Chapter 16 - Description of Winter by Lakshmana

Whilst the magnanimous Rama was sojourning there, autumn passed away and the winter season set in.

One day at dawn, the issue of the House of Raghu went to the enchanting river Godaveri to perform his ablutions and the valiant Saumitri, pitcher in hand, following humbly with Sita, addressed him, saying:—

“Now that season dear to you has come, O Amiable Prince, during which the whole year seems to clothe itself in splendour! The ground is covered with frost and water is no longer pleasant to drink.

“Having offered ripened grain to the Pitris and the Gods, men are purified of their sins, their sacrifices having been made at the proper season. Desirous of the necessities of life, all are now abundantly supplied with milk and butter.

“Kings, dreaming of conquest, set out on their campaigns. The sun veering towards the southern region, beloved of Antaka, causes the north to resemble a woman, whose tilak mark is effaced. The Himavat Mountain, covered with snow, justly bears its name. Those clear days, when one seeks the sun and flees from shade and damp, are exceedingly pleasant, but now there is only faint sunshine, constant frost, piercing cold and deep snow. The long cold nights are with us, when it is no longer possible to lie in the open, and the Pushya star which served as a beacon is now obscured in the snow-laden air. The moon, that draws its brilliance from the sun, no longer shines, and its frozen disc is dim, like a mirror tarnished by the breath j wrinkled by the cold, that orb’s surface, though at the full, no longer sends forth its rays, like Sita, when her complexion, tanned by the sun, loses its radiance.

“Now that the snow is blended with its breath the west wind is icy, and the mornings are bitingly cold. The woods are shrouded in mist and the fields of barley and wheat, covered in rime, sparkle in the rising sun, while herons and cranes call in chorus. Fields of rice with ears resembling Kharjura flowers bend gracefully under the weight of the grain.

“With its rays scarcely penetrating the snow-laden clouds, the sun, long after it has risen, resembles the moon, but gradually gaining strength during the morning hours, rejoices the heart at noon, its rays shedding a pale beauty on the earth causing the woodland rides, covered with grass and drenched with dew, to sparkle.

“The wild elephant, suffering from extreme thirst, withdraws its trunk suddenly on coming in contact with the frozen water, and the waterfowl, standing on the banks, dare not enter the stream, like unto cowardly warriors, fearful of setting foot on the battlefield.

“Enveloped in dew at evening and wreathed in cold grey mist at dawn, the trees, bereft of flowers, seem to sleep. Streams are shrouded in fog and the cranes, their plumage hidden under the snow, can only be distinguished by their cries; the sands on the banks too are wet with snow.

“On account of the weakness of the sun’s rays, the water remains in the hollows of hard rocks after the fall of snow and tastes sweet. The lotuses are nipped by frost, their stamens dried up, their petals fallen, only the stalks remaining, and in the grip of the bitter cold have lost all their beauty.

“O Lion among Men, at this season, in devotion to you, the unfortunate and faithful Bharata is undergoing penance in the city. Renouncing kingdom, pomp and every pleasure, practising austerity, he gives himself up to fasting and restraint, and at this very hour is certainly making his way to the river Sarayu surrounded by his ministers in order to perform his ablutions.

“Brought up in luxury, exceedingly frail, tormented by the cold, how, in the last hour of the night, is he able to endure the icy water?

“With his large eyes resembling lotus petals, his dark skin and depressed navel, that great and virtuous Bharata, who is dutiful, truthful, restrained, his senses fully controlled, of sweet speech and gentle, that long-armed hero, the subduer of his foes, renouncing every pleasure, is wholly devoted to you, O Rama.

“My Brother, the magnanimous Bharata, by living as if banished to the forest, in imitation of you resident there, has conquered heaven, O Rama.

“It is said that a man resembles his mother and not his father. If it be so, how can a woman as cruel as Kaikeyi be his mother?”

Thus spoke the virtuous Lakshmana in brotherly affection, but Rama, unable to brook their mother being blamed, answered him, saying:—

“She who occupies the second place among the queens, O My Friend, should not be disparaged in any way whatsoever. Do you continue to speak of Bharata, the protector of the House of Ikshvaku.

“Though I have determined to dwell in the forest, yet my love for Bharata shakes my resolve and causes me to waver anew. I recollect his gentle and affectionate words well, sweet as amrita, delighting the soul. O when shall I be reunited with the magnanimous Bharata and the valiant Shatrughna, together with you, O Joy of the House of Raghu?”

Lamenting thus, Kakutstha came to the Godaveri river, where he, his younger brother and Sita performed their ablutions; then having offered water to the Gods and the Pitris, those sinless ones worshipped the rising sun and the Lord Narayana, thus purifying themselves.

Thereafter, Rama, accompanied by Sita and Lakshmana, appeared beautiful, resembling the Lord Shiva accompanied by Nandi and the Daughter of the Mountains.