THE IDEAL OF
WOMANHOOD: SITA
By K. SAVITRI AMMAL
Sita
stands on a pedestal all her own. She is unapproachable. There she will stand,
as she has always stood, through the ages. She will shine indeed for all time
as the one glowing ideal of womanhood. Nevertheless, the passing of time and
our contact with western civilisation have tended,
perhaps, to a slight change, just now in our attitude to that ideal. Great and
glorious as she is, she is not all that she should be. She may be said to lack
some essential qualities according to present-day notions. Does she not need on
occasions a little more individuality, a little more self-assertion which is
the birthright of every human being? Surely Sita is too gentle, too submissive.
A wife may be loyal and devoted to her husband, yet she need not on that
account wholly surrender herself to him. No woman, however low, should be
deprived of her individuality if it can be helped. Man should respect her. He
should give her what is her due,”–is the contention. A lady nurtured on western
ideas and culture can understand the wife standing by her husband in sorrow and
in happiness, and serving him faithfully in his hour of need. She can certainly
appreciate the wife working in unison with him undergoing the severest hardships,
if need be, for a great cause. But she can see nothing to
admire in her completely losing her personality in that of her husband without
a will of her own. “That a woman should have no independence, no separate
existence at all from her husband’s, is a slight offered to the entire
womanhood’–is probably the feeling held by the more advanced today. They think
that the ideal which robs a woman of her right to act for herself is an ideal
not worth much. Indeed, in their opinion, the injunction of Manu, “The father
protects woman in childhood, the husband in youth, and the son in old age. A
free life does not befit a woman;” is one with little sense in it and therefore
fit to be discarded. But is the text to mean simply that women are not to be
allowed freedom at any stage of their life? I wonder! Why should it not be that
Manu just thought that women were best under the protection of men, as they may
be involved in danger if left to themselves? The
tendency of the modern woman to regard this unquestioning faith of the wife in
the husband as rather extreme, is perhaps responsible for her being left
somewhat cold on reading the sublime story of Sita. She
probably feels that even the great Rama can hardly have a right to do with Sita
as he pleased.
It is in the most glowing words that Swami Vivekananda speaks of her: “This glorious Sire, purer than purity itself, all patience and all suffering–she who suffered that life of suffering without a murmur; she, the ever chaste, the ever pure wife; she, the ideal of the people, the ideal of the Gods, the great Sita. Our national God she must always remain. All our mythology may vanish, even our Vedas may depart and our Sanskrit language may vanish for ever, but so long as there will be five Hindus living here, there will be the story of Sita present, mark my words. Sire has gone into the very vitals of our race. She is there in the blood of every Hindu man and woman. We are all children of Sita.” Do not the words send a thrill in our hearts every time we read them? Sita is enshrined in our hearts, not for the establishment of her rights or the assertion of her independence, but for her suffering and sacrifice in the pursuit of her ideal.
Let
us now turn to the Ramayana and see how the Poet Valmiki
has presented Sita. We first meet her in the Ayodhya Kanda
when Sri Rama comes to her to tell the news of his having to dwell in the
forest as an exile for fourteen years. Greatly dismayed on seeing him looking
low and downcast, she asks him the reason for the change in his appearance and
Rama gently breaks to her the terrible news that his father has banished him to
the forest. He then proceeds to give her a bit of advice that in his absence
she must do this and that and how she must be careful not to speak of him
before Bharata. “Those enjoying success and prosperity will not tolerate the
praise of others in their hearing. So do not commit the folly of praising me
before Bharata” he warns her.
How
does Sire react when she hears the news? Does she grow curious to know the
details, as any other woman might, and ply him; with a number of questions as
to the validity of the two boons granted by Dasaratha
to Kaikeyi, whether there were any witnesses at the
time of his granting them, and whether Kaikeyi could
legitimately claim them after the lapse of so many years etc? No; no such
thoughts ever enter her mind. Slightly hurt because Rama has spoken of going
away without her, she only reproaches him with these words: “Why, Rama, how is it you speak so lightly of so serious a
matter!” But Rama, thinking of the hardships to be endured in the forest,
hesitates to take her along with him. He describes to her at length, of the
wild beasts and other horrors of the forest. Sita meets them all with great spirit.
“My lord! father,
mother, brother, son and daughter-in-law too–all these experiencing the fruit
of their own Karma perform their several deeds: but the wife alone, O best of
men, shares the fortunes of her husband. For that very reason, I too have been
ordered to live in the forest. My Rama, if you are bound for the impenetrable
forest this very day, I shall go indeed in front of you crushing the thorny
grass and mettles under my feet so that the path may be smooth for you.”
Here
we find no abject submission to the husband. It is the wife who is definitely
having her own way and only the husband giving in. Rama is reluctant to take
her with him in spite of all that she says. He still tries to dissuade her and
then, driven to despair; she drops her entreaties and begins to taunt him: “Oh!
what will my father, King of Mithila,
think after having got as his son-in-law you, O Rama! the
embodiment of manliness, when you behave like a woman?” Usually these words are
brought up against Sita as a tremendous transgression of duty. Surely a wife
enjoying the unbounded love of her husband can say in private what she pleases,
with impunity!
Tears
and entreaties at last gain her object for her and Rama consents to take her
with him. We should take note of the fact, too, that Rama scarcely exercises a
husband’s authority over her, but fully respects her and allows her to act for
herself with her own free will. He does not want her to accompany him without
knowing her mind first, though he cannot but be happy at her firm resolve to go
with him. “My dearest! I do not desire even Heaven at
the cost of your distress,” he says. Indeed, his consideration for her is so
great that he is loth to bring misery upon her for
his sake. But Sita bestows the least thought upon her own misery. Her ideal is
to follow Rama wherever he goes, even if it be to the ends of the Earth, and
stand by him in sorrow and in happiness. Hence she does not take much credit
for herself for doing what gains the admiration of the whole world. Her hostess
Anasuya congratulates her on having accompanied Rama
with these words: “O Sita, I am very pleased on seeing you following Dharma.
Leaving lour kith and kin, forsaking a life of importance and comfort, you have
chosen to follow Rama into the forest. Women like you, endowed with virtue,
knowing of this world and the other, live and move in heavenly bliss and always
follow, the path of “Dharma.” To this Sita replies softly but
firmly. “No, there is nothing wonderful in what I have done,” she says.
“Madam, I am not surprised to hear such words from a good person like you who
knows the duties and virtue of a dutiful wife. Even if my husband were devoid
of merit and an unworthy person, it would not have mattered, and he would have
enjoyed certainly my unswerving devotion. But when he is so famous for his
virtues like my husband, full of compassion, self-controlled, devoted, an embodiment of Dharma, affectionate, like father
and mother! He cherishes the same affection for all the queens of Dasaratha as he does for the blessed Kausalya,
his mother. He shows affection for those cherished by his father. He is so
heroic as to treat them all with the regard due to a mother.” Sita means
literally all that she says to Anasuya. For has she
not for her husband a prince among men and one who is all the more precious to
her for his vow of ‘ekapatnivrata” (faithfulness to
one wife) unlike Dasaratha, his father, and other
kings of the earth?
Next
we find Sita giving a bit of her mind when she thought that Rama did not quite
observe the rules of propriety. Of course, such passages do not often occur in
the Ramayana as in the Mahabharata where Draupadi
figures most prominently in the councils of the Pandavas. Draupadi
frequently suggests the course they should take and induces them to action
whenever they are found despondent. But here we should remember that Sri Rama
is the embodiment of Dharma and is too clear about what he must do to need much
the counsel of others. The Rishis dwelling in the
forest request Sri Rama to protect them from the Rakshasas
who menaced them and Sri Rama gives them his promise to do so. Sita, however,
considers this is not quite proper since it would be causing injury to others
without provocation, i.e., without a genuine cause, which is one of the
three great evils, namely, uttering falsehood, impropriety with another man’s
wife, and molesting another person without provocation. Rama would be
committing the last mentioned of the evils in protecting the Rishis, and Sita tells him a story in support of her view,
how a poor Rishi being left with a sharp sword in his
care, got gradually drawn to it and by constant association with it and by its
mere proximity he got into the habit of using it, and how from being the most
gentle and peace-loving Rishi he came, by degrees, to
take great pleasure in killing, and ended finally by becoming the cruelest of
men. Sita having thought it her duty to warn her husband against doing an
improper thing, concludes beautifully with these
words:
“Because
of my love for you and your regard for me, I remind you, but do not teach you.
Under no circumstances should a resolution be made by yon to wield the bow.”
How
does Sri Rama receive it? Does he at all resent it as any other ordinary
husband might do? No; we find him accepting her advice, indeed, with the
greatest respect in the world. “My dearest, you have spoken what is in your
mind out of your deep love and interest in my welfare and I am not offended. On
the other hand, I am very much pleased with you for it. I take everything from
you in good faith. What you have said is quite worthy of your family and mine.
You are my partner in life and have the liberty to admonish me, to put me
right. But I value my promise to the Rishis so highly
that there is no sacrifice that I will not make to keep it. I will sacrifice
Lakshmana. I will sacrifice you, even myself, but not my promise especially to
the Brahmanas.”
Now,
we can certainly conclude from this that there is no room for any question of
superiority or inferiority when perfect love and understanding exist between
husband and wife.
So
the days pass, and the brothers, with Sita, spend a good part of their exile in
the forest happily and peacefully, when on an evil day Surpanakha,
the sister of Ravana, comes upon Sri Rama by chance, and at once falls in love
with him. She conceives such a great passion for him that she cannot control
herself even for a moment. But her advances meet with little response. Being,
repulsed and suffering humiliation at the hands of Lakshmana, she
hastens
to Ravana in a terrible mood of revenge and gives him an account of the two
handsome brothers, of the great prowess of Rama in destroying, single-handed, Khara and Dushana with their
fourteen thousand men. She then proceeds to describe Sita in such a way as
would stimulate his desire. ‘I have not seen on earth, at any time before, a
woman of so much beauty, nor among the Gods or Gandharvas
or Kinnaras.” She utters a lie that as she attempted
to carry her away for his sake; she was disfigured by Lakshmana. His passion
being aroused by her description of Sita, Ravana at once goes to Maricha and asks for his help. After an earnest attempt to
dissuade him from his evil project, Maricha complies
at last with his request and, disguised as a beautiful golden deer, roams about
near the Ashrama of Sri Rama. At once captivated by
its beauty Sita begs of Rama to catch it for her. In spite of Lakshmana’s repeated warnings that it is no ordinary deer
but just the cunning-disguise of Maricha, Rama, not
having the heart to disappoint his beloved Sita, goes after the deer which
lures him some distance into the forest and then, slain by him, utters an
anguished cry of “Ha Sita! Ha Lakshmana!” simulating the voice of Rama. Now, we
come upon the scene in which Sita comes to grief. We find her no longer the
sweetest and the gentlest of creatures hitherto pictured by the Poet. She turns
wild all at once, saying the most wicked things in the
world. She behaves, indeed, very much like Kaikeyi,
blind, obstinate, and unheeding of consequences, which makes Lakshmana deplore in
the Champu Ramayana, “Alas, what shall I do? You have
turned a Kaikeyi in the wilderness.” Well, it is just
here we perceive the master hand of the Poet, his thorough understanding of
human nature. A woman who fears her husband’s life is in danger cannot be
expected to preserve her self-control. Deceived by the cry of Maricha, Sita bids Lakshmana in great agitation to go and
see if anything has happened to his brother. When Lakshmana refuses to leave
her alone, she grows furious and accuses him in a torrent of words that he is
pleased to have Rama in danger, and that if he desires her for himself and if
that desire is what prevents him from doing just as he is told, then she will
see that it will not be gratified, by taking away her life before his eyes. How
like a sharp knife the words must have pierced the heart of Lakshmana! If Sita
only threatened that she would drown herself in the
The
Poet holding the mirror up to nature has no other choice than presenting the
characters as they are. He is a mere spectator. Hence we find Valmiki feeling no qualms at all in making even the angelic
Sita behave very much unlike an angel. We cannot but observe in passing how
profound is the narrative skill of this Adi Kavi, first of poets, and how marvellous
his power in rendering the tense situations! With what throbbing hearts we
await the arrival of Ravana immediately after Lakshmana’s
departure and the great harm he is about to do to poor Sita, every time we read
the story! It is another proof of the Poet’s remarkable sense of art that he
makes Sita, though writhing in agony in the hands of Ravana, keep
yet the presence of mind to throw down her jewels tied in a scarf in the midst
of Hanuman and others on the Rishyamuka Parvata. Indeed there can be no purpose in relating this
incident unless it be to heighten the interest of the
story. If Valmiki had omitted it we should certainly
have been deprived of a rare emotional experience (Rasanubhava).
For what can be more beautiful in literature than the reply of Lakshmana, when
Rama, overcome with grief at seeing Sita’s jewels,
appeals to him “Ha! Lakshmana! Don’t you recognise
these jewels of poor “Sita?” “No,” he says, “I know nothing of
the ornaments worn by her on her arms or ears; but I know those worn on her
ankles because of my bowing down to her feet every day.” Do not these words go
straight to our hearts, making us dwell fondly on the noble qualities of
Lakshmana, and wonder how Sita can bring herself to use such language to him,
the purest of pure men, who has sacrificed every thought of his personal
comfort and happiness for the sake of his brother? We are touched beyond words
every time we read those lines. Surely, it is for such great souls as Lakshmana
that the sun rises in the east every morning in
obedience to the law of nature.
When
Sri Rama is lost in profound grief over the absence of Sita, Lakshmana consoles
him, begging him to control himself. Is it not somewhat amusing that Rama, who
is the most considerate of men, being full of his own sorrow, hardly thinks of
poor Lakshmana who is putting up with a voluntary separation from his wife for
fourteen long years, all for his sake? Here, again, we get one of those
glimpses of human nature which, absorbed in itself, is
apt to forget others.
We
shall follow Hanuman to Lanka where Sita is kept as a captive by Ravana in the Asokavana. Hanuman has made a thorough search for her and
is almost in despair over his fruitless search, when he suddenly comes upon the
Asokavana. There, hiding himself among the branches
of a tree, he discovers Sita sitting under the Simsupa
tree and pining away in grief for Rama. Here the Poet gives a description of
Sita as she appears to Hanuman, full of rich similes, remarkable for their
beauty and appositeness:
“There
he saw her under the Simsupa tree surrounded by Rakshasis–wearing a faded garment; greatly weakened by
fasts, and heaving sighs now and again. She looked like the bright streak
of the moon at the beginning of the bright fortnight. She looked enveloped in
gloom like the fire that is enveloped by smoke. Though fair as
a lotus, she was unadorned, like a pool bereft of lotuses, and looking like the
star Rohini troubled by the planet Mars–like memory
assailed by doubt, like prosperity suffering a downfall, like devotion being
obstructed, like hope being frustrated, like the attaining of perfection being
subjected to numerous obstacles, like intelligence being tainted, like
reputation exposed to ruin owing to unexpected slander. Thus, his intelligence
beset by doubt, Hanuman was observing Sita; just as all learning suffers decay
when not united to the knowledge of the holy Vedas, Hanuman
spotted Sita after great trouble, often confused and misled in the act of recognising her, even as a man devoid of righteous conduct
is ready to read perverse meanings into words.
Seeing
her in this condition even Hanuman, who is a stranger to the pangs of
separation from a beloved wife, is able to understand the
intense suffering of Rama pining for her:
“This
lady’s mind is rooted in him and his mind is rooted in her. That is why, the righteous-minded Rama and Sita are maintaining
their lives even for a while. Indeed I think my master Rama performs a
difficult feat in that, being separated from her, he still lives and is not
consumed with grief.”
He
is all admiration too for Sita for her selfless devotion to Sri Rama:
“Here
is the faithful wife, in the custody of Rakshasis,
having given up all worldly enjoyments by dint of devotion to her husband.
“Without
thinking of the hardships of forest life, she has entered the uninhabited
forest. She is content with the roots and fruits that she can gather there; she
is ever intent on the service of her husband; and she loves the forest as if it
were a palace.”
Though
Sita is tormented day and night by the Rakshasis and
knows hardly a moment’s peace, yet she does not give way to utter despair. Her
faith in the absolute certainty of Rama’s coming for
her rescue sustains her in a remarkable way. She is not afraid either of Ravana
or of taking away her life; only she does not wish to die without seeing the
face of her beloved again. Hanuman is a witness to the meeting between her and
Ravana who, consumed by his passion for her, comes during the night to coax her
once more into accepting him. We can see Sita is no faint-hearted woman. Anyone
less brave than herself would have perished from sheer fright. She shows her
true mettle when Hanuman, after convincing her of his strength, suggests that
he will restore her in no time safely to Rama, bearing her on his back. She
raises a number of objections, inncluding finally
that it will be proper only if Rama kills Ravana in battle and frees her from
her captivity:
“Invading Lanka and subduing it by superior force with the
aid of his powerful arrows, if Rama leads me from this place, that indeed will
be worthy of him. If Rama should slay the ten-headed
Ravana and his kinsmen, and take me away from this place, that indeed will be
becoming of him.”
Indeed,
what a stout heart she must possess to continue for some time longer in her
terrible captivity! She is actually prepared to wait till her husband comes
himself and releases her from the hands of Ravana! Even the prospect of seeing
Sri Rama, again in the words of Hanuman, “You shall see Rama with his face
beaming like the full moon, his eyes dark and beautiful and his lips lovely and
ears wearing charming pendants,” scarcely tempts her. Does not this incident
show of what stuff she is made? Far from being a meek, helpless creature, does
she not rise to the height of a heroine defying the terrible Ravana himself? I
do not think any amount of freedom and independence will give a woman the
necessary moral courage to support herself in difficulties. Hanuman can do
nothing but express his admiration that such sentiments are only worthy of her.
Hanuman going back to Rama, faithfully records his
interview with Sita and describes how he found her:
“Separated
from you, she lives, her thoughts ever centred on
you. I saw her in the midst of Rakshasis who again
and again were subjecting her to threats. These ugly Rakshasis
are the guards of the garden where Sita lives–enveloped
with sorrow, meet consort for you and worthy of your sorrowful thoughts. She is
in the custody of Ravana and those Rakshasis, wearing
a single braid of hair; humbled, ever thinking of you, sleeping on the bare
floor, pallid like the lotus struck by frost; she is beyond the power of
Ravana, her mind being finally fixed on her husband. You are indeed fortunate
in such a consort–full of such devotion and faith. I saw her thus, the daughter
of Janaka.”
Beside
himself with grief at this account, Rama begs Hanuman, “Dear friend! tell me; what did she say, my Sita, the queen of my heart?
How does she live without me?
“What
did Sita say? Please repeat it over and over again so that her words may quench
my insatiable thirst. How can I live for a moment without seeing her?”
After
such testimony as this from Hanuman, is it not somewhat inexplicable that Rama
should choose to talk ill of Sita as she is brought before him after the battle
is over? “How un-gracious of him to use such language to her after the trials
she has borne for twelve long months? When Vibhishana
conveys to her Sri Rama’s wish, “Let Sita wear fine
dresses and ornaments, and set her before me,” her woman’s instincts tell her
that she had better go as she is. But her duty leaves her no choice but to obey
his wish. Poor Sita! her trials are not yet over. One
more dreadful ordeal is awaiting her. Rama looks at her with a stem expression
in his face and then, in a cold voice, he pronounces the terrible words, that
he has done his duty by her and she is free to go where she likes. Rama knows
full well it cannot be. Yet he chooses to suspect her, the purest of the pure!
The words simply stagger her. Yet she makes no attempt to question his right to
suspect her, nor does she call on Hanuman to bear witness to her innocence. In
a voice choking with tears she just says a few words of rebuke:
“What!
Is it true that I have heard such cruel words! Words which are harsh, such as
common people speak; I am not as thou thinkest me to
be; I am not like other women; and you need have no doubts about me; I have had
the companionship of a man of honour like you. But if
you yet don’t know me in truth, then indeed I am lost,” and then without any
more words she calls upon Lakshmana to build the pyre for her. Is it mere want
of spirit, a total dependence on the husband, that
makes Sita put up with this worst of all humiliations without a murmur? No; we
may say boldly the thought that the husband for whose sake she has been
clinging to life all these months, against all odds, has lost his faith in her,
is enough to render everything blank to her. She has nothing to live for after
that.
We
are inevitably reminded at this juncture of another great work in literature,
the tragedy of Othello and Desdemona. Othello, of course, is cast in a noble
mould. He is untainted by any mean or wicked thoughts. But he is too much a
prey to the ordinary human passions. He can hardly stand comparison with Sri
Rama who is definitely on a higher plane (assuming for the moment he is a human
being like the rest of us). Desdemona perhaps comes near to Sita for her
absolute purity and utterly selfless devotion to her husband. She does not even
try to defend herself when Othello accuses her of infidelity to him. Indeed she
is so innocent that she scarcely understands the word. “I know not what sins I
have committed unless they are the loves I bear to you,” she says. “I am not
what you think,’ is how Sita speaks of the grievous wrong done to her. It is
clear from this that great poets are the same the world over. They think alike.
We find both Valmiki and Shakespeare putting the
utmost delicacy and restraint in the words of Sita and Desdemona in their
unhappy situations.
Lastly,
how shall we explain the final abandoning of Sita in the Uttarakanda?
Rama resolves to discard her on account of an idle scandal that reaches his
ears. For, the ideal he has cherished all along is such that he would feel no
remorse in giving up his friendship, his comfort, his compassion and even Sita
if it would please the people. Can he then go against this ideal? Here, again,
Sita accepts her fate, not in any spirit of blind obedience to the husband. She
knows that Rama values Dharma even above herself and she considers it part of
her duty as a wife to see that he fulfils it to perfection. Has he not thought
it his particular Dharma to make his father “one wedded to truth,” and accept
the banishment for fourteen years, and does not the same apply to her also?
We
learn from the Ramayana that people with high ideals are destined to suffer,
though they draw the admiring gaze of the whole world on themselves. By living
the life of high endeavours and noble sacrifices they set the example to
mankind, even as Sri Rama and Sita have done. We may be sure,
it is never by insisting on our rights and abandoning our duty that great
things are achieved in life. Even in the present 20th century, which has
brought in its wake the thoroughly emancipated woman, the crowning achievement
of modern civilisation, we should do well to go back
to the Ramayana and cherish this glorious ideal of Sita who, to quote Swami
Vivekananda again, has stood all these thousands of years commanding the
worship of every man, woman and, child throughout the length and breadth of the
land of Aryavarta.