Aranya Kanda
Narration
This is the forty-fourth canto of the Aranya Kanda.
Hearing the cry of Maricha, who had been struck down by Shri Ram, and the sound of “Sita!” and “Lakshman!” that followed, the radiant and mighty Shri Ramchandra — who brought joy to the Raghu lineage — became anxious. Giving instructions to Lakshman, he fastened his sword with the golden hilt around his waist. Then the valorous Raghunath, bending slightly at three places, took up his shining bow adorned with ornaments, slung two quivers across his back, and set forth.
When the brave King Rama came into view, even the golden deer — king among forest creatures — hid in fear. But soon after, it appeared again within his sight. Sword at his side and bow in hand, Shri Ram ran in the direction of the deer. He saw that its dazzling form seemed to light up the forest ahead. The creature kept glancing back while running forward — sometimes leaping great distances, sometimes appearing so close that one might be tempted to reach out and grab it. At times it looked frightened, at times restless, and at times it seemed to soar into the air. Sometimes it disappeared among the trees, just as the autumn moon is veiled by drifting clouds — now visible, now hidden.
In this way, that demon Maricha, disguised as a deer, led Shri Ram far away from the hermitage. Enchanted and compelled, Shri Ram — now slightly angered and weary — stood for a moment in the cool shade on a grassy patch. The demon in deer form had bewitched him. After a while, it appeared nearby again, surrounded by other deer. Shri Ram prepared to capture it, but as soon as he tried, it fled once more and vanished from sight. Soon after, it emerged again through a cluster of distant trees.
Seeing it, the mighty Shri Ram resolved to end it. Filled with anger, the strong and powerful Raghav drew from his quiver a blazing arrow that shone like the sun’s rays — a weapon of destruction crafted by Brahma himself. Placing it upon his firm bow, he drew the string tight and released it with a hiss like a serpent’s breath. The arrow, shining like a thunderbolt, struck Maricha, piercing through his body and tearing his heart apart. Writhing in pain, the demon leapt high like a palm tree and fell heavily to the ground, roaring in agony as his life ebbed away.
As Maricha lay dying, he abandoned his illusory deer form. Remembering Ravana’s words, he thought of how he might still fulfill his task — to lure Lakshman away and leave Sita alone for Ravana to seize. Realizing that this was the moment to act, he called out in a voice exactly like Shri Ram’s, crying, “Ah, Sita! Ah, Lakshman!”
Struck in his vital spot by Shri Ram’s arrow, Maricha resumed his true demonic form, enlarging his body and lying blood-soaked upon the ground. Seeing that terrifying sight, Shri Ram suddenly remembered Lakshman’s warning — that the deer was an illusion. He thought, “Ah! What Lakshman said was true. It was indeed Maricha’s deceit. Though I have slain him, he cried out with my voice — ‘Ah, Sita! Ah, Lakshman!’ What must Sita’s state be now on hearing that? And how must my noble brother Lakshman feel?”
A chill of fear passed through Rama’s body. After killing that deceptive demon and hearing his cry, Shri Ram’s heart was filled with both grief and dread. He gathered some fruits and roots suitable for ascetics and, anxious to return, hastened toward his hermitage at Panchavati.
Thus ends the forty-fourth canto.
Hearing the anguished cry that sounded like her husband’s voice, Sita grew deeply distressed. She said to Lakshman, “Brother, go quickly and find out how my Lord, Shri Raghunath, is. I heard him cry out to us in great pain. The sound was loud and full of sorrow — my heart and mind are trembling. He must be in great danger, perhaps trapped by demons. Go at once to his aid!”
Even after Sita’s pleading, Lakshman, remembering his brother’s strict command not to leave her alone, did not move. Seeing this, Janaka’s daughter, Sita, overcome with emotion, said angrily, “Son of Sumitra, you seem to treat your brother as an enemy in disguise! Otherwise, why would you not go to him in such a perilous time? I know your heart — you wish to harm my Lord, Shri Ram! You have no affection for your brother; you want him to perish so that you can fulfill your own desire!”
“Raghunath is in danger, yet you stand here calmly — how can you call yourself his servant? What use is protecting me if your brother loses his life?”
Frightened and trembling like a doe, Sita continued, weeping, “Lakshman, I know your cruel intent. You desire me, and you have followed your brother into the forest only to take me when he is gone. Perhaps Bharata himself sent you to do this! But hear me — your evil wish shall never come true. Having Shri Ram, the lotus-eyed one, as my husband, how could I ever desire another man? I will end my life before letting that happen. Without him, I cannot live even for a moment.”
Hearing Sita’s harsh and piercing words, the self-controlled Lakshman folded his hands and said softly, “Devi, I cannot answer such words — you are like a goddess to me. It is not surprising that women sometimes speak such unworthy things when overcome by emotion. The nature of women is fickle; they are easily swayed and often speak in anger. Still, your words have pierced my ears like burning iron.”
“Let all the beings of this forest bear witness — though I have spoken only the truth, you have accused me unjustly. Surely your mind has been clouded. Yet, I will obey my brother’s command. May you be safe, O noble lady. May the forest gods protect you. But I sense ill omens — I do not know if I shall return with my brother and find you unharmed.”
When Lakshman said this, Sita wept bitterly. Tears streamed from her eyes as she replied, “If I am separated from Shri Ram, I will end my life — I will drown myself in the Godavari, or hang myself, or leap from a mountain top, or enter a blazing fire. But I will never allow another man to touch me.”
Having taken this vow, Sita, overcome with grief, struck her stomach and chest with both hands and wept uncontrollably. Seeing her in such anguish, Lakshman silently bowed, folded his hands, and after glancing at her again and again, turned and left for Shri Ram.
Thus ends the forty-fifth canto.