Chapter 20 - Queen Kaushalya is afflicted and helpless with sorrow

Perceiving that Lion among men, Shri Ramacandra, his palms joined in a gesture of farewell, coming forth from his father’s apartments, the ladies of the inner chamber began to lament loudly, saying: “Shall Shri Rama, who fulfilled all our desires without awaiting the injunction of his royal sire and who is our sole refuge, to-day go into exile?

“From his birth he has honoured and respected us as his own mother, Queen Kaushalya. When we have spoken harsh words to him, he was never angry, nor did he ever give any cause for displeasure. That prince who ever reconciled those who were affronted, is to-day going into exile. Our king, acting like an ignorant man, is determined to destroy his subjects and is sending Rama, who is the sole support of all beings, into exile.”

Thus, weeping bitterly, all the maids of honour and maid-servants of the king lamented like cows bereft of their calves. The king hearing their cries of distress, deeply afflicted with grief for his son, overcome with shame, fell down on his couch. Shri Ramacandra, grieving for the woes of his relatives, breathing like a mighty elephant approached his mother’s apartments with Lakshmana.

Entering there, he beheld at the first gate the venerable and aged guardian of the door and his attendants, who rose on perceiving the prince, crying “Jai” “Jai” to him. Reaching the second gate, he met with the aged brahmins honoured by the state for their great learning. Saluting them, he entered the third gate where women, the aged and children were keeping guard. The women gave their blessings to the prince and went to inform the Queen Kaushalya of Shri Rama’s arrival.

According to scriptural injunctions, the queen had spent the whole night worshipping Shri Vishnu, desirous of her son’s good. Clad in a silken sari, she was pouring oblations into the sacred fire, with joy. Shri Rama, entering the chamber of his mother, beheld her offering oblations into the sacred flame; he beheld there the sacrificial articles prepared for the worship of the gods; curds, rice, butter, sweetmeats, rice cooked in milk, garlands of white flowers, sesamum seed, fuel and jars filled with pure water.

Shri Rama saw the fair complexioned queen in a white robe, emaciated through long fasts. After a time, perceiving her son, Shri Ramacandra, she ran towards him as a mare runs to meet its foal. Embracing him, inspired by maternal love, she addressed the great Rama with gentle and affectionate words: “O my Son, mayest you become aged and righteous like the royal sages. Mayest you attain the age appropriate to your dynasty. Mayest you acquire renown and fulfil your family duties. O Dear Prince, now approach your truth-loving father, who awaits you to-day to appoint you regent of the kingdom.”

Offering her son a seat, she placed before him sweetmeats; Shri Rama, touching them only, with joined palms humbly addressed her; he, ever affectionate and now showing even greater tenderness in protecting his mother’s honour, said: “O Goddess, you are not yet acquainted with the great calamity that threatens us. I must go to the Dandaka forest and have come to seek your sanction. It is the season of sorrow for you, Sita and Lakshmana. Now, entering the forest, my seat will be of kusha grass and there, residing for fourteen years, I shall live on honey, roots and fruits. The king has conferred the regency on Prince Bharata and I, giving up royal fare, must enter the forest to eat the food of ascetics there. By the king’s command, Bharata will be installed as regent. For fourteen years, it is ordained that I shall live in the forest, practising asceticism far from the haunts of men. The forest from henceforth will be my home; roots and berries will be my food!”

Hearing these words, the queen fell to the ground like the bough of a fir tree severed from the trunk, by an axe 1 Resembling a nymph fallen from heaven or a phantom tree struck down, she fell. Shri Ramacandra raised her to her couch, her body soiled with dust, like a steed that has rolled on the earth and gently brushed away the dust with his own hands. The queen, worthy of every happiness, seated by her son, filled with distress, addressed him in the presence of Shri Lakshmana:—

“O Child, O Rama, hadst you not been born of my womb, I should have suffered the distress of being childless, but I should have been spared this sorrow. O My Son, were I a barren woman, I should not have been thus afflicted, for a barren woman has but one grief, that of being childless. The fortune that befalls a wife, alas! was not to be enjoyed by me for long! Having a son, I looked for happiness, but now, though chief queen, I must bear the piercing words of my rival consorts, no longer showing me deference. What greater calamity can befall a woman? The insults that will be heaped upon me, without you, will prove unendurable. Alas! This is the season of unfathomable grief and affliction! O My Son, when you are gone, I shall cease to live. As chief queen, I have already borne great provocation; now, serving Kaikeyi, I shall be deemed lower than her maidservant, indeed some say I am already her slave. Those who attend me, will desert me on beholding Bharata made regent.”

Then Queen Kaushalya growing angry, began to utter bitter words, saying: “How shall I, thus afflicted, look on the face of Kaikeyi? O Rama, seventeen years have passed since you didst receive the holy thread. Since then, I have lived in expectation of thine installation and the termination of my sorrows, but now I must suffer further. I shall not be able to endure this. O Rama, I shall not be able to suffer the contumely of the other queens in my old age. O Child, not beholding your countenance resembling the full moon, how shall I bear this miserable life? I have kept innumerable fasts, worshipped the gods and nourished you till now, yet unfortunate as I am, it has proved to be in vain. Surely my heart is made of stone that it has not broken to-day, it resembles a river in the rainy season that does not overflow under continued rain. Surely death has forgotten me or there is no room in his abode. Had it not been so, he would have carried me hence to-day like a doe carried away by a lion. Assuredly my heart must be as hard as iron that it is not riven under this affliction. O why does not the earth open and engulf me; it seems one cannot die before the time appointed. Those sacred austerities, fasts, meditation and penance undertaken for the prosperity of my child have proved vain, like seeds sown in a barren field. If at this time of sorrow, I might die, threatened with your separation, I should embrace death as willingly as a cow deprived of its calf. O My Son, of what use is life now to me, robbed of the sight of your face resembling the full moon? Nay, I will follow you to the forest like a feeble cow following its calf.”

Queen Kaushalya, the mother of Rama, afflicted and helpless, realising her own unfortunate position, and her son to be bound in the service of truth, lamented like a kinnari whose offspring has been made captive.