Ayodhya’s Heart Follows Rama (Ramayana Series 31)

Having received his father’s permission, the dharma-knowing Sri Rama, accompanied by Sita, approached his mother who stood weeping in anguish. Deeply moved, Rama bowed to her with reverence. Following his elder brother, Lakshmana too prostrated before Queen Kausalya. Immediately thereafter, the mighty-armed Lakshmana fell at the feet of his own mother, Queen Sumitra.

Lifting her son with affection, Sumitra embraced him, inhaled the fragrance of his head, and spoke words filled with wisdom and resolve:

“My son, you—who are deeply devoted to the noble—seem to have been created by Brahma himself for life in the forest. As Sri Rama departs with Sita, never be negligent in their protection. It is the eternal dharma of the righteous that the younger remain obedient to the elder. Regard Sri Rama as your father Dasharatha himself. Regard Sita, the daughter of King Janaka, as me. Consider the forest to be Ayodhya. Hold these truths firmly in your heart and proceed on your journey in peace.”

Thereafter, the humble Sumantra folded his hands and addressed Rama:

“O illustrious prince, may auspiciousness attend you. Ascend the chariot. Command me where to take you, and I shall do so. Moved by Kaikeyi’s decree, you must begin your fourteen years of forest exile from this very day.”

Having spoken thus, Sumantra watched as Sri Rama, Lakshmana, and Sita mounted the chariot. When Rama set forth toward the forest, resolved to dwell long in the wilderness, the citizens of Ayodhya collapsed in shock. Some cried aloud in distress; others attempted to follow the chariot. Elephants, maddened and agitated, trumpeted loudly. Thus, the entire city resounded with tumult.

Men and women, young and old alike, clung to the sides and rear of the chariot, their eyes flooded with tears, crying aloud, “Rama! Rama!” They pleaded with Sumantra:

“O charioteer! Pull the reins tightly. Go slowly. Let us behold Sri Rama’s face. For a long time to come, we shall not be blessed with the sight of his lotus-like countenance.”

Meanwhile, King Dasharatha—overwhelmed by Rama’s departure, surrounded by grieving queens, his heart utterly broken—cried out:

“Alas! I cannot live without Sri Rama. I must see my beloved son’s face at least once more!”

With these words, he rushed out of the palace. Seeing the city seized by a single wave of anguish, Dasharatha collapsed like a tree felled at its roots. As the grief-stricken king fell unconscious, the people following Rama’s chariot raised a great cry:

“Alas! The king has fallen!”

“O Rama! Look back! The king is collapsing!”

Hearing these cries, Sri Rama turned and saw his father and mother—confused, sorrow-stricken—running after him. At the sight of their agony, Rama urged the charioteer to move swiftly ahead. Though lion-like in courage, Sri Rama could not endure the pain of his parents, just as an elephant pierced by a goad cannot bear its wound.

Bound by the bonds of dharma, seated upon the chariot, Rama watched as Queen Kausalya—like a cow rushing toward its calf tethered in the cowshed—ran toward her son. Weeping uncontrollably, she chased the chariot, crying aloud:

“Ha Rama! Ha Sita! Ha Lakshmana! Let me see you once more. Stop! Alas!”

She staggered like a dancer swaying from side to side. Rama glanced at her again and again. At that moment, the king too cried out to Sumantra to stop the chariot. But Sri Rama repeatedly instructed:

“Go on. Go forward. Do not stop the chariot.”

Torn by inner conflict, Sumantra was addressed again by Rama:

“O Sumantra, it is proper that you proceed swiftly without stopping. If, upon returning to the palace, the king asks why you did not halt the chariot, tell him that you did not hear his call. If you stop now against my command, the consequences will be grievous. Prolonged sorrow leads only to sin.”

Accepting Rama’s words, Sumantra requested the people following the chariot to step back and allow passage. Though holding the reins tightly, he urged the horses to move faster. As the chariot sped away, the royal attendants who had fallen behind stood where they were, circumambulated Rama in reverence, and returned to their homes.

Yet the hearts of the citizens did not turn back. Their minds and tears followed Sri Rama alone.

Recalling the ancient counsel—“One should not accompany a departing loved one too far, if one desires his safe and joyful return”—the ministers reminded Dasharatha of this wisdom. The deeply afflicted king listened to their virtuous words, yet remained standing there, gazing unblinkingly at the path along which Sri Rama had departed with his wife.