The Liberation of Sita Read online

  Urmila’s palace was all decorated on the outside. But the doors of her room remained shut. Charumati knocked gently on the door and said, ‘Amma! Your sister, Janaki Devi, has come to see you.’

  Sita was nervous.

  How will Urmila look? What will she say? What will she ask me? How should I respond? The doors did not open.

  Sita called out herself.

  ‘Urmila, it’s me, your sister. I’ll tell you everything. Please forgive us and open the door.’

  The doors of Urmila’s room opened.

  Urmila stood in front of her. Sita was shocked for a moment. This was not the Urmila she knew. There was innocence in those eyes earlier. Some royal haughtiness too. Her stately mien was that of a queen. What was it that glowed in those eyes? There was a rare poise and dignity in the way she carried herself. What was that radiance in her face? While Sita was still recovering, Urmila came closer, touched her feet and sat her down.

  ‘Urmila, I’ve been thinking about you these fourteen years. I’m very sorry.’ Tears welled up in Sita’s eyes.

  ‘You must be angry with us.’

  Urmila smiled lovingly but solemnly.

  ‘I’m not angry with anyone.’

  ‘Then why did you distance yourself like this? If you were not angry, why did you lock yourself up in a room like this? Express your anger, your wrath. But do not isolate yourself. Tell me what happened; why are you doing this?’

  Urmila smiled.

  ‘I’ll tell you, Akka—who else can I speak to? No one else will understand. That’s why I’ve been silent.’

  Sita waited eagerly.

  ‘Akka, initially I did close these doors in anger. My husband left me without uttering a word to me, without any concern for my opinion, without even giving me a thought, devoting himself entirely to his brother. That day I burned in fury. I wanted to turn this royal household upside down with my revolt.

  ‘Everyone was grieving for you all. No one even looked at me. In helpless anger, I too decided not to look at anyone. I began my protest.’

  Sita was trying to understand Urmila.

  ‘When I began, it was, indeed, wrath. But gradually it turned into a quest for truth—within me and with myself. Why so much fury—fury that consumed me—fury that wanted to burn everyone? Why this anguish? I knew the cause. But a longing to delve deeper into that cause was born in me without my noticing it. What is anger? What is sorrow? What is joy? What is the relation between my body and these feelings and emotions that I experience? Many such questions—they engulfed me. I began to observe my body, my thoughts, and the emotions they triggered within me. Any distraction to this process annoyed me. That’s why I desired solitude. Not loneliness, solitude. The solitude in which I could converse within and with myself.

  ‘That conversation brought me and the people related to me face to face. It dissected relationships. I began to probe the essence of each of my relationships—with Father, with you, Lakshmana, Sri Rama, Kausalya—peeling them layer by layer.

  ‘I loved you as my elder sister. But when you went away with your husband, abandoning me, something changed in our relationship. What was that change? What was its nature? Why did it happen?

  ‘Jealousy, hatred, love, respect—what’s the real difference between these feelings? Is there any difference at all or are they merely shades of the same feeling? How does light barge into shadow, and shadow encroach on light? Which is light and which is shadow?

  ‘As one question after another rose within me, I experienced something akin to the thrill of a battle. I heard that our husbands fought many battles during these fourteen years to slay demons. I don’t know whether those battles resulted in peace or not. But the war I waged with these questions has brought me peace and joy.’

  That peace was evident on Urmila’s face. Sita looked at her in amazement, listening to her words and imagining the battle Urmila had fought. She began to worry about Lakshmana.

  ‘Lakshmana loves you, Urmila! With him—’

  Urmila interrupted Sita.

  ‘We are going to see each other after fourteen years. I have changed a lot. Change is the sign of life. The course of our future depends on the value he attaches to that change.

  ‘I’ve acquired the wisdom to ask questions not out of hatred but for the sake of justice. My relationship with Lakshmana will depend on whether he understands my wisdom and how much he respects it.

  ‘Will he give up his authority over me even while being bound to and enjoying his other powers? I don’t know, and can’t say. Whatever happens, my peace will not be disturbed. The question is, does he want that peace or not?’

  Even as she spoke, Urmila saw and understood the anxiety on Sita’s face.

  Will her anxiety abate if I explain things further? Urmila wanted to try.

  ‘When I understood my relationships with others, I felt I understood everything. Power is the root cause of all sorrow, Akka. Do you know another strange thing? We must acquire this power. And then give it up. I shall not submit to anyone’s power. Nor will I bind anyone with my power. Then I will feel I have liberated myself. I will feel only joy within myself! Great peace! Much love! Compassion for all!

  ‘It’s a pity how people get bogged down by structures of power. Unable to see how they can liberate themselves, they rot in unrest, sorrow and hatred.

  ‘I wonder if I should share this secret to achieving peace with everyone.

  ‘But who will understand?

  ‘Will those who consider my fourteen-year-long meditation in search of truth mere sleep understand my words?

  ‘They concluded that I was sleeping. Do they know the difference between sleep and wakefulness?

  ‘Did they ever sleep peacefully? Were they ever truly awake and conscious?

  ‘They say I was asleep—they will label me as mad if they hear what I have to say.’

  ‘No, Urmila! Your words make great sense. I can see that you were in deep meditation.’

  ‘I knew, Akka, that you would understand. That’s why I broke my silence today. But, Akka, if you ever have to face the kind of trial I did, do not respond in a predictable manner. Do not allow the situation to force you into mundaneness, into nastiness. Do not let it burn you up in anger, hatred. Save yourself. Assert your right over yourself. Give up your power over others. Then you will belong to yourself. You will be yourself. It’s not easy to remain ourselves—trust me, Akka!’

  As Urmila spoke, calm descended on Sita’s heart. She knew that she would not be able to comprehend Urmila’s experience of all these years in a single day. She relayed Urmila’s words to Rama.

  ‘I hope this power will not trouble my brother,’ said Rama.

  ‘All troubles seem to vanish in the presence of Urmila,’ Sita said.

  Every now and then Sita would go to Urmila, savour her words, her smile, her peace and her glow.

  After Lakshmana left her in the forest, when Sita felt she had been abandoned in the middle of an ocean, Urmila appeared fleetingly before Sita’s eyes.

  When Sita was crying in the wilderness, asking if nothing but separation and rumours were her lot, she recalled Urmila’s words.

  Lakshmana followed Rama into the forest without informing Urmila.

  Rama instructed Lakshmana to leave Sita in the forest without telling her anything.

  Protest or penance, whatever it was, Urmila had saved herself.

  Assume authority. Give up power. Then you’ll belong to yourself. Then you’ll be yourself. We should remain ourselves. Urmila had repeated these words many times in different ways. Those words had allayed Sita’s concern for Urmila.

  But was it her turn now to launch the protest? When would her anger abate? When would truth be realized? How?

  Immense love and affection for Rama—how could she attain liberation from him?

  What kind of a trial was this? The trial by fire was nothing compared to it! She was well versed in the art of warfare, but she had never waged a war against anyone. Now sh
e had to wage a war against herself.

  The battle had begun. How long was it going to continue?

  ‘Ramachandra is performing Aswamedha Yaga, Sita. He has sent an invitation. I’ll go, Amma,’ Maharshi Valmiki said.

  Maharshi waited for a while for Sita’s response, then left. Sita did not notice his leaving. She was in no state to notice anything.

  How can Rama perform the Aswamedha Yaga? Without her—his spouse—next to him?

  Who was going to sit in her place?

  A flame began to burn in Sita’s heart.

  ‘What does it matter? How does it concern you?’ said Urmila, smiling as she walked in, as if she had read Sita’s mind.

  ‘Urmila!’ Sita was taken by surprise.

  ‘Yes, I’ve come. Lakshmana told me that you were here. I knew that the news of the Aswamedha Yaga would reach you. I could also imagine the storm the news would unleash in your heart. I have come to make sure that you remain yourself in this situation.’

  Sita embraced Urmila and sat her down next to her. A long silence followed, and a lot was said in that silence. Then Sita asked, ‘Is Rama himself performing the yaga?’

  ‘Who else will do it? It’s the emperor’s prerogative, isn’t it?’

  ‘How will he do it without me?’

  ‘Why should that question trouble you? If at all, it should occur to Rama. Or to those who are going to conduct the yaga. Isn’t it foolish to get anxious about unnecessary things?’ asked Urmila, as if she were older than Sita.

  ‘You certainly know, Urmila. Tell me who is sitting with Rama in the yaga?’

  ‘I have not come here to give you an answer that will either temporarily douse or further flare up the fire that is consuming you. I’ve come to tell you not to torture yourself with unnecessary questions.’

  ‘But I am unable to swallow this.’

  ‘Don’t swallow. Don’t even let it enter your mind. You must liberate yourself from Rama.’

  ‘Urmila—’

  Sita sobbed convulsively.

  ‘How many tests and trials must I go through, Urmila?’

  ‘Each of those trials is meant to liberate you from Rama. To secure you for yourself. Fight, meditate, look within until you find the truth that is you.’

  ‘It’s hard, sister.’ The words came out of Sita’s throat with great difficulty.

  ‘It will be comforting, too, Akka. Try. I’ll go now.’ Urmila stood up.

  ‘Why so soon? Don’t you want to know about my children? Won’t you see them?’

  ‘I will, certainly, when they come to see me.’

  Urmila left as suddenly as she had come. But the flames in Sita’s heart were not doused so easily. Sparks of fire that lay buried in some corner, ash-covered embers dormant in her for a long time, began to blaze now. Just when Sita was getting used to the pleasure of those flames, she realized they had to be put out.

  What was more enjoyable—loving Rama or being angry with him? Her mind oscillated endlessly in this dilemma.

  It is not easy to ignite self-consuming anger or to stoke it. It is equally difficult to grasp the pleasure that passes off as sorrow.

  It was also not easy to bear the sorrow that came out of the joy of loving Rama. Surmounting these dualities and liberating herself from Rama was proving to be arduous for Sita.

  Yet Sita made the effort.

  She continued to churn the stormy sea till it turned into an ocean of peace.

  Gradually peace pervaded Sita.

  By the time Valmiki returned from the Aswamedha Yaga, Sita’s mind was completely at ease.

  Who sat next to Rama to perform the yaga? It did not even occur to Sita to ask Valmiki the question.

  After some days, Valmiki came to convey an important message to Sita.

  ‘Rama has accepted Lava and Kusa. He has accepted Sita, too. But Sita must declare herself innocent in the open court.’

  Sita listened calmly to these words. With a smile.

  ‘Is there a need for me to do that?’ That’s all she said.

  Liberated now from her children too, Sita, with a peaceful smile on her face, set out to return to where she had come from.

  The Shackled

  Rama’s abode was in pitch darkness. No one had dared light a lamp.

  No one had the courage to disturb Rama’s solitude. The dark night wore on.

  Though it was evident that Sita was no longer with Rama and that she would never return, the sun would still rise, the birds would sing, the flowers would bloom. That is the law of nature.

  The laws of nature do not change. If they do, it will be calamitous for the world.

  Human laws change. Human beings change them. Unable to cope with the change, they get perturbed. Slowly they get used to the change. Once the change stabilizes, they desire change again. Human law becomes the law of the time, and the law of the moment becomes the law of human beings. During the period of transition, the lives of the people who are key to the change go haywire.

  Rama was in exactly such a situation now.

  Since his childhood he had been entrusted by his teachers with the responsibility of preserving and propagating Arya Dharma.

  They made him an expert in matters of the state, administration, royal responsibilities, governance and the duties of a kshatriya.

  That very sense of duty was now slipping from Rama’s throat into his heart. It tasted like poison.

  When Shiva held poison in his throat, it benefitted the world, they said.

  Unless Rama swallowed the poison, the world would not prosper, they said.

  Rama swallowed.

  Torture. Unbearable suffering.

  Loneliness, terrible loneliness.

  Except the time he spent playing with his brothers in childhood ….

  But as childhood receded, an impregnable circle of power began to be drawn around him.

  Except as a prince or as a future king, he was no longer seen as someone capable of familial attachments and affections.

  As his teachers tightened their hold over him, he was distanced from everybody else. How to smile, how to walk, how long he should talk and to whom, what rites and rituals he should perform and how—what the duties of a king were, of a son, and of a kshatriya—what the history of his dynasty was, who the great men born in Raghu Vamsa were, what he should do as their heir—this line of thought gradually began to carry him along.

  Lakshmana, too, stopped placing his hand on Rama’s shoulder and began to greet him with folded hands. He stopped walking alongside Rama and started to walk a little behind him.

  It was during this time, when Rama was getting distanced from everyone, including Lakshmana, that Sage Viswamitra arrived like an unsought boon and took him to the forest for a few days.

  In the forest, he and Lakshmana once again walked hand in hand, laughed together and wandered around together, side by side.

  Then—after that—like a gift from Creation, the daughter of Earth, Sita, became his spouse.

  A rare and precious friend, a companion who dispelled his loneliness.

  Sita, who would befriend him in their private chambers, free from the biddings of others, was like a goddess to him.

  But soon began the exhortations that there were matters that should not be shared even with one’s wife.

  Boundaries were drawn for Sita as well.

  So many ups and downs. So many trials and tribulations.

  When everything appeared to have settled down, and as he was exulting over his fatherhood that was in the offing—permanent separation from Sita.

  As Rama recollected the course of events, his eyes turned into the petals of a blood-red lotus.

  Lakshmana came and stood in front.

  Both of them knew.

  Lakshmana was back after leaving Sita in the forest and unburdening himself of the responsibility Rama had entrusted to him. But his heart was heavy like a ball of lead.

  Both shed tears in silence.

  ‘Anna! You’re an emperor, y
ou should not shed tears,’ said Lakshmana, finding his voice with great effort.

  ‘Don’t I have the freedom even to grieve, Lakshmana? I know I am bound in chains, but tears can’t be shackled. They are ripping open my iron heart and flowing out.’ Unable to restrain himself, Lakshmana placed one hand on his brother’s shoulder and wiped his tears with the other.

  ‘Why is it unfolding this way, Rama?’ Lakshmana’s voice was filled with grief.

  ‘It is impossible for it to happen in any other way. My life will have to lie suppressed under authority. Thanks to our mother, Kaikeyi, I could live in freedom with Sita for thirteen years in the forest. That’s all.

  ‘The time that I spent happily with Sita was indeed Kaikeyi’s blessing to me. You don’t know how indebted I am to her. She freed me from this throne and from authority. I was happy when I had to leave everything and go to the forest. Do you remember, Lakshmana?’

  Lakshmana was astonished, even in his state of despair.

  ‘Anna, are you grieving for yourself? I’ve just abandoned my vadina in the forest. I wonder what her fate is going to be.’

  ‘Sita and I are inseparable, Lakshmana. None of you understand that. I am grieving for both of us. Nothing untoward will happen to her. She is the daughter of Earth. She is a strong and able woman. She will give birth to a good son and fully enjoy the pleasures of bringing him up. I am the one who is weak and incapable. My exalted nobleness is my handicap. With this political power, I have lost power over myself. I have lost my Sita. I have lost my son.’

  Lakshmana did not have the strength to bear Rama’s sorrow.

  It is not in Rama’s hands to give up his authority.

  It is not Rama’s sole discretion to give up his kingdom.

  The day Rama prepared himself, joyously and without any apprehensions, to wear the crown, it left him. He did not even have the time to find out what forces had robbed him of the throne. Instead, he was overjoyed that he had got the opportunity to perform the noblest duty of a son in Arya Dharma, to honour his father’s word. Before Rama set out for the forest, Vasista explained to him gently: