Dasaratha's Past Unfolds to Kausalya
Ayodhyakanda - Sarga 63
Discover Agile, Tech, and Compelling Stories
Ayodhyakanda - Sarga 63
King Dasaratha's tragic tale of youthful folly unfolds as he recounts to Queen Kausalya how his actions led to the death of a young sage and Rama's exile.
King Dasaratha awoke suddenly, his mind overcome with sorrow. As consciousness returned, worry began to consume him once more. The banishment of Rama and Lakshmana affected Dasaratha like Indra.
After Rama had departed with his wife, the king of Kosala (Dasaratha) recalled an evil deed from his past. He wished to speak of it to Kausalya. It was the sixth night since Rama's banishment to the forest, and in the middle of the night, Dasaratha remembered the misdeed he had committed long ago.
The king reflected on his past action. He turned to Kausalya, who was grieving helplessly due to the separation from her son, and began to speak.
Dasaratha addressed Kausalya:
"O auspicious lady, o gentle lady, whatever good or evil action a person performs, they will attain the result of that action.
One who does not understand the relative value or fault of actions at their beginning is considered a child.
If someone cuts down mango trees and waters palasa (a type of tree) trees, seeing only flowers while expecting fruit, he will repent when the fruits are to be borne.
Whoever runs after action alone, without knowing its fruit, will regret at the time of reaping the fruits of action, like one who waters kimsuka (another name for palasa) trees.
I have cut down mango trees and watered palasa trees. Now, in utter foolishness, I have banished Rama at the time of fruition and am regretting later."
Dasaratha continued:
"O Kausalya, in my youth, as an archer, I committed this sin. I was known as one who could shoot arrows aiming at the target by sound alone.
O Devi (Kausalya), this calamity has befallen me as a result of my own action, just as a boy consumes poison out of delusion.
As some other man might be deluded by palasa trees, in the same way, I did not realize the consequences of shooting the target following the direction of the sound."
Dasaratha continued his narration:
"O Devi, you were not married then. I was prince regent. At that time, the rainy season that inflames passion and pride had just set in.
The Sun, having sucked the waters of the earth and scorching the world with its rays, had entered the frightful southern quarter ranged by departed souls.
At that time, the heat subsided, glistening clouds appeared. The frogs, geese and peacocks began to rejoice.
The birds with their plumage moistened as if they had dipped in water reached with great difficulty the tops of the trees which were shaken by the wind and rain.
Engulfed by torrents of rain that continued to fall ceaselessly, the mountain visited by intoxicated antelopes looked like a mass of water.
Although pure, the rapidly flowing water from the mountains mixed with the minerals in the soil turned white and red in color and flowed like a serpent.
At the advent of the rainy season, the streams that were pure, mixed with red soil flowed red, deviating from their natural course."
Dasaratha continued:
"In that highly delightful season, wishing to go hunting, I, armed with bow and arrows, rode my chariot towards river Sarayu.
There, with no control over my senses, I hid in a lonely place with my bow in readiness intending to shoot a buffalo or an elephant or any other wild animal that might come to the spot for drinking water in the night.
Hiding and waiting there, following the sounds of animals I killed two animals that had reached the bank of the river.
Then at a place that was out of the range of my sight in darkness I heard the sound of a pitcher being filled with water which resembled the sound of an elephant.
Wishing to kill the elephant, I seized my arrow glowing like a venomous snake and aimed it towards the sound.
I discharged a sharp shaft like a venomous serpent. In the morning twilight I saw that the shaft had hit the vital part of the body of a forest dweller and his cry of 'Alas', was clearly heard as he fell in the water."
When the arrow hit him, a man's voice was heard saying:
"How can an arrow be discharged at a person like me who is an ascetic?
I have come to this lonely spot of the river to take water. Who has hit me with this arrow? What harm have I done to anyone?
Renouncing violence I live the life of an ascetic on forest produce. Why should anyone kill me with a weapon?
Who wants to kill me who lives like an ascetic with matted hair and wearing bark or the skin of an antelope? What harm have I done to him?
Whoever it is, he has committed only a mischievous and senseless act. This sin like a disciple sleeping on the bed of his preceptor none will approve of.
I do not regret so much about the loss of my own life as about my mother and father after I am dead.
So long I have been supporting this aged couple. After I am dead, how will they live?
My aged parents along with me are killed by a single arrow. Who is that malicious knave who has slain us?"
Dasaratha continued:
"On hearing the piteous voice the bow and arrow dropped from my (trembling) hands since I was keen on following the righteous path.
Having heard his pathetic lamentations at night, I was extremely frightened by the force of grief and stood bewildered.
With dissipated energy and intensely troubled mind, I reached the bank of river Sarayu and there I saw the ascetic lying struck by the arrow and with scattered locks of hair. The water pitcher was thrown away and his body smeared with blood and dust as he lay on the ground.
I was mentally stricken and frightened. He looked up as if burning me with the energy of his eyes. Then he uttered the words 'A cruel act'."
The ascetic spoke to Dasaratha:
"O king, you have struck me when I was trying to carry water to my parents. I am a forest-dweller. What harm have I done to you?
By striking at the vital part of my body with one arrow, you have killed both my aged and blind mother and father too.
How will the two who are frail, thirsty and blind wait for me for long controlling their thirst with great difficulty with the expectation (that I would fetch them water)?
My father does not know that I am lying on the ground. It is true that there is no reward either for asceticism or for scriptural knowledge.
What can my weak father who has no strength to walk do, even if he knows about it? Like a tree which cannot protect another which is being severed, he is helpless.
O scion of the Raghus (Dasaratha) Go at once and inform my father, lest in anger he should burn you like ignited fire consuming the forest.
O king, this footpath leads to my father's hermitage. Go and beg his forgiveness so that he may not curse you out of anger.
Gently remove the arrow from my body, O king. The sharp arrow is piercing deep into my vital just like the current of the river hits its elevated bank."
Dasaratha continued:
The thought of removing the arrow kept me pondering. If not removed, it will be painful, and if removed, he will die.
The son of the ascetic noticed my anguish and seeing me thus distressed, wretched and afflicted with sorrow, said:
Dasaratha continued:
Suffering from excruciating pain, sinking with his limbs twisting and writhing and plunging into death and destruction, with intense agony he uttered the following words with great difficulty:
"I am now calm. I bear my pain with patience. Remove the fear from your mind that you have committed a sin by slaying a brahmin.
O king Dasaratha, lord of the land, I am not a brahmin. Feel no sense of guilt in your mind. I was born of a sudra mother and a vaisya father."
While that ascetic struck by the arrow in the vital part of the body, trembling, turning and rolling on the ground writhing in pain spoke these words to me, I bent down and pulled out the arrow from his body. I was frightened when he looked up at me and gave up his life.
O gentle one (Kausalya), having seen him crying due to the pain caused by the wound in the vital part, sighing ceaselessly, drenched in water and lying on the bank of river Sarayu, I was greatly shaken.
This concludes the Sixty third chapter (sarga) of Ayodhyakanda, the second book of the Ramayana, the great epic composed by the sage Valmiki.