Chapter 64 - Overborne by grief the king yields up his life

The king, grieving over the separation from his son, continued to describe the infamous deed, the slaying of the young ascetic, to the queen and said:—

“O Kaushalya, having unwittingly committed this impious deed, I, deeply distressed, reflected what could now be done and decided to seek out the parents and propitiate them. Taking the pitcher, filled with water, I bore it to the ascetic’s hermitage and there beheld his mother and father, aged and feeble, seated together, like two birds bereft of their wings. Motionless, deprived by me of their support, they sat, conversing of their son and awaiting the water. My mind was clouded with grief and I was smitten with fear, but seeing the aged pair, my anguish was increased a thousandfold.

“Hearing the sound of my steps, the father spoke:

‘O My Son, why hast you delayed so long? Give me water speedily, O Child, why hast you been diverting thyself in the water? Come quickly into the hermitage, your mother is exceedingly anxious. O My Son, if aught your mother has done has displeased you, it behoves you to forget it. You are our only support who are blind and crippled; you are our very eyes, our lives are dependent on you, why dost you not speak to us?’

“Beholding the muni, and as one sorely dismayed, I uttered inarticulate words, then by force of will, controlling my speech, I related to him the whole misfortune.

Slowly, I narrated to the sage the distressing fate that had befallen his son and said:

‘O Mahatma, I am not your son, my name is Dasaratha and I am a kshatriya. A sinful act has been committed by me of which I now repent. O Lord, armed with bow and arrow I came to the bank of the Sarayu to hunt the elephant, tiger or lion, that might come there to drink. Hearing the sound of a pitcher being filled with water and supposing it to be an elephant, I discharged an arrow and coming to the bank of the river beheld an ascetic lying on the ground pierced to the heart by my weapon. O Lord, having mistaken your son, who had gone to seek water, for an elephant, I slew him by an arrow discharged on hearing that sound. On his entreaty I extracted the arrow from his heart causing him pain and he left this life lamenting for his blind parents. Your son was suddenly and unknowingly slain by me without design; what was to happen, has been accomplished. You are a sage, now do what you considerest proper.’

“Hearing the tale of my evil deed from my own lips, the sage refrained from pronouncing a curse on me. His eyes suffused with tears and his heart distressed, he addressed me who supplicated him with joined palms, saying:

‘O King, if you thyself had’st not confessed this evil deed to me, your head had instantly split into a thousand pieces by my curse. O King, the killing of one dwelling in the forest by a kshatriya causes him to lose his status, even if he be Indra. If anyone knowingly attacks a sage or spiritual preceptor with a weapon, his head is severed into seven pieces. You livest still, since the deed was done by you without design, else hadst you and the whole House of Raghu perished.’

“O Kaushalya, the sage said:

‘Take me to the place where the body of my son is lying, I wish to acquaint myself with his final state. Alas! Under the decree of destiny he is lying lifeless on the earth, his body besmeared with blood, stripped of the deerskin formerly worn by him.’

“O Kaushalya, taking the deeply distressed sage and his wife to that place, they, with their fingers touched the lifeless body of their son. Approaching the place, they embraced the dead body of their child, the father crying:

‘O Child, you are to-day not bidding us welcome, nor dost you speak to me. Why art you lying on the earth, art you displeased? O My Son, if you are angry with me, regard your virtuous mother. Why dost you not embrace me and speak tender words to me? Now that half the night has gone, who will read the Scriptures and Puranas in gentle accents to me? O My Son, who will perform our morning ablutions and after offering up his morning devotions, serve and console us? Helpless and destitute, who will gather roots, berries and fruits for me in the forest, and feed me, like a beloved guest? O My Son, how shall I nourish and support your mother, blind, ascetic and devoted to her son? O My Child, stay, stay, do not yet enter the abode of Yama. To-morrow your mother and I will accompany you. Without you we are distressed, helpless and bereft of support, we will accompany you to the abode of Yama. Beholding the Lord of Death, we shall say to him, “Forgive our transgressions of the past which have caused us to be separated from our son and let him yet be our support. Grant us this blessing, O Lord of Death, and make us free from fear. You are just and the renowned protector of your realm? O My Son, you are innocent and hast been slain by a sinful man, therefore, by the power of truth, enter you the abode of heroes. Go, my son to that high state attained by those who follow truth and suffer death at the hands of their foes, without retreating. Go to that high region attained by Sagara, Shivya, Dilipa, Janamejaya, Nahusha and Dhundhumara. That state attained by those versed in the Veda and practising austerity, be thine. That state, O My Son, of those who attend the sacred fire, of those highly generous persons who make gifts of land in charity, may that state acquired by those who give thousands of cows in charity and serve their Guru single mindedly, or those courting death by fire in meditation, be thine. None born of your family has ever descended to a lower state but he who has slain our son shall end in misery”.’

“Thus for a long time wailing in distress, the aged parents began to offer ceremonial water for their dead son. The son of that sage by virtue of his meritorious deeds ascending to heaven in a celestial form, in the company of Indra addressed his parents with consoling words, saying:

‘By virtue of my services to you, I have obtained this state, you, too, will soon join me here.’

Thereafter, that self-controlled ascetic ascended to heaven in an aerial chariot. O Lady, that great sage with his wife performing the water ritual, said to me standing near with joined palms:

‘O King, now put an end to my life also, I shall feel no grief in dying. This was my only son and by slaying him you have rendered me childless. As he was slain by you, I pronounce a curse on you. Mayest you suffer the the same grief that you have caused to me, through separation from your son, ending in your death. O King, having slain the sage unknowingly, the guilt of killing a brahmin will not be thine. As the dispenser of charity receives the merit of those gifts, so will you suffer in the degree of the suffering you have caused me, putting an end to your life.’

“O Queen, having cursed me, they lamented for some time and then gathering wood, kindled a fire, and entering it, departed this life. O Lady, to-day recalling that evil deed, committed thoughtlessly in my youth, by discharging the arrow by sound, the fruit of my action has overtaken me, as illness follows the partaking of unwholesome food. O Noble Lady, the time of the fulfilment of the sage’s curse has come.”

Having said this, the king weeping and overcome with fear on the approach of death, spoke again: “O Kaushalya, I am about to yield up my life through grief for my son, I am unable to see you, do you draw near and touch me. Those about to enter the abode of death distinguish nought. If Rama could but touch me for an instant, or receive my wealth and the regency, I might yet live. O Auspicious Lady, I have not dealt justly with Rama, but what he has done to me is right. What thoughtful man would abandon even a sinful son? But what son, sent into exile will not think ill of his father? O Kaushalya, I no longer behold you, my memory is also fading. O Queen, the messengers of death call on me to depart; what affliction is greater than this, that at the hour of death I do not behold the virtuous Rama, the hero of truth? The grief caused by the absence of my son, who never opposed my wishes, dries up my life as heat dries up water. They are not men, they are gods, who will look on that lovely countenance of lotus eyes and charming features after fourteen years! Blessed are those who will behold the face of Rama resembling the full moon, returning to Ayodhya. Fortunate are they who will behold Rama in the capital like the planet Shukra, completing its course in the heavens. O Kaushalya, my heart is breaking, I have lost the sense of touch, taste and sound. When the mind expires, the senses are extinguished as the flame of a lamp subsides when the oil is consumed. O Grief, you are destroying me and carrying away my life as a river bears away the banks by its force! O Prince, O Mighty Hero, O Sole Remover of my pain, O Darling of Your Sire, O My Master, My Son, where art you? O Kaushalya, O Virtuous Sumitra, I depart! O My Cruel Enemy Kaikeyi, destroyer of my family’s felicity.”

Thus lamenting, the king died in the presence of Rama’s mother and the Queen Sumitra.

Overborne by the grief caused by the exile of his son, that generous and mighty king, at midnight, yielded up his life.