Sita: An Illustrated Retelling of the Ramayana Read online

  Agastya took them to his house. It was a palace! Unsuitable for a hermit, Sita thought. Agastya then told them his story.

  Agastya’s tapasya was once disturbed by a vision: he saw his ancestors hanging upside down like bats, weeping, begging him to secure their release from the land of the dead. They begged him to father a child. ‘We gave you life, now you give us life. Repay your debt to us by helping us be reborn.’

  Agastya went to the king of Vidarbha and asked for one of his daughters as a wife. The king gave him Lopamudra, the most beautiful of his daughters. She said to Agastya, ‘To receive something, you must first give. If you want me to bear your children, give me pleasure and satisfaction.’

  So Agastya took a bath, untangled his matted hair, smoothened his coarse skin, replaced the ash that smeared his body with sandal paste, put a garland of bright, fragrant flowers around his neck and approached her as a lover should approach a beloved. He ignited fire in the hearth; she turned it into a kitchen. He built her a house; she made it a home. He gave her his seed; she germinated it in her womb and brought forth a child, a poet.

  ‘Alone, I was a tapasvi. But with Lopamudra, I have become a yajaman, and initiated the yagna that is family,’ Agastya said. ‘But one day, the child will grow up and start a family of his own and not need his parents. I will not need a wife any more and Lopamudra will not need a husband any more. That day, I will become a tapasvi once again, giving away my house with its courtyard and its kitchen and my cows. What we possess is temporary, but what we become is permanent.’

  Ram, Lakshman and Sita stayed with Agastya and Lopamudra. They watched him teach his students Tamil and the secrets of the stars to predict the future and the secret of the herbs to heal and rejuvenate the body. Agastya gave Ram and Lakshman many weapons. Lopamudra and Sita spent hours in the kitchen garden, discussing spices that enable digestion and heal wounds.

  Across India one finds caves associated with Ram, Lakshman and Sita. In many places, Ram’s cave is separate from Sita’s and Lakshman’s, suggesting that they lived as hermits, in isolation, even though they were together.

  Agastya is the great sage of South India, the supreme master of the siddha. He is the fountainhead of language, philosophy, astrology, geomancy and medicine. There are stories about his movement from north to south, clearly suggesting the migration of Vedic ideas and their transformation following contact with the people who lived in the south.

  The hymn of Lopamudra is found in the earliest compilation of Vedic hymns, the Rig Samhita, where she demands that her husband grant her satisfaction as is his duty, and not indulge in his own pursuits.

  Indic thought is a compilation of many thoughts coming from various sources, from nomadic herdsmen to settled agriculturists, from tribes who lived in forests to settlers who established villages and cities. This is why Indic thought keeps transforming from fire rituals to storytelling to temple rituals. What remains consistent is the fundamental Vedic belief in impermanence and the conflict between seeking immortality and accepting change. From this fundamental belief come ideas like karma (action/reaction), kama (desire), maya (perception/delusion) and dharma (appropriate human conduct in a context).

  Conversations in the Forest

  As the years passed, Sita and the sons of Dashratha criss-crossed the land that they realized was called Jambudvipa because it was shaped like the wood-apple jambul. They took shelter under trees and in caves, often near waterbodies. Sometimes, they would build houses using sticks and leaves, but not for long. As hermits, it was important to keep moving and not stay in one place for long, except during the rainy season when the waters flooded the earth and travel was dangerous.

  Sita spent much time observing bees and butterflies and insects. She discovered how to collect honey without upsetting the bees and milk from tigresses who had finished feeding their cubs. She followed herds of elephants to reach secret waterholes atop distant mountains known only to the oldest matriarchs. She understood the migratory patterns of birds and fishes. She learned to communicate with bears and wolves and vultures. They told her where to find the most succulent of fruits and berries, and where the best tubers could be pulled out from the ground. She found leaves that were edible and bark that was nourishing. In the evening, when they set up camp around a fire, she shared with Ram and Lakshman everything she had seen and learned. What was most exciting was to see the deer and tiger drink water next to each other on some evenings because once the tiger had eaten it was no longer a predator and the deer was no longer a prey.

  Sita told the sons of Dashratha, ‘Flowers make themselves fragrant and offer nectar. Why? To nourish the bees or to get themselves pollinated? Or both? In nature, to get you have to give. There is no charity. There is no exploitation, neither selfishness nor selflessness. One grows by helping others grow. Is that not the perfect society?’

  Ram said, ‘I see things differently. I see plants feeding on elements, animals feeding on plants, and animals feeding on animals that feed on plants. I see those that eat and those that are eaten. Those who eat are afraid that they may not get enough. Those who can be eaten are afraid they will be consumed. I see fear everywhere. In a perfect society there should be no fear. To achieve that is dharma.’

  All day, as they walked, Sita walked behind Ram and in front of Lakshman. She saw neither’s face. Over the years she learned to appreciate Ram’s broad back, which never once stooped in their days in the forest, darkened by the harsh sun, his hair matted and bleached, so unlike the oiled, perfumed curls of the palace. Lakshman saw only Sita’s feet and avoided treading even on her footprints, which he noticed were always to the left of Ram’s, closer to his heart. They all waited for the evening when they could sit around the fire, face each other, let the flames light up their eyes as they shared the experiences of the day.

  One day Sita saw a berry tree next to a banana plant. The wind blew hard and the sharp thorns of the berry tree tore the smooth leaves of the banana plant. ‘Who is the victim here? Who is the villain?’ she asked Ram.

  ‘Neither,’ said Ram. ‘It is the human eye that gives value to things, turning natural events into epic adventures full of conflict and resolution. That is maya, delusion born of measuring scales.’

  ‘Surely the tigress is the villain when it kills the pregnant doe,’ argued Lakshman.

  ‘Would you rather the tigress starve and die? Who will feed her cubs then? You? This is how nature functions: there are eaters and the eaten. The tiger does not resent the deer that gets away. The doe does not resent the tiger that captures her fawn. They are following their instincts. Plants and animals live; humans need to judge, for we need to feel good about ourselves. That is why we create stories, full of heroes and villains, victims and martyrs,’ said Ram.

  ‘Our ancestor Dilip was willing to sacrifice himself to save the cow from a lion. Surely he is a hero?’ reminded Lakshman.

  Ram, with great clarity, replied, ‘The cow nourishes humanity with her milk, Lakshman. We need to save it. He is a hero to humans because he saved humanity’s food. He is no hero to the starving lion, or to the deer the lion may have to feed on instead.’

  Conversations such as these reminded Sita of the conversations of sages she had overheard in her childhood. Often they were the only ones around the fire. Sometimes sages joined them and told them stories, full of heroes, villains, victims and martyrs. Sita enjoyed the tales but realized how each tale contained a measuring scale that converted one into a hero and another into a victim. All measuring scales are human delusions that make humans feel good about themselves. In nature, there is no victim and villain, just predator and prey, those who seek food and those who become food.

  Back in the palace at Ayodhya, Kaushalya woke up with a start, ‘Is it not time for Ram to return?’

  ‘No, another year,’ said Sumitra.

  Urmila was still sleeping, watched over by Mandavi and Shrutakirti. There were no men in the house; Bharata had stationed himself in the village outsid