Chapter 81 — The Word Kept

From the northern bank, Lakshmana saw Sita disappear among the dwellings of Valmiki's hermitage. The sight gave him no relief. He sat in Sumantra's chariot with grief tightening around him and spoke of what they had left behind.

“Look at Rama's sorrow,” he said to the charioteer. “What sorrow can be greater than this—to abandon Janaka's daughter, who has lived without blame? The words of the people have brought a cruel thing upon her. What dharma, what honorable course, can be found in an act that destroys a man's good name in this way?”

Sumantra did not deny the pain in Lakshmana's words. He folded his hands.

“Do not grieve for Sita alone, Lakshmana,” he said. “Long ago, in your father's presence, sages foresaw a hard future for Rama. The king commanded that what I heard not be spoken openly—not to you, not to Bharata. But I cannot keep silent before your grief.”

He told Lakshmana of a visit Dasharatha had once made to Vashishta's sacred hermitage. Durvasa, the severe rishi who was Atri's son, had been staying there. Dasharatha had asked how long his line would endure: how long Rama and his brothers would live, and what future awaited Rama's sons.

Durvasa had answered that Rama would rule Ayodhya for a very long time, and that his brothers would prosper. Yet he also said that, in a time and for a cause not fully explained there, Rama would abandon Sita and later his brothers as well. After a vast reign, marked by great horse sacrifices and the placing of many descendants in royal lines, Rama would go to Brahma's world.

Sumantra repeated the prophecy as something heard and guarded, not as a word that made the present deed less grievous. Fate, he said, was difficult to overcome. Lakshmana listened, and the burden on him did not disappear; but he asked Sumantra to go on. By sunset they had reached the Gomati and spent the night beside it.

In the morning Lakshmana continued to Ayodhya. Before he entered Rama's palace he wondered what words could possibly answer the question waiting inside. He found Rama seated on the high throne, his eyes still full of tears.

Lakshmana fell at his brother's feet.

“I have carried out your command,” he said. “I left Janaka's daughter at the Ganga-bank hermitage of Valmiki, as you directed. I have returned to stand at your feet again. Do not surrender to grief, Rama. Time moves in ways we cannot master. Every gathering ends in dispersal; every height in decline; every life in death. You have the strength to govern your own mind. Do not let this sorrow master you.”

Rama looked at him with affection. “It is as you say, Lakshmana. Your words have steadied me. You have carried out my command, and you have spoken to me as a friend.”

At that moment Sumantra entered with another message. More than a hundred ascetics from the banks of the Yamuna were waiting at the palace gate. They had come under the leadership of Chyavana, a rishi of the Bhargava line, and they wished urgently to see the king.