life along. A little confused, he came out into the sunlight with Sumantra. He climbed into his chariot and drove to his father again.

  Dasaratha embraced Rama with some emotion. “I have been a good king, my son. I have kept the lamps to the Gods lit in my kingdom and in my heart. But of late I have seen evil omens. In a dream, I saw a great torch fall on the ground and be extinguished. I am told that, by gochara, the sun, Rahu, and Angaraka all afflict my janma nakshatra. The omens of the sky and of sleep never lie, and I fear not just for my life but for my sanity. Rama, you must be crowned yuvaraja before some calamity strikes me down.

  “Impulsively, I promised the people that you would be crowned when the moon is in Pushyami. I did not realize tomorrow is Pushyami. But I am determined you will be crowned tomorrow. You must keep a fast with Sita tonight, and sleep on the floor, on a bed of darbha grass.”

  The old king paused; he studied his son’s noble face. Slowly, he said, “Rama, great fortune provokes great envy. Bharata is not here and now is the time for you to be crowned. I know you will say he is devoted to you. But in my long years, there is one truth I have learned: that even the hearts of those who live in dharma are seldom pleased at the good fortune of others. Man’s mind is like the wind and wild horses, my son: capricious and full of treachery. I feel sad to say this, but I am glad Bharata is away.”

  Rama stood before him and did not utter a word. When Dasaratha had finished, he touched his father’s feet and left his presence.

  Sita had come to the king’s palace now, and Rama went with her to meet his mother Kausalya. They found her in the prayer room. Her eyes shut, she sat before an idol of Lakshmi, Goddess of fortune. She had heard her son was to be crowned yuvaraja. Sumitra and Lakshmana were there, as well, waiting for her since they heard the news. And they had waited for quite some time, while she prayed.

  When Kausalya opened her eyes, Rama and Sita prostrated themselves before her. Rama said, “My father told me I am to become the yuvaraja tomorrow. I came for your blessing.”

  Her gracious face lit up. Laying her mother’s hands on his head, she blessed him. Raising him up, Kausalya said, “Live long, my child, and may your enemies perish. Narayana heard all my prayers when I was childless, that I have a son like you. Great gifts are not given easily and I waited years before I had you. Bless you, Rama, and you, Sita. May you both always be a joy to your mothers.” Sumitra blessed Rama and Sita as they lay at her feet.

  Rising with a smile, Rama put his arm around Lakshmana and said, “Rule the world with me, Lakshmana; you shall be yuvaraja as much as I.”

  But then, it was not to be so simple.

  4. Preparations for a crowning

  When Rama had left his presence, Dasaratha called his guru Vasishta, and said, “You must see that Rama and Sita take diksha tonight, and keep a fast. So my son will have wealth, fame, and prosperity.”

  Vasishta was a trikalagyani; he saw into the dim future and the deep past. But he said nothing of what he saw. He went out and climbed into the chariot that waited to take him to Rama’s palace.

  Rama received his kulaguru, and they sat in an airy courtyard on silk-covered chairs. Vasishta called Sita and initiated the young couple into the fast for the next day’s coronation. He sat with them awhile, then left them. The people milled outside to see Rama, and the prince’s friends and many others of importance in Ayodhya waited for him.

  Vasishta moved through the festive crowds in the streets. The city was in flower with blooms of every color. The main roads, the streets and alleys, the arches, erected hastily and festooned, the houses, the towers and ramparts, the terraces and great pillars had all burst into a heady spring of garlands. Joy, that Rama would be yuvaraja, burned through Ayodhya like soft fire.

  Rama stood briefly on his terrace. He waved to the people and they sang out his name and Sita’s in a million voices. It was dusk by now, and the sky grew dark as the sun sank in the west. It was time he went in and performed the Narayana puja.

  Later, Rama and Sita lay side by side on an ascetic bed of darbha grass. Until they fell asleep, they gazed into each other’s eyes by the moonlight flowing through the window. They were not allowed even to touch tonight, and they did not break that vow. Outside, the festivities continued through the night.

  Well before dawn, Rama and Sita were roused by the sutas chanting the vabdya magadha. Rama rose and bathed. Facing east, he recited the Gayatri mantra. He put on white silks and worshipped his gurus.

  Outside, when the first rays of the sun sprang above the horizon, the songs took up again. The singers had rested for just an hour before sunrise so they could be fresh for the morning of moment.

  But in Dasaratha’s palace, all was not well.

  5. A queen’s mind is poisoned

  She stood like an old vulture on the terrace of the king’s palace. She was Kaikeyi’s maid, born with more than just her back bent almost in two. Manthara’s spirit was twisted. She stood glowering down at the celebrations below: the flower-strewn streets of Ayodhya, bursting with music and dancing at the news that Rama was to become yuvaraja tomorrow. Her tiny eyes smoldered.

  She seldom came up here onto the marble terrace, white as moonbeams. But this evening either the singing below or the quieter and more persuasive voice of fate made her labor painfully up the stairs. Nobody had bothered to tell Manthara what the celebrations were about; no one thought it would interest her. She was such a lone creature, and had no love for anybody. No one spoke much to Manthara. She had a foul temper, a worse tongue, and you could never tell what would set both off.

  But now, she saw a young maid she knew skimming by with some flowers in a silver vase, singing to herself. Manthara called to the girl and asked, as sweetly as she could, in her croak of a voice, “What are the celebrations for, my dear? No one tells an old woman anything these days.”

  The young thing replied, “Haven’t you heard? Rama is to be crowned yuvaraja tomorrow.”

  And she was away, humming a snatch of the song wafted up from the street, walking on air like the rest of Ayodhya. The girl quite missed the spasm of hatred that convulsed Manthara’s coarse features. The hunchback stood on the terrace for a long time, and her cold mind plotted treachery.

  Finally she hobbled down the smooth steps with remarkable alacrity, and sped ungainly through the corridors she knew so well: passages she had haunted like some ghastly specter since Dasaratha had first brought his third wife to his palace. She came to Kaikeyi’s apartment. The old fiend had been with the queen since she was a little princess in her father’s house. Without knocking, she burst into the room, where the lovely Kaikeyi lay on her bed of down, covered by a silken sheet. She lay languidly between sleep and waking, soft dreams in her eyes.

  “Get up, foolish woman!” cried Manthara. “Only you could be asleep when doom is so near you. Blind queen arise, or you are lost.”

  Kaikeyi, who knew the crooked hag well, sighed in annoyance at being disturbed. But Manthara raged on, “The love of kings, dear imbecile, is like a summer stream: short-lived.”

  Lazily, Kaikeyi propped herself up on a long, smooth arm. She asked, “What is it, Manthara? Who has wronged you now? Or are you ill? Your face is blanched; have you a fever?”

  “No, I am not ill. But your husband means to crown Rama yuvaraja tomorrow. You are a simple woman, Kaikeyi, and innocent as a child. The king deceives you with honeyed words, while he saves the gifts of his deeds for Kausalya. Ah, he is a serpent. Look how cunningly he sent Bharata away to your father, so Rama’s investiture would find no opposition. Wake up, Kaikeyi! Save yourself before it is too late; save your son’s future. Dasaratha means to de
stroy you both.”

  But to Manthara’s disgust, Kaikeyi did not hear anything beyond “your husband means to crown Rama yuvaraja.” Dasaratha’s third queen loved Rama like her own son, and she undid the necklace at her throat and pressed it into Manthara’s hands.

  Kaikeyi cried, “What wonderful news you of all people have brought me today! My son will become the yuvaraja tomorrow.”

  Manthara flung the priceless thing from her with a growl. She breathed, “Only a fool will rejoice at her husband’s love for another woman. Don’t you see it is Kausalya he has always loved? While you he keeps to indulge his old body. Oh, what would I tell your mother if I stood before her today? At least think of your son, woman. Think that Bharata will spend the rest of his life as Rama’s slave.”

  But Kaikeyi said steadily, “Rama is a prince of dharma. Why, he loves me more than he does Kausalya. And he loves his brothers so much, that Ayodhya shall belong to all four princes when Rama is king. He is Dasaratha’s eldest son; when he has ruled for a hundred years, he will crown Bharata king.”

  Choking with frustration, Manthara said, “A sea of sorrow has risen to drown you, Kaikeyi, and you don’t even see it. After Rama, his son will rule Ayodhya. Bharata will be an underling, a servant: because his mother loves another woman’s prince more than her own.”

  She shook her ugly head that anyone could be so stupid. “I bring you news of Kausalya’s triumph and you reward me with a necklace! But I have lived many years more than you, young Kaikeyi. I saw you when you were born and love you as the daughter I never had. I love your son as if he were my grandchild.”

  She hissed her next words like an aged serpent: “I tell you, once Rama sits on the throne he will either banish Bharata or seek his death. That has been the way of kings with their brothers through the ages. Rama will keep Lakshmana close to him, because he is no threat to him; but not Bharata. Kaikeyi, send word to your son never to return to Ayodhya. For Ayodhya is no longer a safe place for him.”

  Manthara waited a moment. Seeing she had Kaikeyi’s attention, she came out with what she had saved for the end of her tirade.

  “All these years you were the king’s favorite and you ignored Kausalya. Because your head was swollen, you insulted her time and again. And she bore it all patiently, biding her time. But think of the revenge she will have when she is the queen mother tomorrow. She will destroy what is most precious to you: she will have Bharata’s life.”

  Kaikeyi’s eyes grew round and Manthara saw that at last her poison had pierced the queen’s heart, Kaikeyi’s face was flushed; little gasps of outrage came from her at what she heard from her crooked maid. Her delicate body quivered with suspicion, and at last she whispered, “You are right and I thank you for opening my eyes. But if I have my way, it is Rama who will be banished and Bharata who will be crowned. But how, Manthara, how? Think, old woman, think hard! Or everything is lost.”

  Manthara smiled grimly: Kaikeyi was won; the rest would be easy. The hunchback said slowly, “I thank the Gods for opening your eyes to the danger that threatens you. But listen, I know how you can have Bharata crowned and Rama exiled. There is something you have forgotten, which I remember: once, many years ago, the king granted you two boons because you saved his life.”

  Spoiled, impulsive Kaikeyi, who had by now inexorably chosen the path of evil for herself, remembered. It was a war between Deva and Asura, between Indra and Sambara, the great Demon of those times. Indra was embattled and asked Dasaratha to come to fight at his side. A young man then, Dasaratha had gone at once. It was soon after he married his third and most beautiful wife, Kaikeyi. He could not bear to be apart from her, nor she from him; he had taken her with him.

  But no dharma bound the Asuras. They attacked Dasaratha’s camp in stealth one night and killed most of his guard. Dasaratha faced them single-handedly and took great toll of the demons. But he was outnumbered and, sorely wounded with dark arrows, fell unconscious. Kaikeyi ran out from her tent; with strength more than a woman has, she lifted her husband in her arms and carried him from the battle while Asura barbs whistled around her ears. Then the Devas arrived and the demons were driven away.

  Kaikeyi nursed Dasaratha back to health. When he was well and knew what had happened, he said to her, “I grant you two boons, my love, whatever you want. Even my life, because you have saved it.”

  But Kaikeyi, so much in love, had laughed, “That you are alive is my greatest boon and that will do for me just now. But perhaps one day, when I am in need, I will remind you of your promise.”

  From that day, she had been Dasaratha’s favorite queen. When they came home from war, Kaikeyi told her twisted maid, lightheartedly, how she saved Dasaratha’s life and what he had promised her. Manthara had also laughed with her then; but she carefully stored what she heard in her black heart. Knowing life, and how long it is, she knew the two boons could prove useful one day. Kaikeyi had forgotten all about them; until now, when Manthara reminded her.

  The queen’s eyes flashed, and Manthara wheezed gleefully, “One boon will send Rama into the jungle and the other will see Bharata crowned.”

  Kaikeyi embraced the old monster, crying, “What would I do without you?”

  Manthara said, “Make haste now. The king will come shortly to give you his great news. Enter the chamber of sorrow. Put on soiled clothes, stain your face with tears, and let him find you crying on the ground. Don’t speak to him at first, but show him your woman’s anger. He loves you, Kaikeyi, and you must take advantage of that tonight if Bharata is to be king. This will be a trial by fire. Pass through the flames and your victory will be long and sweet; falter, and you and your son shall be lost forever. Remember, Bharata’s life depends on what you do tonight.

  “Dasaratha will try to win you over with sweet words of love, and with gifts. Do not be moved, Kaikeyi. Be silent until he promises you anything you ask for. Then remind him of the boons. Call his word as a kshatriya to stand before you in dharma, and tell him what you want: that Rama be banished and Bharata crowned yuvaraja.

  “You must not weaken, child; this night is for strength. Let your heart be made of stone tonight, and let your purpose govern what you say and do.”

  Kaikeyi nodded when Manthara had finished. Evil had taken hold of her completely, and it was doubly sad because it was well known in Ayodhya how this queen adored Rama.1 But now cunning fate darkened her mind, so she hardly knew what she did. And Manthara, evil’s agent or fate’s, ruled her weakness.

  Kaikeyi hugged the hunchback again. “My beautiful Manthara, no one loves me as you do. Your body is bent, but your heart is full of light. I will always remember this. When my Bharata is king I will adorn your hump with golden ornaments.”

  Manthara hissed, “There is no time for all that now. The task is at hand.”

  Kaikeyi went into the krodhagraha, the chamber of anger. She tore the silks from her lissom body. She ripped the flowers from her hair, the jewelry from her throat and her arms, in a frenzy, and flung them from her. She wept at will and black kohl ran down her fair cheeks.

  She threw herself on the floor and cried to her deformed woman, “There is no question of faltering, Manthara. If Rama does not go to the forest and if Bharata is not crowned, I will kill myself.”

  Kaikeyi lay sobbing. She was like a lovely kinnara woman, her punya exhausted, who had been cast down into the mortal world.

  6. The long night

  It was late when he finished looking over the preparations for Rama’s coronation. Then Dasaratha came to Kaikeyi’s apartment; it was with her that he spent most of his nights. Tonight he came with news that he was sure would fill her with joy, because Dasaratha knew how much Kaikeyi loved Rama.

  Usually she would be waiting for him. But tonight the guard said, “The queen is in the krodhagraha.”

  It was the first time Kaikeyi had ever entered the chamber of anger. Dasaratha rushed to her. He threw open the door; the darkened room was lit by two oil lamps. He saw his lovely queen ask
ew on the floor. She wore a gown made of coarse cloth; her long hair was loose and disheveled. Her ornaments and flowers lay where they had been flung, glimmering in the lamplight. And she lay with her face in a pool of tears, her kohl smeared across her cheeks. She crooned to herself, tracing patterns in her tears with a finger like a mad woman.

  Dasaratha took her hand. “Kaikeyi, what happened? Are you ill?”

  She pulled her hand away and gnashed her teeth. She did not speak.

  “Who has hurt you, my love? I’ll have his head! I cannot bear to see you like this. My life is made of your smiles and you know it. Kaikeyi, please talk to me.”

  She lay where she was. Her eyes blazed briefly, when Dasaratha knelt on the floor beside her. “Anything you want from me you can have,” he cried. “Only tell me what it is.”

  Now she spoke slowly, and her words were clear and full of a woman’s wrath. She never turned her face to him, but said quietly, in a dangerous voice, “No one has hurt me, my lord. But there is something I do want like my very life, and only you can give it to me.”

  The king smiled in relief; he would give her anything. “I love you more than I do anyone except Rama. I swear on Rama’s life that I will give you whatever you want. Just ask me quickly, and put an end to this torment. Ask, Kaikeyi, ask me now!”

  She uncoiled herself from the floor like a cobra. Dasaratha saw madness in her eyes and such evil that he recoiled from her. Like a serpent she spoke to him, in a terrible voice he did not know. “Let Indra and the Devas be my witnesses. Let the Sun and the Moon be my witnesses. You have sworn on your precious Rama’s life that you will give me whatever I want.”

  She drew a rasping breath and whispered, “Dasaratha, cast your mind back many years to when Indra called you and you went to war against Sambara. Do you remember the night you fell wounded with demons’ arrows and I saved your life? That night you said to me that you gave me two boons, whatever I wanted. Do you remember?”