66697602-The-Ramayana-R-K-Narayan

the coolest bed they could find her. Even there she had no
peace since the lotus blooms in the pool of the fountain
teased her mind by reminding her of the shape of his eyes
or his complexion. She grumbled, “No peace anywhere … I
am deserted. My mind tortures me with reminders. What use
are they if I can’t even know where to look for him? What sort
of a man can he be to cause all this torment and just pass on
doing nothing to alleviate it? A regal appearance, but
actually practising sorcery!”
Her tortuous reflections were interrupted by the arrival of a
maid. Instead of bowing and saluting her mistress, as was
normal, she pirouetted around singing snatches of a love
song. Sita sat up and commanded, “Be quiet! Are you
intoxicated?” The maid answered, “The whole country is
intoxicated. How would you know, my good mistress, if you
lock yourself in and mope and moan?” She went on to
explain in a rush of incoherence. “The king of Ayodhya …
son, broad-shouldered and a god on earth. No one saw it
happen, he was so quick and swift, but he pressed, so they
say, one end with his feet, and seized the other end with his
hand, and drew the string and oh! …”
“Oh, intoxicated beauty, what are you saying?” When Sita
understood what had happened, she stood up, her breasts
heaving. She held herself erect as she said, “Do you know if
this is the same man who struck me down with a look as he
passed along the street? If it is someone else, I will end my