66697602-The-Ramayana-R-K-Narayan

Sita became insistent and said sullenly, “You will never get
it, I know,” and turned round and went back into the
hermitage, annoyed and irritated.
Rama felt sad that there should be such an argument over
an innocent wish of his wife, who had ungrudgingly thrown
her lot with his. He said to Lakshmana, “Let me go and catch
it myself. Meanwhile, guard her.” With his bow held ready, he
approached the golden deer. His mind did not admit
Lakshmana’s words of caution; it went on echoing Sita’s
plaintive appeal and he resolved to himself, “She shall have
it, and then she will surely smile again.” The chase began.
The deer waited for his approach and darted off again and
again. In the mood of the chase, Rama had not noticed how
far he had been drawn out or how long it had lasted. Forest
paths, mountain tracks, and valleys he had traversed trying
to keep pace with the elusive deer. A blind determination, a
challenge, and behind them a desire to please his wife—all
these drew him on as the splendorous animal receded
farther and farther.
Suddenly it dawned on him that he was being duped.
Lakshmana was right after all. He ought not to have so
blindly obeyed his wife. Automatically his hand took out an
arrow and shot it at the animal, just as Mareecha, guessing
Rama’s thoughts, made a desperate attempt to escape. But
it was too late. Rama’s arrow as ever reached its target.
Mareecha screamed, “Oh, Lakshmana! Oh, Sita! help me