National Epics | Page 4

to Ayodhya.
When Dasaratha, who had attended the marriage of his son at Mithila,
returned home, he began to feel weary of reigning, and bethought
himself of the ancient Hindu custom of making the eldest son and heir
apparent a Yuva-Raja,--that is appointing him assistant king. Rama
deserved this honor, and would, moreover, be of great assistance to
him.

His happy people received the announcement of his intention with
delight; the priests approved of it as well, and the whole city was in the
midst of the most splendid preparations for the ceremony, when it
occurred to Dasaratha that all he lacked was the congratulations of his
youngest and favorite wife, Kaikeyi, on this great event. The
well-watered streets and the garlanded houses had already aroused the
suspicions of Kaikeyi,--suspicions speedily confirmed by the report of
her maid. Angered and jealous because the son of Kausalya and not her
darling Bharata, at that time absent from the city, was to be made
Yuva-Raja, she fled to the "Chamber of Sorrows," and was there found
by the old Raja.
Though Kaikeyi was his youngest and most beautiful wife, her tears,
threats, and entreaties would have been of no avail had she not recalled
that, months before, the old Raja, in gratitude for her devoted nursing
during his illness, had granted her two promises. She now demanded
the fulfilment of these before she would consent to smile upon him, and
the consent won, she required him, first, to appoint Bharata Yuva-Raja;
and, second, to exile Rama for fourteen years to the terrible forest of
Dandaka.
The promise of a Hindu, once given, cannot be revoked. In spite of the
grief of the old Raja, of Kausalya, his old wife, and of all the people,
who were at the point of revolt at the sudden disgrace of their favorite
prince, the terrible news was announced to Rama, and he declared
himself ready to go, to save his father from dishonor.
He purposed to go alone, but Sita would not suffer herself to be thus
deserted. Life without him, she pleaded, was worse than death; and so
eloquent was her grief at the thought of parting that she was at last
permitted to don the rough garment of bark provided by the malicious
Kaikeyi.
The people of Ayodhya, determined to share the fate of their favorites,
accompanied them from the city, their tears laying the dust raised by
Rama's chariot wheels. But when sleep overcame them, Rama, Sita,
and Lakshmana escaped from them, dismissed their charioteer, and,
crossing the Ganges, made their way to the mountain of Citra-kuta,
where they took up their abode.
No more beautiful place could be imagined. Flowers of every kind,
delicious fruits, and on every side the most pleasing prospects, together

with perfect love, made their hermitage a paradise on earth. Here the
exiles led an idyllic existence until sought out by Bharata, who,
learning from his mother on his return home the ruin she had wrought
in the Raj, had indignantly spurned her, and hastened to Dandaka. The
old Raja had died from grief soon after the departure of the exiles, and
Bharata now demanded that Rama should return to Ayodhya and
become Raja, as was his right, as eldest son.
When Rama refused to do this until the end of his fourteen years of
exile, Bharata vowed that for fourteen years he would wear the garb of
a devotee and live outside the city, committing the management of the
Raj to a pair of golden sandals which he took from Rama's feet. All the
affairs of state would be transacted under the authority of the sandals,
and Bharata, while ruling the Raj, would pay homage to them.
Soon after the departure of Bharata the exiles were warned to depart
from their home on Citra-kuta and seek a safer hermitage, for terrible
rakshasas filled this part of the forest. They accordingly sought the
abode of Atri the hermit, whose wife Anasuya was so pleased with
Sita's piety and devotion to her husband that she bestowed upon her the
crown of immortal youth and beauty. They soon found a new abode in
the forest of Pancarati, on the banks of the river Godavari, where
Lakshmana erected a spacious bamboo house.
Their happiness in this elysian spot was destined to be short-lived. Near
them dwelt a horrible rakshasa, Surpanakha by name, who fell in love
with Rama. When she found that he did not admire the beautiful form
she assumed to win him, and that both he and Lakshmana laughed at
her advances, she attempted to destroy Sita, only to receive in the
attempt a disfiguring wound from the watchful Lakshmana. Desiring
revenge for her disfigured countenance and her scorned love, she
hastened to the court of her brother Ravana, in Ceylon,