Chapter 2
The Year of the Comet — Sita I
At the time of her confinement in Ashokvana, Ravan had given her one year after which he would marry her by force (and she had prepared to give up her life in case Raghav did not rescue her by then.)
To understand what happened next, one must understand what had transpired earlier that evening.
Before the assembled army, Raghav had rejected Sita as his wife. “Why come all the way then?” she had demanded. He had offered no answer. In his mind, the war and the killing of Ravan’s line had been a duty imposed upon him by law and lineage.
Though Sita argued that she had been taken by force, and though Vibhi and Agastya spoke in her defence, Raghav could find no path through the dilemma imposed by Aryavartan law. Cornered by the choice before her, and penalty being death for those who had broken the law, Sita ordered that a pyre be prepared. For her.
His public rejection struck her harder than a year of captivity. Worse still was his declaration that she was free to choose another husband, even the newly declared Lord of Lanka, Vibhi. She had devotedly carried a conviction through her long imprisonment. In that moment, the last hope flickered and died.
Raghav
Half an hour later, nothing had gone as he expected.
Sita had been firm, as firm as the fire torches in their scaffolding. Everything had gone wrong.
Raghav stood rooted in the same spot where he had spoken to Lux. His army stood in a circle around him and the pyre.
His entire body trembled as he saw Sita walking up to the three woodpiles of firewood.
Sita was so stubborn.
I was to give up my life anyway if you had not come by the end of the year, she had said to him. At least now I can die having seen you once again. Heartbroken, though, as you reject me. I have nowhere else to go..
The words choked him.
He was pulled out of his reverie when Sita’s friend, Sarama, screamed, begging Raghav for mercy, to stop this self-sacrifice. A few women were pinning Sarama back.
Raghav, still trembling, looked away. He could not show emotion. He acted numb. As his eyes blurred, all he could make out was his brother Lux screaming at the sky.
The three wood piles were lit on Sita’s orders.
Back in Ayodhya what would he say to her sisters? How would he face Sita’s father and mother again?
A booming voice came from within.
This is a grave mistake. I have to stop it.
Raghav looked back at the steady figure of his wife following the law of infidelity.
His body shuddered as Sita coughed and coughed. And choked. She staggered and fell just before she reached the blaze.
He stood transfixed though his mind was strangely calm. The past few weeks of the gory war in Lanka had steeled him.
Bright orange sparks fell like a shower of flowers on her head. A finger of fire touched her, though miraculously her clothes did not ignite. Something kept her safe.
The numbness in his feet disappeared. He clenched his fists.
How could I have allowed this? Am I insane?
He ran forward screaming, Lux on his heels, ‘Sitaa!’
Sarama reached first. He watched her pull the unconscious body to safety. Reaching them both, he fell to his knees, and took her in his arms.
‘Sita! Are you okay? Stay with me.’
His body shook. She remained limp.
A healer with a water flask ran to them.
An hour later it looked certain Sita would survive. Close aides had met Raghav in his tent one by one and left.
Vibhi’s words echoed back. ‘Please accept Sita back. She is innocent. I shall be the evidence.’
Guru Agastya’s words came following: ‘It’s a miracle that she’s unhurt. You must accept Sita now.’
Lux’s words reverberated: ‘She must be in shock. You remember when she was a child…’
He stepped outside his tent to get some air.
Before this macabre ceremony began, his brother had pointed it out; an unusual visitor, a light with a tail.
Are you a visitor from another world here to witness my cruelty? Are you going to come crashing down on me?
If Sita had no union with a Raksha, he had not broken Arya law. But why did he himself doubt her? Was it because he could see how his people would not understand? Without evidence either way, they would question her long stay. The subjects would talk of abomination. The Council would talk of sacrilege. But Sita had endured too much for now. Now he desperately needed her alive. He would deal with them later. In Ayodhya as their king.
If she had to be exiled, she could go to Mithila with her parents.
Is the healer working his magic?
Sita
Mithila, Videha
Sita had been about twelve years old when it happened. Her father had returned, accompanied by other clan heads, from a pleasure hunt and she had slipped away unattended from the palace to go find him.
The grounds where she played had become a jamboree and hunters displayed their haul everywhere she looked. She was apalled to see the slow roasting of red pandas, deer, and boars. Her fists clenched seeing a number of animals in cages awaiting the same fate. She felt a fire rage within her.
As she approached, she was easily recognized. She darted to avoid being chased. And that was when it happened.
She stumbled. She fell screaming into a smoldering fire-pit.
She had hidden the trauma of the fire-pit in the deep recesses of her memory. After her rescue, her father made a promise. The tribal chiefs would be compensated, the caged animals would be returned to the forest, and a more compassionate form of sport would be planned for the following year.
She recovered a week later. And he had kept that promise.
To understand the significance of this, one must understand that in the Aryavarta worldview hunted and domesticated animals were property. Tribal wars were fought over cattle and prized catch.
Trikuta, Lanka, Present day
Sita’s arm stung as she stirred awake in a state of confusion.
What happened? Did I survive?
Realizing where she was she smiled weakly at Raghav and Lux who sat next to her.
‘I want to take you back to Ayodhya,’ said Raghav.
‘You are safe now. Raghav will never leave you again,’ said Lux.
Sita smiled weakly at them.
‘When can I show you Ashokvana?’
‘As soon as you’re better. I know you refused to stay at the palace. Staying in an open temple was a sacrifice you made for me. And Raghuvamsa.’
‘I did it for you,’ she whispered.
He offered her jaggery. And water to drink. She could not believe this was real.
‘But first we will move her to the infirmary,’ she heard them say.
They helped her get to her feet and carried her to the palanquin.
She winced inside and she made out the figure of Sarama stepping in.
A few minutes later Sita lay on a bed in the infirmary, with only Sarama beside her. Sarama poured a cup and Sita insisted to hold it. Sita could finally drink water on her own. She sipped the warm water.
Is all this real? Is he really taking me with him? Does he really mean it?
She moved her free arm to rearrange her sari, which had moved out of place.
How could he demand Aryavartan law in Lanka, in front of all those people? He was not even king of Ayodhya anymore. I have never felt so worthless.
Sarama told her that Raghav had restored her lost jewelry. Sita smiled.
If he suspected a Raksha child in my womb, he must end my life.
Sarama opened the bundle and laid out the jewelry in front of Sita.
Why save me from the fire and my crime?
She glanced at the necklace her parents had given her on her wedding day; she felt choked.
Pita atra bhava.
Her father.
Pita would have found a better solution to this dilemma.
From the Chronicle of Sarama:
The curled-up nights on cold Lankan stone beside the cat were nothing compared to this. When she demanded that the fire be lit for the fire-sacrifice test, she really wanted to die and this pain to end. The Gods had saved her from the fire.
But could they save her from herself?
All her married life, she had lived for her husband and his family. She needed a new reason to live. And she eventually found one. I admired Sita long before the war ended.
Some will say that this colors my account. Perhaps it does.