The Ramayana/Book II/Canto IX: The Plot

As fury lit Kaikeyí's eyes She spoke with long and burning sighs:

'This day my son enthroned shall see, And Ráma to the woods shall flee. But tell me, damsel, if thou can, A certain way, a skilful plan That Bharat may the empire gain, And Ráma's hopes be nursed in vain.'

The lady ceased. The wicked maid The mandate of her queen obeyed, And darkly plotting Ráma's fall Responded to Kaikeyí's call.

'I will declare, do thou attend, How Bharat may his throne ascend. Dost thou forget what things befell? Or dost thou feign, remembering well? Or wouldst thou hear my tongue repeat A story for thy need so meet? Gay lady, if thy will be so, Now hear the tale of long ago, And when my tongue has done its part Ponder the story in thine heart. When Gods and demons fought of old, Thy lord, with royal saints enrolled, Sued to the war with thee to bring His might to aid the Immortals' King. Far to the southern land he sped Where Dandak's mighty wilds are spread, To Vaijayanta's city swayed By S'ambara, whose flag displayd The hugest monster of the sea. Lord of a hundred wiles was be; With might which Gods could never blame Against the King of Heaven he came. Then raged the battle wild and dread, And mortal warriors fought and bled; The fiends by night with strength renewed Charged, slew the sleeping multitude. Thy lord, King Das'aratha, long Stood fighting with the demon throng, But long of arm, unmatched in strength, Fell wounded by their darts at length. Thy husband, senseless, by thine aid Was from the battle field conveyed. And wounded nigh to death thy lord Was by thy care to health restored. Well pleased the grateful monarch sware To grant thy first and second prayer. Thou for no favour then wouldst sue, The gifts reserved for season due; And he, thy high-souled lord, agreed To give the boons when thou shouldst need. Myself I knew not what befell, But oft the tale have heard thee tell, And close to thee in friendship knit Deep in my heart have treasured it. Remind thy husband of his oath, Recall the boons and claim them both, That Bharat on the throne be placed With rites of consecration graced, And Ráma to the woods be sent For twice seven years of banishment. Go, Queen, the mourner's chamber seek, With angry eye and burning cheek; And with disordered robes and hair On the cold earth lie prostrate there. When the king comes still mournful lie, Speak not a word nor meet his eye, But let thy tears in torrent flow, And lie enamoured of thy woe. Well do I know thou long hast been, And ever art, his darling queen. For thy dear sake, O well-loved dame, The mighty king would brave the flame, But ne'er would anger thee, or brook To meet his favourite's wrathful look. Thy loving lord would even die Thy fancy, Queen, to gratify, And never could he arm his breast To answer nay to thy request. Listen and learn, O dull of sense, Thine all-resistless influence. Gems he will offer, pearls and gold: Refuse his gifts, be stern and cold. Those proffered boons at length recall, And claim them till he grants thee all. And O my lady, high in bliss, With heedful thought forget not this. When from the ground his queen he lifts And grants again the promised gifts, Bind him with oaths he cannot break And thy demands unflnching, make. That Ráma travel to the wild Five years and nine from home exiled, And Bharat, best of all who reign. The empire of the land obtain. For when this term of years has fled Over the banished Ráma's head, Thy royal son to vigour grown And rooted firm will stand alone. The king, I know, is well inclined, And this the hour to move his mind. Be bold: the threatened rite prevent, And force the king from his intent.'

She ceased. So counselled to her bane Disguised beneath a show of gain, Kaikeyí in her joy and pride To Manthará again replied: 'Thy sense I envy, prudent maid; With sagest lore thy lids persuade. No hump-back maid in all the earth, For wise resolve, can match thy worth. Thou art alone with constant zeal Devoted to thy lady's weal. Dear girl, without thy faithful aid I had not marked the plot he laid.

Full of all guile and sin and spite Misshapen hump-backs shock the sight: But thou art fair and formed to please, Bent like a lily by the breeze. I look thee o'er with watchful eye, And in thy frame no fault can spy; The chest so deep, the waist so trim, So round the lines of breast and limb. Thy cheeks with moonlike beauty shine, And the warm wealth of youth is thine. Thy legs, my girl, are long and neat, And somewhat long thy dainty feet, While stepping out before my face Thou seemest like a crane to pace. The thousand wiles are in thy breast Which Sambara the fiend possessed, And countless others all thine own, O damsel sage, to thee are known. Thy very hump becomes thee too, O thou whose face is fair to view, For there reside in endless store Plots, wissard wiles, and warrior lore. A golden chain I'll round it fling When Ráma's flight makes Bharat king: Yea, polished links of finest gold, When once the wished for prize I hold With naught to fear and none to hate, Thy hump, dear maid, shall decorate. A golden frontlet wrought with care, And precious jewels shalt thou wear: Two lovely robes around thee fold, And walk a Goddess to behold, Bidding the moon himself compare His beauty with a face so fair. With scent of precious sandal sweet Down to the nails upon thy feet, First of the household thou shalt go And pay with scorn each battled foe.' Kaikeyi's praise the damnel heard, And thus again her lady stirred, Who lay upon her beauteous bed Like fire upon the altar fed: 'Dear Queen, they build the bridge in vain When swollen streams are dry again. Arise, thy glorious task complete, And draw the king to thy retreat.' The large-eyed lady left her bower Exulting in her pride of power, And with the hump-back sought the gloom And silence of the mourner's room. The string of priceless pearls that huug Around her neck to earth she flung, With all the wealth and lustre lent By precious gem and ornament. Then, listening to her slave's advice, Lay, like a nymph from Paradise.

As on the ground her limbs she laid Once more she cried unto the maid: 'Soon must thou to the monarch say Kaikeyi's soul has past away, Or, Ráma banished as we planned, My son made king shall rule the land. No more for gold and gems I care, For brave attire or dainty fare. If Ráma should the throne ascend, That very hour my life will end.'

The royal lady wounded through The bosom with the darts that flew Launched from the hump-back's tongue Pressed both her hands upon her side, And o'er and o'er again she cried With wildering fury stung: 'Yes, it shall be thy task to tell That I have hurried hence to dwell In Yama's realms of woe, Or happy Bharat shall be king, And doomed to years of wandering Kaus'alyá's son shall go. I heed not dainty viands now Fair wreaths of flowers to twine my brow, Soft balm or precious scent: My very life I count as naught, Nothing on earth can claim my thought But Ráma's banishment.' She spoke these words of cruel ire; Then stripping off her gay attire, The cold bare floor she pressed. So, falling from her home on high, Some lovely daughter of the sky Upon the ground might rest. With darkened brow and furious mien, Stripped of her gems and wreath, the queen In spotless beauty lay, Like heaven obscured with gathering cloud, When shades of midnight darkness shroud Each star's expiring ray.