6. THE WEDDING ( PART -1 )

Mithila, after all the forests, mountain paths, valleys, and

places of solitude and silence through which we have

travelled thus far, offers a pleasant change to a city of colour

and pleasure, with people enjoying the business of living.

The very minute Rama steps into Mithila, he notices golden

turrets and domes, and towers, and colourful flags fluttering

in the wind as if to welcome a royal bridegroom-to-be. The

streets glitter with odds and ends of jewellery cast off by the

people (a necklace that had snapped during a dance or a

game; or had been flung off when found to be a nuisance

during an embrace), with no one inclined to pick them up in a

society of such affluence. There was no charity in Kosala

country since there was no one to receive it. Torn-off flower

garlands lay in heaps on the roadside with honey-bees

swarming over them. The musth running down the haunches

of mountainous elephants flowed in dark streams along the

main thoroughfare, blending with the white froth dripping

from the mouths of galloping horses, and churned with mud

and dust by ever-turning chariot wheels.

On lofty terraces women were singing and dancing to the

accompaniment of veena and soft drums. Couples on

swings suspended from tall areca poles enjoyed the delightswings suspended from tall areca poles enjoyed the delight of swaying back and forth, their necklaces or garlands flying

in the air. Rama and Lakshmana went on past shops

displaying gems, gold, ivory, peacock feathers, beads, and

wigs made of the hair of rare Himalayan deer. They

observed arenas where strange elephant fights were in

progress, cheered by crowds of young men; groups of

women practising ballads and love songs under wayside

canopies; horses galloping without a break round and round

bridle tracks, watched by elegant men and women;

swimming pools with multicoloured fish agitated by people

sporting in the water.

They crossed the moat surrounding Janaka's palace, with

its golden spires soaring above the other buildings of the

city. Now Rama observed on a balcony princess Sita playing

with her companions. He stood arrested by her beauty, and

she noticed him at the same moment. Their eyes met. They

had been together not so long ago in Vaikunta, their original

home in heaven, as Vishnu and his spouse Lakshmi, but in

their present incarnation, suffering all the limitations of

mortals, they looked at each other as strangers. Sita,

decked in ornaments and flowers, in the midst of her

attendants, flashed on his eyes like a streak of lightning. She

paused to watch Rama slowly pass out of view, along with

his sage-master and brother. The moment he vanished, her

mind became uncontrollably agitated. The eye had admitted

a slender shaft of love, which later expanded and spread into

her whole being. She felt ill.Observing the sudden change in her, and the sudden

drooping and withering of her whole being, even the bangles

on her wrist slipping down, her attendants took her away and

spread a soft bed for her to lie on.

She lay tossing in her bed complaining, "You girls have

forgotten how to make a soft bed. You are all out to tease

me." Her maids in attendance had never seen her in such a

mood. They were bewildered and amused at first, but later

became genuinely concerned, when they noticed tears

streaming down her cheeks. They found her prattling

involuntarily, "Shoulders of emerald, eyes like lotus petals,

who is he? He invaded my heart and has deprived me of all

shame! A robber who could ensnare my heart and snatch

away my peace of mind! Broad-shouldered, but walked off

so swiftly. Why could he not have halted his steps, so that I

might have gained just one more glimpse and quelled this

riotous heart of mine? He was here, he was there next

second, and gone forever. He could not be a god—his

eyelids flickered… . Or was he a sorcerer casting a spell on

people?"

The sun set beyond the sea, so says the poet—and when

a poet mentions a sea, we have to accept it. No harm in

letting a poet describe his vision, no need to question his

geography. The cry of birds settling down for the night and

the sound of waves on the seashore became clearer as the

evening advanced into dusk and night. A cool breeze blewfrom the sea, but none of it comforted Sita.

This hour sharpened the agony of love, and agitated her heart with

hopeless longings. A rare bird, known as "Anril," somewhere

called its mate. Normally at this hour, Sita would listen for its

melodious warbling, but today its voice sounded harsh and

odious. Sita implored, "Oh, bird, wherever you may be,

please be quiet. You are bent upon mischief, annoying me

with your cries and lamentations. The sins I committed in a

previous birth have assumed your form and come to torture

me now!" The full moon rose from the sea, flooding the earth

with its soft light. At the sight of it, she covered her eyes with

her palms. She felt that all the elements were alien to her

mood and combining to aggravate her suffering. Her maids

noticed her distress and feared that some deep-rooted

ailment had suddenly seized her. They lit cool lamps whose

wicks were fed with clarified butter, but found that even such

a flame proved intolerable to her, and they extinguished the

lamps and in their place kept luminous gems which

emanated soft light. They made her a soft bed on a slab of

moonstone with layers of soft petals, but the flowers wilted,

Sita writhed and groaned and complained of everything—

the night, stars, moonlight, and flowers: a whole universe of

unsympathetic elements. The question went on drumming in

her mind: "Who is he? Where is he gone? Flashing into view

and gone again—or am I subject to a hallucination? It could

not be so—a mere hallucination cannot weaken one so

much.