Episode Fifteen - Mithila

Welcome to the fifteenth episode of The Journey of Rama. If this is your first encounter with The Journey, please read Episode One first.

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On with Episode Fifteen!

The walls surrounding the city of Mithila were a feast for the eyes; they were twenty feet high and made of stones fitted so perfectly that one could not see light leaking through anywhere. The walls were a freshly painted ecru, trimmed in bright, welcoming hues.

As Vishvamitra and the two princes approached the city's gates, they saw guards stationed on the parapets with bows and quivers. The guards were ceremonial, however – no one would be planning an attack on King Janak's capital. The massive gates were open wide and would remain so until dusk. Guests from all over entered the city to either view or participate in the Svayamvara – the ritual in which Princess Sita would choose a husband.

"Guru-ji, what are the terms of the Svayamvara?" Rama inquired of Vishvamitra.

"Lord Shiva's bow, named Pinaka, rests in the palace of King Janak. So far, no one man has ever been able to lift it, as it is said that only a perfect man may lift and string the bow.

"King Janak has decreed that only one who lifts and strings the bow of Shiva is worthy of his daughter Sita. So, the bow ceremony is to be performed, and Kings, princes, and many others will attempt to lift Shiva's divine weapon."

"Sounds like a humbling experience for some proud royals," observed Lakshman.

Rama and Lakshman enjoyed the walk through the city, with Vishvamitra leading and the forest hermits behind. There was much of this sprawling town to explore, but the sage led them directly to a large park in the center of Mithila, where many visitors had already made camp. The park was like an urban forest, with large old shade trees, smaller fruit trees, flower gardens, and a pond. Deer strolled unafraid, and holy men sat, some in groups and some alone, muttering mantras or singing devotional songs.

Vishvamitra found a spot near an expansive tree, spread a mat on the earth, and sat. Lakshman wanted to explore the city but stood in place, hoping Vishvamitra would suggest touring Mithila. Rama leaned toward Lakshman and whispered, "Be patient, Lakshman. We will wander the city later."

Vishvamitra looked toward the east entrance to the park. "My princes," he said softly, "King Janak approaches." And through the park entrance strode Janak, King of Mithila, his ministers, a few soldiers, and the family preceptor, Shatananda.

Janak bowed to Vishvamitra, touching the sage's feet, and Vishvamitra blessed the King in turn. The sage and the King sat facing each other, and Janak looked up into the eyes of Prince Rama. He was awestruck, his eyes filling with tears, and he did not know why.

Turning once more to Vishvamitra, Janak asked, "Please tell me who these two young men might be; are they the offspring of a sage or knights of a warrior dynasty? I feel compelled to inquire, as I am entranced by what I perceive as a radiant power within them."

"You have spoken well, my King," answered Vishvamitra. "All who meet these boys are likewise enthralled. These are the sons of King Dasharatha of the Raghu dynasty, and their father sent them with me for my aid. These two brothers, Rama, the dark one, and Lakshman, the fair, are embodiments of virtue and strength. They protected my yagna by conquering a demon horde. By themselves."

"I am honored to be in your presence, oh great sage, and deeply moved to be in the presence of these two princes. Please allow my ministers to guide you to a residence within the palace where you may rest comfortably, along with Rama and Lakshman."

Vishvamitra nodded his thanks to the King. Then Rama spoke: "We are grateful, Your Majesty, and thankful for your hospitality." He then turned to Vishvamitra. "Master, Lakshman longs to explore the city, but out of respect for you, he keeps his desire to himself. With your permission, I will walk about the city with him and quickly return. May we go, sir?"

Vishvamitra smiled. "Of course, my prince. Both of you have impeccable manners. Return at your leisure."

They bowed to the sage, then to the King, and departed the park.

King Janak turned to Vishvamitra and asked, "Will either prince participate in the bow ceremony?"

Vishvamitra shrugged, palms up. "We will see what we will see," he answered.

Rama and Lakshman explored the city's glories as the citizens watched them and whispered their admiration for the two princes.

"I hear they are the sons of Dasharatha of Ayodhya."

"Those two have slain demons and preserved righteousness."

"So handsome! I hope one of them is the Princess' choice!"

"I'm sure they're here for the bow sacrifice. But neither one looks strong enough to lift Shiva's bow!"

As the princes wandered the city, Sita knelt before a statue of the Divine Mother in the palace temple. A single butter lamp lit the room, and shadows danced across the faces of both the Goddess and the princess.

"Mother," she prayed, "I ask only that this ceremony will further your work and that of your husband, Lord Vishnu. Please send the man destined for me, and allow him to lift the bow."

The princess sat and recited the mantra that was holy to the Mother. She repeated the mantra 108 times, bowed again, and left the temple.

Sita's sister Urmila was waiting outside the temple, along with their cousins Mandavi and Shrutakirti. "You were taking forever!" said Urmila jokingly.

Sita grinned, "Right now, I need all the help the Mother can give me!" All the girls laughed. "Let's go to the public gardens and gather marigolds."

They reached the gardens just as Rama and Lakshman were coming out. Lakshman looked down as Sita's eyes met Rama's. The sounds of the city seemed hushed to near silence. Rama saw Sita's face bathed in a golden light as if the sun had chosen to shine only on her. Sita saw Rama in silvery moonlight, even though it was mid-afternoon.

Lakshman looked at his brother. Rama's expression appeared to be one of relief, as one would look when reunited with a loved one. It is going to be an interesting Svayamvar, Lakshman thought.

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