RAMA
IN QUEST OF SITA
Dr. H. Prasad Sharma
Finding nowhere
Sita Rama calls:
Come Sita dear,
where have you gone?
And over his
breast misery rolls;
With a heavy heart
he draws hot moan.
He runs in haste
through dense forest
In search of Sita
everywhere;
Then tired he sits
to take some rest,
And gets up again
in black despair.
He asks trees,
flowers and fountain:
Where Sita is gone
could they tell?
With his reeling
mind and surging pain
He totters on
earth and leans to fall.
His long-drawn cry
all sky rends
So Laxhman soothes
him again and again;
He lifts him
gently by his hands,
And wipe his tears
that begin to rain.
He turns his eyes
this way that way,
She might appear
in some direction,
Yet no trace of
her and slips the day:
Louder and louder
grows his lementation.
Then he walks to
river and water-bird.
With tear-bathed
face he asks them there:
O my Sita is
missing have you heard?
O tell me, tell me
something declare.
O all are mute,
none gives me clue
Of my darling
where has she gone?
Heart-broken he
thinks now what to do
Rubbing hands in
despair he feels alone.
Game of hide and
seek give up dear,
Show your dearest
face or I will die.
He calls her aloud
pouring his tear:
Hear, hear my
heart-rending cry.
Who has eaten his
Sita, some lion or devil
He whines in
despair like a sickly child;
In the deep dark
woods her who can kill,
With a puzzled
look he grows all wild.
Now he thinks of
Sita's physical mould
Her silky hair,
her rosy lips, her jet-black eyes,
Her orbed breasts,
her glossy skin finer than gold
Are so well-cut in
shape and size.
And her dainty
waist and majestic gait,
Her loveful words
like music fall;
Her laments over
his cruel Fate-
Her memory
shatters his body whole.
O her sleek frame
with tender feet,
Bare-footed she
walks with no complaint;
She is born to sit
on a royal seat;
He thinks and
weeps neath misery’s weight.
His gleaming tears
from his swollen eyes
Flow down his
cheeks like a silent rill
Which sadden the
hearts of earth and skies;
He roams for Sita
in woods and hill.
As evening draws
he turns to hermitage
Along with Laxhman
who’s equally sad,
He looks on his
face and empty gaze
Whose bitterest
grief turns him mad.
Dark circles
appear under his eyes,
His streaming
tears discolour his face;
For Sita's dear
his all soul cries;
He combs out all
woods new where to trace?
Deep silence
prevails in the dwelling-place;
Rama sees Sita’s
pallet and unfolds-
I’ll find her out
this Laxman says:
And in his arms he
him enfolds.
He sees empty hut
of weeds and leaves;
Touches empty
walls and empty ground,
Then wipes his
tears with palms and sleeves,
But no Sita's face
not her footfalls sound.
Red sun sinks low
behind mountain-chain;
Rama looks through
window with vacant eyes
Calling Sita,
Sita, time and again,
And falls to earth
till next sunrise.