The Ramayana/Book II/Canto LIV: Bharadvája's Hermitage

So there that night the heroes spent Under the boughs that o'er them bent, And when the sun his glory spread, Upstarting, from the place they sped. On to that spot they made their way, Through the dense wood that round them lay, Where Yamuná's swift waters glide

To blend with Gangá's holy tide. Charmed with the prospect ever new The glorious heroes wandered through Full many a spot of pleasant ground, Rejoicing as they gazed around, With eager eye and heart at ease, On countless sorts of flowery trees. And now the day was half-way sped When thus to Lakshman Ráma said: 'There, there, dear brother, turn thine eyes; See near Prayág that smoke arise: The banner of our Lord of Flames The dwelling of some saint proclaims. Near to the place our steps we bend Where Yamuná and Gangá blend. I hear and mark the deafening roar When chafing floods together pour. See, near us on the ground are left Dry logs, by labouring woodmen cleft, And the tall trees, that blossom near Saint Bharadvája's home, appear.'

The bow-armed princes onward passed, And as the sun was sinking fast They reached the hermit's dwelling, set Near where the rushing waters met. The presence of the warrior scared The deer and birds as on he fared, And struck them vith unwonted awe: Then Bharadvája's cot they saw. The high-souled hermit soon they found Girt by his dear disciples round: Calm saint, whose vows had well been wrought, Whose fervent rites keen sight had bought. Duly had flames of worship blazed When Ráma on the hermit gazed: His suppliant hands the hero raised, Drew nearer to the holy man With his companions, and began, Declaring both his name and race And why they sought that distant place; 'Saint, Das'aratha's children we, Ráma and Lakshman, come to thee. This my good wife from Janak springs. The best of fair Videha's kings; Through lonely wilds, a faultless dame, To this pure grove with me she came. My younger brother follows still Me banished by my father's will: Sumitrá's son, bound by a vow,-- He roams the wood beside me now. Sent by my father forth to rove, We seek, O Saint, some holy grove, Where lives of hermits we may lead, And upon fruits and berries feed.'

When Bharadvája, prudent-souled, Had heard the prince his tale unfold, Water he bade them bring, a bull, And honour-gifts in dishes full,

And drink and food of varied taste, Berries and roots, before him placed, And then the great ascetic showed A cottage for the guests' abode. The saint these honours gladly paid To Ráma who had thither strayed, Then compassed sat by birds and deer And many a hermit resting near. The prince received the service kind, And sat him down rejoiced in mind. Then Bharadvája silence broke, And thus the words of duty spoke: 'Kakutstha's royal son, that thou Hadst sought this grove I knew ere now. Mine ears have heard thy story, sent Without a sin to banishment. Behold, O Prince, this ample space Near where the mingling floods embrace, Holy, and beautiful, and clear: Dwell with us, and be happy here.'

By Bharadvája thus addressed, Ráma whose kind and tender breast All living things would bless and save, In gracious words his answer gave:

'My honoured lord, this tranquil spot, Fair home of hermits, suits me not: For all the neighbouring people here Will seek us when they know me near: With eager wish to look on me, And the Videhan dame to see, A crowd of rustics will intrude Upon the holy solitude. Provide, O gracious lord, I pray, Some quiet home that lies away, Where my Videhan spouse may dwell Tasting the bliss deserved so well.'

The hermit heard the prayer he made: A while in earnest thought he stayed. And then in words like these expressed His answer to the chief's request: 'Ten leagues away there stands a hill Where thou mayvst live, if such thy will: A holy mount, exceeding fair; Great saints have made their dwelling there: There great Langúrs in thousands play, And bears amid the thickets stray; Wide-known by Chitrakúta's name, It rivals Gandhamádan's fame. Long as the man that hill who seeks Gazes upon its sacred peaks, To holy things his soul he gives And pure from thought of evil lives. There, while a hundred autumns fled, Has many a saint with hoary head Spent his pure life, and won the prize, By deep devotion, in the skies:

Best home, I ween, if such retreat, Far from the ways of men, be sweet: Or let thy yewre of exile flee Here in this hermitage with me.'

Thus Bharadvája spake, and trained In lore of duty, entertained The princes and the dame, and pressed Hie friendly gifts on every guest.

Thus to Prayág the hero went, Thus saw the saint preeminent, And varied speeches heard and said: Then holy night o'er heaven was spread. And Ráma took, by toil oppressed, With Sitá and his brother, rest; And so the night, with sweet content, In Bharadvája's grove was spent. But when the dawn dispelled the night, Ráma approached the anchorite, And thus addressed the holy sire Whose glory shone like kindled fire: 'Well have we spent, O truthful Sage, The night within thy hermitage: Now let my lord his guests permit For their new home his grove to quit.'

Then, as he saw the morning break, Ih answer Bharadvája spake: 'Go forth to Chitrakúta's hill, Where berries grow, and sweets distil: Full well, I deem, that home will suit Thee, Ráma, strong and resolute. Go forth, and Chitrakúta seek, Famed mountain of the Varied Peak. In the wild woods that gird him round All creatures of the chase are found: Thou in the glades shalt see appear Vast herds of elephants and deer. With Si'ta there shalt thou delight To gaze upon the woody height; There with expanding heart to look On river, table-land, and brook, And see the foaming torrent rave Impetuous from the mountain cave. Auspicious hill! where all day long The lapwing's cry, the Koil's song Make all who listen gay: Where all is fresh and fair to see, Where elephants and deer roam free, There, as a hermit, stay.'