continued from previous issue

Well I know his stainless bosom and his virtues rare and high, He will soothe our parents’
sorrow and their trickling tear will dry! Faithful Lakshman, thou hast nobly stood by us when sorrows fell, Guard my Sits, by thy valour, by thy virtues tend her well, Wait on her while from this river Rama seeks his thirst to slake, On this first night of his exile food nor fruit shall Rama take, Thou Sumantra,
tend the horses, darkness comes with close of day, Weary was the endless journey,
weary is our onward way!” Store of grass and welcome fodder to the steeds the driver gave,
Gave them rest and gave them water from Tamasa’s limpid wave, And performing night’s devotions, for the princes made their bed, By the softly rippling river ‘neath the tree’s umbrageous shade.
On a bed of leaf and verdure Rama and his Sita slept, Faithful Lakshman with Sumantra nightly watch and vigils kept, And the stars their silent lustre on the weary exiles shed, And on wood and rolling river night her darksome mantle spread. Early woke the righteous Rama and to watchful Lakshman spake: Mark the slumb’ring city people, still their nightly rest they take, They have left their homes and children,
followed us with loyal heart, They would take us to Ayodhya, from their princes loth to part! Speed, my brother, for the people wake not till the morning’s star, Speed by night the silent chariot, we may travel fast and far, So my true and loving people see us not by dawn of day,
Follow not through wood and jungle Rama in his onward way,
For a monarch meek in suffering should his burden bravely bear,
And his true and faithful people may not ask his woe to share!” Lakshman heard the gentle mandate, and Sumantra yoked the steed, Fresh with rest and grateful fodder, matchless in their wondrous speed, Rama with his gentle consort and with Lakshman true and brave, Crossed beneath the silent starlight dark Tamasa’s limpid wave.
On the farther bank a pathway, fair to view and far and wide,
Stretching onwards to the forests spanned the spacious country-side, “Leave the broad and open pathway,” so the gentle Rama said, “Follow yet a track diverging, so the people be misled.
Then returning to the pathway we shall march ere break of day, So our true and faithful people shall not know our southward way.” Wise Sumantra hastened northward, then returning to the road,
By his master and his consort and the valiant Lakshman stood, Raghu’s sons and gentle Sita mounted on the stately car, And Sumantra drove the coursers travelling fast and travelling far. Morning dawned,
the waking people by Tamasa’s limpid wave, Saw not Rama and his consort, saw not Lakshman young and brave, And the tear suffused their faces and their hearts with anguish burned,
Sorrow-laden and lamenting to their cheerless homes returned.

CROSSING THE GANGES

Morning dawned, and far they wandered, by their people loved and lost,
Drove through grove and flowering woodland, rippling rill and river crost, Crossed the sacred Vedasruti on their still unending way, Crossed the deep and rapid Gumti where the herds of cattle stray,
All the toilsome day they travelled, evening fell o’er wood and lea, And they came where sea-like Ganga rolls in regal majesty, ‘Neath a fall Ingudi’s shadow by the river’s zephyrs blest,
Second night of Rama’s exile passed in sleep and gentle rest.
Morning dawned, the royal chariot Rama would no further own, Sent Sumantra and the coursers back to fair Ayodhya’s town,
Doffing then their royal garments Rama and his brother bold Coats of bark and matted tresses wore like anchorites of old. Guha, chief of wild Nishadas, boat and needed succour gave,
And the princes and fair Sita ventured on the sacred wave. And by royal Rama bidden strong Nishadas plied the oar,
And the strong boat quickly bounding left fair Ganga’s northern shore.
“Goddess of the mighty Ganga!” so the pious Sits, prayed, “Exiled by his father’s mandate,
Rama seeks the forest shade, Ganga! o’er the three worlds rolling, bride and empress of the sea,
And from BRAHMA’S sphere descended! banished Sita bows to thee. May my lord return in safety, and a thousand fattened kine, Gold and gifts and gorgeous garments, pure libations shall be thine,
And with flesh and corn I worship unseen dwellers on thy shore, May my lord return in safety,
fourteen years of exile o’er!”, On the southern shore they journeyed through the long and weary day,
Still through grove and flowering woodland held their long and weary way,
And they slayed the deer of jungle and they spread their rich repast, Third night of the princes’ exile underneath a tree was past.
Morning dawned, the soft-eyed Sits, wandered with the princes brave, To the spot where ruddy Gangs, mingles with dark Jumna’s wave, And they crost the shady woodland, verdant lawn and grassy mead,
Till the sun was in its zenith, Rama then to Lakshman said: “Yonder mark the famed Prayaga, spot revered from age to age, And the line of smoke ascending speaks some rishi’s hermitage,
There the waves of ruddy Gangs with the dark blue Jumna meet, And my ear the sea-like voices of the mingling waters greet. Mark the monarchs of the forest severed by the hermit’s might,
And the logs of wood and fuel for the sacrificial rite, Mark the tall trees in their blossom and the peaceful shady grove,
There the sages make their dwelling, thither, Lakshman, let us rove.” Slowly came the exile-wand’rers,
when the sun withdrew his rays, Where the vast and sea-like rivers met in sisters’ sweet embrace,
And the asram’s peaceful dwellers, bird of song and spotted deer, Quaked to see the princely strangers in their warlike garb appear! Rama stepped with valiant Lakshman, gentle Sits followed close,
Till behind the screening foliage hermits’ peaceful dwellings rose, And they came to Bharad-vaja, anchorite and holy saint, Girt by true and faithful pupils on his sacred duty bent.
Famed for rites and lofty penance was the anchorite of yore, Blest with more than mortal vision,
deep in more than mortal tore, And he sat beside the altar for the agnihotra rite, Rama spake in humble accents to the man of holy might: “We are sons of Dasa-ratha and to thee our homage bring, With rny wife,
the saintly Sita, daughter of Videha’s king, Exiled by my royal father in the wilderness I roam,
And my wife and faithful brother make the pathless woods their home, We would through these years of exile in some holy asram dwell.

to be continued