The Story of Sita Abduction (Sarga 46-48)

This is the forty-sixth sarga.
After Lakshman, angered by Sita’s harsh words, left quickly with the strong desire to meet Shri Ram, Ravana got his chance. Putting on the guise of a wandering ascetic, he swiftly approached the princess of Videha, Sita. His body was clean; he had wrapped himself in saffron robes, wore sandals, had a shikha (tuft of hair) on his head, carried an umbrella in his hand, and had slung a water pot (kamandalu) from the staff he rested on his left shoulder. The extremely powerful Ravana, having assumed the form of a wandering monk in that forest, went near the lonely princess Sita of Videha, who had been left there by Shri Ram and Lakshman. Just as deep darkness approaches the twilight which is separated from the sun and moon, in the same way he came near Sita. And just as the fierce, inauspicious gaze of a cruel planet falls upon the star Rohini when it is deprived of the moon, in that same way that very cruel Ravana cast his eyes upon that innocent, famed princess.

Seeing that terrible sinner approaching, the trees of Janasthana stopped moving, and the wind’s force came to a halt. Seeing Ravana with his red eyes casting his gaze upon her, the swiftly flowing Godavari River slowed down in fear. That ten-headed Ravana, who was always looking for a chance to take revenge on Ram, now came in the form of a mendicant to princess Sita. At that time, Sita, daughter of Videha, was sunk in grief and worry for her husband. In that very moment, the unworthy Ravana appeared before her in a dignified form. Just as a dreadful, unseen planet stands near the auspicious constellation Chitra, so he stood before her. Just as a well covered with grass and straw hides the danger beneath, in the same way Ravana hid his terrible nature beneath a holy appearance and suddenly appeared there, standing and looking at the famed wife of Ram.

Sita was exceedingly beautiful. Her teeth and lips were lovely; her face outshone the beauty of the full moon. Sitting in the leafy cottage, she was distressed with sorrow and shedding tears. That night-stalker, joyous at heart, came before that lotus-eyed princess of Videha, who was adorned with a silk yellow garment. The moment he saw her, the king of demons Ravana was pierced by the arrows of Kamadeva. Standing in that charming hermitage, he began to recite Vedic mantras and, in a humble tone, prepared himself to say something to her.

Sita, the beauty of the three worlds, shone like Lakshmi herself, but as if Lakshmi stripped of the lotus, or like a lotus-faced goddess without lotuses in her hand. Ravana praised her and said: “O lady whose complexion shines like finest gold, O beautiful one clad in silk yellow garments, who are you? Your face, eyes and feet resemble lotuses. Like a maiden from a lake of lotuses, you wear a garland of beautiful lotuses. O auspicious, lotus-faced one, are you Shri (Lakshmi) herself, or Fame, or auspicious Form? Are you Lakshmi? Are you an apsara? Or are you the sportive, ever-roaming wife of Kamadeva? Your teeth are even, and their tips shine like buds of kunda flowers. They are all well-set and white. Your eyes are large and clear, with red corners and dark pupils. Your waist is broad and fleshy in front; your two thighs resemble the trunks of young elephants. Your two breasts are full, round, close to each other, high and firm, smooth like ripe palm fruits, very beautiful, and adorned with excellent gem-studded ornaments.

“O playful, smiling lady, with delightful teeth and charming eyes, you steal my mind with your beauty just as a river steals away its own bank with its water. Your waist is so slim it could be held in a single hand. Your hair is smooth and lovely; your breasts press against one another. O beautiful one, even among the women of the gods, gandharvas, yakshas and kinnaras, there is none like you. On this earth I have never before seen a woman of such beauty. Where can your beauty, youth and princess-like grace belong — and where is this fearsome forest! Thinking of all this churns my mind. Blessed one, come away from here. You are not fit to live in this place. This is the dwelling-place of terrible demons, who can change their form at will. You should be living and moving about in delightful royal palaces, wealthy cities, and fragrant pleasure-gardens.

“O lovely one, that man alone is truly great, that fragrance alone is truly sweet, and that garment alone truly beautiful which come into your use. O dark-eyed beauty, I consider only that man to be the best of husbands who gains your pleasant company. O lady with pure smile and beautiful color, who are you? To me, you appear like a goddess connected with the Rudras, the Maruts or the Vasus. No gandharvas or gods come here; this is the abode of rakshasas. Then how have you come here? Here dwell monkeys, lions, leopards, wild deer, wolves, tigers and various birds. Why do you feel no fear of them? O lady, within this vast forest, how is it that you do not fear the swift and mad, terrible elephants who roam here? Auspicious one, tell me who you are, whose you are, and from where you have come. For what reason do you wander alone in this dreadful Dandakaranya served by demons?”

When Ravana, disguised in a brahmin’s attire, thus praised the princess of Videha, Sita saw him in that brahmin form and, as befitted an honoured guest, set about worshipping him with all proper articles. First she offered him a seat and water to wash his feet. Then, seeing him as a guest in the guise of a brahmin, she invited him to take food, saying, “Revered brahmin, the meal is ready. Please accept it.” As he had come in brahmin dress, carrying a kamandalu and staff, it was impossible for her to neglect a guest appearing in that form. The signs of a brahmin were visible in his outer appearance, and seeing that, Janaki invited him to the hospitality appropriate for a brahmin. She said, “O brahmin, here is a mat; sit according to your comfort. Here is water to wash your feet. These fruits and roots, produced in this forest, have been properly prepared and kept ready. Please sit calmly here and partake. Everything for the guest is prepared.”

When Sita thus invited him to partake of the food, Ravana looked at the princess of Mithila, who was rich in all virtues and spoke words of welfare, and in his heart he firmly resolved, with stubborn will, to abduct her for the sake of his own destruction. After that, Sita continued to wait for her handsome husband Shri Ram and for Lakshman, who had gone to hunt. She cast her gaze around in all directions, but saw only the green, vast forest; Ram and Lakshman were nowhere to be seen. Thus the forty-sixth sarga is concluded.

Now we take the forty-seventh sarga: Sita introduces herself and her husband to Ravana, and explains the reason for their life in the forest; Ravana expresses his desire to make her his queen, and Sita rebukes him.

Filled with the desire to abduct Sita, Ravana, who had come in the guise of a wandering ascetic, questioned the victorious princess, and she herself began to introduce herself. For two ghadis (a short span of time), she hesitated, thinking, “He is a brahmin, an honoured guest. If I do not answer him, he may curse me.” With this thought, Sita began to speak: “O brahmin, may all be well with you. I am the daughter of King Janaka of Mithila, the great soul, and the beloved queen of King Shri Ramchandra of Ayodhya. My name is Sita. After marriage, for twelve years I lived with my husband in the palace of King Dasharatha of the Ikshvaku line, enjoying all the human pleasures. I was always endowed with all the comforts my heart could desire.

“At the beginning of the thirteenth year, powerful King Dasharatha consulted with his ministers and decided to perform the ceremony to make Shri Ramchandra the crown prince. When preparations for my lord’s coronation began, my mother-in-law Kaikeyi asked for the fruit of the boon she had once been promised in the service of her husband. She bound my father-in-law by an oath upon his virtue and then, from that king, that jewel among monarchs, she demanded two boons: exile to the forest for my husband, and the kingship for Bharata. Kaikeyi insisted stubbornly: ‘If this coronation of Ram goes ahead, I will neither eat, nor drink, nor sleep. That will be the end of my life.’

“Speaking thus, Kaikeyi did not accept my father-in-law’s request when he begged her: ‘Take all sorts of excellent things, but do not obstruct the coronation of Rama.’ At that time my mighty husband Shri Ram was over twenty-five years old, and from my birth up to our departure for the forest, according to the counting of years, my age had reached eighteen. Shri Ram is renowned in the world as truthful, gentle and pure. His eyes are large, his arms long; he is always devoted to the welfare of all beings. My father-in-law, King Dasharatha, troubled by desire and eager to please Kaikeyi, did not perform the coronation of Shri Ramchandra.

“When Shri Ramchandra came to his father for the coronation, Kaikeyi at once said to my lord: ‘Raghunandan, hear from my mouth the command your father has given. This kingdom, free of enemies, will be given to Bharata; you must dwell in the forest for fourteen years. Go to the forest and free your father from the bond of falsehood.’ Fearless of anyone, Shri Ram heard Kaikeyi’s words and said, ‘Very well,’ accepting them without hesitation. My Lord firmly keeps his vows. Shri Ram only gives; he never takes from anyone. He always speaks the truth, not falsehood. O brahmin, that is the supreme vow my husband has undertaken.

“Ram’s step-brother Lakshman is very valiant, a lion among men, who destroys enemies in battle. Lakshman is Ram’s helper, his brother, a brahmachari, and firmly established in noble vows. When Shri Raghunath was about to go to the forest with me, Lakshman also took up his bow and followed behind him. Thus, with me and his younger brother, Shri Ram came into this Dandaka forest. He is firm in his vows, ever devoted to dharma, wearing matted locks on his head and dressed as an ascetic he dwells here. O noble one, thus the three of us, deprived of the kingdom because of Kaikeyi, wander in this deep forest relying on our own strength.

“If you can stay here a while, rest for a short time. My lord will soon return with an abundance of forest fruits and roots. Killing wild animals like deer and boar for the ascetics’ sustenance, he will bring many fruits and roots and will be here shortly. When he returns, you will receive great honour. O brahmin, now please tell me your name, lineage and family clearly. For what reason do you wander alone in this Dandakaranya, which is frequented by demons?”

Thus addressed by Shri Ram’s wife Sita, the mighty king of demons, Ravana, answered in harsh words: “O Sita, at whose very name the gods, asuras and men of the three worlds tremble — I am that Ravana, king of the rakshasas. O faultless beauty, your limbs shine like gold and silk garments adorn you. Seeing you, my mind no longer turns toward my other wives. From here and there I have carried off many beautiful women, but among them all, you must become my chief queen. May good befall you. My capital is called Lanka. It is a great city built upon the peak of a mountain in the midst of the ocean, surrounded on all sides by the sea. Sita, living there with me, you will roam in my seven different kinds of forests. Then you will never again feel any desire for this forest life. If you become my wife, five thousand maidservants, adorned with all kinds of ornaments, will always remain in your service.”

Hearing this, Janaka’s daughter Sita, whose limbs were without fault, became angry and, rejecting the demon, replied: “My husband, Bhagavan Shri Ram, is firm like a great mountain, mighty like Indra, and calm like the vast ocean. No one can shake him. With all my heart and life, I follow only him and love only him. Shri Ramchandra is endowed with all auspicious marks, like a great banyan tree giving shade to all; he is truth-loving and supremely fortunate. I am exclusively devoted to him alone. His arms are large, his chest broad; he walks with proud, lion-like strides and is as brave as a lion. I, a lion-like maiden, place my unwavering devotion only in this lion among men, Shri Ram. His face is as delightful as the full moon; he is self-controlled and his fame is great. My mind is firmly fixed on that long-armed Ram.

“O sinful night-ranger, I am not a she-deer for you. I am utterly unattainable for you. Do you wish to gain me here? Just as no one can lay a hand on the radiance of the sun, in the same way you cannot even touch me. What boldness is this, O demon, that you wish to abduct the beloved wife of Shri Raghunath? Surely you must be seeing golden trees everywhere. You have come close to your death. You want to seize the dear wife of Shri Ram; it seems you wish to kill a fierce enemy, like a hungry beast chasing deer, or like a puny creature trying to break the fangs in the mouth of a serpent who is the foe of rats; like one who desires to lift the great mountain Mandara with his hands; like one who wishes to drink the deadly kalakuta poison and safely return; like one who tries to touch the eye with a needle or licks a sharp blade with his tongue; like one who, tying a stone to his neck, wants to cross the ocean; like one who wishes to pluck the sun and moon with his hands. You, who are bent on violating the beloved wife of Shri Ramchandra, are just like such a fool.

“If you desire to abduct the wife of Shri Ram, who walks in righteous conduct, then you must be like someone who, seeing a blazing fire, still wants to clutch it and carry it away in a bundle. You want to seize Shri Ram’s wife, who is wholly suited only to him; surely you wish to walk upon sharp iron spikes with your tender, fleshy feet. The difference between Dasharatha’s son Ram and you is like the difference between water mixed with sandalwood and muddy water; or like the difference between the noble forest elephant and the lowly hog; between the royal swan and the crow; between the peacock and the water-crow. When Shri Ramchandra, mighty as thousand-armed Indra, stands before you with bow in hand and arrow set to the string, then you will not be able to digest having abducted me, just as a fly cannot digest ghee after drinking it.”

Though her father had no ill-will in his heart, Sita, overcome by great sorrow, kept saying such harsh and painful words to that demon, so that even her own body began to tremble, like a banana plant shaken by the wind. Seeing Sita shaking, Ravana, who carried the power of death itself, began to describe his own lineage, strength and deeds in order to strike fear into her heart. Thus ends the forty-seventh sarga.

Now we take the forty-eighth: Ravana describes his own might, and Sita rebukes him sharply.

When Sita had spoken thus, Ravana was filled with rage. He twisted his brow and, in harsh tones, said: “O beautiful one, I am Ravana, the ten-headed, extremely powerful brother of Kubera. May you fare well. Just as subjects tremble in fear of death, so all gods, gandharvas, pishachas, birds and serpents are always terrified of me and flee in all directions. I fought a great battle with my step-brother Kubera and, conquering him in my anger and prowess, defeated him on the battlefield. Tormented by fear of me, that Kubera, who used to ride in his chariot, abandoned his prosperous city of Lanka and now has taken refuge on Mount Kailasa. His famous, beautiful aerial chariot named Pushpaka, which moves as one wills, I won by my strength, and with that chariot I wander in the sky.

“O princess of Mithila, when anger rises in me, then gods like Indra are terrified just seeing my face and scatter in all directions. Wherever I stand, the wind, afraid, begins to blow slowly; the blazing sun in the sky becomes cool like the moon. In the places where I walk or wander, even the leaves on the trees do not stir, and the waters of the rivers become still. Beyond the ocean lies my beautiful city of Lanka, lovely like Indra’s Amaravati, filled with fierce demons. The white ramparts built all around that city add to its splendour. The halls, courtyards and floors of its palaces are made of gold, and the outer gates are studded with cat’s-eye and other gems. The city is very delightful; its streets are filled with elephants, horses and chariots. The sounds of all kinds of musical instruments resound there. The whole city is covered with trees that grant every desired fruit, and many different gardens increase its beauty.

“O princess Sita, come and dwell with me in that excellent city. Living there, O noble-minded one, you will forget mortal women. O beautiful one, enjoying divine and delightful pleasures in Lanka, you will never even remember that man Ram, whose life is now nearing its end. O wide-eyed lady, King Dasharatha, without courage enough even to seat his beloved eldest son on the throne, sent that weakly heroic eldest son to the forest. What will you do with that kingless, foolish, ascetic Ram engaged in tapas? This rakshasa has come easily to your door; welcome him. Desire him with your mind. He is tormented by love’s arrows; it is not fitting for you to reject him. Reject me now, and later you will repent — just as once Urvashi spurned Pururavas and later regretted it.

“O lovely one, in battle that human Ram is not worth even the breadth of one of my fingers. By your good fortune I have come here; accept me. Hearing this, the eyes of princess Sita reddened with anger. Alone in that forest hut, she addressed Ravana with harsh words: “O wretch, Lord Kubera is revered by all the gods, yet you call yourself his brother and still wish to do such a sinful deed? Ravana, because of such a cruel, wicked-minded, undisciplined king as you, all these rakshasas will surely be destroyed.

“Perhaps someone who abducts Shachi, the incomparable wife of Indra, might still somehow remain alive. But one who abducts me, the wife of Ram, cannot remain safe. It may be possible to insult Shachi, the matchless wife of the thunder-wielding Indra, and still live long; but having insulted a woman like me, even if you drink nectar, you will not escape alive.”

Thus the forty-eighth sarga is completed.