Sita: An Illustrated Retelling of the Ramayana Read online

  That is when Sita knew Ram’s worst fears had come true. The people had gossiped. Ayodhya had mocked its king and queen.

  ‘Wait for me,’ she told Lakshman, ‘I have forgotten something.’

  She went back to the palace and instructed the cook, ‘Pour ghee generously on his rice, even if he protests. He will not admit it but he likes it.’

  She said to the lady who cleaned his room, ‘Make sure you mop the room after you sweep. He will not complain but dust bothers him.’

  She said to the man who arranged his clothes, ‘Make sure you sprinkle the scent of jasmine on his upper garments. He will never demand it, but he likes the perfume.’

  She said to the gardener, ‘Every morning prepare a garland of white lotus flowers and deep-green tulsi leaves for him. He is too shy to ask you for it.’

  She said to his masseur, ‘He prefers the oil slightly warmed, and be gentle when you massage his feet. He has not got used to the royal footwear yet.’

  She then boarded the chariot and said, ‘Let us go, Lakshman. All is well.’

  Sita turned around. There was no one to bid her farewell. Her sisters were still asleep. Even the handmaidens slumbered. The streets were deserted. Was it that early? But the sky was red, ready to receive the rising sun. And she heard the conch shells announcing that Ram was seated on the throne, ready to receive the courtiers and his subjects. Against the dawn sky, the bright yellow flags of Ayodhya fluttered proudly.

  Marathi folk songs speak of Sita’s pregnancy cravings and of the last-minute instructions she gives while leaving for the forest.

  Folk songs often speak of how women are jealous of Sita’s happiness and want her to suffer. Thus they project their own life into the Ramayana.

  Sita had promised to make offerings to the river Ganga when she was leaving for the exile. This is one more excuse often made to take Sita out of the palace back into the forest.

  The Padma Purana states that Sita heard the Ramayana from two parrots when she was a child. The parrots did not know the whole story. Sita felt they were lying and in trying to force out the rest of the tale she accidentally killed one of the pair. The surviving parrot cursed Sita that in her life she would also be separated from her mate. Tales such as these make Sita’s exile an inevitable consequence of her own actions.

  Lakshman Conveys Ram’s Decision

  Lakshman was silent as the chariot rolled into the forest. This was a different route, a narrow route, not the great royal highway that cut through Kosala’s rich farms and orchards. She would not see Guha. There would be no river to cross, just a desolate mountain pass. ‘Never seen this part of the forest before,’ she said. It was rocky and barren. A lizard ran before the chariot. Sita chuckled. Lakshman remain unmoved.

  The chariot finally stopped. Sita alighted, eager to walk amongst the trees. Lakshman remained seated. Sensing he had something to say, Sita paused.

  Lakshman finally spoke, eyes to the ground: ‘Your husband, my elder brother, Ram, king of Ayodhya, wants you to know that the streets are full of gossip. Your reputation is in question. The rules are clear on this: a king’s wife should be above all doubt. The scion of the Raghu clan has therefore ordered you to stay away from his person, his palace and his city. You are free to go wherever else you please. But you may not reveal to anyone you were once Ram’s queen.’

  Sita watched Lakshman’s nostrils flare. She felt his embarrassment and his rage. She wanted to reach out and reassure him, but she restrained herself. ‘You feel Ram has abandoned his Sita, don’t you?’ she asked gently. ‘But he has not,’ she stated confidently. ‘He cannot. He is God; he abandons no one. And I am Goddess; I cannot be abandoned by anyone.’

  ‘I don’t understand your strange words.’

  ‘Ram is dependable, hence God. I am independent, hence Goddess. He needs to do his duty, follow rules, and safeguard reputation. I am under no such obligation. I am free to do as I please: love him when he brings me home, love him when he goes to the forest, love him when I am separated from him, love him when I am rescued by him, love him when he clings to me, love him even when he lets me go.’

  ‘But you are innocent,’ said Lakshman, tears streaming down his face.

  ‘And if I was not? Would it then be socially appropriate and legally justified for a husband to throw his woman out of his house? A jungle is preferable to such an intolerant society.’

  The words of Sita were like a slap in Lakshman’s face. Ram was not like Jamadagni who beheaded his Renuka. Ram was not like Gautama who cursed his Ahilya. Ram accepted even the soiled berries of Shabari with love.

  ‘You were not even given the dignity of being told. You were tricked into leaving the palace,’ said Lakshman.

  ‘You judge him, Lakshman, but I love him. You see your brother as an ideal and are angry because he has not lived up to your expectations. I see my husband for what he is, and understand his motivations; at every moment he strives to be what he thinks is best. I will not burden him with my expectations. That is how I make him feel loved. And he sees me, knows that I will support him no matter what, even when he resorts to such a devious route like an errant child,’ Sita said with a smile. ‘Go back home; observe Ram well. Know that the man who calls himself the husband of Sita will never remarry. Of the king of Ayodhya, I do not know.’

  ‘This is not right. I can’t stand this nobility,’ shouted Lakshman.

  ‘Imagine what would have happened if Ram had refused to obey his father. Imagine what would happen if Ram refused to banish his wife. People would forever pass snide remarks about him, even if his actions could be justified. It is not about being right. It is about being a king who is above all doubt. To be such a king, he needs our support.’

  ‘What will you do now? Where will you go? I was told to leave you near the hermitage of sages so that you will find refuge,’ said Lakshman.

  Sita looked at her brother-in-law, older than her, taller than her, battle-scarred and weary, looking down at the ground, looking like a child consumed by shame.

  With a smile, she said, ‘I know the forest well, Lakshman. I remember more years here than in the palace. Do not worry about me. I am not happy with this situation, but I accept it and will make the most of it. Thus I submit to karma without letting go of dharma.’

  A mystified Lakshman returned to Ayodhya. Sita stayed back in the forest, smiled and unbound her hair, for when the farmer abandons the field, the field is finally free to return to being a forest.

  In the folk songs of the Gangetic plains, Sita asks Lakshman to fetch water. He says there is no waterbody nearby. So she asks him to pierce the earth with an arrow and cause water to spring out as he always did in the forest. He tells her to do it herself as he does not want to stop the chariot. Sita uses the power of her chastity to create a well. This proves to Lakshman that she is indeed chaste and has not thought of Ravana since the fire trial.

  In regional Ramayana s, in keeping with a motif found in many folktales, Ram asks Lakshman to kill Sita and bring proof of her death, either her eyes or her blood. Lakshman, however, spares Sita and takes the eyes of a deer to Ram instead.

  In a Bhil song, Ram wants Lakshman to kill Sita but Lakshman does not, realizing she is pregnant. In Telugu songs, Ram even conducts funeral rituals for Sita assuming she is dead.

  Public readings of the Uttara-Ramayana are forbidden because the tragedy may upset the earth, Sita’s mother, and result in earthquakes.

  When Lakshman returns to the palace, he has a philosophical conversation with Ram on the nature of reality. This is the Ram Gita found in the Adhyatma Ramayana.

  Sita Weeps as Surpanakha Gloats

  When Sita wept finally, she wept for Ayodhya, the imagined powerlessness that makes people snatch power through gossip.

  As she walked into the forest, she observed the absence of boundaries. There was nothing to distinguish the crop from the weed. Everything had value. In nature, nothing is pure or polluted. Culture excludes what it does not valu