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The Rāmāyana, Volume 2. Āranya, Kishkindhā, and Sundara Kāndam cover

The Rāmāyana, Volume 2. Āranya, Kishkindhā, and Sundara Kāndam

Chapter 172: SECTION XXV.
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About This Book

The narrative follows an exiled prince, his devoted wife, and his faithful brother as they take refuge in an expansive sacred forest and encounter ascetics, wild creatures, and hostile rakshasas. It recounts perilous episodes in the woods, including the abduction of the wife and violent confrontations with demonic foes. The action then moves to the politics and exploits of a simian realm, where the prince forges an alliance with an exiled monkey leader and marshals aid. A bold emissary undertakes a daring reconnaissance that locates the captive and performs extraordinary feats on the way. The volume closes with preparations for a large-scale campaign to rescue the captive and restore righteous order, exploring duty, loyalty, and devotion.

SECTION XXV.

And those hideous Rākshasees thus threatning her with reproaches rude and rough, the daughter of the king Janaka began to weep. And being thus addressed by those Rākshasees, Vaidehi, of subdued soul, being greatly terrified, said, having her voice choked with vapour,—"A woman can never be the wife of a Rākshasa. Eat me up if you will, I shall never follow your words." And being surrounded by the Rākshasees and threatened by Rāvana, Sitā, resembling the daughter of a celestial, stricken with grief, could not console herself. And trembling, she shrank from their presence like unto a strayed fawn surrounded by wolves. And resorting to a flowery branch of an Asoka tree, she sunk in grief, thought upon her lord. With tears she bathed her beautiful breast and oppressed with woe, she could not reach the other bank of the ocean of grief. Like a plantain tree shaken by the breeze, she shook and fell down trembling (on the earth). And being afraid of the Rākshasees, her cheeks forsook their native hue. And herself trembling, her pretty long lock of hair also shook and appeared like a serpent moving this way and that. Overwhelmed with grief and beside herself with ire, the daughter of the king of Mithilā, wept and exclaimed sorrowfully,—"O mother Kausalyā! O queen Sumitra! true is the saying of the wise that death doth never approach untimely the male or the female. Or else I would not have lived for a moment, separated from Rāma and oppressed by the Rākshasees as I am. Limited is my virtue, and therefore I am to die the death of a poor deserted thing like unto a bark driven by the blast in the midst of the ocean. Debarred from my husband's sight and tortured by the hideous demons, I shall sink, oppressed with woes, like unto the banks of a river, washed by the water. Oh blest are they who have been resting their eyes upon my grateful and sweet-speeched lord of leonine gaits, having eyes resembling lotus petals! And separated frpm Rāma of subdued soul, it is as difficult for me to breathe as for him who hath drank up virulent poison. What mighty iniquity had I perpetrated in my previous existence that I have met with this terrible disaster! I wish to renounce my life under this load of grief—but alas! I am surrounded by the Rākshasees and cannot meet Rāma. Oh! cursed is this subject human life, that they cannot renounce it even at their pleasure"!