continued from previous issue

And our food shall be the wild fruit and our drink from crystal well, We would practise pious penance still on sacred rites intent, Till our souls be filled with wisdom and our years of exile spent!” Pleased the ancient Bharad-vaja heard the prince’s humble tale. And with kind and courteous welcome royal strangers greeted well, And he brought the milk and argya where the guests observant stood, Crystal water from the fountain, berries from the darksome wood, And a low and leafy cottage for their dwelling-place assigned, As a host receives a stranger, welcomed them with offerings kind.

In the asram’s peaceful courtyard fearless browsed the jungle deer, All unharmed the bird of forest; pecked the grain collected near, And by holy men surrounded ‘neath the trees’ umbrageous shade, In his pure and peaceful accents rishi Bharad-vaja said: Not unknown or unexpected, princely strangers, have ye come, I have heard of sinless Rama’s causeless banishment from home, Welcome to a hermit’s forest, be this spot your place of rest, Where the meeting of the rivers, makes our sacred asram blest, Live amidst these peaceful woodlands, still on sacred rites intent Till your souls be filled with wisdom and your years of exile spent!” “Gracious are thy accents, rishi,” Rama answered thus the sage.

“But fair towns and peopled hamlets border on this hermitage, And to see the banished Sita and to see us, much I fear, Crowds of rustics oft will trespass on thy calm devotions here, Far from towns and peopled hamlets, grant us, rishi, in thy grace, Some wild spot where hid in jungle we may pass these years in peace.” “Twenty miles from this Prayagya,” spake the rishi pond’ring well, “Is a lonely hill and jungle where some ancient hermits dwell, Chitra-kuta, Peak of Beauty, where the forest creatures stray, And in every bush and thicket herds of lightsome monkeys play, Men who view its towering summit are on lofty thoughts inclined. Earthly pride nor earthly passions cloud their pure and peaceful mind, Hoary-headed ancient hermits, hundred autumns who have done, By their faith and lofty penance heaven’s eternal bliss have won, Holy is the fair seclusion for thy purpose suited well, Or if still thy heart inclineth, here in peace and comfort dwell!” Spake the rishi Bharad-vaja, and with every courteous rite, Cheered his guests with varied converse till the silent hours of night, Fourth night of the princes’ exile in Prayaga’s hermitage, Passed the brothers and fair Sita honoured by Prayaga’s Sacre.

CROSSING THE JUMNA–VALMIKI’S HERMITAGE

Morning dawned, and faithful Sita with the brothers held her way, Where the dark and eddying, waters of the sacred Jumna stray, Pondering by the rapid river long the thoughtful brothers stood, Then with stalwart arms and axes felled the sturdy jungle wood, Usira of strongest fibre, slender bamboo smooth and plain, Jambu branches intertwining, with the bent and twisting cane, And a mighty raft constructed,

and with creepers scented sweet, Lakshman for the gentle Sita made a soft and pleasant seat. Then the rustic bark was floated, framed with skill of woodman’s craft, By her loving lord supported Sita stepped upon the raft, And her raiments and apparel Rama by his consort laid, And the axes and the deerskins, bow and dart and shining blade. Then with stalwart arms the brothers plied the bending bamboo oar,


And the strong raft gaily bounding left for Jumna’s southern shore. “Goddess of the glorious Jumna!” so the pious Sita prayed, “Peaceful be my husband’s exile in the forest’s darksome shade, May he safely reach Ayodhya, and a thousand fattened kine, Hundred jars of sweet libation, mighty Jumna, shall be thine, Grant that from the woods returning he may see his home again, Grant that honoured by his kinsmen he may rule his loving men! On her breast her arms she folded while the princes plied the oar, And the bright bark bravely bounding reached the wooded southern shore. And the wanderers from Ayodhya on the river’s margin stood,

Where the unknown realm extended mantled by unending wood, Gallant Lakshman with his weapons went before the path to clear, Soft-eyed Sita followed gently, Rama followed in the rear. Oft from tree and darksome jungle, Lakshman ever true and brave, Plucked the fruit or smiling blossom and to gentle Sita gave, Oft to Rama turned his consort, pleased and curious evermore, Asked the name of tree or creeper, fruit or flower unseen before. Still with brotherlv affection Lakshman brought each dewy spray,

Bud or blossom of wild beauty from the woodland bright and gay, Still with eager joy and pleasure Sita turned her eye once more, Where the tuneful swans and saras flocked on Jumna’s sandy shore. Two miles thus they walked and wandered and the belt of forest passed, Slew the wild deer of the jungle, spread on leaves their rich repast, Peacocks flew around them gaily, monkeys leaped on branches bent, Fifth night of their endless wanderings in the forest thus they spent. “Wake, my love, and list the warblings and the voices of the wood,” Thus spake Rama when the morning on the eastern mountains stood,

Sita woke and gallant Lakshman, and they sipped the sacred wave, To the hill of Chitra-kuta held their way serene and brave. “Mark, my love,” so Rama uttered, “every bush and tree and flower, Tinged by radiant light of morning sparkles in a golden shower, Mark the flaming flower of Kinsuk and the Vilwa in its pride, Luscious fruits in wild profusion ample store of food provide, Mark the honeycombs suspended from each tall and stately tree, How from every virgin blossom steals her store the faithless bee! Oft the lone and startled wild cock sounds its clarion full and clear, And from flowering fragrant forests peacocks send the answering cheer, Oft the elephant of jungle ranges in this darksome wood,

For yon peak is Chitra-kuta loved by saints and hermits good, Oft the chanted songs of hermits echo through its sacred grove, Peaceful on its shady uplands, Sita, we shall live and rove!” Gently thus the princes wandered through the fair and woodland scene, Fruits and blossoms lit the branches, feathered songsters filled the green, Anchorites and ancient hermits lived in every sylvan grove, And a sweet and sacred stillness filled the woods with peace and love! Gently thus the princes wandered to the holy hermitage, Where in lofty contemplation lived the mighty Saint and Sage, Heaven inspired thy song, Valmiki! Ancient Bard of ancient day, Deeds of virtue and of valour live in thy madying lay!

to be continued