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In Ayodhya, in the markets and the lanes, men and women ask one another how far off tomorrow’s good hour is. They are asking when Rama will sit on the golden throne with Sita. The scheming gods are praying for an obstacle. They call Sarasvati and fall at her feet again and again. They ask her to do today the thing by which Rama leaves the kingdom and goes to the forest. The goddess stands regretting it. Afterwards, considering the work ahead, she comes glad to Dasharatha’s city.
She turns the mind of Kaikeyi’s maid Manthara, and goes. The maid burns at the word of Rama’s tilak. She thinks how the work can be spoiled in the night, and goes to the queen downcast. Kaikeyi laughs, rebukes her as a house-breaker, and puts her on oath by Bharata to tell the truth. Manthara speaks of a love that was and of a co-wife’s plot. She speaks of a fortnight of preparations that the queen hears of from her today, and of a prison-house for Bharata. Kaikeyi says that at her word she would fall into a well. Then the maid reminds her of the two boons held in trust with the king, and sends her to the chamber of anger.
The goddess, the maid, and the queen
The main figures in this episode
- Sarasvati the goddess whom the gods call and entreat, falling at her feet again and again. She stands regretting that she has become a winter night to a wood of lotuses, and thinks the gods mean of wit. Afterwards, considering the work ahead, she comes glad to Dasharatha’s city, turns Manthara’s mind, and goes.
- Manthara Kaikeyi’s maid, dull of wit, whose mind Sarasvati turns. She burns at the word of Rama’s tilak, thinks how the work can be spoiled in the night, and goes to the queen downcast. She speaks of the king’s guileful quick wit. She says she is bitter to the queen and cannot bear to see harm come to her. She charges Rama’s mother with a plot and foretells the prison-house for Bharata. Once the queen has said that at her word she would fall into a well, Manthara reminds her of the two boons and sends her to the chamber of anger.
- Kaikeyi Bharata’s mother. She laughs at the maid’s silence, asks after the welfare of Rama, the king, and his brothers, and rebukes her as a house-breaker. She calls Rama dearer to her than her life, and puts the maid on oath by Bharata. Under what was to be, trust comes into her heart. She dries up with fear at the maid’s bitter words, and owns to a throbbing right eye and bad dreams. She says that at the maid’s word she would fall into a well and could give up son and husband.
- Rama and Sita whom men and women wait to see seated together on the golden throne. Kaikeyi wishes for them as son and daughter-in-law, should the Creator give her birth.
- Dasharatha the king of Ayodhya, to whose city Sarasvati comes. Manthara calls him foul of mind and sweet of mouth, and says he sent Bharata to his mother’s father’s house at Kausalya’s counsel. With him, Manthara reminds the queen, two boons lie in trust.
- Bharata the son whose coming everyone prays for. Manthara says the king sent him to his mother’s father’s house. Kaikeyi puts the maid on oath by him. Manthara says he will serve in the prison-house, and that the astrologers have marked him out as king.
- Kausalya Rama’s mother. Manthara says the Creator has turned favorable to her. Kaikeyi names her as the measure of Rama’s love for all his mothers. The maid charges her with pride, with guile, with having Bharata sent away, and with winning the king and having the hour of the tilak fixed. She will give Kaikeyi grief, Manthara says.
- Lakshmana and Shatrughna whose welfare Kaikeyi asks after with Rama’s, the king’s, and Bharata’s. The queen’s mind tells her that Lakshmana has taught the maid a lesson. Manthara says he will be Rama’s deputy.
The city waits for tomorrow
Instruments of every kind were playing, and the delight of the city was past telling. Everyone prayed for Bharata’s coming. Let him come quickly, they prayed, and have the fruit of his eyes. The commentary takes that fruit to be the sight of the festival of the consecration.
Men and women were saying to one another in the markets and on the roads, in the houses, in the lanes and on the platforms. “Tomorrow’s hour is good. How far off is it? The Creator will fulfill our wish. Rama will sit on the golden throne with Sita, and the heart’s wish will be done.” All of them asked when tomorrow would come. And the scheming gods were praying for an obstacle.
Ayodhya’s music of congratulation did not please them, as a moonlit night does not please a thief. They called Sarasvati and made entreaty. Again and again they fell at her feet. “Seeing our great trouble, mother, do today the thing by which Rama leaves the kingdom and goes to the forest, and all the gods’ work is done.”
Sarasvati constrained, and the work ahead
Hearing the gods’ entreaty, Sarasvati stood regretting that she had become a winter night to a wood of lotuses. Seeing her regret, the gods entreated her again. “Mother, not the least blame is yours. Rama is free of sorrow and of gladness. You know all of Rama’s power. A being shares in happiness and grief by its karma. Go to Ayodhya for the gods’ good.”
Again and again they held her feet and constrained her. She went, thinking the gods’ wit mean. Their dwelling is high and their doing is low, she thought, and they cannot look on another’s splendor.
Afterwards she considered the work ahead, and that clever poets would long for her. In the commentary’s reading, the rakshasas would be killed by Rama’s going to the forest, and the whole world made happy. The poets, it adds, would long for her to tell the deeds of his forest exile. Glad at heart, she came to Dasharatha’s city, as if an unbearable, grief-giving planetary period had come.
Kaikeyi had a maid named Manthara, dull of wit. Making her a box of infamy, Sarasvati turned her mind and went.
A silence first, then the question whether all are well
Manthara saw the city decked out. The charming, auspicious music of congratulation was playing. She asked people what the festival was. At the word of Rama’s tilak her heart burned. The commentary takes the tilak to be the royal mark.
Ill-witted and low-born, she thought how the work could be spoiled in the night. She thought as a crooked Kirata woman does who sees a honeycomb hanging. Such a woman watches for her chance and asks herself how she may take it.
Downcast, she went to Kaikeyi. The queen laughed and asked her why she was out of sorts. She gave no answer and drew long breaths. With a woman’s wiles she let her tears fall.
“You talk big,” the queen said, laughing. “My mind says Lakshmana has taught you a lesson.” Even then the maid, that great sinner, did not speak. She let out her breath as if she were a black she-serpent.
Afraid now, the queen said: “Why do you not speak? Are Rama and the king well, and Lakshmana, Bharata, and Shatrughna?” At the question, Manthara’s heart was pierced.
“Who would teach me a lesson, mother,” she said, “and by whose strength would I talk big? Who is well today but Rama, to whom the king is giving the place of crown prince? The Creator has turned very favorable to Kausalya. At the sight of it the pride does not stay inside her breast. Why do you not go and see all the beauty? At the sight of it my mind was disturbed. Your son is abroad, and you have no worry. You know that the master is in our power. Sleep on the quilted bed is very dear to you. You do not see the king’s guileful quick wit.”
Hearing the pleasing words and knowing her mind foul, the queen rounded on her. “Be quiet now, house-breaker. If you ever say such a thing again, I will have your tongue seized and pulled out.”
“The one-eyed, the lame, and the hunchbacked are to be known as crooked and scheming,” she went on. “And a woman among them more so, and a maid above all.” So saying, Kaikeyi smiled.
Rama, dearer to her than life
“You of pleasing speech,” Kaikeyi said, “I gave you a lesson. Not even in a dream am I angry with you. The fine day that gives fine auspicious things is the day on which your word comes true.” The commentary reads that day as the day of Rama’s tilak.
She went on. “The elder is master and the younger brother servant. These are the handsome customs of the Sun’s line. If Rama’s tilak is truly tomorrow, I will give. Ask, friend, for what pleases your mind. To Rama all his mothers are dear by his nature, as Kausalya is. On me he has a special love. I have tested his love and seen it. If the Creator, in his kindness, should give me birth, let Rama and Sita be my son and daughter-in-law. Rama is dearer to me than my life. Why does his tilak disturb you?”
“I put you on oath by Bharata. Leave guile and concealment and tell the truth. At a time of gladness you sorrow. Tell me the cause.”
The claim of a bitter word spoken for the queen’s good
“All my hopes,” Manthara said, “were fulfilled all at once. Now I shall say something with a second tongue. My ill-fated skull deserves to be broken, when even a good word from me brings you grief. Those who make up tales of false and true are dear to you, mother, and I am bitter to you. Now I too shall say what pleases one’s master. Or else I shall keep silent day and night.”
“The Creator made me ugly and put me in another’s power. What I sowed, I reap. What was given, I get. Whoever is king, what loss is it to us? Shall I leave off being a maid now and become a queen? My nature deserves burning. I cannot bear to see harm come to you. That is why I started some talk. Forgive, lady, my great mistake.”
Hearing pleasing words of hidden guile, the queen, a woman unsteady of mind, under the gods’ maya took her foe for a well-wisher and trusted her.
A love that was, and the fears ahead
With respect the queen asked her again and again, as if she were a doe charmed by a huntress’s song. The commentary makes the singer a Bhil woman. Her wit had turned to match what was to be. The maid rejoiced, as if her stroke had landed.
“You ask,” Manthara said, “and I am afraid to speak. You have given me the name of house-breaker.” Dressing up trust, carving and paring in many ways, she then spoke, the seven and a half years of Saturn that had come over Ayodhya.
“You said, queen, that Sita and Rama are dear to you, and that you are dear to Rama. That word is true. It was so once. Those days have now gone by. When time turns, friends become enemies. The sun nourishes the family of the lotus. Without water, that same sun burns it to ash. The co-wife wants to pull you up by the root. Hedge it round with a fine fence of remedy.”
“You have no worry, on the strength of wedded fortune. You think the king is in your own power. The king is foul of mind and sweet of mouth, and your nature is simple.”
“Rama’s mother is quick-witted and deep. Finding her chance, she has set her own affair in order. The king sent Bharata to his mother’s father’s house. Know that for Rama’s mother’s counsel.” The commentary reads Manthara’s next line as Kausalya’s thought: “All the co-wives serve me well. Bharata’s mother is proud on the strength of her husband.” “To Kausalya, mother,” Manthara went on, “you are a thorn. She is quick-witted at guile, and it does not show. The king’s love for you is special, and a co-wife by her nature cannot bear to see it. Weaving a plot, she won the king to herself and had the hour fixed for Rama’s tilak.” The commentary adds that this was in Bharata’s absence. “A tilak for Rama is proper to the line,” she said. “It pleases everyone, and to me it is very good. Thinking of what comes after, I am afraid. May fate turn, and give that fruit to her.”
Building and carving ten million crooked things, Manthara worked a guileful persuasion. She told a hundred tales of co-wives in the way that makes enmity grow.
The fortnight she claims, and a prison-house for Bharata
Under what was to be, trust came into the queen’s heart. She asked again, making the maid swear. “What are you asking?” Manthara said. “Even now you have not understood? A beast knows its own good and harm. A fortnight has gone by in dressing the gear. You have had word of it from me today. We eat and are clothed in your kingdom. In telling the truth there is no fault of ours. If I say anything false and made up, then the Creator will punish me. If Rama’s tilak happens tomorrow, the Creator has sown the seed of trouble for you.”
“I draw the line and say it with force. Lady, you have become a fly in milk.” In the commentary’s reading, as a fly fallen into milk is picked out and thrown away, so she will be put out of the house. “If you serve with your son,” Manthara went on, “you may stay in the house. There is no other way.” The service, the commentary says, would be Kausalya’s.
She said: “Kadru gave Vinata grief. Kausalya will give it to you. Bharata will serve in the prison-house, and Lakshmana will be Rama’s deputy.”
The fear, now in the queen’s own words
At the bitter words Kaikeyi could say nothing. She dried up with fear. Sweat broke out on her body, and she trembled like a plantain. Then Manthara pressed her tongue between her teeth. The commentary gives her reason, the fear that at so frightful a picture of what was coming the queen’s heart might stop. Then the whole work would be spoiled the other way, it adds.
Telling ten million tales of guile, she persuaded the queen: “Keep patience.” Kaikeyi’s karma had turned. The evil course had become dear to her. She praised the heron, taking it for a swan.
“Listen, Manthara,” Kaikeyi said. “Your word is true. My right eye throbs every day. Every day, at night, I see bad dreams. In my own delusion I have not told you. What can I do, friend? My nature is simple. I do not know right from left at all. As far as my own doing went, to this day I have done no one harm. For what sin has fate given me, all at once, this unbearable grief?”
“I would rather go to my father’s house and live out my life. While I live I will not do a co-wife’s service. For one whom fate keeps alive in an enemy’s power, death is better than life.”
Consent given before the remedy is heard
The queen spoke many words of misery. Hearing them, Manthara took up a woman’s wiles. “Why do you speak so, holding your heart low?” she said. “Your happiness and your wedded fortune will double by the day. Whoever sought your great harm will get this fruit when it ripens. Since I heard the ill counsel, mistress, I have had no hunger by day and no sleep by night. I asked the astrologers, and they drew the line. Bharata will be king. This is true. Lady, if you will act, I will tell you the remedy. The king is in the power of your service.”
“At your word I would fall into a well,” Kaikeyi said. “I could give up son and husband. You speak, seeing my great grief. Why would I not do it for my good?”
Having won Kaikeyi’s consent, Manthara whetted the knife of guile on the stone of her heart. How was it that the queen did not see the grief near her? As a beast for the sacrifice grazes the green grass. The talk was soft to hear and hard at its end. It was as if she were giving honey with poison dissolved in it.
“Do you remember or not?” the maid said. “Mistress, you told me a story.”
Two boons held in trust with the king
“Two boons are held in trust with the king,” Manthara said. “Ask for them today, and cool your breast. The kingdom to your son, and to Rama the forest exile. Give those, and take all the co-wife’s joy. When the king swears by Rama, then ask, so that the word cannot be turned aside. If tonight passes, the work is spoiled. Hold my word dear in your heart.”
Setting her great ill stroke, Manthara, the sinner, said: “Go to the chamber of anger. Set all the work in order, and stay wakeful. Do not trust suddenly.” The commentary names whom she is not to trust: the king, and his words.
The order of her persuasion
Sarasvati turned the maid’s mind and went. Manthara heard of Rama’s tilak and came downcast to the queen. She gave no answer until Kaikeyi, afraid, asked whether Rama, the king, and the brothers were well. Her first words to the queen brought a rebuke and a threat to her tongue. Kaikeyi called her one of pleasing speech and said Rama was dearer to her than her life. She put her on oath by Bharata to tell the truth. The maid said that she was bitter to the queen, and that the Creator had made her ugly and put her in another’s power. She could not bear to see harm come to the queen, she said, and so had started some talk. Under the gods’ maya the queen trusted her. Manthara spoke of a love that had been, and of the co-wife who wanted to pull the queen up by the root. She spoke of the king foul of mind and sweet of mouth, and of a plot by Rama’s mother. Under what was to be, trust came into the queen’s heart. The maid spoke of a fortnight of preparations, of the fly in milk, of Kadru and Vinata, and of the prison-house for Bharata. Kaikeyi dried up with fear. Then she spoke of her throbbing right eye and her bad dreams. Before the remedy had been told, she said that at the maid’s word she would fall into a well. The remedy was the two boons held in trust with the king, to be asked for when he swore by Rama. Then Manthara sent her to the chamber of anger.
The same story, elsewhere: Valmiki’s Ramayana, chapter 7: Manthara, Kaikeyi, and the Two Boons.
Source: the Gita Press edition of Tulsidas’s Ramcharitmanas, Ayodhyakand, doha 11 to 22, read with Hanuman Prasad Poddar’s Hindi commentary.