महावीरचरितम् (महाकवि भवभूति - वीररस-प्रधान रामकथा नाटक सम्पूर्ण ७ अङ्क सटीक)

iii. 12¹¹—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [46
Tamasā—But don't-you-recollect (ayi), child, that, by virtue of Bhāgīrathi's
sure-contrivance (vara), even unto deities thou hast become invisible?
Sītā—Ah, yes: so it is.
Rāma—Dear Jānakī! Why, I say, my dearest Jānakī!
Sītā, [as if] choked with passion—Noble my Lord! Inconsistent this
really is with all that has happened! With tears. Or rather, wherefore,
when I have [here] obtained, as if in another life, this sight of him that
I should never have aspired to attain; [wherefore] at a time when towards
one so ill-starred as I am, he is so brimful of affection and kind words:
[wherefore,] hard as adamant though I be, should I against my noble
Lord be so relentless? For, I know his heart, and he knows mine.
Rāma, looking in all directions, with dejection—Why! nobody here!
Sītā—Honoured Tamasā! Although the author of my causeless banishment,
still, as I see him in this his plight, I know not what sort of emotions
surge foremost (anubandha) in my heart.
Tamasā—I know it, child, I know it:
Apathetic through despair and yet stirred with a sense for thy
wrongs; in this long long separation as if forthwith ardent for
reunion: gracious in thy [innate] goodness and filled to its
depths with pity for thy dear Lord's piteous plight, and melting
in affection—thus now, meseems (iva), all in a moment thy heart
has become. 13
Rāma—Queen!
Like a favour incarnate, thy touch, cool and full of affection,—
even now it bedews me with joy: but where art thou, thou
my Joy? 14
Sītā—These, in sooth, revealing the treasure (sambhāra) of an affection
inward and unfathomed, [and] overflowing [me] with joy—these words of
my noble Lord I have [once again] heard: [words] which, as I drink them
in (jāṇaṁ pachchaeṇa) now—though the barb of my unmerited abandon-
ment still rankles within [my heart]—they make me prize this my life [so]
highly.
Rāma—No (athavā), it could not by any chance be my dearest. Verily,
springing out of the perfection of his practised meditation [on her], this
must be Rāma's illusion.¹
[Voice,] behind the curtain—Oh, how unfortunate, how unfortunate!
That youngling of an elephant who was [fed] formerly by Queen
Sītā with tender śallakī leaves gathered by her own hands, fed
as he stood before her fond and expectant— 15 a, b
¹ I. e. thinking too intently upon an object you get a hallucination of the same.

47] Act III, The Shadow — Translation [—iii. 16ᵇ
Rāma, with sympathetic eagerness—Well, what of him?
[Same Voice,] behind the curtain, once more—
he, sporting in the water in the company of his mate, is busily
engaged in combat by a mighty leader of another herd of tuskers,
who has in wanton-pride (darpa) assailed him. 15 c, d
Sītā—Who now will succour him?
Rāma—Where, where is that wicked [beast] that is assailing one who was
as a son unto my dear wife—and that too while he is enjoying his mate's
company? Rises.
Vāsantī, entering, greatly agitated—How! Is it the King, the joy of
Raghu's race?
Sītā—Why! It is my dear friend, Vāsantī!
Vāsantī—Victory attend Your Majesty!
Rāma, observing [her]—Who! My Queen's dear friend, Vāsantī?
Vāsantī—Haste, Sire, haste: along this way, south of Jaṭāyu's peak, past
[what they call] Sītā's Ford, do you descend down to Godāvarī's bank and
honour [by your visit] the Queen's [foster-]son, [the elephant].
Sītā—Alas, father Jaṭāyu! Void without thee ¹ [now must be] this Jana-
sthāna!
Rāma—Alas! They really tear the [very] vitals of my heart—these
familiar allusions!
Vāsantī—This, this way, Sire!
Sītā—Honoured [Tamasā]! And is it indeed true that even sylvan deities
can't see me? ²
Tamasā—Knowest thou not (ayi), darling, that superior by far to [that of] ⎫
all other divinities is the power of the divine Mandākinī [Ganges]? Why ⎬
dost thou fear then? ⎭
Sītā—In that case—let us go after [them].
[Sītā and Tamasā] walk about.
Rāma—My homage to thee, exalted Godāvarī!
Vāsantī, observing—Sire! Rejoice at the victory [gained] by the Queen's
[foster-]son [that is there] in the company of his mate.
Rāma—May victory and long life attend him!
Sītā—Oh! And has he grown thus [big]!
Rāma—Queen! Here is something to be glad of—
With his tapering tusks, just sprouting and soft like fibres of
lotus, [he] who used to pull, O fair-bodied one, the lavalī leaves
¹ See note 2, page 24, above. invisible to Rāma and Vāsantī. The poet
² It is necessary to bear in mind that through- himself draws our attention to this fact
out this Act Sītā and Tamasā remain whenever we seem most near forgetting it.

iii. 16ᵇ—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [48
that decked thy ears¹—this [is he] that [foster-]son of thine,
[now] a vanquisher of sturdy and rutting elephants, by whom,
what in growing youth is a bliss, that ² has already been
achieved. 16
Sītā—Only, unseparated from this his gentle-looking mate ³ may he for
ever live!
Rāma—Look, friend Vāsantī, look! The youngster has even learnt—though
only by half—the art of courting his mate's favour!—
When the bunches of lotus stalks, in frolic uprooted, had been
[by her] bitten off, he transferred [unto his mate] trunkfuls of
water perfumed with the blooming lotuses; then indeed a bath
from the sprays of his trunk he gave her, but, when through
with that, he has not, in his affection, [pulled out] a straight
stalk of lotus, [leaf and all, and] held [it] as a sunshade over
her. 17
Sītā—Honoured Tamasā, thus now has this one grown up: but the other
two—through all this [long] time—my Kuśa and Lava, I know not how
[big] they have grown.
Tamasā—As this one here, so likewise those two [sons].
Sītā—Thus ill-starred am I that [I am condemned] not merely [to] an
eternal separation from my noble Lord but even [to] a separation from my
sons!
Tamasā—Thus Fate hath decreed.
Sītā—And why have I given birth unto sons [at all], if, of both of them,
so [lovable] as they are, those unspotted lotus-like faces—with cheeks bloom-
ing by reason of their teeth, tender, white, and rather sparse—rippling with
a laugh charming and musical—and [decked] with little locks plaited over
their ears and forehead—if [their faces] my noble Lord has not kissed?
Tamasā—May it so happen by the favour of the Gods!
Sītā—Honoured Tamasā! Now, as I am fondly (saṁ) thinking of my
sons, my bosom heaves and longs to suckle them; and, with their father ⁴
here by me, I feel as if—just for a moment—I were restored to my
domestic felicity!
Tamasā—Needs this to be said? A child is the utmost perfection of the
love [between man and wife]. It is the closest link that can hold them
together:
As being the meeting-ground (saṁśraya) for the mother's and

¹ The young elephant was then only of a man's height.
² I. e. love and triumphant valour.
³ A characteristic benediction!
⁴ This mode of referring to the husband, says one of the commentators, indicates that the author was a Dravidian. The inference does not, however, hold.

49] Act III, The Shadow — Translation [—iii. 22³
the father’s affection, in a child we [so to say] tie in a [common]
knot of joy [the several strands of] their inmost hearts. 18
Vāsantī—And this way, likewise, let Your Majesty turn his eye:
He, in the full intoxication [of his youth], has ended [with
a flourish] his mirthful dance, this peacock, whose smooth and
wavy feathers have [only] recently sprouted forth—here [he is
now] with his expansive plumage [sitting,] like a jewelled
coronet, on the top of this kadamba tree, [and] rejoicing in the
company of his mate. 19
Sītā, in curiosity and with tears—This is he!
Rāma—Rejoice, darling! [Ever] rejoice!
Sītā—So be it!
Rāma—At each of thy whirlings, [O peacock,] her eyes, rolling
around¹ within the lids, had their charm enhanced by the skilful
dancings of her tremulous eyebrows, as she, [my wife,] in the
fondness of her heart (mugdhayā) taught thee to dance, keeping
time by the clapping of her hands, delicate like a sprout—thus
it is [O peacock] that I think on thee, as on a son, with a mind
brimful of affection. 20
Why! Even animals² remember (anurudhyante) old friendships!—
That kadamba tree, displaying just a sprinkling (katipaya) of
flowers, which my dearest had once reared up;— 21 a, b
Sītā, observing, with tears—Rightly [indeed] has my noble Lord recognized
[the tree].
Rāma—[that kadamba,] this mountain-peacock remembers as [having
been [once] favourite to the Queen: hence it is that on ['it he is
feeling merry. 21 c, d
Vāsantī—Here, in the meantime, let Your Majesty take a seat:
This here, situated in the middle of the kadalī grove, [this] is that
same slab of stone which did duty as a bed for you and your
wife; and because, sitting here, Sītā would give frequent '[morsels
of] grass to the deer, therefore [those fondlings] refused [ever]
to leave her [alone]! 22
Rāma—This, I cannot [even] endure its sight [now].
Sits elsewhere, weeping.
Sītā—Friend Vāsantī! What hast thou achieved by showing this [place]
to my noble Lord and to myself? Alas, alas! Here [now] is my noble
Lord [ever] the same; here the same Pañchavaṭī grove; and here the
¹ To follow the circular movements of the ² Cp. Jātaka, No. 156, story of the grateful
dance. elephant. [C. R. L.]
7 [H.O.S. 21]

iii. 22³—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [50
selfsame dear companion of mine—Vāsantī. Here [likewise] are these
[mute] witnesses to our varied and confidential intercourse—these woodland
spots on [the banks of] the Godāvarī: and these [again] are the very same
deer and birds and trees—all esteemed by us like our own children. To
me, however, though present before my [very] eyes, they are all—such
is my fate—no better than non-existing! Such then are [some of] the
vicissitudes of this world of mortals!
Vāsantī—Sītā, my friend! Dost thou not notice [thy] Rāma's condition ?¹
With his limbs lovely like the petals of a blue lotus, he [formerly]
used to cause supreme delight to [thy] eyes; and, although thou
couldst see him always and at will, he did [then] look new and
ever newer to thee: But [now] here he is with his limbs all
lifeless, overspread with pallor, and extremely (pari) enfeebled
by grief; not without difficulty can he be recognized as the
same, though he [to be sure] still continues to delight [our]
sight. 23
Sītā—I see it, my friend, I do see it.
Tamasā—Mayest thou, [my dear] daughter, see what is dear² to thee !
Sītā—Alas, [cruel] Fate! He without me and I without him—would
any one [ever] have thought this possible? Let me therefore—just for
a moment and through my tears—take a look at my noble and loving
Lord, whom I, as if in a second birth,³ am able [here] to behold.
Remains looking [at him].
Tamasā, embracing [Sītā], with tears of affection—
Floating in an overwhelming flood of tears both of joy and of
sorrow and wide open in thy eagerness [to see him], thy eyes
(dṛiṣhṭi) seem as it were to bathe the Lord of thy heart in
an overflow of affection—as [if by] a stream of milk, white
and copious and charming. 24
Vāsantī—Let trees, with flowers and fruits that drip with their
[sweetest] juices, yield an offering [unto Rāma]—surcharged with
the fragrance of full-blown lotuses, let breezes blow over the
dales—let the [youthful and] full-throated birds pour forth their
incessant melodies—for here, once more, unto this forest, has our
Lord Rāma himself returned. 25
Rāma—Come, dear Vāsantī! Won't you take a seat here?
¹ Vāsantī purposely assumes ignorance as to ³ It was in an earlier life, as it were, that
Sītā's fate. I was his wife and he my Lord : so
² Either i. her husband's face or ii. a termi- changed are our present relations.
nation of her sorrows.

51] Act III, The Shadow — Translation [—iii. 28¹
Vāsantī, seating herself, with tears—My liege Lord! Is dear Lakshmaṇa
doing well ?
Rāma, pretending not to hear—
With water and wild-rice and grass—offered with her own lotus-
like hands—these trees and birds and deer¹ that the daughter
of the King of Mithilā² [once] used to feed: as I sight them
[now] an indescribable emotion wells up within me; [an emotion]
that, like an oozing [in some rock], must end (yogya) by breaking
my heart [in twain]. 26
Vāsantī—I was asking, My liege Lord, Is it all well with dear Lakshmaṇa ?
Rāma, to himself—Ah! ‘My liege Lord’ [is] a mode of address devoid
of cordiality and her inquiry referred to the son of Sumitrā [Lakshmaṇa]
only; her voice [too was choked] with tears [and] faltered: so I fear she
already knows the news about Sītā. Aloud. Ah, yes: Prince Lakshmaṇa
is doing well. Sobs.
Vāsantī—Why, O King, why art thou [so, so] cruel ?
Sītā—And what art thou, dear Vāsantī, when thou couldst reproach [him]
thus ? My noble Lord certainly deserves kind consideration from all—and
particularly from my dear friend.
Vāsantī—“Thou [art] my life; thou art my second heart; thou the
moon-light of my eyes: thou the [immortal] ambrosia to my
body”—with these and hundreds of other endearments her simple-
and-loving (mugdhā) soul thou didst beguile; and her now—alas!
why utter the rest? 27 Faints.
Tamasā—Quite natural indeed that [thus] she should break off in her
speech and faint away.
Rāma—Compose thyself, friend, compose thyself.
Vāsantī, recovering—Wherefore, then, has Your Majesty done this un-
worthy deed ?
Sītā—Desist, dear Vāsantī, desist.
Rāma—Because the people would not put up with it.
Vāsantī—And why ?
Rāma—They themselves know—I-know-not-what (kimapi).
Vāsantī—O thou hard-hearted one! Is it honour that you profess
(kila) to hold dear? What dishonour I ask (nanu) is more
dreadful than this? And what, in that forest, may have been
the fate of that fawn-eyed one [your wife]? Alas! Tell me,
My Lord, what do you think about it? 28
Tamasā—After a [very] long time [indeed comes] this reproof!
¹ Respectively. ² Mithilā was the capital of King Janaka.

iii. 28²—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [52
Sītā—Friend Vāsantī! 'Tis thou that art terrible—that art cruel, in that
thou dost thus fan [his] flames.¹
Tamasā—It is thy love [for thy Lord] that thus speaks—[thy love] and
thy grief.
Rāma—Dear friend! What [else] could any one think about it?
She whose eyes were tremulous like those of a fawn, just a year
old, [when it is] taken with fright, [and who was] languid with
the quick and throbbing burden in her womb—her dear creeper-
like form, [a form that was] as if the very quintessence (mayī)
of moon-beams and [delicate] like a soft and lovely lotus—[her
form] the flesh-eating Monsters must certainly have swallowed
up. 29
Sītā—I am still alive, dear my Lord, still alive!
Rāma—Alas, dearest! Thou daughter of Janaka, where art thou?²
Sītā—Alas, alas, that even my noble Lord, in the fullness of his heart,
should cry aloud!
Tamasā—This, my child, is nothing but proper. Those in grief must [at
times] give vent to their grief: For—
When put to a strain by the flood, for a tank, an overflow is the
[only] remedy; so, when agitated by grief, the heart only through
laments is restrained-from-breaking (avadhāryate). 30
And especially for [our] dear Rāma this world of life has been full of
unusually great and manifold troubles:
This entire world he has to protect assiduously and in [strict]
conformity with the law; [then there is] this sorrow for his
beloved, which withers, like heat, the flower of his life; having
himself brought about [his wife's] abandonment, what relief there
is in lamentations, even that is not easy for him: still he continues
to draw his breath [in this world]—is not weeping then a real
gain? 31
Rāma—Oh, these torments!
My heart with its intense tumults [of grief] is near to bursting,
but it [will] not break in twain; this shattered frame succumbs
[again and again] to a swoon, but it [will] not part with con-
sciousness; an inward anguish burns my body, but [will] not
consume it to ashes: Fate strikes me down and pierces my vitals,
but [will] not cut this life away! 32
Sītā—So it is [even with me]!
Rāma—Ye my worthy citizens and subjects!
¹ Dost increase his sorrow. ² See page 47, note 2, above.

53] Act III, The Shadow — Translation [—iii. 37³
When I indeed knew (kila) that you did not wish my Queen to
stay in the house, her, like mere chaff, in that void wilderness,
I abandoned, and not even so much as mourned! [But] these
scenes long familiar [unto me]—[they] have to-day set my heart
melting, so that in sheer helplessness—forgive me [my people]—
I am here—weeping! 33
Tamasā—Deep is the roar of this ocean of grief.
Vāsantī—My Lord! As matters that have been, it behoves you to endure
[them] with courage.
Rāma—What is it you say, friend!—courage?
Since when this world was deprived of its Queen, this is the
twelfth year: Even her very name seems to have vanished quite:
and yet Rāma has not ceased to be! 34
Sītā—These words of my noble Lord—by them I am beguiled [into forget-
fulness of my own grief].
Tamasā—And no wonder, my child!
These words, brimful of affection [but withal] terrible by reason
of grief—it is not an unmixed pleasure (priyatama) that they
bring thee: they are streams of honey and poison a-dripping
upon thee. 35
Rāma—And [furthermore,] Vāsantī, have I not indeed—
[This dart that] like a glowing spear-head driven deep and
athwart, or like a fang of venom—this pointed dart of grief [that
rankles] within my heart [and] tears my vitals to pieces: [have
I not then patiently] endured it? 36
Sītā—Such is my hard lot that I am once more¹ a cause of trouble to my
noble Lord.
Rāma—Although, therefore, [by an extreme effort] I have firmly restrained
my mind, still to-day the sight of these various familiar scenes has thus
overpowered me. For—
To stem the swelling commotions of this wild and tumultuous
heart, every single effort that I somehow bring to bear upon it—
all those [efforts], one after another, some mysterious impulse
within breaks forcibly through, and gains ground for itself
(prasarati), as would a torrent of water a dam of sand—[a
torrent when] unchecked in its course. 37
Sītā—This my noble Lord's outburst of grief [that is] growing (ārambha)
more and more alarmingly irresistible, it has revived the [smouldering]
grief of my own heart and makes it tremble [in agitation].
¹ The earlier occasion was when she was    fight and win her back.
   abducted by Rāvaṇa, and Rāma had to

iii. 37⁴—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [54
Vāsantī, to herself—To a piteous plight has His Majesty come; let me,
therefore, create a diversion. Aloud. Will now Your Majesty [be pleased
to] have a look at these [sights] long familiar [to him]—these spots in
the Janasthāna?
Rāma—So be it. Rises and walks about.
Sītā—The very things that would inflame the sorrow, my dear friend
[Vāsantī] conceives [them] as remedies to allay it!
Vāsantī, with pathos—Sire, Sire!
It was under this, this very bower of creepers that once you
stood, your eyes watching [expectant] for her return; while she,
attracted by the sight of the [sporting] swans, tarried a little
longer [than usual] on the sands of the Godāvarī. But as she
returned, observing your slight displeasure, at once did she fold,
in tremor, her supplicant hands—[hands that were] graceful like
a bud of [red] lotus! 38
Sītā—Oh, cruel, cruel art thou, Vāsantī, in that with these thy efforts to
drive the darts deeper and more firmly into the vitals of the heart,
thou art again and again making my noble Lord remember me—ill-
starred that I am!
Rāma—O thou ruthless one, thou daughter of Janaka! I seem to see thee
here and there [and everywhere], and yet thou wouldst have no pity
on me!
Alas, alas, O Queen! My heart is bursting asunder; the frame
of my body is flying to pieces; all void seems [now] this world
to me; an incessant flame [of anguish] from within, inflames me;
immersed in utter darkness, this lonely soul within me seems
to plunge down [in deep despair]: an all-overspreading stupor
paralyses me—O miserable wretch that I am, what can I do? 39
(Faints.)
Sītā—Alas, alas! Once again my noble Lord has fainted!
Vāsantī—Be comforted, Sire, be comforted.
Sītā—Alas, My noble Lord! That for the sake of me, the ill-starred one,
thou on whose blessed life (jammalābha) rests the happiness of this entire
living world, [that thou] shouldst be reduced to such a terrible plight and
that thy very life should be in frequent danger!—Wretch, wretch that I am.
(Faints.)
Tamasā—Take heart, take heart, my child! Once again it is the touch
of thy hand that is the only remedy for bringing dear Rāma to life.
Vāsantī—How now, he does not yet recover! Sītā, my dear friend!
Where art thou, alas! Come and rescue this Lord of thy life.

55] Act III, The Shadow — Translation [—iii. 41ᶜ
Sītā in excitement approaches [Rāma] and touches his heart
and forehead.
Vāsantī—Happily dear¹ Rāma has come to life again!
Rāma—[This touch,] as if anointing with ambrosial anointments,
both within and without, all the tissues of my body—this touch
that has [just] brought me to life—once again, it has, all of
a sudden, produced, through joy, an infatuation in me—[only]
of a different kind. 40
With eyes still closed in joy. Friend Vāsantī! Here is a matter for
rejoicing.
Vāsantī—And what may it be?
Rāma—What else, my friend? She has returned—the daughter of Janaka!
Vāsantī—Why, my dear Rāma, where is she?
Rāma, enjoying the felicitous touch—Look! Is not she just here in front?
Vāsantī—Wherefore, my dear (ayi), [wherefore,] with these frightful
excesses of thy ravings that pierce the very vitals, dost thou again [and
again] burn me [in anguish], ill-starred that I am, and already burnt up
with [the sorrow consequent upon] the sufferings of my dear friend [Sītā]?
Sītā—I do wish to withdraw: but this my noble Lord's touch, gentle and
cooling by reason of his enduring affection, has all of a sudden allayed
even my long and cruel grief, and has held fast, as if with adamantine
cement, [this] my moist and powerless hand, [causing it] to tremble in
helplessness.
Rāma—No: not ‘ravings’, my friend!
That [hand,] begirt with bracelet, which formerly, at the time
of marriage, I had held [in mine], and which, since then, through
all that long time, had been familiar to me by its cooling and
ambrosial touch—[touch] that was [once, alas!] mine for the
asking— 41 a, b
Sītā—Noble my Lord! Thou art [ever] the same—[then and] now!
Rāma—that same hand of hers, resembling a tender stalk of lavalī
but most happily compared [only] with her own other hand—
that hand here I have grasped. 41 c, d Seizes it.
Sītā—Oh, fie! Carried away by my noble Lord’s touch I have really
committed a blunder!
Rāma—Friend Vāsantī! With my eyes (indriya) closed in [the ecstasy
of my] joy and in my [present] excited state I am [no longer] master of
myself: Do you therefore hold her likewise.
Vāsantī—Why! This is sheer madness!
¹ This is the first time in this Act that Vāsantī uses this familiar mode of address.

iii. 41⁷—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [56
Sītā hastily snatches away [her hand] and stands aloof.
Rāma—Oh, fie! What a folly!
That hand of hers, [tender] like foliage and tremulous and per-
spiring¹—[that hand], in my listlessness, I have all of a sudden let
slip from my own hand, [no less] tremulous and perspiring! 42
Sītā—Why, alas! Even yet—with his eyes [now] inert [and now] rolling
unsteadily all about—he has not yet regained his composure!
Tamasā, observing [Sītā], with affection—
With a thrill of joy over her moist and tremulous body, my dear
child [Sītā] has, at her dear Lord's touch, become like a branch
of kadamba, blooming with buds as when washed by early
showers and shaken by [gentle] breezes. 43
Sītā, to herself—Why! For this loss of self-control I have really been put to
shame by the honoured Tamasā! What indeed will she think [of me but
this]?—Such [was] thy abandonment and such [is] thy [persistent]
attachment!
Rāma, looking all about [him]—Alas! Is she then really not there? ²
Why, I say, thou pitiless daughter of the King of Videha!
Sītā—Pitiless I certainly must be, in that, seeing thee in this thy plight,
I yet continue to live.
Rāma—Where then art thou, Queen? Take pity on me! Do not, I beg,
abandon me in this plight!
Sītā—Why, noble my Lord! Quite otherwise stand the facts! ³
Vāsantī—Please, Sire, with your own proper all-transcendent courage, do, I
beg you, restrain-and-compose yourself; your self-deception has gone beyond
all bounds. How, [how] could my dear friend [Sītā] have been here?
Rāma—Clearly then she is not here; otherwise how could even Vāsantī
have failed to see her? Can this then have been a dream? But I was
not dreaming; for, sleep has fled [long] away from Rāma! Undoubtedly
then this must be that almighty Self-deception which was induced by my
repeated meditations [upon her] and which persistently clings to me.
Sītā—'Tis I then, the ruthless one, that have caused his deception!
Vāsantī—Behold, Sire!
Broken to pieces by Jaṭāyus, here is the iron-chariot of the grand-
son of Pulastya [Rāvaṇa]. Behold these, in front [of the chariot],
the bony remains of the goblin-faced donkeys.⁴ Here on this
side are the wings of Jaṭāyu clipped off by [Rāvaṇa's] sword.
¹ When the hands of lovers meet, perspira- ² Cp. page 47, note 2.
tion at the finger-tips is one of the signs ³ It is you that have abandoned me.
of their love—such is the poetic con- ⁴ Yoked to Rāvaṇa's chariot.
vention.

57] Act III, The Shadow — Translation [—iii. 46⁶
From here the enemy [Rāvaṇa], lifting up Sītā all blazing [with
ire], the enemy—even like a [black] rain-cloud gleaming (antaḥ)
with the tremulous flashes of lightning—rose up into the sky. 44
Sītā, in alarm—Noble my Lord! Our father [Jaṭāyu] is being killed—
And he is carrying me too away! Save me!
Rāma, swiftly rising—You wretch, you robber of father [Jaṭāyu's] life
Where will you escape?
Vāsantī—Why, King! You [are] the fire that has consumed the race of
Demons: can there still exist any object for your [avenging] wrath?
Sītā—Forsooth! I came near losing [all] my wits!
Rāma—Much to the purpose indeed are these my [useless] rantings now!
Remedies being available, through the exploits of heroes it [that
earlier separation] became [for them] a source of constant and
engrossing occupation, and for the world a theme for its wondering
admiration: such was my [earlier] separation from my fair-eyed
[Sītā]; and it did indeed come to an end with the slaying of my
enemy [Rāvaṇa]: but how am I to endure, all in silence, this
[my present separation,] which has no remedies and knows no
end? 45
Sītā—Knows no end?—then alas for me!
Rāma—Woe and alas!
Where even my friendship with the mighty King of the Monkeys
[Sugrīva] avails not—where [equally] unavailing is the valour
of the Monkeys themselves as well as the talents of even a
Jāmbavant¹—where even the son of the Wind [Māruti] is denied
access, and where even Nala,² the son of the Architect of the
universe, is unable to construct a path—where even the arrows
of the son of Sumitrā [Lakshmaṇa] cannot penetrate: in what
region then [so inaccessible] art thou, my dearest? 46
Sītā—So [a time has come when] I must prize more highly my earlier
separation!
Rāma—Dear Vāsantī, nothing but grief can the sight of Rāma now bring
to his friends. How long then must I keep you weeping? Permit me to
go, therefore.
Sītā, leaning upon Tamasā in agony and dejection—Honoured Tamasā!
[Look!] My noble Lord is going away!
Tamasā—Compose thyself, child, compose thyself. Let us then, likewise,
¹ Did signal service to Rāma first during the ² Constructed the bridge between India and
expedition in search of Sītā, and later in Laṅkā (Ceylon).
the war at Laṅkā.
8 [H.O.S. 21]

iii. 46⁶—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [58
repair to the exalted Bhāgīrathī and [there] perform the auspicious birth-
day (varsha-vardhana) rites of the long-lived ones, [our] Kuśa and Lava.
Sītā—Pray, honoured [Tamasā], permit me, just for a moment [longer], to
see him [a sight of whom must be] so rare [hereafter].
Rāma—Furthermore, there is, to participate in the sacred rites of the
horse-sacrifice,—
Sītā, with trepidation—Who, my noble Lord?
Rāma—A golden image of Sītā :—
Sītā, with a sigh [of relief]—Now art thou indeed he—my noble Lord!
Ha! Now has my noble Lord plucked out [from my heart] that [rankling]
dart of abandonment and disgrace!
Rāma—And with the sight of it [the image] I shall now for my tear-
dimmed eyes seek solace.
Sītā—Blessed is that [image] which is so highly esteemed by my noble
Lord and which, affording solace to my noble Lord, has become the stay
for [all] the hopes of this living world!
Tamasā, embracing [Sītā] with a sad and affectionate smile—Don’t you
see, my child, that this amounts to praising thy own self?
Sītā, looking down abashed, to herself—I have brought honoured Tamasā’s
smile upon me!
Vāsantī—This your visit has indeed been a great favour for us. As for
your going, be it so that no neglect of duty may ensue.
Sītā—This time [for once] Vāsantī is acting against my interests.
Tamasā—Come, child, let us go:
Sītā, reluctantly—We might—might do so.
Tamasā—Or rather, how canst thou move from hence, as long as, of thy
eyes—
As if riveted upon thy dear Lord and wide open in eagerness—
[of thy eyes] the withdrawal [from their object] has not yet
been completed—[a withdrawal] that is sure to (para) tear thy
vitals? 47
Sītā—Homage unto my noble Lord’s lotus-feet, this sight of which some
exceptional merit [of mine] has vouchsafed me. Goes off in a swoon.
Tamasā—Take comfort, my child! Be of good cheer.
Sītā, recovering—Yes: for, how long¹ may it be that amidst enveloping
clouds one can win a glimpse of the full moon?
Tamasā—How marvellous has been the course of events!²
¹ Not very long: so I must be content with
this short visit.
² Or, the arrangement of incidents. The author is here doing the very thing for
which, a while ago, he blamed Sītā: in-
directly praising himself!

59] Act III, The Shadow — Translation [—iii. 49¹
[All through] it is the one sole sentiment of Pathos that, by
a diversity of causes [and attending circumstances], has become
diverse and assumed distinct manifestations; just as water assumes
eddies and bubbles and billows and other manifestations, whereas
it is all [in reality] nothing but mere water. 48
Rāma—This way, my best of aerial cars!
All rise.
Tamasā and Vāsantī, to Sītā and Rāma [respectively]—
May the Earth and the River of the Immortals [Ganges], together
with those like us¹—may the revered Preceptor [Vālmīki] who
is the Father of metrical compositions—may also sage Vasishṭha
along with Arundhatī: may [all] these bestow blessings upon you,
conducive to your eternal welfare! 49
Exeunt all.
END OF ACT III
CALLED
THE SHADOW.
¹ I. e. Rivers and sylvan deities respectively. Regarding this joint speech, see Notes.

ACT IV
Then enter two ascetic [boys].
First [boy]—Saudhātaki, just look at the beauty of this hermitage of the
exalted Vālmīki, wherein to-day, by reason of the arrival of a great crowd
of guests, some elaborate preparations are on foot. For—
The scum of boiled rice (nīvāra) that was left over after his mate,
[the doe]—that has just brought forth young—had partaken of it,
[that scum,] warm and savoury, this deer from [our] penance-
grove is [now] sipping to his heart’s content. Slightly blended
with the diffusing odour of boiled rice mixed with ghee, the
fragrance of vegetables cooking, as well as of karkandhū fruit, is
spreading everywhere. 1
Saudhātaki—Welcome, special welcome unto these harbingers of holiday—
unto these [reverend] grey-beards!
First [boy], with a laugh—Extraordinary indeed, O Saudhātaki, is the
motive that inspires this your reverence for the gurus!
Saudhātaki—I say, Bhāṇḍāyana, what now is the name of the chief leader
of this huge train of females—of this guest that has come?
Bhāṇḍāyana—Fie! No joking here! For, don’t you see it is the exalted
Vasishṭha come from Ṛishyaśṛiṅga’s hermitage, escorting the [late] King
Daśaratha’s wives who have come hither following the lead of Arundhatī?
Why do you then talk this foolish way?
Saudhātaki—Indeed! Vasishṭha?
Bhāṇḍāyana—Why, yes.
Saudhātaki—I for my part thought that he was a tiger, maybe a wolf!
Bhāṇḍāyana—What! what is it that you say?
Saudhātaki—Why, hardly had he come when that poor dear heifer of ours
he gobbled up with a swoop!
Bhāṇḍāyana—Out of deference to the Scriptures that prescribe meat as
a part of the welcome-offering (madhuparka), upon the arrival of a learned
Brahman [pious] householders offer him either a heifer or a bull or a goat.
And this same practice the authors of the Dharma-sūtras also enjoin.
Saudhātaki—There now, I have caught you!
Bhāṇḍāyana—How, pray?

61] Act IV, Kausalyā and Janaka — Translation [—iv. 3¹
Saudhātaki—For, when the holy Vasishṭha comes the heifer is slain;
whereas on the arrival, later this very day, of the royal sage Janaka, even
the exalted Vālmīki makes his welcome-offering merely with curds and
honey: the heifer is let off.
Bhāṇḍāyana—The former (evam) ritual is laid down by the sages for those
who have not abjured meat; whereas venerable Janaka has abjured meat.
Saudhātaki—And why?
Bhāṇḍāyana—Because as soon as he heard of that adverse turn which
Queen Sītā's fate had taken, he took up the life of an anchorite. And so it
is now some years since he has been practising penance in the penance-
grove [called] Chandra-dvīpa.¹
Saudhātaki—If so, why has he come here?
Bhāṇḍāyana—Merely to see the [exalted] son of Varuṇa, [Vālmīki,] his old
and intimate friend.
Saudhātaki—Has he then to-day met his relatives, or has he not?
Bhāṇḍāyana—It is only just now that the exalted Vasishṭha sent the
exalted Arundhatī unto the Queen[-mother] Kausalyā, bidding her to go in
person and meet the King of Videha [Janaka].
Saudhātaki—As these old folks have congregated together, so likewise let
us band our comrades together and—as is meet (sambhāvemha)—play in
celebration of this [great] holiday.
They walk about.
Bhāṇḍāyana—And this here is that discourser in Brahma, that ancient
royal sage, King Janaka, who, having paid his honours to Vālmīki and
Vasishṭha, is now reposing under the shade (mūla) of this tree outside the
hermitage: he who—
With Sītā's sorrow ever preying upon his heart, is burning [within
himself]; like unto an ancient tree invaded by some inwardly-
consuming fire. 2
Both go out.
END OF INTERLUDE.
Then enters Janaka.
Janaka—Kept alive (vishakta) by that great and intense and agonizing,
by that heart-rending calamity that fell upon my child [Sītā],
this my acute and incessantly flowing grief that grides my vitals
like a saw, even with this lapse of time it ceases not, as if it were
a recent [grief]! 3
Oh, woful luck, that while age and this overwhelming sorrow, and
¹ Lit. Moon-island.

iv. 3¹—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [62
furthermore, the [severe] penances of parāka,¹ sāntapana,² and so forth—
while all these are using up its substance and humours, this accursed body
of mine, bereft of its staying [tissues], even now it refuses to fall! Those
are the so-called Sunless regions enveloped in blind darkness; [and
they,] say the sages, are assigned [after death] unto the men who slay
themselves.³ Even after the lapse of so many years, these transports of
a grief that is as poignant as though it were fresh, and that, through my
continual broodings over it, is steadily gaining in vividness—[these
transports] know no abating. Alas, alas! O thou that didst spring from
the [very] altar of the [holy] sacrifice,-my Sītā, such has come to be the
lot of thy life that, for very shame, I cannot even cry aloud at will.
Alas, alas, [my] daughter!—
I remember—when thou wast yet a child—that little lotus-like
mouth with its capricious cryings and laughings, [that mouth]
blooming with the tips of a few tender and bud-like teeth, and
stammering over thy sweet and thoughtless prattle. 4
Exalted Earth! Thou certainly art excessively hard :
Thou and Fire and the Sages—[sage] Vasishṭha’s wife [Arundhatī]
and the [holy] Ganges—when ye all and when even the great guru
of Raghu’s family, the divine Sun himself, knew her greatness ;
when, as the [sacred] Word unto Learning, thou unto her didst
thyself give birth, and who was no less divine than [Learning
herself] : Of such a daughter wherefore then didst thou, O ruthless
one, permit that outrageous death ⁴ (viśasana) ? 5
[Voice,] behind the curtain—This way, your exalted Ladyship—This way,
my great Queen !
Janaka, looking—Oh, it is Grishṭi, showing the way to the exalted
Arundhatī. Rising. But whom now does he style great Queen ?
Observing. Alas ! Is she then no other than the wedded wife of the great
King Daśaratha—Kausalyā, my dear friend ? Who indeed can believe that
she is the same ?
In Daśaratha’s house she was like the Goddess of Wealth: or
rather, why say like? She was the Goddess of Wealth herself.
But woe and alas! Now, following the decree of Fate, she has
become like some strange and unfamiliar being, all made up of
grief : Alas for the outcome! 6

¹ A twelve-days’ fast.
² A modified form of fast in which only one variety of food—milk, curds, ghee, and so forth—is eaten every day.
³ Or, in Shakespeare’s words—‘O ... that the Everlasting had not fix’d His canon ’gainst self-slaughter !’
⁴ Nearly every one thinks that Sītā is dead. So Janaka here, and so Rāma at iii. 34.

63] Act IV, Kausalyā and Janaka — Translation [—iv. 10ᶜ
Here is another unhappy reversal of circumstances :
That very same person [Kausalyā] that, formerly, was unto me
like an embodiment of festal joy, the sight of her has now become
unendurable, like brine upon an [open] wound! 7
Then enter Arundhatī and Kausalyā and a chamberlain [Gṛishṭi].
Arundhatī—Why, I say, aren’t you directed by your family preceptor
[Vasishṭha] to go in person and see the King of Videha? It was for this
too that I am sent. What means then, at each step, this your extreme lack
of determination?
\ Chamberlain—Queen, compose yourself, I beg you, and follow the direction
of the exalted Vasishṭha.
Kausalyā—That in times like these I should have to see the Lord of
Mithilā [Janaka]—this makes my griefs well up all at once within me:
I am powerless to hold together my heart the roots of which are as if
loosening from their bonds.
Arundhatī—This, no doubt, is quite natural :
Although never [quite] ceasing to flow entirely, the sorrows of
men, caused by separations from dearest relatives, become, at the
sight of some very dear friend, altogether unendurable and as
if in thousands of floods they seem to gush forth. 8
Kausalyā—And how may we—when my dear daughter-in-law [Sītā] has
fared thus—[how may we] look upon the face of her father, the royal
sage?
Arundhatī—And here he is, your noble connexion and the sustainer
of the family of the Janakas—he whom sage Yājñavalkya has
initiated into¹ the knowledge of Brahma. 9
Kausalyā—And this is he who was a delight to the heart of my great King
[Daśaratha]—the father of my dear daughter-in-law [Sītā]—the royal sage.
Ha! I am put in mind of those times when every day brought forth many
an unbidden festivity. Alas, O Fate, that it should be no more!
Janaka, approaching—Exalted Arundhatī! This is Vaideha, the Sīra-
dhvaja,² making homage unto you.
In your company [your husband] regards himself as [more] holy,
although he is himself the store of holy light—your husband who,
of all the gurus of yore, is indeed the supreme guru; with my head
bowing low down to the earth I salute you, the exalted one, who
for the universe (trilokī) are the [very] fountain of its bliss
¹ Literally, to whom he has taught or solemnly ² Literally, one whose banner has the plough
set forth (jagau) the knowledge, as in the as an emblem.
Bṛihadāraṇyaka Upanishad.

iv. 10ᵈ—] Bhavabhūti — Uttara-Rāma-Charita [64
(māṅgalyā), and who are, like the divine Dawn, adorable to the
world. 10
Arundhatī—May, the Light Supreme shine within thee! And may He also
spread His holiness over thee (punātu), the Orb divine (deva) that blazes
from beyond darkness [and dispels it]!
Janaka—Worthy Gṛiṣhṭi, is it all well with this mother of that—that
Shepherd of the people?¹
Chamberlain, aside—Surely, he has reproved us quite bitterly. Aloud.
Royal sage! When, taking offence at this very thing, the Queen [Kausalyā]
has for so long a time declined the very sight of the moon-like face of her
dear [son] Rāma, it is unkind of you to add to the grief of her who is
already so much grieved. And as to our dear Rāma, it was a peculiar
stroke of his misfortune that his subjects should, as is well known (kila),
set agoing all around that foul calumny. And it was because those little
minds disbelieved the Fire-ordeal that he did that cruel deed.
Janaka—What! And who is this Fire that he should essay to purify our
daughter? Alas! Insulted as we already are by Rāmabhadra, here is
a fresh insult, when people begin to talk like that!
Arundhatī, heaving a sigh—Exactly so. To talk of fire—fire! in connexion
with Sītā is highly derogatory. Say merely ‘Sītā’ and all is said. Alas,
my dear girl,—
Thou art unto me a child, a pupil: be that as it may, the eminence
of thy virtue compels my devotion for thee. Let alone the fact
that thou art a child or a woman, thou art nevertheless adorable
to the worlds: for, it is virtue—amongst those that are virtuous—
that has a claim for respect, and not mere sex or age. 11
Kausalyā—Oh, I am bursting with my agonies! Faints.
Janaka—Alas! What is this?
Arundhatī—What else can it be, my Royal sage?
That King [Daśaratha]—that bliss—those dear children—those
[old] days—all this has flashed upon her memory at the sight of
thee, her friend. And so, in her present dreadful plight, don't
you see that this thy dear friend has really fainted? For, the
hearts of matrons are tender like a flower. 12
Janaka—Alas, alas! I have proved altogether too cruel here, in that I see
with rather unkindly eyes her whom I have met after such a long time,
this dear wife of my dear friend [Daśaratha].
A worthy connexion was he, a friend after my heart, my very
heart in fact; he was an embodiment of joy to me, he was the
¹ Said in bitter irony.

65] Act IV, Kausalyā and Janaka — Translation [—iv. 17ᶜ
whole purpose of my existence: my body, my soul, my whatever-
else-dearer-than-these-there-may-be—was there anything that
that great and illustrious King Daśaratha was not to me? 13
And is this, alas, that same Kausalyā?—
Between her and her Lord, in [the confidence of] privacy,
whatever occasion of displeasure there arose, it was to me that
the husband and the wife severally communicated their complaints;
and then, whether it was a case for forbearance or for anger, the
issue rested entirely with me. Away rather with these memories
that assail and consume my heart! 14
Arundhatī—Alas, alas! With this long suspension of breath her heart has
[almost] ceased to beat!
Janaka—Alas, my dear friend! Sprinkles [her] with water from his
_kamaṇḍalu._¹
Chamberlain—Having at first, like a delightful bosom-friend, mani-
fested unalloyed favours, Fate, terrible in the suddenness of its
reverses, is next intensifying [by contrast] the anguish of the
heart. 15
Kausalyā, regaining consciousness—Alas my child, Jānakī, where art thou?
I [still] remember thy face all suffused with the glory imparted to it by
thy [recent] marriage sacraments, [thy face] with that pure smile playing
upon it, and charming like a [full-blown] lotus. With limbs fair as the
light of the shining moon, once more, my darling, do thou grace my lap.
The great King [Daśaratha] would always say: "Of the mightier ancestors
of the race of Raghu she may be a daughter-in-law; to us, however—
such is our friendship for Janaka—she is just 'little daughter' [no more,
but no less]."
Chamberlain—It was, just as the Queen has said:
Although the King [Daśaratha] had five children, it was [Rāma]
the enemy of Subāhu² that was specially dear to him. So
likewise, among his four daughters-in-law, Sītā was as much
adored by him as was his own daughter, Śāntā. 16
Janaka—Oh, my dear friend, thou great King, Daśaratha! So indeed thou
art, in every way a delight to the heart: How canst thou be forgotten?
It is customary (kila) for the parents of the bride to pay court to
the kinsfolk of the son-in-law; but with our connexion [through
the marriage of Rāma and Sītā] all was reversed: it was me that
thou wast assiduous to please! Such as thou hast been, Time
¹ An ascetic's gourd. ² A demon who molested Viśvāmitra's sacri-
fice, and who was killed by Rāma.
9 [H.O.S. 21]