Dasharatha's anguish and Kausalya's lament over Rama's exile unfold in this poignant Ramayana excerpt, exploring grief, dharma, and parental love amid royal turmoil. 

Dasharatha's Distress and Appeal to Kausalya (Shlokas 2.62.1 - 2.62.7)

King Dasharatha, having heard the harsh words of the angry and sorrow-stricken Kausalya (Rama's mother), fell into deep distress. His mind reeled, and he lost consciousness, his senses bewildered by the weight of his anguish. After a long while, the king, known as a tormentor of enemies, regained his senses.

As consciousness returned, Dasharatha heaved deep, hot sighs. Seeing Kausalya by his side, he once again sank into a state of profound anxiety. While reflecting, a memory of a sinful act he had inadvertently committed long ago flashed in his mind. It was the act of discharging an arrow guided by sound alone, a skill he had mastered but used without full knowledge of its consequences.

The great king's heart was now broken by two sorrows: the grief of that past misdeed and the pain of Rama's separation. These twin sorrows consumed him, filling him with deep regret. Afflicted by this double anguish, the king trembled. With his head bowed low and palms folded in supplication, he addressed Kausalya, seeking to appease her:

"O Kausalya, I beseech you with folded hands. Please be merciful. You have always been affectionate and kind, even towards your enemies. For women who uphold righteousness, a husband - whether virtuous or flawed - is like a visible god. You, O Devi (goddess), have always adhered to dharma (righteousness) and have seen both the highs and lows of this world. Although you are grieved, it does not befit you to speak harsh words to one who is weighed down with even greater sorrow."

Kausalya's Response and Reflections on Dharma (Shlokas 2.62.8 - 2.62.14)

Upon hearing the king's pitiable words, Kausalya, overcome with emotion, began to shed tears like a water channel discharging fresh rainwater. With trembling hands, she raised her palms, folded like a lotus, to her head. Charged with emotion and speaking with stumbling syllables, she addressed the king:

"O lord, I beseech you to be pleased with me. I have fallen at your feet, bowing my head to the earth. By your act of entreating me, I have been deeply moved. I am unworthy of your pardon."

Kausalya then reflected on the nature of dharma (righteousness) and the role of women:

"A woman who needs to be appeased by her praiseworthy and sagacious husband does not truly belong in either this world or the next. O knower of dharma, I understand the path of righteousness, and I know you to be truthful. It was only the overwhelming grief for my son that caused me to speak so improperly."

She continued, expounding on the destructive nature of grief:

"Grief destroys patience, grief destroys knowledge of the scriptures, grief destroys everything. There is no enemy equal to grief. One can endure an unexpected blow from an enemy's hand, but to endure unexpected grief, however slight it may be, is impossible."

Kausalya then spoke of how even the wisest can be overcome by sorrow:

"O heroic one, even learned ascetics who are well-versed in ethics and scriptures, and who are free from doubts regarding dharma and artha (righteousness and worldly pursuits), become deluded when their senses are overwhelmed with grief."

Finally, she expressed the depth of her own suffering:

"This is but the fifth night of Rama's exile, yet to me, whose joy has been destroyed by sorrow, it feels like five years have passed."

Kausalya's Grief Intensifies as Night Falls (Shlokas 2.62.15 - 2.62.21)

Kausalya continued to express the overwhelming nature of her sorrow:

"As I think of Rama, the sadness in my heart swells like the ocean rising with rushing rivers. This grief grows ever stronger, consuming my thoughts and emotions."

As Kausalya spoke these heart-touching words, the natural world seemed to mirror her sorrow. The rays of the sun began to fade, and night slowly settled in, as if nature itself was responding to the queen's lament.

The grieving mother then reflected on the passage of time in her state of anguish:

"Though only five nights have passed since Rama's departure for the forest, to me, whose joy has been utterly destroyed by sorrow, it feels as if five years have elapsed."

Kausalya's words, filled with both anguish and wisdom, had a profound effect on King Dasharatha. Consoled by her speech, yet still overcome with his own grief, the king gradually succumbed to exhaustion. As the night deepened, Dasharatha fell under the influence of sleep, his consciousness finally finding temporary respite from the torment of his waking thoughts.

Thus concludes the sixty-second sarga in Ayodhyakanda of the holy Ramayana, the first epic composed by the sage Valmiki. This section vividly portrays the depth of parental love and the devastating impact of separation, while also exploring the nature of dharma and the all-consuming power of grief.

This concludes the Sixty Second chapter (sarga) of Ayodhyakanda, the second book of the Ramayana, the great epic composed by the sage Valmiki.