Episode Three - Preparations

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

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And now, Episode Three!

Dasharatha nodded. Of course, Sumant was right; he usually was. “Please send a messenger to Vashistha’s ashram at once.” Dasharatha considered the wording carefully, “Tell him his disciple Dasharatha humbly requests his presence at the palace at his earliest convenience.”

Sumant closed his eyes for a breath, stroked his mustache, then looked again into the King’s eyes. “Your Majesty,” he said softly, “just tell him to come.”

Dasharatha smiled. “Send the message as you think best, Sumant.”

Sumant put his palms together, bowed deeply, turned, and strode out of the throne room.

At the cosmic sea:

The Gods and Devas do not measure time as we do on Earth. Often, they do not measure it at all. So it would be meaningless to say that it was not long before Lord Vishnu again opened his eyes. He meditated for as long as he meditated, and the Devas waited as long as they had to wait. Goddess Lakshmi sat with her ever-present smile. As the goddess of abundance, she offered the Devas refreshment, but there was no need.

Lord Vishnu’s eyes opened, and the sky glowed once more. “Thank you all for coming to me. You are correct; Ravana has overstepped his authority and believes he is free to do as he wishes, no matter what the Gods would have, no matter whom he hurts. There are limits, and we must show Ravana what those limits are. Balance must be restored. If Ravana does not stop, he must be killed.”

The Devas bowed their heads in gratitude. Lord Vishnu was going to help, and their relief was palpable.

“Lord Brahma has granted Ravana a boon that no god, demon, nor any other celestial being can destroy him. Therefore, I shall take human birth once again. Ravana will be vanquished and balance restored.”

The Devas made room for each other as they prostrated themselves before the Lord. “Victory to Lord Vishnu! Victory to Lord Vishnu!” they chanted.

Lord Vishnu smiled and gestured for them to rise. He raised one right hand, palm forward in the sign that meant ‘fear not.’ Goddess Lakshmi manifested sweets in her hands and distributed them to the Devas as flower petals showered them all from above.

They departed from the Cosmic Sea, each to their own abode, their minds calm as the waters below them.

In Ayodhya...

Dasharatha paused at the entrance to Queen Kausalya’s chambers. She was his first wife, and as principal Queen, she would receive any news first.

Kausalya had been a princess of Kosala, the kingdom adjacent to Avadh. Dasharatha had known her since she was born, and they had grown up together. Their fathers had arranged their marriage when they were children to consolidate the kingdoms, but their lifelong affection for each other made the union a good one by any standard.

The entrance to the Queen’s chambers was arched, leafed in gold, and carved with figures of the sun and planets. Dasharatha admired the work of the ancient artisans who had created the carvings until he realized he was stalling. “My Queen,” he called out, “may I enter?”

He heard the rustling of silk and the tinkling of jewels as she made her way to the entrance. The King’s hearing was legendary. “Of course, my Lord, please enter.”

He found her seated on a mat in her prayer room, having just completed her evening prayers. The room was aglow with candles and the flame from a butter lamp on the altar. Dasharatha knelt and bowed to the murtis on the altar, statues representing the energies of the gods. He sat on the mat beside his Queen and whispered a simple prayer to the Divine.

Turning his head to face Kausalya, he said, “You should know first — Vashistha will come in a day or so.”

Kausalya smiled but did not speak. It was not her place to ask why, but the question hung in the air as thick as the aroma of sandalwood incense that purified the room.

“I have asked him to come to resolve the issue of an heir,” said Dasharatha. “Since we have not produced one, our Guru must help.” Kausalya bowed her head. “No, my love,” the King raised her chin so that their eyes met. “I, of course, bear the fault. But we must learn what the gods would have us do, and do it. Vashistha will know.”

“Of course, my Lord. I am pleased that you are consulting the preceptor, and it will be splendid to see him again.” Kausalya got her legs under her, preparing to stand. “I must instruct the kitchen staff to prepare his favorite sweets.” She bowed to the altar, then stood.

Dasharatha placed his hand on her arm. “Would you mind,” he asked, “telling the other Queens?”

Kaushalya smiled. “I will be glad to, Your Majesty.”

In this way, Dasharatha acknowledged and honored Kaushalya’s position as principal Queen.

The following day, the palace was as active as a beehive, though much quieter. The servants, as usual, went about their duties in silence, except when orders were given or questions asked. The Guru was coming, so that which was immaculate had to be a little cleaner, a bit more polished, the flowers absolutely fresh.

Sumant appeared at the entrance to the King’s quarters, and the guard announced the minister. Dasharatha strode quickly to the arched doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, your Majesty. I am here to inform you that the Sage Vashistha will arrive within the hour. We sent a chariot for him, but he chose to walk. Of course.”

“Of course,” grinned Dasharatha, “one cannot get him to accept luxury, except when it comes to sweets! And we must offer him food at once, knowing he will not accept it until after our discussion.”

The King met his preceptor at the palace entrance and knelt before him. Vashistha bade him rise, and Dasharatha led him to the small temple just inside the gate. Inside the temple was a small altar to Lord Vishnu, with a padded chair to the side of the altar. A bowl of clean water and a large cloth sat on the floor next to a mat facing the chair. Light flowed in through a windowed cupola in the center of the ceiling, supplemented by oil lamps on the altar. The sage sat on the chair, and the King removed his Guru’s sandals. The Lord of Avadh began to wash the sage’s feet gently while muttering sacred mantras.

It might have seemed strange to an uncivilized person to see a mighty king kneeling and worshipping the feet of a forest-dwelling saint, but in this society, it made perfect sense. Vashistha was the King’s teacher, preceptor, and, in spiritual matters, his master. The Guru’s feet were dirty, and the disciple’s job was to wash them.

And there would be time enough to discuss important matters.

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