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From deep within my soul, I thank you.”
He placed his hand on Rama’s feet and touched his hand to his forehead. For several long moments, no one spoke. Ananda was overcome with emotion, and both Sita and Rama held still, giving him time to release his sorrow. When Ananda’s emotions were contained, Rama said, “Your mother is free now. She was reborn into purity and glowed like the sun.
Your esteemed father embraced her with such affection that my own longing for love arose.”
He looked at Sita, and she looked at him.
Ananda dried his last tears and folded his hands at his chest. “It is my great honor to be Sita’s servant, and I will continue to serve you both.”
“Will you return to Ayodhya with me?” Sita asked.
Ananda nodded once. The timeless young sage bowed, and Rama saw Ahalya’s grace in him. As Ananda left, Rama recounted Ahalya’s release from the stone to Sita. Remembering that moment, Rama became quiet and full of thought. It was easy to be himself around Sita. There had been no time for Rama to consider the feelings he had experienced when he freed Ahalya. Her son’s gratitude had brought it back to him, and the empowering feelings reverberated within Rama.
“I cannot explain how I melted the stone,” he told Sita, “but my feelings were so potent, I could not contain them within my physical frame. They emanated spontaneously from me, embracing the anguished Ahalya. I felt that each soul in the world was as near and dear to me as my own mother, brother, and father.”
“As your name suggests, Rama, you are capable of pleasing by your presence alone. It appears that your capacity to take action is far vaster.”
Rama appreciated that Sita did not make light of his experience, as perhaps Lakshmana or his brothers would have. There was a tragic solemnity in Sita’s being that made him feel that the impossible was possible.
The next day, Rama expected a messenger from Ayodhya to arrive with Father’s response, but he could not resist meeting Sita at the lotus pond as usual. What if this was his last day with her? King Dasharatha might object to the alliance. Rama knew that a prince was not always free to marry the one of his heart. The kingdom and its welfare came first.
Any other day and any other time, Rama would have heard the tumult in the streets of Mithila as the gates opened and the royal entourage from Ayodhya entered. But his mind was elsewhere. It was hardly present on Earth at all. It was on Sita’s sparkling eyes, the breeze caught in her hair, the energy emanating from her soul. But when Rama heard his father’s voice, he returned to the present. His heart skipped a beat; Father had personally come! He hadn’t sent an envoy with an answer. This meant he approved, did it not?
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Rama wanted to run to his father, but his feet were heavy. He was frightened of his father’s decision; the feeling held his insides in a terrible grip. He had to speak to Dasharatha and make him see how important his blessings were. If Father said no, Rama would face an unprecedented situation, one wherein his and his father’s wills diverged. It had not occurred before, but Rama knew that his duty as a son took precedent. Sita could be his only if Father said so.
Rama forced energy into his feet. His eyes lingered on Sita. He withheld his distress from her and said, “Wait here. I will bring my father to meet you.”
Rama sprinted to meet his father on the garden path. Seeing Rama approach, King Dasharatha stopped and held out his hands to his son. The attendant from Mithila escorting him stepped aside. Father was regal, with strong arms and broad shoulders. The furrows lining his face and his silver hair gave him authority. Rama, who was now of height with his father, looked directly into his father’s piercing eyes and then took his father’s hands. The fragrant scent of sandalwood clung to his father. Rama bent down and touched the king’s feet. Father was alone, save his two guards standing at a distance.
“Father,” Rama began. “Please come with me. I must have a word with you in private.”
Rama led his father away from where Sita waited.
Standing under a flowering tree, Rama spoke. “Something has happened to me, Father.
I cannot explain it. I don’t understand it. It’s in here.” Rama pointed to his heart. “I suddenly feel like I never truly existed before I met Sita.”
Rama laughed. He knew it must sound crazy. “When I asked to join the contest, I followed a clear instinct. I didn’t know if I could master the bow. But I wanted to lift it. I wanted to win her hand. I wanted to protect her. But Father”—Rama’s voice became urgent—“I cannot marry her without your blessing, you know that. I’m so relieved that you are finally here.”
Quickly Rama embraced his father and then steeled himself for his father’s words.
When his father simply stood back and beheld him, Rama’s foolish actions dawned on him. He had not inquired about his father’s well-being or his mothers. He had not asked if King Janaka and Father had met. He had not asked about his brothers. His actions said that he cared only for himself and Sita. Lakshmana might never forgive him for being so self-absorbed.
Rama took a deep breath and waited. Father said, “I can see that you are quite taken with the princess of Mithila. But are you prepared to accept my decision if I say no?”
Rama swallowed hard but nodded. The grip in his gut grew tighter.
“You depend so completely on my judgment?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Very well. Your trust in me increases my trust in you. Allow me to meet her.”
Unbearably tense, Rama led his father through the garden. In his heart, he could not imagine anyone objecting to Sita. She was so divine. But Rama had remained cautious in his expression of love; he could not take for granted that she would be his.
Sita was not on the cushioned seat in the pavilion where Rama had left her. She sat on the grass surrounded by a flock of animals: a peacock, two deer, several monkeys, and hares.
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Where had they all come from suddenly? Each of them was fawning around Sita: the peacock danced, the deer licked her face, and the monkeys chirped in her ears.
Rama went to her side at once; he could not help himself. The animals scattered.
Sita stood up, letting go of a little hare in her hand.
Together they turned to Father. King Dasharatha looked awestruck.
“You did not tell me, Rama,” he said, “that your bride was not a girl at all but a goddess!”
Rama looked at Sita.
“I have heard Vasishta and King Janaka say,” Dasharatha said, “that you are the daughter of the Great Mother. The words meant little to me before this moment. Sita, I think you are the dream of Earth come true, just as Rama is mine. I have never met someone so young with such ancient wisdom in her being.”
He placed his hand over his heart and looked at Sita with his fullest smile. Rama’s tension melted away like frost under the sun.
“I see my son’s awe of you, Sita. Well chosen, my son. May every god and goddess bless your union. My warmest blessings are with you now and forever.”
Rama’s face split into a grin so wide, Dasharatha couldn’t help but match it.
Having received his father’s blessing, Rama had eyes only for Sita. Respectful of their elders, neither of them showed their impatience. But Father knew Rama well. He backed away, signaling for Rama to stay. “Your mothers and brothers are all here. Come see us.”
Rama reached for Sita’s hand. Their fingers entwined. He did not place his lips on hers, for just feeling her slender palm in his hand created an unbearable ecstasy. He drew her close, speaking the words of love that were in his heart.
After some time, Rama became mindful of his duties as a son and brother. He bid Sita’s leave and went in search of his mothers and brothers. The reunion with his family was joyful. All his mothers took turns kissing him, and he was glad that Sita was not there to see him so coddled. Though his mind was on his bride, Rama still relished sharing his adventures, the slaying of Tataka and freeing of Ahalya. Lakshmana filled in many details and kept his arm slung over Rama’s shoulder. Rama had been missed.
As the brothers were in the midst of detailing the mantra missiles they had received, King Dasharatha joined them. The family imperceptibly split in half. Father sat down with Kaikeyi, and the two other queens retreated to another seat. The boys stood in the middle of this rift; perhaps only Rama noticed.
Father made a surprising announcement. The two kings and their ministers had come to an agreement: Lakshmana would marry Janaka’s younger daughter, Urmila. Bharata and Shatrugna would marry Sita’s cousins, Mandavi and Shrutakirti. Rama watched Lakshmana’s face turn flaming red and understood that Urmila had not gone unnoticed. Soon after, Rama’s brothers met their prospective brides and all agreed to the matches. With unanimous agreement on all sides, the quadruple marriage took place three days later at an hour known as Vijay, “Victory.”
The four couples underwent all the marriage rituals and were adorned with sparkling gems, costly silks, and garlands of jasmine, rose, and lotus blooms. First the couples 355
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exchanged garlands, which in some circles was a marriage rite in itself. Here, it was one of many steps.
When Sita placed the marriage garland around Rama’s neck, he took her hand and faced their elders. “I vow to marry only one woman in this lifetime. Sita is my heart and soul. No one will take her place in my life or in my heart.”
Sita’s eyes began to shine with bright tears. A mist of rain settled on them. Warm applause greeted Rama’s vow. Rain on a wedding day was an auspicious sign. The fires were lit, and Shatananda, son of Gautama and Ahalya, presided over the ceremony. As the royal couples walked around the sacred fire with clasped hands, the fire blazed in approval.
When the ceremony concluded, Rama sought Vishvamitra, touching his feet first among the witnesses. Rama was filled with gratitude. “You had the foresight to bring me to the contest, holy one. You have taught me many valuable lessons. I will not fail to remember you when I invoke the missiles you transmitted to me. I will not fail to remember you when I wake in the mornings and see Sita by my side.”
“That is not necessary, my dear boy.” Vishvamitra’s matted locks swayed as he shook his head. He was perhaps the only one dressed starkly in his usual bark cloth. “The honor of being your mentor these few days has been greater than you can imagine.”
Vishvamitra blessed the newlyweds and then turned away with his characteristic forcefulness, departing to the Himalayas, the great mountain peaks of the north.
Sita and Rama touched the feet of all the elders, and the three other couples followed. A sumptuous feast was served, and Rama’s new life as Sita’s beloved began.
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chapter 41
Sita’s Secret
ita had impeccable training and knew the etiquette required of a princess.
SAyodhya was not so different from Mithila in its customs. Each day was laid out meticulously. The royal family began their day at the golden altars in prayer and worship. This was a familiar and soothing place to Sita. The altars in Videha were not as golden and grand, but the same deities were worshipped. Sita knew what to do and how to behave, and Kausalya’s gentle guidance settled the new brides into routines they understood well.
Sita observed quickly, however, that Kaikeyi never attended the morning prayers.
She alone was absent from the royal family. Even Bharata and Mandavi were in attendance. This puzzled Sita, and as she was leaving the golden altars, she took hold of Urmila’s hand and whispered her observation. Urmila always had her pulse on what was going on.
Sure enough, Urmila said, “She goes riding every morning and every evening.
She has boldly declared this to be the tradition in Kekaya and insisted on maintaining it, even here.”
The admiration shone in Urmila’s eyes. She clearly longed to be bold like Kaikeyi.
Sita had to admit that she too was impressed. It was not common for a woman to defy the norms.
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“Of course, some say,” Urmila said, lowering her voice, “that Queen Kausalya refused the younger queen entry, insisting she had to bathe first, since she stank like a horse. Understandably, Queen Kaikeyi never set foot here again.”
Now this was some rich servant’s gossip.
“How come they never tell me these things?” Sita asked, feeling slightly outraged.
Before Urmila could utter her smart reply, the sisters were pulled apart, swept away for their daily duties. Rani, the head maid assigned to Sita’s palace, had a list ready of various tasks that needed Sita’s attention. Rani was expert in the matters of the palace and came highly recommended by Queen Kausalya. Sita had liked her instantly; she was a tiny woman with boundless energy and authority. Rani took Padmini under her wing at once, for which Sita was doubly grateful. Sita had noted other servants looking at Rani with a mixture of awe and something else, another thing Urmila would probably know the reason for.
Each of the newlyweds had received an entire palace of their own. Sita’s new home had a courtyard with a lotus pond. There were so many rooms and hallways, Sita still was not familiar with them all. Each chamber contained gifts from all over Ayodhya: bolts of silk fabric, brass statues of the gods, vases and lamps, artisan cushions, and clay sculp-tures and pots painted with intricate designs. On top of this, Sita’s father had given her and Urmila immense wealth to bring with them, not to mention horses, cows, elephants, and maidservants.
Padmini took charge of arranging the clothing, jewelry, and bolts of fabric in the dressing room with its large mirrors. This was where Sita dressed in the mornings, a procedure that took well over two hours. After one of the maids oiled her limbs, she soaked in the bath scented with Sita’s favorite fragrances: earthy khus and sandalwood, Rama’s fragrances.
They had become her favorite after she met him. Once her hair was washed, combed, and oiled, she sat before the large mirrors and was adorned from head to toe in fine silks, jewels, and fresh flowers. It was like creating a piece of art every day, and Sita knew that the women of the palace scrutinized each other, hopefully with admiration. All this was not new to Sita, but she found that a married princess was more highly adorned than an unmarried one. She appreciated now the time it took to look so elegant. Sita understood that Queen Kausalya had to rise very early each morning in order to look the way she did in time to oversee the morning rituals.
Sita and Rama’s home quickly became a gathering place for Rama’s friends and even his brothers, despite having palaces of their own. There was always someone who wanted a word with Rama, and he was generous with his time. Hence, they were surrounded at all times by friends and well-wishers. In being mistress of her own palace, Sita had her hands full. She had to make sure that all the dancers, singers, and other servants were fed and satisfied and doing their assigned duties. She quickly learned their names and identified those she could rely on to carry out the various household tasks. Kausalya helped her the first many days, but returned to her own duties the moment Sita understood what needed to be done. The life of a wedded princess was full indeed. Sita was both overwhelmed and pleased 358
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by the responsibilities expected of her. In the evening especially, the four brothers gathered for an evening of games, entertainment, debates, and sumptuous food.
These gatherings helped Sita get to know Rama’s brothers. Bharata was the easiest to understand and gain liking toward, for he was very similar to Rama in his manners and disposition. Sita felt that she could ask him anything and receive a thoughtful and kind response.
Shatrugna made her laugh, and so did Lakshmana. But Lakshmana was unpredictable, and sometimes laughed at things she said that were not a jest. She could not quite understand him and felt wary of provoking his temper. One thing was clear, Lakshmana spoke his mind and declared his opinions. He was not arrogant, however, and was always quick to accept his mistake if he made one. He was perfect for Urmila, who had just such a temperament of her own, and took pleasure in verbally sparring with her beloved. Sita sometimes had to cover her whole face with her hands when she saw Urmila’s and Lakshmana’s debates escalate. It was only when laughter erupted on both sides that Sita could breathe easily.
Sita thanked the thirty gods that Rama was who he was, the perfect match for her. She told him so every day, and he never tired of hearing those words from her. Truly, it was the most sublime, passionate, and blessed time in Sita’s life.
One evening, only a few weeks after their arrival, Urmila came storming in, eyes shining with excitement. “She is riding in the ring next to here. Want to go see?”
There was no need to say whom Urmila meant, for she was endlessly fascinated by Queen Kaikeyi. Also, there was no other “she” who rode at all.
Sita glanced at Rama, who was engaged in a lengthy debate with his brothers regarding a political point. Lakshmana disagreed loudly. Rama disagreed quietly. Both were unyielding.
Sita left a message with Padmini, saying where she had gone, and slipped away quietly with Urmila. Her sister led her forward, rushing down the hallways. Servants and guards bowed as they passed by.
The sisters stopped on the balcony overlooking the nearby field, fenced in with golden posts. Only royalty could use this area, and until now, Sita had seen only the four princes ride here.
“There she is!” Urmila pointed at the rider, whose hair was flying behind her like a dark cape. Sita saw Kaikeyi riding in furious circles, wreaking a dust storm in her wake. Sita and Urmila leaned over the balcony, following every move Kaikeyi made. For several minutes, the princesses merely watched as Kaikeyi demonstrated not just her skills on horseback but her penchant for tricks. She could slide down under the horse and come up on the other side without stopping the horse’s gallop. She could stand on the horse’s back while it flew forward. Urmila informed Sita that Kaikeyi could do all this and wield weapons at the same time. Sita held her breath as the queen did yet another acrobatic trick.
