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The Wife*
But Sita all the while, unhappy child, Worshipped propitious gods. Her mind in dreams August and splendid coronations dwelt And knew not of that woe. Royal she worshipped, A princess in her mind and mood, and sat With expectation thrilled. To whom there came Rama, downcast and sad, his forehead moist From inner anguish. Dark with thought and shaken He entered his august and jubilant halls. She started from her seat, transfixed, and trembled, For all the beauty of his face was marred, Who when he saw his young beloved wife Endured no longer; all his inner passion Of tortured pride was opened in his face. And Sita, shaken, cried aloud, “What grief Comes in these eyes ? Was not today thine hour When Jupiter, the imperial planet, joins With Pushya, that high constellation? Why Art thou then pale, disturbed ? Where is thy pomp, Thy crowning where? No foam-white softness silk With hundred-shafted canopy o’erhues Thy kingly head, no fans o’erwave thy face Like birds that beat their bright wings near a flower; Minstrel nor orator attends thy steps To hymn thy greatness, nor are heralds heard Voicing high stanzas. Who has then forbade The honeyed curds that Brahmins Veda-wise Should pour on thy anointed brow, — the throngs That should behind thee in a glory surge, — The ministers and leading citizens And peers and commons of the provinces And commons metropolitan ? Where stays Thy chariot by four gold-clad horses drawn, Trampling, magnificent, wide-maned ? thy huge High-omened elephant, a thunder-cloud Or moving mountain in thy front? thy seat
*Ayodhya Kanda, Sarga, 26-30. Page – 9 Enriched with curious gold? Such are the high Symbols men lead before anointed kings Through streets flower-crowned. But thou com’st careless, dumb, Alone. Or if thy coronation still, Hero, prepares and nations for thee wait, Wherefore comes this grey face not seen before In which there is no joy?” Trembling she hushed. Then answered her the hope of Raghou’s line: “Sita my sire exiles me to the woods. 0 high-born soul, 0 firm religious mind, Be strong and hear me. Dussaruth my sire, Whose royal word stands as the mountains pledged To Bharath’s mother boons of old, her choice In her selected time, who now prefers Athwart the coronation’s sacred pomp Her just demand; me to the Dundac woods For fourteen years exiled and in my stead Bharath, my brother, royally elect To this wide empire. Therefore I come, to visit And clasp thee once, ere to far woods I go. But thou before King Bharath speak my name Seldom; thou knowest great and wealthy men Are jealous and endure not others’ praise. Speak low and humbly of me when thou speakest, Observing all his moods; for only thus Shall man survive against a monarch’s brow. He is a king, therefore to be observed; Holy, since by a monarch’s sacred hands Anointed to inviolable rule. Be patient; thou art wise and good. For I Today begin exile, Sita, today Leave thee, 0 Sita. But when I am gone Into the paths of the ascetics old Do thou in vows and fasts spend blamelessly Thy lonely seasons. With the dawn arise And when thou hast adored the Gods, bow down Before King Dussaruth, my father, then Like a dear daughter tend religiously Page – 10 Cowshalya, my afflicted mother old; Nor her alone, but all my father’s queens Gratify with sweet love, smiles, blandishments And filial claspings; — they my mothers are, Nor than the breasts that suckled me less dear. But mostly I would have thee show, beloved, To Shatrughna and Bharath, my dear brothers, More than my life-blood dear, a sister’s love And a maternal kindness. Cross not Bharath Even slightly in his will. He is thy king, Monarch of thee and monarch of our house And all this nation. ‘Tis by modest awe And soft obedience and high toilsome service That princes are appeased, but being crossed Most dangerous grow the wrathful hearts of kings And mischiefs mean. Monarchs incensed reject The sons of their own loins who durst oppose Their mighty policies, and raise, of birth Though vile, the strong and serviceable man. Here then obedient dwell unto the King, Sita; but I into the woods depart.”
He ended, but Videha’s daughter, she Whose words were ever soft like one whose life Is lapped in sweets, now other answer made In that exceeding anger born of love, Fierce reprimand and high. “What words are these, Rama from thee ? What frail unworthy spirit Converses with me uttering thoughts depraved, Inglorious, full of ignominy, unmeet For armed heroical great sons of Kings ? With alien laughter and amazed today I hear the noblest lips in all the world Uttering baseness. For father, mother, son, Brother or son’s wife, all their separate deeds Enjoying their own separate fates pursue. But the wife is the husband’s and she has Her husband’s fate, not any private joy. Page – 11 Have they said to thee “Thou art exiled’ ? Me That doom includes, me too exiles. For neither Father nor the sweet son of her own womb Nor self, nor mother, nor companion dear Is woman’s sanctuary, only her husband Whether in this world or beyond is hers. If to the difficult dim forest then, Rama, this day thou journeyest, I will walk Before thee, treading down the thorns and sharp Grasses, smoothing with my torn feet thy way; And henceforth from my bosom as from a cup Stale water, jealousy and wrath renounce. Trust me, take me; for, Rama, in this breast Sin cannot harbour. Heaven, spacious terraces Of mansions, the aerial gait of Gods With leave to walk among those distant stars, Man’s winged aspiration or his earth Of sensuous joys, tempt not a woman’s heart: She chooses at her husband’s feet her home. My father’s lap, my mother’s knees to me Were school of morals, Rama; each human law Of love and service there I learned, nor need Thy lessons. All things else are wind; I choose The inaccessible inhuman woods, The deer’s green walk or where the tigers roam, Life savage with the multitude of beasts, Dense thickets; there will I dwell in desert ways, Happier than in my father’s lordly house, A pure-limbed hermitess. How I will tend thee And watch thy needs, and thinking of no joy But that warm wifely service and delight Forget the unneeded world, alone with thee. We two shall dalliance take in honied groves And scented springtides. These heroic hands Can in the forest dangerous protect Even common men, and will they then not guard A woman and the noble name of wife? I go with thee this day, deny who will, Page – 12 Nor aught shall turn me. Fear not thou lest I Should burden thee, since gladly I elect Life upon fruits and roots, and still before thee Shall walk, not faltering with fatigue, eat only Thy remnants after hunger satisfied, Nor greater bliss conceive. O I desire That life, desire to see the large wide lakes, The cliffs of the great mountains, the dim tarns, Not frighted since thou art beside me, and visit Fair waters swan-beset in lovely bloom. In thy heroic guard my life shall be A happy wandering among beautiful things, For I shall bathe in those delightful pools, And to thy bosom fast-devoted, wooed By thy great beautiful eyes, yield and experience On mountains and by rivers large delight. Thus if a hundred years should pass or many Millenniums, yet I should not tire or change, For wandering so not heaven itself would seem Desirable, but this were rather heaven. O Rama, Paradise and thou not there No Paradise were to my mind. I should Grow miserable and reject the bliss. I rather mid the gloomy entangled boughs And sylvan haunts of elephant and ape, Clasping my husband’s feet, intend to lie Obedient, glad, and feel about me home.”
But Rama, though his heart approved her words Yielded not to the entreaty, for he feared Her dolour in the desolate woods; therefore Once more he spoke and kissed her brimming eyes. “Of a high blood thou comest and thy soul Turns naturally to duties high. Now, too, O Sita let thy duty be thy guide; Elect thy husband’s will. Thou shouldst obey, Sita, my words, who art a woman weak. The woods are full of hardship, full of peril, Page – 13 And ‘tis thy ease that I command. Nay, nay, But listen and this forestward resolve Thou wilt abandon: Love! for I shall speak Of fears and great discomforts. There is no pleasure In the vast woodlands drear, but sorrows, toils, Wretched privations. Thundering from the hills The waterfalls leap down, and dreadfully The mountain lions from their caverns roar Hurting the ear with sound. This is one pain. Then in vast solitudes the wild beasts sport Untroubled, but when they behold men, rage And savage onset move. Unfordable Great rivers thick with ooze, the python’s haunt, Or turbid with wild elephants, sharp thorns Beset with pain and tangled creepers close The thirsty tedious paths impracticable That echo with the peacock’s startling call. At night thou must with thine own hands break off The sun-dried leaves, thy only bed, and lay Thy worn-out limbs fatigued on the hard ground, And day or night no kindlier food must ask Than wild fruit shaken from the trees, and fast Near to the limits of thy fragile life, And wear the bark of trees for raiment, bind Thy tresses piled in a neglected knot, And daily worship with large ceremony New-coming guests and the high ancient dead And the great deities, and three times ‘twixt dawn And evening bathe with sacred accuracy, And patiently in all things rule observe. All these are other hardships of the woods. Nor at thy ease shalt worship, but must offer The flowers by thine own labour culled, and deck The altar with observance difficult, And be content with little and casual food. Abstinent is their life who roam in woods, O Mithilan, strenuous, a travail. Hunger And violent winds and darkness and huge fears Page – 14 Are their companions. Reptiles of all shapes Coil numerous where thou walkest, spirited, Insurgent, and the river-dwelling snakes That with the river’s winding motion go, Beset thy path, waiting. Fierce scorpions, worms, Gadflies and gnats continually distress, And the sharp grasses pierce and thorny trees With an entangled anarchy of boughs Oppose. O many bodily pains and swift ‘ Terrors the inhabitants in forests know. They must expel desire and wrath expel, Austere of mind, who such discomforts choose,’ Nor any fear must feel of fearful things. Dream not of it, O Sita; nothing good The mind recalls in that disastrous life For thee unmeet; only stern miseries And toils ruthless and many dangers drear.”
Then Sita with the tears upon her face Made answer very sad and low: “Many Sorrows and perils of that forest life Thou hast pronounced, discovered dreadful ills. O Rama, they are joys if borne for thee, For thy dear love, O Rama. Tiger or elk, The savage lion and fierce forest-bull Marsh-jaguars and the creatures of the woods And desolate peaks, will from thy path remove At unaccustomed beauty terrified. Fearless shall I go with thee if my elders Allow, nor they refuse, themselves who feel That parting from thee, Rama, is a death. There is no danger. Hero, at thy side,. Who shall touch me?. Not sovran Indra durst, Though in his might he master all the Gods, Assail me with his thunder-bearing hands. O how can woman from her husband’s arms Divorced exist ? Thine own words have revealed, Rama, its sad impossibility. Page – 15 Therefore my face is set towards going, for I Preferring that sweet service of my lord, Following my husband’s feet, surely shall grow All purified by my exceeding love. O thou great heart and pure, what joy is there But thy nearness ? To me my husband is Heaven and God. O even. when I am dead A bliss to me will be my lord’s embrace. Yea, thou who know’st, wilt thou, forgetful grown Of common joys and sorrows sweetly shared, The faithful heart reject, reject the love? Thou carest’nothing then for_Sita^s_tears? Go! poison or the water or the fire Shall yield me sanctuary, importuning death.”
Thus while she varied passionate appeal And her sweet miserable eyes with tears Swam over, he her wrath and terror and grief , Strove always to appease. But she alarmed, Great Janac’s daughter, princess Mithilan, Her woman’s pride of love all wounded, shook From her the solace of his touch and weeping Assailed indignantly her mighty lord. “Surely my father erred, great Mithila. Who rules and the Videnas, that he chose Thee with his line to mate, Rama unworthy, No man but woman in a male disguise. What casts thee down, wherefore art thou then sad, That thou art bent thus basely to forsake Thy single-hearted wife? Not Savitri So loved the hero Dyumathsena’s son As I love thee and from my soul adore. I would not, like another woman, shame Of her great house, turn even in thought from thee To watch a second face; for where thou goest My heart follows. ‘Tis thou, O shame! ‘tis thou Who thy young wife and pure, thy boyhood’s bride And bosom’s sweet companion, like an actor, Page – 16 Resign’st to others. If thy heart so pant To be his slave for whom thou art oppressed, Obey him thou, court, flatter, for I will not. Alas, my husband, leave me not behind, Forbid me not from exile. Whether harsh Asceticism in the forest drear Or paradise my lot, either is bliss From thee not parted, Rama. How can I, Guiding in thy dear steps my feet, grow tired Though journeying endlessly? as well might one Weary, who on a bed of pleasure lies. The bramble-bushes in our common path, The bladed grasses and the pointed reeds Shall be as pleasant to me as the touch Of cotton or of velvet, being with thee. And when the storm-blast rises scattering The thick dust over me, I, feeling then My dear one’s hand, shall think that I am smeared With sandal-powder highly-priced. Or when From grove to grove upon the grass I lie, In couches how is there more soft delight Or rugs of brilliant wool ? The fruits of trees, Roots of the earth or leaves, whate’er thou bring, Be it much or little, being by thy hands Gathered, I shall account ambrosial food, I shall not once remember, being with thee, Father or mother dear or my far home. Nor shall thy pains by my companionship Be greatened; doom me not to parting, Rama. For only where thou art is Heaven; ‘tis Hell Where thou art not. O thou who know’st my love, If thou canst leave me, poison still is left To be my comforter. I will not bear Their yoke who hate thee. And if today I shunned Swift solace, grief at length would do its work With torments slow. How should the broken heart That once has beaten on thine, absence endure Ten years and three to these and yet one more?” So writhing in the fire of grief, she wound Page – 17 Her body about her husband, fiercely silent, Or sometimes wailed aloud; as a wild beast That maddens with the fire-tipped arrows, such Her grief ungovernable and like the streams . Of fire from its stony prison freed, Her quick hot tears, or as when the whole river From new-culled lilies weeps, — those crystal brooks Of sorrow poured from her afflicted lids. And all the moonlight glories of her face Grew dimmed and her large eyes vacant of joy. But he revived her with sweet words: “Weep not; If I could buy all heaven with one tear Of thine, Sita, I would not pay the price, MvJSna, my beloved. Nor have I grown, I who have stood like God by nature planted High above any cause of fear, so suddenly Familiar with alarm. Only I knew not Thy sweet and resolute courage, and for thee Dreaded the misery that sad exiles feel. But since to share my exile and o’erthrow God first created thee, O Mitlulan, Sooner shall high serenity divorce From the self-conquering heart, than thou from me Be parted. Fixed I stand in my resolve Who follow ancient virtue and the paths Of the old perfect dead; ever my face Turns steadfast to that radiant goal, self-vowed Its sunflower. To the drear wilderness I go. My father’s stainless honour points me on, His oath that must not fail. This is the old Religion, brought from dateless ages down, Parents to honour and obey; their will Should I transgress, I would not wish to live. For how shall man with homage or with prayer Approach the distant Deity, yet scorn A present godhead, father, mother, sage? In these man’s triple objects live, in these Page – 18 The triple world is bounded, nor than these Has all wide earth one holier thing. Large eyes, These therefore let us worship. Truth or gifts, Or Honour or liberal proud sacrifice, Nought equals the effectual force and pure Of worship filial done. This all bliss brings, Compels all gifts, compels harvests and wealth, Knowledge compels and children. All these joys And human boons great filial souls on earth Recovering here enjoy, and in that world Heaven naturally is theirs. But me whatever, In the strict path of virtue while he stands, My father bids, my heart bids that. I go, But not alone, o’ercome by thy sweet soul’s High courage. O intoxicating eyes, O faultless limbs, go with me, justify The wife’s proud name, partner in virtue, Love, Warm from thy great high-blooded lineage old Thy purpose springing mates with the pure strain Of Raghou’s ancient house. O let thy large And lovely motion forestward make speed High ceremonies to absolve. Heaven’s joys Without thee now were beggarly and rude. Haste then, the Brahmin and the pauper feed And to their blessings answer jewels. All Our priceless diamonds and our splendid robes, Our curious things, our couches and our cars, The glory and the eye’s delight, do these Renounce, nor let our faithful servants lose Their worthy portion.” Sita, of that consent So hardly won sprang joyous, as on fire, Disburdened of her wealth, lightly to wing Into dim wood and wilderness unknown. Page – 19 |
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