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The two brothers finished their ablutions, bathed, carried out the rites of the day, and bowed their heads to the sage. Then, knowing the hour had come and with the guru’s leave given, they set out to gather flowers. The garden they walked to belonged to the king of Janakpur, and by the lake at its center stood a temple of Parvati. A girl would come to that temple this morning, sent by her mother to worship the goddess, and would ask her for a groom to match her.
In this episode of the Ramcharitmanas, a companion brings the news of two princes in a thrilled body, with tears in her eyes. Rama hears bangles and anklets, turns, and tells his brother what the sight has done to his mind. Sita looks through the creepers, shuts her eyelids on what she has seen, and takes it to the goddess’s feet. There a garland slips and an image smiles. That night Rama tries the moon against her face and gives the moon up. At sunrise Lakshmana likens the kings to stars that fade and the bow to a heavy darkness, before Shatananda arrives with Janaka’s request.
The morning in the flower garden
The main figures in this episode
- Rama Dasharatha’s son. He goes with his brother to gather flowers for the guru’s worship and hears a sound of anklets and bangles. He tells Lakshmana that the sight of Janaka’s daughter has stirred his mind and that the Raghus’ mind never sets foot on a wrong road. While he talks his mind drinks the beauty of her face. He writes her on the wall of his heart as she leaves and tells Vishvamitra everything. He judges the risen moon unfit to stand beside her face. He tells his brother to look at the dawn and smiles at what Lakshmana makes of it. He is sent for by Janaka.
- Sita Janaka’s daughter, sent by her mother to worship Parvati. She bathes in the lake and prays for a groom fit for herself. She hears of two princes from a companion and remembers Narada’s words. She sees the brothers behind the creepers and shuts her eyelids on Rama. She opens them at a companion’s word and remembers her father’s vow. She turns back and on the way turns round again and again. She prays a second time with her wish unspoken. She receives the goddess’s gift and blessing, and goes home with her left limbs throbbing.
- Lakshmana Rama’s younger brother. He gathers flowers beside him and is the one Rama speaks to about the sound and the girl. He goes with him to the guru, to the evening rite, and to rest. He is told to look at the dawn. With joined hands he speaks soft words that read the sunrise as a sign of Rama’s power, with the kings for stars and the bow for darkness.
- Sita’s companions who sing and bathe with her. One of them goes off to see the garden, sees the brothers, and comes back thrilled and in tears. One says who the princes are. Sita sets out with that dear companion in front. They point the two out behind the creepers, and one describes the dark prince. They forget themselves at the sight of him. One takes Sita’s hand and tells her to meditate on Parvati later and look at the prince. They speak with fear of the lateness. One says they will come again tomorrow at this hour and laughs inwardly.
- Parvati the goddess of the temple by the lake. Sita prays to her twice. At the second prayer a garland slips, and the image smiles. She blesses Sita with the groom her mind is set on and names Narada’s word as true.
- Vishvamitra the guru. He gives leave for the flowers and hears everything from Rama. He worships with the flowers and blesses the two brothers. He tells old stories after his meal and gives leave for the evening rite and for rest. He receives Janaka’s request from Shatananda and tells Rama to come.
- Janaka and Shatananda the king who sends for the brothers at the end of the episode, and the man he calls and sends to Vishvamitra with the request. Rama bows at Shatananda’s feet before the guru speaks the summons.
Leave to gather flowers, and the garden’s delight
They went and saw the king’s garden, and it was fine: spring had stayed there, charmed. Trees of many kinds that enchant the mind stood in it, and canopies of creepers of every color were spread. The new leaves, the fruit, and the flowers were handsome, and in their wealth the trees put the trees of the gods to shame. The commentary names the tree they shame as the wishing tree. Chataks, cuckoos, parrots, and chakoras, the birds that gaze at the moon, called, and the lovely peacocks danced. At the center of the garden a lake lay in its beauty, with steps of jewels built in a strange and wonderful way. Its water was clear, lotuses of many colors stood in it, water birds called, and the bees hummed.
Rama looked at the garden and the lake and rejoiced, and his brother with him. It was a garden of the highest loveliness, and it gave joy to Rama.
They looked on every side, asked the gardeners, and with glad minds began to gather leaves and flowers. At that same hour Sita came there. Her mother had sent her to worship Parvati. With her were her companions, all handsome and clever, singing songs in enchanting voices. Near the lake stood Parvati’s temple, whose sight charmed the mind. Sita bathed in the lake with her companions and went with a glad mind to the temple. She worshiped with much love, and she asked for a handsome groom fit for herself.
The news in a companion’s eyes
One companion had left Sita’s side and gone to look at the flower garden. There she saw the two brothers, and she came back to Sita in love’s power. The others saw her state, her body thrilled and her eyes full of water. All of them asked her in soft voices to tell the cause of her joy.
“Two princes have come to see the garden,” she said, “in the age of youth, handsome in every way. One is dark and one is fair. How could I describe them? Speech has no eyes, and the eyes have no speech.”
Hearing this, and knowing Sita’s heart to be very eager, the clever companions all rejoiced. One of them said: “Those are the princes, friend, who we heard came yesterday with the sage. They cast the charm of their own form and brought the city’s men and women into their power. Everywhere people are describing their beauty. They must be seen. They are worth seeing.”
Her words pleased Sita very much, and her eyes grew restless for the sight. Putting that dear companion in front, she set out. An old love is a thing no one perceives.
Remembering Narada’s words, Sita felt a pure love arise in her, and she looked about her on every side, startled, like a frightened fawn. What Narada had told her is not given in this episode.
A sound first, then a gaze that stilled
A sound reached Rama: bangles, a girdle, anklets. Turning it over in his heart, he said to Lakshmana: “It is as if Kamadeva had struck his kettledrum, resolved on the conquest of the world.”
So saying, he turned and looked that way. Sita’s face was the moon, and his eyes became chakoras to it. The fine eyes grew still, as if Nimi, out of shyness, had left the eyelids. The commentary explains that Nimi, an ancestor of Janaka, is held to dwell in everyone’s eyelids. And that he left them so as not to watch a daughter and a son-in-law meet. With him gone, the lids stopped falling.
Seeing Sita’s beauty he was happy. He praised it in his heart, and no word came. It was as if Brahma had made his whole skill visible and shown it to the world. Her beauty made beauty beautiful, as if a lamp flame burned in the house of beauty. “The poets have left every simile stale,” he said in his heart. “With what shall I compare Sita?” He had described Sita’s beauty in his heart, and had considered his own state. Then the Lord spoke to his younger brother with a pure mind, words that fit the hour.
“Child, this is that daughter of Janaka for whose sake the bow-sacrifice is being held. Her companions have brought her to worship Parvati, and she moves through the garden, making it bright. At the sight of her unearthly beauty my mind, pure by nature, is stirred. The whole cause of that the creator knows. Hear, brother: my auspicious limbs are throbbing. It is the natural disposition of the Raghus that the mind never sets foot on a wrong road. I have the fullest trust in my mind, which has never looked at another’s wife, even in a dream. Those whose backs no enemy sees in battle, whose mind and eye another’s wife cannot take, and from whom a beggar never hears no. Such fine men are few in the world.” The commentary reads the auspicious limbs as those of the right side.
While he talked with his brother, his mind, charmed by Sita’s form, drank the beauty of her lotus face as a bee drinks nectar.
The road of the eyes, and the doors of the eyelids
Sita looked about her, startled, on every side. Where had the princes gone? That was the worry in her mind. Wherever the fawn-eyed girl looked, it was as if a row of white lotuses rained down.
Then the companions pointed them out to her behind the creepers, the handsome youths, dark and fair. At the sight of that form her eyes grew greedy, and they rejoiced as if they had recognized a treasure of their own. They stilled at Rama’s beauty. Even the eyelids gave up their falling. From much love her body was overcome, like a chakora gazing at the autumn moon.
By the road of the eyes she brought Rama into her heart. Then the clever girl shut the doors of the eyelids. The commentary reads it as closing her eyes to hold him in meditation. When the companions knew Sita to be in love’s power, they could say nothing, shy in their minds.
At that same hour the two brothers appeared from the bower of creepers, as if two spotless moons had parted a bank of cloud and come forth. Both were the utmost of beauty, their bodies with the glow of blue and of yellow lotus. Peacock feathers sat well on their heads, with clusters of flower buds between them. The mark on the brow and the drops of sweat were handsome, and handsome ornaments shone at the ears. The brows were arched and the hair curled, and the eyes were red as fresh lotuses.
One of the companions spoke: “A lovely chin, nose, and cheeks, and the smile’s play buys the mind. The beauty of the face is past my telling. At the sight of it many Kamadevas are shamed. A necklace of jewels on the breast, a fine neck like a conch. Arms like the trunk of Kamadeva’s elephant calf, the utmost of strength, and a leaf-cup of flowers in the left hand. That dark prince, friend, is lovely indeed.” The commentary reads the likeness to the calf’s trunk as arms that are soft and rise and fall.
Lion-waisted, in a yellow cloth, a treasure of beauty and of good conduct: at the sight of Rama the companions forgot themselves.
Her father’s vow, and eyes that keep turning back
One clever companion took courage, caught Sita by the hand, and said: “Meditate on Parvati again later. Why not take a look at the prince?”
Then Sita, shy, opened her eyes, and saw the two brothers before her. She saw Rama’s beauty from nail to crown, she remembered her father’s vow, and her mind was very much stirred.
When the companions saw Sita in another’s power, which the commentary reads as love’s, they all said in fear: “It has grown late.” One companion said, “We will come again tomorrow at this hour,” and laughed inside herself.
At those veiled words Sita felt shy. It was late, and she feared her mother. Taking great courage, she brought Rama into her heart, and, knowing herself in her father’s power, she turned back.
On the pretext of looking at a deer, a bird, a tree, she turned round again and again. As she looked and looked at Rama’s beauty her love grew, and not by a little.
Knowing Shiva’s bow to be hard, she grieved inside herself and set out, keeping the dark image in her heart. The commentary reads the grief as a worry over how so tender a prince would break that bow. It has her rejoice at the memory of his strength before she goes. When the Lord knew that Sita was going, he made a soft ink of the highest love and wrote her on the lovely wall of his heart.
At Parvati’s feet a second time
Sita went again to Parvati’s temple, bowed at the feet, and spoke with joined hands. She hailed the goddess as the daughter of the king of mountains, the chakora to the moon of Shiva’s face. The mother of the elephant-faced one and the six-faced one, whom the commentary names Ganesha and Kartikeya, and the mother of the world. She praised her as the one who has no beginning, middle, or end, whose boundless power the Vedas do not know. She brings the world into being, sustains it, and destroys it. She charms the world and moves at her own will. And she stands first among good wives who hold the husband as their god. She called her the giver of boons, dear to Shiva. By her service the four fruits come easy. By the worship of her lotus feet gods, men, and sages are all made happy. Then she said: “You know my wish well. You dwell always in the city of every heart. For that reason I have not spoken it.” So saying, Sita clasped the goddess’s feet.
Parvati came into the power of Sita’s humility and love. The garland slipped, and the image smiled. Sita with reverence set the gift on her head. The goddess spoke, her heart filled with joy: “Hear, Sita, our true blessing: your mind’s wish will be fulfilled. Narada’s word is ever pure and true. The groom on whom your mind is set will be yours. The groom on whom your mind is set, dark and beautiful by nature, will be yours. He is a treasure of mercy, and wise. He knows your good conduct and your love.”
Hearing the goddess’s blessing, Sita and her companions rejoiced in their hearts. Worshiping Parvati again and again, Sita set out with a glad mind for the palace. The commentary gives that line to Tulsidas in his own voice. Knowing Parvati favorable to her, Sita felt a joy past telling, and her left limbs, the root of charming blessings, began to throb.
Everything told to the guru
Praising Sita’s loveliness in their hearts, the two brothers went to the guru. Rama told Vishvamitra everything. His nature is simple. Deceit does not touch it.
Receiving the flowers, the sage performed his worship, and then he blessed the two brothers: “May your wishes bear fruit.” Rama and Lakshmana were glad to hear it.
The sage ate, and then began to tell some old stories. The day passed, and with the guru’s leave the two brothers set out to perform the evening rite.
The moon compared, and the comparison withdrawn
In the east the moon rose, handsome. Rama saw it as like Sita’s face and was happy. Then he thought again, in his mind, that the moon was no equal of Sita’s face: “Born in the sea, with poison for a brother, dim by day, and stained. How could the poor wretch of a moon equal Sita’s face? It waxes and it wanes. It brings pain to a woman parted from her lover. Rahu swallows it when he finds his conjunction. It gives the chakravaka its grief and is the enemy of the lotus. Moon, your faults are many. To set you as a likeness for Sita’s face would bring the fault of a great wrong done.” The commentary explains that the poison is the moon’s brother as born of that same sea, and that the chakravaka’s grief is its parting from its mate.
Having described the beauty of Sita’s face on the pretext of the moon, and knowing the night far gone, Rama set out for the guru. He saluted at the sage’s lotus feet, and with his leave he rested. When the night was gone, Rama woke and looked at his brother.
Sunrise through Lakshmana’s eyes
Rama said to his brother: “Look, child, the dawn has risen, the giver of joy to the lotus, the chakravaka, and the world.” Lakshmana joined both his hands and spoke soft words that pointed to the Lord’s power.
“At the red of dawn the night-lilies have shrunk and the light of the stars has gone dim, as the kings lost their strength at the news of your coming. The kings are all stars that give light. They cannot push away the heavy darkness of the bow. As the lotus, the chakravaka, the bees, and birds of many kinds all rejoice at the night’s end, so, lord, all your devotees will be glad when the bow breaks. The sun has risen. Without any effort the darkness is destroyed. The stars are hidden, and light shines over the world. On the pretext of its own rising, Rama, the sun has shown your might to all the kings. Laying open the glory of the strength of your arms, the custom of breaking the bow has appeared.”
Hearing his brother’s words, the Lord smiled. Pure by nature, he made himself clean, bathed, carried out the rites of the day, and came to the guru. He bowed his head at the guru’s handsome lotus feet.
Janaka’s summons
Then Janaka called Shatananda and sent him without delay to Vishvamitra. He came and told the sage Janaka’s request, and the sage, glad, called the two brothers. Rama bowed at Shatananda’s feet and went and sat beside the guru. Then the sage said: “Come, child. Janaka has sent for you.”
The changing work of the eyes
The companion who brought the news gave the eyes and speech separate work, eyes without speech and speech without eyes. The rest of the episode gives the eyes one task after another. In the garden Rama’s eyes are chakoras to a moon and go still. While he talks to his brother about the Raghus his mind drinks her face like a bee. Sita’s eyes, turned on the two behind the creepers, are greedy, then stilled. Then their lids are shut like doors on what they have carried in. It takes a companion’s word to open them. When they have seen Rama’s beauty from nail to crown she remembers her father’s vow. On the way out they are given pretexts, a deer, a bird, a tree. Rama and Sita exchange no word in the garden.
At night Rama’s eyes are turned on the moon. The moon is tried against her face and set aside for its faults, one by one. At dawn it is Lakshmana who reads what the eyes see: the stars for the kings, the dark for the bow. And in the sun’s rising a showing of his brother’s might to the kings. The next episode opens on the walk to see Sita choose her husband, and on the question of whom God will give the greatness to.
The same story, elsewhere: Valmiki’s Ramayana, chapter 4: Mithila, the Breaking of Shiva’s Bow, and the Wedding of Sita.
Source: the Gita Press edition of Tulsidas’s Ramcharitmanas, Balkand, doha 227 to 239, read with Hanuman Prasad Poddar’s Hindi commentary.