MANY MILLENNIA AGO...
DAKSHINAPATHA
On the left bank of river Gowthami, in Dandakaranya, sits a person in meditation. Trying to control his rage, he sees glimpses of an event that scarred his heart. With the force of a falling cascade, a tear emerges from his left eye. He wants the teardrop to wash away the weight of his heart. But does that happen so easily? The teardrop falls on his lap, quickly getting absorbed by his royal robe. He feels the rushing tear through the fabric while his heart keeps rushing through the layers of his past.
“JUSTICE WINS. Maybe not instantly, but inevitably.” This line rings through his ears while more teardrops keep falling from his eyes. He saw his army running for life, his friend dying in his arms, and the darkness came slowly, like a woman walking forward — NisaSathi, the Lady Darkness — swallowing the setting sun as it slid behind the twin ridges cradling the Gowthami’s flow, ridges that, seen from above, traced the very parting she drew through her hair.
Unable to find peace with his eyes closed, he slowly opens his eyes. In front of him is a Sivalinga, whose majesty can make devotees fall to their knees instantly. A few months ago, Sage Agasthya installed that Sivalinga and worshipped it. “AGASTHYA... the guru of Pandyan kings.” Thoughts keep rushing again. “We should have listened to Sage Agasthya. All of this turmoil could have been avoided...” His father’s voice, filled with regret, echoes in his head. He closes his ears hard. But he is sinking in the thoughts filling his head. He wants to shout as loudly as he can. But he does not, fearing that his anguish might escape before he takes revenge. He lowers his head in helplessness, his hands falling involuntarily, as if he has completely lost his control over anything, perhaps everything.
“Glory to Justice, my Prince.” A familiar voice pulls his attention. He looks back swiftly, as if he was waiting for someone to come and talk. “Surya,” he says, “what brings you here?” “The King wants you to come immediately,” the soldier speaks as softly as he can. “And what purpose is this immediate meeting?” asks the Prince. “A messenger came from the Kingdom of Mithila. It’s a marriage invitation,” says Surya.
The Prince enters the palace hall. Giant sculptures depicting war and valour stand on both sides of the way. He remembers how as a child, he admired them. He wanted to be one of them. Courageous and Victorious. He wanted his head to be held high just like those statues. But as he passes them now, he feels the weight of a mountain on his head. Neither can he raise his head, nor his voice. This is not due to external dissent. The people love him and he loves his people. The problem is he can’t love himself enough anymore. He needs an internal revival. And that seems to be far away somewhere.
“I need you to go to Mithila—” the King says, “—on my behalf. King Seeradhvaja sent an invitation welcoming us to his daughter’s marriage.”
What the Prince wished not to hear, he has now heard. “Father, you know that...” He tries to say something.
“Yes, I know—” the king interrupts, “—and that is why I want you to go. Your sister is going to get married to the Prince of Ayodhya. You must start immediately.”
And the Prince starts the journey reluctantly. If everything were normal, he would be the happiest person on earth to hear about his sister’s marriage. He would be running as fast as he could to be there at the wedding even before the rituals began. But something is different about him now. He fears his dullness might affect the happy mood of other invitees at the wedding. He has always been like that — a loner in sadness, and the warmest presence in any gathering in happiness. He hopes the marriage will change his mood a little.
Mithila is not new to him. He spent most of his childhood there. In most crucial times, he was there to support the city and King Seeradhvaja. Passing through the city walls, he remembers the battles he fought for Mithila. He was a hero then. His heart filled with pride, his head held high with dignity. He was just like one of those sculptures he used to admire. But now... NOW... he does not want to think about that here anymore. He is here for the wedding, and until his return journey, he thinks, he should keep a smile on his face.
With these thoughts in mind, the Prince travels through the forest surrounding the city wall. A distant cry catches his attention. It seems someone is in trouble nearby. The Prince goes around, looking. He is now able to hear it much more clearly. A girl is crying, and someone is shouting angrily. “How dare you imitate us, you stupid girl! I said not to follow me and not to imitate my recitation, you fool!” As the Prince moves further, he sees a person in ascetic attire, threatening a little girl with a whip. The girl looks no older than her early teens.
“Stop!” shouts the Prince in anger. The ascetic turns around. “Why are you trying to beat that girl mercilessly?” he asks. “And what business is that of yours? Go away,” the ascetic replies recklessly. “This girl tried to imitate our penance. She listened to the Vedas silently while we were reciting and tried repeating them. She must be punished.” He moves forward to beat the girl again. The Prince, unable to tolerate it any further, slaps the ascetic across the face. The man is shocked. “How dare you raise a hand on an ascetic. Here, have this.” The ascetic beats the Prince with his whip. The Prince does not try to stop him. Instead, he wants to be beaten even more, hoping the physical pain might make him forget his emotional pain for a while. As the ascetic keeps beating him, the girl keeps weeping in terror. Suddenly, someone catches the edge of the whip from behind. The Prince turns to see that person.
With a golden glow on his face, he shines like the Sun. His looks are as fierce as a lion’s, his eyes as attractive as the petals of a lotus. His body is like a mountain, whose strength can win over the mighty Poulastya. His face is divine. His presence is refreshing. He is spectacular. The Prince is spellbound. That person is of the same age as him, yet the Prince feels like a little star beside a glowing full moon. Although seeing him for the first time, the Prince feels so much attached to that person.
“Who are you?” the ascetic asks. The Prince can hear the fear in his voice.
“RAMA, of AYODHYA,” that person replies.
Hearing that name, something shifts in the Prince’s heart. He looks again at the person before him and sees more than a man. He looks like the embodiment of all scriptures. For the first time, the Prince thinks he is seeing the Supreme Power in human form. How good it would be, if time paused. How good it would be if the moment turned eternal. He looks like an ocean of great depth, in which all worries get drowned. He is like a cloud, upon whose arrival the peacocks dance in joy. He is like lightning, whose shine will blind the enemies.
The ascetic loses his grip and the whip falls. “My Lord... Prince Rama...” he searches for words. “What was the girl’s mistake? Why do you want to punish her?” asks Rama calmly. His calmness is like the silence of the sea before the cyclone. “My Lord! This girl tried to recite the Veda mantras without our knowledge, without approval or permission.” The ascetic searches for words to justify his inappropriate action. “Is her recitation erroneous? Were the swaras wrong? Or is she of unclean dressing or surroundings?” Rama’s question surprises him. He does not expect this.
“No, not exactly. But without permission...” he mumbles. Then Rama cuts sharply, “Whose permission? Yours? Are you her guru? I do not think so. Are you the caretaker of the Vedas? The protector of Religion? Who announced your name for passing judgments and punishing people? I never heard of you.” The ascetic shivers now, but his ego is still unbent. “Rama—” he says, “she is a girl. A girl or a woman cannot recite the Vedas, especially without Upanayana.”
“Are you living in the Stone Age? Where are you from? I don’t see the broad-mindedness of sages in you. You are neither a sage with a good heart nor a seer with a sound mind. Are you not aware of Ghosha, Apala, Maitreyi, and Lopamudra, who were not only Vedic scholars but Mantra Drashtas — seers? The knowledge of the Vedas is for everyone. It does not exist just for you and me. Neither the sharpness of the sword nor the decoration of its sheath brings results in war. It is the ability to wield the sword that brings victory in battle. If the sword is in the hands of a skilled person, it brings victory. If it is in the hands of a compassionate person, it brings happiness. Compassion is more valued than skill. Similarly, neither the sacred thread nor the Upanayana brings the worthiness of the Vedas’ knowledge. It is compassion and righteousness. You lack in both.”
The Prince watches Rama with great amazement while Rama continues, “Neither is woman inferior to man, nor man superior to any other being in this world. The diversity of nature should be its boon, not its burden. A real scholar sees everything as equal. A real scholar is above partiality and discrimination. Fighting in the name of caste and religion is outright foolishness, and the nation will pay the price for the agendas of a few. Even though I feel all are equal, I have more respect for that girl than you.”
“Rama—” the ascetic replies, his voice filled with jealousy, “—how can you compare her with me? She belongs to a lower caste, unworthy of the Vedas by her lowly birth.” These words make Rama’s eyes turn red like blood. “If another word comes from your mouth, I will cut out your tongue,” Rama’s voice sounds like thunder. “Your mere presence disappoints me. I am trained by the great Visvamithra. He was born into a Kshatriya family but became a Brahmarshi through penance and effort. Our Kula Guru is the great Vasishta, born to Urvasi and married to Arundhathi. Greatness comes from thoughts and actions, not merely from birth. People like you are responsible for the downfall of human nature and ethical standards. This kingdom belongs to Seeradhvaja, and he alone reserves the right to pass judgment and punish. That is why I am letting you go, even though you are a criminal in my eyes. Get out, and never dare come before me again with your wicked heart.”
Hearing Rama’s words, the ascetic leaves, cursing and vowing revenge. Rama lifts the little girl to her feet slowly, wipes her tears, and caresses her cheek. She stops crying and gives a small smile. Then she looks at the Prince, who was beaten for her. Rama looks at the Prince’s shoulder. It bleeds lightly. But the Prince does not seem to notice it. He is still looking at Rama in awe. He feels neither physical pain nor emotional pain. Neither his heart nor his thoughts wander. He stands still, like a statue, his eyes fixed on Rama.
“Won’t you introduce yourself to us?” Rama asks.
The Prince replies, “CHITRARATHA, of ANDHRA.”
Rama and Chitraratha enter the courtyard with the little girl. King Seeradhvaja is waiting at the entrance for Rama, who had gone for a little walk in the forest. There is something mystical in the forest environment which attracts Rama very much. He loses track of time while in the forest. Perhaps the memories of his journey with his brother and his guru Viswamithra are what make him go to the forest again and again. Or perhaps there is some other reason, more mystical and magical, which we do not know of. But one thing is for sure — Rama’s journeys with the forest are not yet over. The one unusual thing today is that Rama went to the forest alone. Generally, Rama is always seen with his brother at his side, but today Visvamithra insisted that Lakshmana stay with him, while Urmila, the daughter of Seeradhvaja, shows them both the Kingdom of Mithila. So Rama was alone in the forest when a little girl’s cry caught his attention. He noticed Chitraratha getting down from his chariot to help the girl, but was surprised and a little confused when Chitraratha did not counter the beating from the ascetic. So Rama himself went to stop the ascetic.
While returning from the forest, Chitraratha and Rama spoke to each other, but the majority of that conversation revolved around the girl. She introduced herself as Haimi. When asked about her parents, she said she was the sister of the Princess’s friend. “Where have you learned to recite the Vedas with swaras?” Rama asked Haimi. “I study under Princess Urmila’s guidance,” Haimi replied. “Here in Mithila, no person shall be discriminated against or restricted from gaining knowledge and wisdom based on caste, status, age, and gender. The fountain of knowledge is free for everyone to quench their thirst,” Chitraratha said to Rama. Rama felt happy on hearing Chitraratha’s words. He wished that the whole world would be like this one day.
King Seeradhvaja is expecting Rama, but he is surprised to see Chitraratha with him. Getting down from the chariot, both of them bow to Seeradhvaja. Seeradhvaja blesses them and hugs them both. “I am so happy to see you, my son!” Seeradhvaja says to Chitraratha. He asks about the well-being of Padma Kumara, the king of the Andhras. “Go and meet your sister, she will be so happy to see you,” Seeradhvaja says to Chitraratha. Chitraratha bows again to Seeradhvaja with a nod and walks away with Haimi. Haimi leads Chitraratha to her house. She invites him inside, but he wants to refuse, promising to return later. But he stops when the door opens.
Making the swans jealous, a woman slowly comes out of the house. When her eyes meet Chitraratha’s, a smile comes into her eyes — they shine like sparks of fire. She tries so hard to hide her joy, but she can’t. Chitraratha recognizes the person instantly. “She is my sister,” says Haimi, trying to introduce the woman to Chitraratha. “He saved me from a crazy ascetic in the forest,” Haimi adds. The woman instantly notices the wound on his shoulder — his uthariyam is stained with blood. “He’s always like that. Always looking out for people in trouble and rushing to save them, as if he has no other work to do,” she says sharply. Chitraratha is amazed by her words. “Do you know him already? He is from Dakshinapatha. His name is Chitraratha,” says Haimi. “Come inside, Prince Chitraratha. Let me apply some herbal paste to your wounds.” Her words sound as if she is ordering him. “No thanks. I am good. These are nothing to a warrior,” says Chitraratha. “But I’m no warrior, my Prince. I’m a girl with a tender heart. My heart bleeds at the slightest wound. Please come in,” she asks. Chitraratha does not know what to do next. Without waiting for his answer, she takes him by the hand and walks into the house. It all looks very confusing to Haimi.
“Not only is Chitraratha a great warrior, but also a good man. Unlike his father, he is very much selfless,” Seeradhvaja says to Rama while sauntering in the garden. “Our family legend says that Lord Shiva gave his bow to celestials, and one of those celestials, Varuna, gave it to Devaraatha, one of our ancestors. That bow was our prized possession for many centuries. When I started searching for a suitable groom for my daughter, I announced that the person who was powerful enough to lift the bow of Shiva would be worthy of marrying my daughter. Many kings tried, but all their efforts went in vain — forget about lifting the bow, they could not even move it by an inch. Then they all conspired against me and waged a war. I fought for a year relentlessly, surrounded by enemies around the city walls. We were trapped inside. All our supplies were running out. At that time, I prayed for the Gods to help me. One night, my enemies went a step further and tried to burn down the entire forest and the city walls. It was a death trap.”
Rama went still, his eyes fixed on Seeradhvaja.
“At that time, Chitraratha came with his army to help me and my kingdom. He fought by our side, and with his help, we won that battle. Mithila was saved by his valiant efforts.”
Rama gave a slow, appreciative nod — the kind he reserved for warriors who fought for others rather than for glory.
“His father is a friend to me, and I have known Chitraratha since his childhood. But I did not expect that he would stand by my side that day. My daughter treats him as her own brother. He is truly a reliable friend, Rama.” Hearing all this from King Seeradhvaja, Rama’s admiration and respect for Chitraratha deepen.
That fiery night in Mithila would have haunted her for her entire life if Chitraratha had not come to her rescue that day. She still remembers that frightful night in great detail. She was trying to get some food secretly from the forest for her people, but the enemy soldiers noticed her hiding in the bushes. Her mission was unsuccessful. She knew of the dangers she would face if caught. Yet she decided to come out for her people. They had been starving for many days.
Now she was caught. All she could do now was run, and she ran as fast as she could. Soldiers chased her, but she was too swift in that forest, knowing every nook and corner of it well. Finding it difficult to chase her for too long, the soldiers decided to shoot arrows at her instead. Then Chitraratha came suddenly, from nowhere. He stood in the middle, shielding the girl from the arrows of the enemies. As they shot arrows, Chitraratha took his sword to counter them. Like a lion hunting its prey, Chitraratha jumped on the enemies and wounded them heavily. The girl stood there watching while her fear slowly vanished. While the small fight was nearing its end, a soldier injured Chitraratha on his shoulder. With blood dripping over his feet, Chitraratha stood steadily, waiting for the correct moment to strike the enemy. With one blow from Chitraratha, the enemy fell lifeless. Knowing that their numbers were nearing zero, the enemies started to spread fire in the forest. Surrounded by fire on four sides, Chitraratha did not know how to save the girl. At that moment, Chitraratha’s horse jumped in. “Come, we have to go,” Chitraratha said to the girl. Chitraratha helped her mount the horse, and the horse galloped across the fire toward where his army was coming from. She turned back and saw Chitraratha still fighting with those enemies. The memory was so clear, as if it had happened yesterday.
Hot vapours rise from the water, but she is still staring into the fire. “Look at the water, not the fire,” says Haimi. “Remembering that night, right?” asks Chitraratha. “It must have been a fearful experience.” “No—” she replies, “—it was a painful one. I have you by my side that day. With you by my side, I have nothing to fear.” She takes some ointment, goes near him, and while applying it to his wounds, asks, “Do you remember that night?”
Yes, of course, he does. After sending her off on the horse, he continued to fight with the soldiers. After some time, his army arrived. They outnumbered the enemy soldiers and chased them away. Chitraratha’s horse came back with the woman on its back. He helped her down. Drenched in blood, with deep wounds, he was slowly losing consciousness. He was tripping and needed support. She went forward to hold him up as he said, “We have to stop the fire.” She said, “First you need to rest.” Suddenly the sky thundered, and heavy rain began. She took him to the shade of a nearby tree and placed his head on her lap. Looking into her eyes, he asked, “What is your name?” She said something, but he fell unconscious. When he opened his eyes the next morning, she was gone. He asked after her. No one knew who she was.
“My soldiers said that you nursed my wounds that night, just like today,” he says. “Yes, and I also worried about your well-being in that war,” she says slowly. “My soldiers also said that you led them inside the city that day. You too are a great warrior,” the prince says, smiling. “No, my prince. I do not wish to be a warrior. All a warrior can think about is war. A warrior does not look back and see his people who worry about him. All he can think about is waving his sword with his head high in the sky. I do not want to be that kind of warrior. Whatever I did that day, I did to protect my people. It was not about winning a war. It was about saving a life.” Her words surprise him.
“I too am a warrior, and I look out for my people. My people love me, and I love them,” the prince says proudly. “You never looked back for me, did you?” Her question leaves him speechless. “You never knew how much I worried for you — not only that day, but each day during your previous visit to Mithila. I searched for you. I asked for you. I wished for you. And I waited for you to return to Mithila after you left. But you are a war hero. A warrior. Why would you stop and look back for me?” Tears roll down her face as she speaks. The Prince cannot understand why she cares about him so much.
Not knowing what to say, he asks, “What is your name?” “I’ll tell you!” Haimi jumps in, excited. But she stops Haimi, turns towards the prince, and says, “So now, the great war hero Chitraratha does not even know my name. How lucky I am!” She smiles. “Tell me now,” Chitraratha asks. “What’s the hurry? Wait. If by chance we meet another time, I may tell you. For now, I have to go.” She quickly gives the prince herbal juice to drink and leaves the house immediately. “Is she always like that?” Chitraratha asks Haimi. She nods. “Where can I find her now?” he asks. “Try your luck in the Princess’s palace room,” Haimi says.
Chitraratha is welcomed warmly by the princess of Mithila. She is so happy to see him. She takes a sacred thread and ties it to Chitraratha’s hand as Raksha Bandhan. “I wish you find peace. I wish you find true happiness, my dear brother. May your fame shine like the sun, and may your heart be as pleasant as the moon. May your wisdom glow like a star in the darkest of nights,” she says, applying tilaka to his forehead. “Sita, my sweet sister. Your happiness is my happiness. I’ll be there for you.” As they are talking, the woman who nursed Chitraratha comes in. Sita smiles at her and says, “Hi, dear one, meet my brother Chitraratha.” Chitraratha instantly bends forward, kneeling on one leg before her. All the others there start laughing. The Prince asks, “Young lady! May I know your name?” She replies, “AARNA.”
“Sita lifted the bow so easily,” Urmila says to Lakshmana and Vishvamithra, who have been following her since their trip started that day to see Mithila. Lakshmana still cannot understand why Vishvamithra wanted to come without Rama. But he does not question his guru, as he knows Vishvamithra has a strong reason for everything he does. Lakshmana recalled that day when his father, King Dasaratha, called Rama to the palace and asked him to follow every word of Vishvamithra. Lakshmana also accompanied Rama to the jungle for the protection of Vishvamithra’s yagnya. After spending time with Vishvamithra, Lakshmana understood that Vishvamithra wanted to develop Rama’s skills. Both Rama and Lakshmana received guidance from Vishvamithra on handling different weapons. Even after the yagnya was complete, Vishvamithra brought Rama and Lakshmana to Mithila. At first, Lakshmana thought Vishvamithra had brought them only to see the yagnya. Only after seeing the bow of Shiva did Lakshmana understand that Vishvamithra wanted Rama’s marriage to Sita. The two were made for each other, and Vishvamithra had known this from the beginning. So Lakshmana never tried to question Vishvamithra. He trusted his guru with all his heart.
“Not only while playing in childhood—” Urmila continues, “—Sita even lifted the bow recently. When Videha was surrounded by enemies, we ran out of supplies. Our father was worried about the people. At that time, Sita lifted the bow in anger, to fight those enemies. Our guru Sathananda stopped her and calmed her down. At that time, our brother Chitraratha from Andhra came to help us.” Lakshmana listens to her words with attention. “Is Chitraratha here?” Vishvamithra asks Urmila. “He must be here by today,” she says. Lakshmana asks, “Why is this kingdom called Videha?” “Because the emperors of Mithila are never interested in worldly pleasures. Instead, they always search for purpose in life. Their administration is centred around Dharma, and they treat their people like their own children. So all kings of Mithila are known by the name Janaka, and our kingdom is known as Videha, which means ‘without body’ — indicating that Dharma and gnyana are our priority, rather than our own body,” Urmila says to Lakshmana. Since their journey began that morning, Lakshmana has developed real admiration for Urmila’s knowledge. Her words are like the waves of the river Saraswati. But he wants to ask her a question, to put her in a moral dilemma.
“If a wife truly loves her husband, and if he truly loves his wife, they become attached to each other. Is this bonding a drawback?” Lakshmana asks. Vishvamithra waits eagerly for Urmila’s answer. “Husband and wife are not separate. They are one. So a man loving his wife, or a woman loving her husband, is no different from a sage who loves God and tries to become one with him. Like a wise person’s soul unites with God, a man unites with his wife and becomes one. That love falls under selfless duty.” Urmila’s answer surprises Lakshmana. “Well said!” Vishvamithra praises. “Not yet, Gurudeva! The Princess of Videha has to answer one more question,” Lakshmana says. “Go on, Prince. What is it?” Urmila asks. “Suppose the husband has to leave his wife for some other sacred and loyal duty, even though he loves her with all his heart — is he committing a mistake?” Lakshmana asks Urmila. “If I were in the wife’s position, I would support my husband’s decision with all my heart,” Urmila says. “What about the pain you’d feel? Would the husband not feel guilty?” Lakshmana asks. Urmila replies with a smile: “What you call pain, I call penance. What you call guilt, I call love.”
“Rama is perfect for you in every way,” Chitraratha says to Sita. “He is well versed in the Dharma Sastras. He has empathy towards all beings. His voice is like the roar of the ocean. His heart seems as pure as the Himalayas. Moreover, he holds great respect for women — he sees men and women as equals. The two of you are very lucky to have each other.” Sita, Aarna, and the others listen as Chitraratha narrates his meeting with Prince Rama. “But you missed the main moment—” Aarna says, “—it was amazing to see Shivadhanurbhanga.” Chitraratha wants to hear about how Rama lifted the bow of Shiva. As a child, Chitraratha had tried to lift the bow himself, but it was too heavy for him then. He had felt deeply disappointed, and distanced himself from bows and arrows, becoming passionate about sword-fighting instead. Later, when he grew up, he thought of that disappointment as silly — but he never thought of the bow of Shiva again. He had heard so many stories of people trying to lift it and failing miserably. So Chitraratha asks, “Then tell me how Rama lifted the bow of Shiva.”
Aarna begins to narrate:
~ Our King Janaka was performing a yagnya on the banks of the river Gandaki. When the yagnya was nearing completion, Sage Vishvamithra came to Mithila along with two princes. King Janaka went to welcome them with all his priests and ministers. Sage Vishvamithra introduced the princes as the sons of King Dasaratha of Ayodhya — Rama and Lakshmana. King Janaka informed them that the yagnya would be completed on the twelfth day, and welcomed them to witness the Purnahuthi. Then he asked why they had come to Mithila. Sage Vishvamithra replied that the princes of Ayodhya wished to see the bow of Shiva. The next day, King Janaka welcomed them to the palace where the bow was kept, and told them the legend of Devaraatha, who received the bow from Varuna. King Janaka also said that whoever could wield the bow of Shiva would be worthy of marrying his daughter, Sita. Vishvamithra told Rama to go and see the bow. Rama approached the casket in which it was kept — a casket with eight wheels, requiring many strong men to move it from place to place. Rama looked closely at the bow and said, “Gurudeva, I want to touch this bow. I want to lift it and string it.” Both King Janaka and Sage Vishvamithra gave their permission. Rama, who was very virtuous, lifted the bow with ease. He strung it with a twang. Then he drew the string — and suddenly, the bow broke into pieces. It produced a thunderous sound as it broke; we felt as though the earth beneath our feet trembled, and the Himalayas themselves had split apart. Many people there fell unconscious. King Janaka was overjoyed. He addressed Vishvamithra with folded hands and said, “Oh worshipful one! I have seen the power of Rama, son of Dasaratha. I never imagined I would witness such a marvellous feat. By having Rama as her husband, Sita will bring glory to both the dynasties of Videha and Ayodhya. Sita is more valuable to me than my own life, and now I will happily arrange her marriage to Rama.” But Rama replied that he could not marry without the presence of his parents. With Vishvamithra’s permission, King Janaka sent messengers to Ayodhya to inform King Dasaratha of the marriage, seek his blessing, and welcome him, along with his family, ministers, and army, to Mithila. King Dasaratha is expected here by tomorrow. ~
Chitraratha feels amazed. He still wonders at the strength of Rama. “I was not lucky enough to witness that,” he says. “If you had stayed a few more days, you would have seen it,” Aarna says. She is still feeling somewhat upset that Chitraratha did not stay longer in Mithila after the battle. “I wanted to see you, Aarna—” Chitraratha says in a low tone, “—I wanted to be with you. During the battle, I always thought of coming to you once it was over. But when it was finally over...” Chitraratha stops. Sita sees Chitraratha’s eyes turn red, a tear rolling down from his left eye. “What happened, Brother Chitraratha? What is troubling you?” Sita asks. Chitraratha stands and says, “I have to go.” He leaves hastily, without a glance at Aarna. Aarna thinks she has made a mistake, being rude to him without giving him a chance to explain. “Go after him,” Sita says to Aarna. Aarna nods and goes after him. “I’m sorry,” she says to Chitraratha. “Please leave me alone for today,” Chitraratha says to Aarna. Aarna feels sad — she thinks he simply needs some time. “Let me show you to your quarters to rest,” Aarna says, and shows him the way.
The next morning, King Janaka welcomes King Dasaratha, who has reached Mithila. “I am so blessed to welcome you, along with your guru Vasishta, King Dasaratha. I feel fortunate at your arrival. Your son Rama, who came here with Sage Vishvamithra, has shown great valour. Mithila is deeply honoured to become one family with Ayodhya,” says Janaka. “We too are very happy to have our Rama marrying your daughter Sita, the Princess of Videha,” Dasaratha replies. “Tomorrow, my yagnya will be complete. After the Purnahuthi, we can begin the marriage rituals,” says Janaka. “As you wish,” Dasaratha replies. After making proper arrangements for Dasaratha, Janaka leaves for his palace. Rama and Lakshmana, along with Vishvamithra, come to Dasaratha, and they are all happy to see each other. The next morning, Janaka sends an invitation to his brother Kusadhvaja, the king of Sankasya. After Kusadhvaja arrives, Janaka sends his minister Sudamana to welcome Dasaratha, along with his family, gurus, and ministers, to the palace. On receiving the invitation, Dasaratha arrives with his sons, gurus, and ministers. Most of the prominent people from both Ayodhya and Mithila are present. Chitraratha is also there, on Janaka’s side. “Oh, great king of Videha — you already know that Guru Vasishta is the kula guru of the Ikshvaku Dynasty. Now, with the permission of Vishvamithra and all the sages present here, I ask him to speak of our dynasty,” says Dasaratha. Sage Vasishta then speaks of the lineage of the Ikshvaku Dynasty, from Avyaktha-Parabrahma to Rama. He continues, “Oh wise King Janaka, I believe Lakshmana would be a fitting match for Urmila, as Rama is for Sita. If you wish, let us perform the marriage of Urmila and Lakshmana alongside that of Sita and Rama.” Hearing Sage Vasishta’s words, Janaka is overjoyed. With great excitement, he says, “Oh revered Guru Vasishta! Allow me to introduce my own lineage before all the prominent people gathered here.” Janaka then explains his lineage, from King Nimi onward.
After hearing the lineage of the Videha Dynasty, from King Nimi down to the brothers Seeradhvaja and Kusadhvaja, Sage Vishvamithra stands. “Both the Videha and Ikshvaku dynasties are great,” he says. “It will be wonderful to witness their union at this marriage ceremony. I have something to add — King Janaka, your brother Kusadhvaja has two daughters, Maandavi and Sruthakeerthi. I believe it would be fitting for both families if Maandavi married Bharatha, and Sruthakeerthi married Sathrughna.” On hearing these words, Janaka bows to both Vasishta and Vishvamithra. “Oh great sages, if this is your wish, I am most happy to follow your word. Let these marriages take place according to your will. Let us all join in the celebration of the princesses of Videha with the princes of Ayodhya. Day after tomorrow, when the moon rests on the star Uttharaphalguni, let us conduct these marriages,” he says. King Dasaratha says, “Janaka Maharaja, we are overjoyed. Let it be as you say. Now, give us leave — I will begin the marriage rituals under the guidance of my sages.” After the Purnahuthi of Janaka’s yagnya, Dasaratha leaves. Before departing, Rama calls Chitraratha and says, “Chitraratha, I want you to meet someone — my soul, BHARATHA.”
“Bharata is not only my brother, he is my soul. He values me more than his life,” says Rama, introducing Bharata to Chitraratha. Next, he turns towards Shatrughna and says, “Meet my pride — Shatrughna. He is a fierce warrior, yet so obedient. At all times, we find Shatrughna supporting Bharata.” Chitraratha is delighted to meet Rama’s brothers; he especially likes the way Rama introduces them. Now he waits eagerly for Lakshmana’s introduction. “He is my strength — Lakshmana. Just like Bharatha and Shatrughna, we are always together. Rama cannot exist without Lakshmana.” Aarna watches them from a distance. She wants to know the reason for Chitraratha’s sadness, but he is always with someone or another. She wants to speak with him alone.
While the sons of Dasaratha are having a pleasant talk with Chitraratha, a person arrives. He introduces himself as Varuna. He brings with him two great bows of ferocious craftsmanship, two impenetrable shields, two quivers with countless arrow capacity, and two powerful swords with golden handles. “Rama! Accept these gifts. They may be of great use to you in the future.” Rama thanks him and humbly accepts them. After a small exchange, the four brothers go with Vasishta. Chitraratha too withdraws to his room, his thoughts still on Aarna. He wants to tell her why he left Mithila so hastily that day.
Thoughts kept running through his mind, and he slid again into the past. ‘Accept your defeat—‘ he still remembered that cold voice, ‘—nothing is in your hands now.‘ And Chitraratha had accepted his defeat that day. His heart broke. He became a stone with life. Nothing was left. ‘We have won, Meghanaad. Even the mighty Indra cannot match your wits. From now on, you will be known as Indrajit.‘ Chitraratha had watched Meghnaad become Indrajit by defeating him. The battlefield was full of blood and sorrow. Chitraratha had wanted his enemy to kill him, but the enemy spared his life instead. ‘Live the rest of your life with your head down. I am setting you as an example, so that no man will ever dare to fight me.‘ Chitraratha’s life became a hell. Neither could he die peacefully, nor could he live peacefully. With a raging fire in his heart, Chitraratha slept that night.
That night, Yudhajit comes to Mithila to meet Dasaratha. “My king, Dasaratha! My father, the king of Kekaya, sends his greetings to you. He wishes for your well-being and happiness. I am here to see my nephew, Bharatha. I am very happy to be here for this wedding. After the ceremony, with your permission, I would like to take Bharata from Ayodhya to my kingdom for some days,” says Yudhajit, the brother-in-law of Dasaratha. “As you wish,” says Dasaratha. The next day, King Dasaratha wakes early and performs his daily rites. After that, he reaches the place where the marriage is to be conducted, with his ministers and purohits.
Rama, along with his brothers Bharatha, Lakshmana, and Shatrughna, adorned in jewellery befitting princes, complete the rites of Rakshabandhana in the auspicious hour. Then, with his brothers, he follows Vasishta to where Dasaratha is standing. Sage Vasishta goes to King Janaka and informs him of Dasaratha’s arrival. “Oh great sage Vasishta! No one is going to stop you here. You need not wait for anyone’s permission — feel free, as if you were in Ayodhya. Why think of formalities in your own place? All my daughters have completed their rites and reached the wedding ground, where the sacred fire awaits the princes of Ayodhya. I too am waiting for your arrival. Please take charge and perform all necessary rites,” says Janaka to Vasishta. At Janaka’s word, Dasaratha reaches the place with his sons and sages, where Janaka is waiting for them. Then Janaka says to Vasishta:
कारयस्व र्षे सर्वानृषिभिः सह धार्मिक – रामस्य लोकरामस्य क्रियां वैवाहिकीं प्रभो |
Kaarayasva rusheh sarvam, rushibhih saha dhaarmika, raamasya loka raamasya, kriyaam vaivaahikeem prabho.
“Oh knower of Dharma! Please perform the marriage ceremony of Rama, who is the happiness of the whole world.”
Then Vasishta, along with Vishvamithra and Sathananda, decorate the Vivaha Yagnya Vedika with flowers and sandalwood paste. They bring various well-decorated clay vessels containing sprouts of navadhaanyas — nine types of food grains. They place incense, along with vessels of water and other items necessary for the marriage. They place akshatas — rice grains mixed with turmeric — at the vedika, the place where the rites are performed. They lay darbha grass over the vedika while chanting the appropriate Veda mantras. Sage Vasishta begins the yagnya ceremony, offering havya into the sacrificial fire. Chitraratha stands at Rama’s side; Aarna stands at Sita’s. Both look at each other.
King Janaka brings Sita with him and seats her at the sacred fire before Rama. King Janaka says to Rama:
इयं सीता मम सुता सहधर्मचरी तव | प्रतीच्छ चैनां भद्रं ते पाणिं गृह्णीष्व पाणिना || पतिव्रता महाभागा छायेवानुगता सदा ||
“This is my daughter, Sita. From now on, she will be your companion in Dharma. May everything good happen to you. Take her hand with yours. Rama! Sita will follow you like your shadow.”
Saying these words, King Janaka performs the Kanyadana of Sita to Rama. Rama and Sita look into each other’s eyes as they hold hands. Chitraratha and Aarna witness the union of Sita and Rama.
Then Janaka calls Lakshmana and says, “Oh great Lakshmana! Here is my daughter Urmila. May her wisdom and selflessness bring glory to you. Take her hand.” Janaka performs the Kanyadana of Urmila to Lakshmana. With Kusadhvaja at his side, Janaka calls Bharatha and says, “Oh mighty Bharatha! Here is my daughter Mandavi. She will be your support for the rest of your life. Take her hand.” Kusadhvaja performs the Kanyadana of Mandavi to Bharatha. Then Janaka calls Shatrughna and says, “Oh fierce Shatrughna! Here is my daughter Shrutha Keerthi. May you both be one soul and one heart. Take her hand.” Kusadhvaja performs the Kanyadana of Shrutha Keerthi to Shatrughna.
In this way, the princes of Ayodhya and the princesses of Videha become couples. Holding hands, the newlywed couples circle the yagnya vedika, then their parents, then the sages present. Vasishta, along with Vishvamithra and Sathananda, perform the rest of the marriage rituals. King Janaka, in the presence of Dasaratha, presents an exquisite jewel to Sita. “This excellent jewel, born of sacred waters, was gifted to me by Lord Mahendra, king of the Celestials, during a yagnya,” Janaka says to Rama. It is then adorned on her head, making her look even more radiant. After the ceremony is complete, the couples take the blessings of the elders and go to their residences.
That evening, Chitraratha goes to the forest to spend some time alone. Sitting in the shade of a tree, he closes his eyes. He can still see the marriage before him — Sita holding hands with Rama, Rama whispering something in her ear — he sees it all as if it is happening now. Suddenly, Aarna’s eyes come to his sight; he can sense some disturbance in them. He wants to answer her unspoken questions, but what answer should he give? He is trying to escape those moments from the past. All these days, he has tried to run from those thoughts as far as possible, but they haunt him still. Chitraratha begins to see his enemy’s eyes — a glance like that of a dangerous snake. That gaze had been so blazing that Chitraratha’s eyes never again appreciated the colours of life. Unable to bear those visions, Chitraratha opens his eyes. With the sun setting, the forest slowly slides into darkness. Chitraratha feels that even the darkness of a thousand nights could not match the darkness of his fate. He feels destined to be a failure. Grief is his closest friend now.
Again he closes his eyes. The setting sun reminds him of the evening his army was so badly defeated in that battle. If everything had gone well, he would have been victorious — but Chitraratha had underestimated the viciousness of his enemies. They would go to any lengths to win a battle; Dharmayuddha was an alien concept to them. Indrajit’s cunning plans brought them victory, and Chitraratha was devastated that day. Chitraratha opens his eyes slowly. Aarna stands before him. He is shocked. He stands up.
“What are you doing here, Aarna?” Chitraratha asks. “I’m here to apologize to you, my Prince. I am sorry — hurting you was never my intention. All I ever wanted was to convey my concern and sadness to you,” says Aarna. “I know—” Chitraratha says, “—I’m not hurt by you, Aarna. There is something else that has been troubling me for a long time. I am struggling inside to run far from that thing, but it roars like a lion before my eyes every day.” “What is it? May I know the thing that troubles you, my Prince?” Aarna asks. Chitraratha is about to speak when someone suddenly shouts — “Prince, look out!” A dangerous serpent comes crawling towards Chitraratha and Aarna. A figure steps between Chitraratha and the serpent and catches its head swiftly with one hand — the grip so tight that the serpent struggles to break free. Going four steps away from Chitraratha and Aarna, the figure throws the serpent far away.
“Are you okay, Prince Chitraratha?” the figure asks. “I’m alright, thank you—” Chitraratha says, “—but how do you know me? Who are you?” “I too am from Dakshinapatha, Prince Chitraratha. But that is not the main reason I know you. You are the only person in all of Dakshinapatha who stood against the evil king of Trikuta — so not only I, but the whole of Dakshinapatha knows of you. I was there in your court with Sage Agasthya that day. That is how I recognize you,” the figure says. “Who are you?” Chitraratha asks again, curious.
“I am the son of Anjana, of the Vanara clan of Dandakaranya. My name is Hanuma,” Hanuma says to Chitraratha. “What brings you here, holy one?” Aarna asks. “I am one of the ministers of King Sugriva of Kishkinda,” Hanuma replies. “Sugriva had an elder brother named Vali. Vali once went to fight a demon in a cave. After a long time, Vali’s screams came from the cave, and blood flowed out. Assuming Vali had been killed, Sugriva sealed the entrance with a rock. On his return, the people of Kishkinda made Sugriva their king. But Vali had not died — he returned, believing Sugriva had conspired against him, and banished him from the kingdom. Not only that, he took Sugriva’s wife, Ruma, as his own, and tried to kill Sugriva. Sugriva has been running from place to place ever since, evading Vali and his men. So I changed my disguise and came in search of him. I have travelled to many places but could not find him anywhere. Hoping to find him here, I came in search.”
“I hope you find your king, Kapivara!” says Aarna. “Why do you search for a weak man who ran away? Why not stand with Vali instead, Hanuma?” Chitraratha asks. “Prince, however weak the side of Dharma seems, eventually it will win. Our paths are alike, my Prince — however mighty our enemy, whatever the outcome, we must stand on the side of Dharma, and fight,” Hanuma says with a smile. Those were Chitraratha’s own words, once — but he turns sombre on hearing them echoed back. “Don’t worry, my Prince. Your defeat was not your fault,” Hanuma says. “What happened, Kapivara? Please, tell me of this battle. Who defeated Chitraratha?” Aarna asks. Hanuma says, “Prince Chitraratha waged war against the one whom all of Bharata Khanda feared — RAVANA.”
A few weeks after his victory in the fiery siege of Mithila, Chitraratha stood before Surya. “I have to find that girl—” he said, “—I need to talk to her immediately.” “There is a much more important thing to do right now, my Prince,” said Surya. “What is that?” Chitraratha asked. “We have to go to our kingdom as soon as possible. Sage Agasthya is waiting for you. It concerns the future of our kingdom and our people.” Chitraratha met King Janaka and informed him of his return journey. “You must come back soon, my boy,” said Janaka. The people of Mithila gave Chitraratha a memorable farewell — they decorated the way and shouted slogans in praise of his bravery, grateful to him for saving them. He was a hero to them. But little did he know that this praise was temporary. He was going to face defeat and humiliation. He had received respect in a foreign place, but he was about to lose it in his own.
What happened next, Hanuma remembered more clearly than Chitraratha himself did — for he had stood in that court, beside Sage Agasthya, and seen it all with his own eyes.
~ “King Padma Kumara! Long, long ago, I arranged a peace treaty between the Pandyan kings and Ravana, king of Lanka. Because of that treaty, Ravana never attacked Dakshinapatha. At that time, the whole of Andhra, along with Nagapattanam, was part of the Pandyan Empire — but now it lies under your control. Recently, Sage Vishvamithra conducted a yagnya, and Ravana’s minister Mareecha tried to interrupt it, but the prince of Ayodhya defeated him. This angered Ravana greatly, and he has sent more of his ministers, cousins, and soldiers into Dandakaranya. Before he invades Dakshinapatha, we must act. If you permit me, I will try to arrange a peace treaty between your kingdom and Ravana.” Padma Kumara said, “Guru Agasthya, thank you for your effort to protect our kingdom from this threat. I will consider it.” ~
~ “There is nothing left to consider, Sage Agasthya,” Chitraratha said. “All we need now is to fight — a fight against that evil king, Ravana. Tell me, Sage Agasthya: has anyone ever defeated Ravana?” “Ravana has been defeated twice before,” said Agasthya. “Once by King Kaarthaveeryarjuna of Mahishmati, and recently by Vali, king of Kishkinda.” “Then why can’t we defeat him?” Chitraratha asked. “Why do we keep making pacts and treaties? Are we not kings of honour and valour?” “He is too powerful to defeat, Prince Chitraratha,” Agasthya said. “Moreover, his son Meghnaad is cunning, a master of illusion — you could never defeat them in a Dharma Yuddha. I believe it would be wiser for you to make peace with Ravana.” ~
~ Then Chitraratha spoke with such confidence that I remember every word of it still, and those words have never left me. He said, “However weak the side of Dharma seems, eventually it will win. However mighty our enemy may be, whatever the outcome, we should stand on the side of Dharma, and fight.” The people were doubtful, but they supported their prince all the same. When Ravana learned that a prince from Nagapattanam had refused his pact — and that the people celebrated the refusal — he sent his army, without delay, to capture Chitraratha. Chitraratha’s forces stood ready. ~
~ Sage Agasthya took Chitraratha with him and reached Dhavalagiri. There, Sage Agasthya installed a Shivalinga and worshipped it for Chitraratha’s victory, giving him his blessing. “Though I go against your counsel, you still wish for my victory. How can I ever thank you, Gurudeva?” Chitraratha asked. “Our duty is only to inform you of the consequences, Chitraratha. As teachers, we will never decide your choices — each person must have their own vision and opinion. I wish you every success in what lies ahead,” Sage Agasthya said. ~
~ At a place called Karyamapudi, Ravana’s army met Chitraratha’s. Chitraratha’s forces fought hard, and under his leadership, the Andhras won — a ray of hope for all of Dakshinapatha. “Ravana will attack us again. We do not have the troops to fight him a second time. I think we should make some pact with Ravana, one way or another. This battle must end, Chitraratha,” said Padma Kumara. The officials in the palace room nodded in agreement. ~
~ “We should end this battle — I agree,” Chitraratha said. “But it must end with the defeat of the Lord of Lanka. We should make a pact, but not with Ravana — with the other rulers of Dakshinapatha. If the armies of Dakshinapatha unite under one banner, Ravana can be defeated.” “And whose banner is that, Prince Chitraratha?” Sage Agasthya asked. “The people of Dakshinapatha do not accept your leadership. They will not unite as one army for your purpose,” said another. Chitraratha replied, “This is not my purpose, and I seek no position or authority. I wish for the welfare of the people, and my struggle is for everyone. I walk the path of love with a blazing torch of Dharma. Even if I am destined to lose, I will still fight. I would rather try than turn back without trying.” ~
~ With little help or support from the others, Chitraratha went ahead to battle. This time, Ravana and Meghanaada themselves came to the field to fight him. I do not know what happened after that — I was searching all across Andhra, hoping to find Sugriva, but I could not find him anywhere. So, after taking leave of Sage Agasthya, I departed. A couple of months later, I learned that Ravana had defeated Chitraratha. I felt great sorrow. ~
After Hanuma stopped narrating, Chitraratha said, “I underestimated the power of Meghanaada. On the battlefield, to crush the spirit of my army, he staged a fake death — a man with an exact resemblance to me, in the same armour, the same clothing. He killed that man and made my soldiers believe I had fallen. While I tried to calm the soldiers fleeing the field, my friend was killed by Ravana. Sage Agasthya reached us at that moment.” Thoughts came rushing back again. “We should have listened to Sage Agasthya. All of this turmoil could have been avoided...” His father’s voice, filled with regret, echoed in his head. Chitraratha continued, in a low voice, “He kept me from dying at Ravana’s hands. But I wish...”
Hanuma stopped him. “Calm yourself, my Prince. It was not a fair battle. We must wait. Defeating Ravana is no easy task, but it is possible — no one is invincible. King Kaarthaveeryarjuna once defeated Ravana, but was killed by Parasurama in turn. We must wait for someone as powerful as Parasurama to rise and defeat him.” Chitraratha nodded. Hanuma continued, “Grant me leave, my Prince. Sugriva is not in Mithila; I must continue my search elsewhere.” Chitraratha embraced Hanuma. “We shall meet again, my friend. Until then — goodbye.” Hanuma left that place.
“I am sorry. I failed to see the blazing fire in your heart,” said Aarna. Chitraratha smiled. “Because your love’s fire burns far brighter in yours, Aarna.” Aarna felt shy and lowered her head. Softly, she said, “I have loved you since our childhood. You did not know me — but I knew of you, all along. I cannot say when that feeling became love. But I can say a single second feels like a thousand aeons without your presence.” Chitraratha’s heart filled with joy; his happiness knew no bounds. “I am going to Ayodhya tomorrow with Princess Sita. I will spend a few days there, then return to Mithila,” said Aarna. “Then you should leave at once. There must be much work waiting for you there,” Chitraratha said. His response shocks Aarna — she had expected him to confess his feelings. “Yes, I am leaving,” she says in disappointment, turning to go.
“Abhisarika—” Chitraratha calls after her. Aarna stops. She turns back to him.
“I will walk the banks of the Sarayu before I ever walk the Godavari again.” He looks up. The moon has begun to rise over Mithila. “I wish to see this same moon there, on the banks of the Sarayu, and be in its presence.” Aarna’s eyes fill, but now she is smiling. She says nothing more. She only nods once, and leaves.
After Aarna leaves, Chitraratha thinks to himself: I too have much work ahead of me now. Raamaaaa! Only you can help me now.
The next morning, Chitraratha goes to Rama and says, “I am going to miss you, Rama! In such a short time, you have become so close to my heart.” “I too will surely miss you, Chitraratha,” Rama says with a smile. Sita watches the exchange in amusement — she knows Chitraratha wants to come to Ayodhya. Rama, having heard about Aarna and Chitraratha from Sita, wants to tease his friend a little longer. “I wish I had more time with you, Rama,” Chitraratha says, hoping to be invited. “Yes, but time waits for no one, Chitraratha. Now I must go to Ayodhya, and you must return to Andhra. You must be busy yourself, with the duties of your kingdom. But you made a great effort in coming here for the wedding — I do not wish to trouble you further. You may return to your kingdom now,” Rama says. The words strike Chitraratha like a shock. He had not expected this from Rama. “Who said I am busy, Rama? I am free for some days.” Sita bursts into laughter. “If you are free, and wish to see Ayodhya, you are always welcome, my friend. Feel Ayodhya as your own Andhra, and I will feel Andhra as my own Ayodhya,” Rama says. Chitraratha’s joy is complete. He embraces Rama. “I can wait no longer to see Ayodhya. Let us start at once. Take me to your Ayodhya, Rama. I have seen you as Sita Rama — now I wish to see you as Ayodhya Rama, and as Rajarama.”
And so the journey begins. After taking leave of Janaka, King Dasaratha sets out for Ayodhya with the newlywed princes and princesses, his family, and his army. They are all filled with joy. But an unexpected trouble crosses their path — strong winds rise, the air turns thick with dust, and the sun slips behind gathering clouds. Like thunder, Parasurama appears before Rama. “Rama! I have heard you are a great warrior, that you performed Shivadhanurbhanga — a remarkable feat. Hearing this, I have come with the bow of Vishnu. If you can loose an arrow from it, I will grant you a duel.” Rama stands silent, but Dasaratha trembles. “Oh great Parasurama! Rama is the life of Ayodhya. The world knows your strength, your victories — why call my boy to fight you? Please, spare my Rama.” But Parasurama pays no heed to Dasaratha’s words. Chitraratha has heard many times of Parasurama’s strength; he fears for Rama’s safety.
Parasurama speaks again. “Rama! If you are a true warrior, a true Kshatriya, accept this Vaishnava Dhanu and prove your strength. Otherwise, I will call you a weakling, and return to the Mahendragiri ranges.” Rama replies, “Oh Parasurama, I admire you — you have served justice through many battles. But you mistake my silence for weakness, and try to humiliate me for it. Now, see my power.” Rama takes the bow of Vishnu from Parasurama’s hand. Chitraratha falls into a trance at the sight of Rama holding the Vaishnava bow — he senses at once that Parasurama’s charm is fading before Rama’s presence. Rama’s very being seems to overshadow everyone there. Chitraratha remembers Hanuma’s words — that someone as powerful as Parasurama could defeat Ravana — and thinks: perhaps Rama could defeat Ravana. Perhaps Shivadhanurbhanga was only the first sign of what is to come.
Suddenly, Chitraratha feels Rama’s hand on his shoulder, and comes back to himself. Parasurama is nowhere to be seen. “Where is Parasurama?” he asks. “He has gone to do penance. Now, let us continue,” Rama says. The journey resumes. Seeing the city from a distance, Chitraratha thinks to himself: So this is the city no warrior can ever conquer.
‘AYODHYA.‘
JANASTHANA...
Blood dripped from the throne of bones. Torches burned with a strange blue flame. Around the hall stood silent Rakshasas, none daring to raise their eyes.
“What were you doing there in the first place, Akampana?” shouts the figure seated upon that throne, his clothes drenched in blood. “That too, in the disguise of an ascetic, reciting mantras.”
“I was following Sage Vishvamithra, my king!” says Akampana, still in his ascetic disguise. He continues, “Rama, prince of Ayodhya, and his brother Lakshmana, aided Vishvamithra in completing his yagnya. They killed Subahu and wounded Mareecha. So, thinking of them as a potential threat to Lanka, I followed them to Mithila. To avoid suspicion, I took this disguise and wandered the jungles near Mithila, reciting mantras whenever someone approached to speak with me. At that time, a little girl followed me and imitated my recitation. To be rid of her, I threatened her with a whip. Then Prince Rama came, and I escaped narrowly, without being caught.”
“So you are saying you ran away in fear of a boy? Are you not ashamed to be afraid of a worthless mortal?” the figure laughs at Akampana.
“He is not a worthless mortal — and certainly, he is no boy. That man killed our soldiers and protected the sages. Why can you not see the trouble coming our way, my king?” Akampana says impatiently.
“He is right, King Khara!” says Mareecha from behind him. “Do not underestimate Rama. He alone could uproot the kingdom of Lanka, with all its armies.”
Hearing the words of Mareecha and Akampana, Khara says, “Then let there be war. Gather our armies, and let us march towards Ayodhya.”
“No one can win over Ayodhya. The name itself says as much — the city which no warrior can conquer,” says Mareecha.
Then Khara roars, “Then I will drag Rama out of Ayodhya myself, and teach him such a lesson that no one will ever dare look upon us again. I will see to it that the majestic city of Ayodhya remains in ruins forever.”
——————
This is Ayodhya...
The city which no warrior can ever win over...
Here it lies...
with its King dead...
All its princes in exile...
its citizens in Sorrow
The title of the novelette is “The Broken Bow.” Shiva’s bow broke at the hands of Rama. It is a major event in the Ramayana, establishing Rama as the Supreme divine power in human form. It paved the way for the marriage of Sita to Rama. Apart from the bow of Shiva, there is also another broken bow in this story — Chitraratha. He broke after the battle with Ravana. Now Rama has to revive him. His journey with Rama on the Path to Ayodhya helps him find a new purpose in life.
Another significant thing we can find in this novelette is the representation of the Southern part of India — particularly the parts of Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu, given their ancient names. On the banks of River Godavari, near the majestic city of Rajamahendravaram, is a village called Dhavaleswaram, which is mentioned as Dhavalagiri in this novelette. The present-day Agastyeswara Swamy temple in Dhavaleswaram has references in the Puranas, and local folklore says that Sage Agastya himself installed that Sivalinga there. We find that in the first and last chapters. Also, Sangam literature mentions the pact between the Pandyan kings and Ravana, which Sage Agastya carried out — Kalidasa refers to it too, in the Raghuvamsam.
Even the Andhras and Pandyas are mentioned in Valmiki Ramayana, Kishkinda Kanda, Sarga 41, Shlokas 11–12:
अन्वीक्ष्य दण्डक अरण्यम् स पर्वत नदी गुहम् || नदीम् गोदावरीम् चैव सर्वम् एव अनुपश्यत | तथैव आन्ध्रान् च पुण्ड्रान् च चोलान् पाण्ड्यान् केरलान्
Chitraratha’s portrayal is as the Prince of Andhras — the place where the author comes from. The place where Chitraratha’s army fought Ravana’s army, Karyamapudi, was famous for its legend, saying that Rama killed Khara at this place.
There are many instances in this novel directly aligned with the core story of Valmiki Ramayana. For example, the jewel that Janaka received from Indra and gave to Sita was the same jewel that was later given to Hanuma by Sita in Sundarakanda — Rama describes this jewel in the 66th sarga of Sundarakanda. Also, the weapons gifted by Varuna at the wedding are referenced in the Ayodhya Kanda of the Ramayana, where Rama asks Lakshmana to bring those weapons with them into exile. Like this, there are many links to the original Valmiki Ramayana. This trilogy attempts to add new layers to Valmiki Ramayana, while staying true to the original story without deviating from core details. If you wish to have an exciting adventure, read this trilogy alongside Valmiki Ramayana, to observe connecting plots and parallel timelines of events.