THE MOTHER
(A
Story) 1
(Rendered
from the Tamil by K. Sampathgiri Rao and Navaratna Rama Rao)
Long
ago, before the events of the Ramayana story had come to pass,
Sri Devi, her Mother’s heart full of divine pity, asked Mahavishnu: “Beloved
Lord, why do wails of pain and of sorrow come
incessantly from the world of men? Why do mortals suffer thus? Don’t they know
that it is all your Divine Play, your Maya?”
A
smile softened the sublimity of Mahavishnu’s face and sweetly came his reply:
“My own beloved, your question comes to me somewhat as a surprise, as I thought you knew all about it.”
“No,
My Lord! I have not understood this at all. Why should wise people give way to
grief when they know that joy and grief are but the play of Divine Maya? Have
not many seers fully taught this truth to the people of the earth? Is it not
proclaimed in the Upanishad verses with their solemn melody, and in the
beautiful Vedic chants which rise to heaven from the world of men? Why then
these wails of anguish and pain?”
Mahavishnu
remained silent for a moment, and then replied: “We shall do one thing,
Beloved. The Devas and Rishis have laid on me a task, which will mean my being
with them on earth for some time. If you also will go with me, your doubt will
be cleared better than mere words could do it, by seeing and living the life of
earthly beings. Will you accompany me to the Earth?”
Mahalakshmi
agreed with joy. “There is no need to ask me. Your least wish is my law and
sole delight.”
During
His previous visits to the World of men Mahavishnu had not taken Sri Devi. “It
is but a brief visit, and remember I shall also be here all the time,” the
Omnipresent Lord used to say, and He could be an incarnation on earth in all
His glory while remaining also with Mahalakshmi all the while. He did this
because nothing is impossible to Him.
Now
His proposal that they should both go to the mortal world made Sri Devi rejoice
greatly; and filled her with enthusiasm.
“Yes,
We shall go,” she said. In the Divine world, a thought becomes a fact; a flower
ripens into fruit without intervention of time.
King Janaka
was preparing the ground for a Divine sacrifice. He was himself guiding the
plough, as even kings used to do in those days, and was watching the shapely
furrows with all a husbandman’s pride. When lo! in the soft deep new-turned
earth he beheld a babe of such loveliness as is not of this world. This was
scarcely wonderful, for Sri Devi herself had taken birth as that babe. Janaka
was overwhelmed with joy, gathered up the beautiful babe to his bosom and took
it to his queen, saying “Look! This is the gift of Mother Earth”. The babe grew
in beauty of body and mind as the days passed. She was Sita.
As
the same time, old King Dasatatha of the solar line, longing for progeny,
performed a big sacrifice. From the sacrificial Fire arose like a flame a
Divine figure holding a gold vessel full of Payasam 2
which he offered to Dasaratha with this message from the gods: “Let your Queens
drink this, and they shall have children.”
Dasaratha
rejoiced at the fulfillment of a long-cherished desire. Saluting the Divine
figure with grateful reverence, he took the gold vessel into his hands, and
without placing it on theground or decanting its contents into other vessels,
he sought to distribute the gift of the gods among his queens, bearing in his
mind their claims and seniority. The Payasam was a Divine gift, and it would be
sacrilege to pour it into baser receptacles even for apportionment. So he first
went to Kausalya.
“You
take a half of this,” he said.
She
drank a half of the quantity, and returned the vessel to Dasaratha. The King
desired that all his queens should bear children. He next approached Sumitra:
“You drink half of this,” he said. Sumitra was a lady of great
understanding, modest, devoted, and the very embodiment of gentleness and
peace. “Has Kausalya had her share?” she asked and, having learned that the
Elder Queen had been served, she drank half of what remained in the vessel and
gave it back to her Lord, requesting that it should be given to Kaikeyi too.
Dasaratha
took the vessel and went to Kaikeyi.
“I
am distributing this gift of the gods to all three of you because I wish you
all to bear children and make me happy. Drink; half of this,” said the King.
She was the youngest of the queens and entitled to the smallest share. That was
why he adopted this method of distribution. Kaikeyi took her share and returned
the vessel to the King. He again went back to Sumitra and gave her the eighth
part that remained after Kakeyi had drunk out of the vessel. The King was
greatly gratified at the realisation of this long-felt wish and was looking
forward eagerly to the blessed event, the birth of children in his household.
In
due course all the queens bore children. To Kausalya was born the Crown Prince,
Ramacharidra. Kaikeyi bore Bharata. As Sumitra had drunk the Payasam twice, she
gave birth to beautiful twins, who were named Lakshmana and Satrughna.
Lakshmana was brought up with Rama and grew deeply devoted to him. He was the
fruit of the first portion drunk by Sumitra. The fruit of the eighth portion
drunk by her after Kaikeyi had taken her share was Satrughna, who grew up with
Bharata and became his bosom friend and inseparable companion.
What
happened later has been narrated beautifully to the world by Valmiki, Kamban,
Tulasi Das and others. Sita was won by Rama and became his life’s partner. Was
she not Sri Dev come upon the earth to realise the true import of sorrow and
suffering on earth? Alas, she realised it in all its sharpness. No teacher
taught it her out of books. She learnt her lessons amidst life’s hard
realities, and herself passed through the fire. If one learns of suffering
through a mere study of words and books, can one ever realise its full
significance? But going through the bitter experience of exile, fear, and
unmerited disgrace, her heart broken by unjust accusations
and sudden partings from those dearer life itself, she realised what people
here below have to go through in their passage through this vale of
tears. The world, indeed, has few sorrows that did not fall to the lot of Sita
herself as the spouse of Rama in His incarnation upon the earth.
The status of kingship which was almost in Rama’s
grasp was snatched away, and faded like a dream. Not willing to be separated
from her husband she accompanied Him to the forest. And there she was assailed
by delusive temptations to which she had before been a stranger. “Get me the
golden deer,” she importuned like a willful child. To Lakshmana, the very embodiment
of selfless devotion, she spoke cruel words charged with unworthy suspicion and
drove him away in bitter tears on what he knew to be a fool’s errand. She was
carried away by Ravana, wailing in helpless anguish–indeed, she who was Lakshmi
herself wailed and sobbed like any mortal. She had the great grief of seeing
the chivalrous Jatayu slain in unequal combat in an attempt to rescue her. Then
she was confined, a prisoner in Lanka. A year passed and seeing no hope of deliverance, she was about to put an end to her
life when Hanuman appeared before her. “I have deliverance, at last,” she felt,
and rejoiced.
As
she had expected, her husband came, and killed Ravana and destroyed the
Rakshasa hordes. Her deliverance was come but no joy came with it. A messenger
was sent to fetch her from the Asoka grove where she was imprisoned. She went
with a vague and inexpressible dread. And what did she see? Not the joyful face
of her welcoming Lord But a hard, stern countenance; instead of words of
love instinct with emotions, she heard a cold hard voice which said: “Let me
have proof that you have not swerved from the path of virtue.” When she who was
Sri Devi incarnated as Sita heard this, she thought within herself: “Alas! Now
I realise indeed the full import of grief.”
She
entered into the flaming fire which was to test her, but the God of Fire became
soft and cool in worship of her matchless purity. She emerged
triumphant from all trials and returned to their city. But her sorrows were not
over. Some people of the city spoke slightingly of her as one who
had been a prisoner of a lustful Rakshasa. She who had passed through the fiery
ordeal was not beyond the reach of their poison-tongues; and she burned with
shame. (It is difficult for me even to proceed with the story at this point.) “Why do falsehood and illusion
trouble the people of the world?” had been her old question. Here was an answer
to it in her own bitter experience. Sita was exiled to the forest, when she was
about to become a mother. In this state women subject to various fancies and
longings, and it seems she expressed a yearning to go to the forest and
recapture the young happy days of her life with Rama. Advantage was taken of
this to send her on a second and crueller exile. Recognition of her unsullied
purity came only when, weary with trials, she was received back into the
soothing arms of the Mother who had given her birth.
The
Incarnation was over. All illusions were past. We come back again to the Ocean
of Milk where reposes Mahavishnu. “Lord, I have now, realised what sorrow is,”
said Sri Devi. “I have realised, as never before, the power of Maya. Henceforth
it shall be my task to attend, to mortals in pain and sorrow, and wipe their
tears and plead for them. Yours must be to save them,” she said. Bhagavati,
Iswari; Sri Devi, Lakshmi, Gowri, Parvati are different names for the
compassionate Mother of the Universe who dwells in the presence of the Lord and
is the Dispenser of His mercy. Hers is the Mother’s heart–compassionate, for as
Sita she had known pain, and sweet with an infinite love of which the purest
earthly mother-love is a particle.
The
Mother, came down to the earth, and experienced the sufferings and sorrows of
the mortal world. She knows all our sufferings. We need, therefore, have no
fear of them. It is enough if we pour forth our prayers out of a full and a
contrite heart.
1
The story was written by Sri Rajaji and sent as a gift on the occasion of the
wedding of Sowbhagyavati Tangam, granddaughter of Sri T. K.
Chidambaranatha Mudaliar.
2
A kind of sweet porridge.