9 months ago

Ramayana, Epic of Rama, Prince of India

An Abbreviated Translation of the Indian Classic, the Ramayana by Romesh Chundar Dutt in 2,000 verses

VII. In the Nilgiri

VII. In the Nilgiri Mountains - 108 And a shout of joy and triumph, like the pealing voice of war, Spake Sugriva’s consecration to the creatures near and far! Duteous still to Rama’s mandate, as his first born and his own, King Sugriya named young Angad sharer of his royal throne, Gay and bannered town Kishkindha hailed Sugriva’s gracious word, Tender Tara wiped her tear-drops bowing to a younger lord! V. The Rains in the Nilgiri Mountains “Mark the shadowing rain and tempest,” Rama to his brother said, As on Malya’s cloud-capped ranges in their hermit-guise they strayed, “Massive clouds like rolling mountains gather thick and gather high, Lurid lightnings glint and sparkle, pealing thunders shake the sky, Pregnant with the ocean moisture by the solar ray instilled, Now the skies like fruitful mothers are with grateful waters filled! Mark the folds of cloudy masses, ladder-like of smooth ascent, One could almost reach the Sun-god, wreath him with a wreath of scent, And when glow these heavy masses red and white with evening’s glow, One could almost deem them sword-cuts branded by some heavenly foe! [114] Mark the streaks of golden lustre lighting up the checkered sky, Like a lover chandan-painted in each breeze it heaves a sigh, And the earth is hot and feverish, moistened with the tears of rain, Sighing like my anguished Sita when she wept in woe and pain! Fresh and sweet like draught of nectar is the rain-besprinkled breeze, Fragrant with the ketak blossom, scented by the camphor trees, Fresh and bold each peak and mountain bathed in soft descending rain, So they sprinkle holy water when they bless a monarch’s reign! Fair and tall as holy hermits, stand yon shadow-mantled hills, Murmuring mantras with the zephyr, robed in threads of sparkling rills, Fair and young as gallant coursers neighing forth their thunder cries, Lashed by golden whips of lightning are the dappled sunlit skies!

VII. In the Nilgiri Mountains - 109 Ah, my lost and loving Sita! writhing in a Raksha’s power, As the lightning shakes and quivers in this dark tempestuous shower, Shadows thicken on the prospect, dower and leaf are wet with rain, And each passing object, Lakshman, wakes in me a thought of pain! Joyously from throne and empire with my Sita I could part, As the stream erodes its margin, Sita’s absence breaks my heart, Rain and tempest cloud the prospect as they cloud my onward path, Dubious is my darksome future, mighty is my foeman’s wrath! Ravan monarch of the Rakshas, – so Jatayu said and died, – In some unknown forest fastness doth my sorrowing Sita hide, But Sugriva true and faithful seeks the Raksha’s secret hold, Firm in faith and fixed in purpose we will face our foeman bold!” VI. The Quest for Sita [115] Past the rains, the marshalled Vanars gathered round Sugriva bold, And unto a gallant chieftain thus the king his purpose told: “Brave in war and wise in counsel! take ten thousand of my best, Seek the hiding-place of Ravan in the regions of the East. Seek each ravine rock and forest and each shadowy hill and cave, Far where bright Sarayu’s waters mix with Ganga’s ruddy wave, And where Jumna’s dark blue waters ceaseless roll in regal pride, And the Sone through leagues of country spreads its torrent far and wide, Seek where in Videha’s empire castled towns and hamlets shine, In Kosala and in Malwa and by Kasi’s sacred shrine, Magadh rich in peopled centres, Pundra region of the brave, Anga rich in corn and cattle on the eastern ocean wave. Seek where clans of skilful weavers dwell upon the eastern shore, And from virgin mines of silver miners work the sparkling ore, In the realms of uncouth nations, in the islets of the sea, In the mountains of the ocean, wander far and wander free!”

Mahabharata, Epic of the Bharatas