The Ramayana · 212 of 493

Araṇya Kānda (The Forest Book): Canto 18 — The Mutilation

On her ensnared in Káma’s net His eyes the royal Ráma set, And thus, her passion to beguile, Addressed her with a gentle smile:

“I have a wife: behold her here, My Sítá ever true and dear: And one like thee will never brook Upon a rival spouse to look. But there my brother Lakshmaṇ stands: Unchained is he by nuptial bands: A youth heroic, loved of all, Gracious and gallant, fair and tall. With winning looks, most nobly bred, Unmatched till now, he longs to wed. Meet to enjoy thy youthful charms, O take him to thy loving arms. Enamoured on his bosom lie, Fair damsel of the radiant eye, As the warm sunlight loves to rest Upon her darling Meru’s breast.”

Insight

Rāma's response is to pass her along, with a smile, to his brother. The teasing is not subtle. He frames Lakṣmaṇa as the available bachelor and invites her to try her luck there. Even traditional commentators have struggled with this passage. Tulsidas in the Hindi Rāmcaritmānas softens the moment by stressing Rāma's tact, but the Sanskrit is harder. The Maryādā Puruṣottama, the model of dharmic conduct, is teasing a demoness about marriage prospects with his brother. The text is showing the seed of what will follow. Mockery, in the epic's universe, is never neutral. It always grows into something worse.Tulsidas, Rāmcaritmānas, Araṇya-kāṇḍa, dohās 16-17; for the modern reading: Sheldon Pollock's intro to the Princeton Araṇyakāṇḍa, on Rāma's 'jest'.

The hero spoke, the monster heard, While passion still her bosom stirred. Away from Ráma’s side she broke, And thus in turn to Lakshmaṇ spoke: “Come, for thy bride take me who shine In fairest grace that suits with thine. Thou by my side from grove to grove Of Daṇḍak’s wild in bliss shalt rove.”

Then Lakshmaṇ, skilled in soft address, Wooed by the amorous giantess, With art to turn her love aside, To Śúrpaṇakhá thus replied:

“And can so high a dame agree The slave-wife of a slave to be? I, lotus-hued! in good and ill Am bondsman to my brother’s will. Be thou, fair creature radiant-eyed, My honoured brother’s younger bride: With faultless tint and dainty limb, A happy wife, bring joy to him. He from his spouse grown old and grey, Deformed, untrue, will turn away, Her withered charms will gladly leave, And to his fair young darling cleave. For who could be so fond and blind, O loveliest of all female kind, To love another dame and slight Thy beauties rich in all delight?”

Thus Lakshmaṇ praised in scornful jest The long-toothed fiend with loathly breast, Who fondly heard his speech, nor knew His mocking words were aught but true. Again inflamed with love she fled To Ráma, in his leafy shed Where Sítá rested by his side, And to the mighty victor cried:

“What, Ráma, canst thou blindly cling To this old false misshapen thing? Wilt thou refuse the charms of youth For withered breast and grinning tooth! Canst thou this wretched creature prize And look on me with scornful eyes? This aged crone this very hour Before thy face will I devour: Then joyous, from all rivals free. Through Daṇḍak will I stray with thee.”

She spoke, and with a glance of flame Rushed on the fawn-eyed Maithil dame: So would a horrid meteor mar Fair Rohiṇí’s soft beaming star. But as the furious fiend drew near, Like Death’s dire noose which chills with fear, The mighty chief her purpose stayed, And spoke, his brother to upbraid: “Ne’er should we jest with creatures rude, Of savage race and wrathful mood. Think, Lakshmaṇ, think how nearly slain My dear Videhan breathes again. Let not the hideous wretch escape Without a mark to mar her shape. Strike, lord of men, the monstrous fiend, Deformed, and foul, and evil-miened.”

Insight

The mutilation that follows, Lakṣmaṇa cutting off her nose and ears at his brother's word, is one of the most contested scenes in the whole epic. The traditional reading holds that the rākṣasī attempted to devour Sītā and the brothers responded with the minimum force required, leaving her alive. The modern feminist reading sees a princely mutilation of a forest woman whose only documented offense was direct sexual approach. The two readings cannot be fully reconciled, and the text itself sits at the crossing point. Some versions of the regional Rāmāyaṇa tradition, the Kṛittivāsī Bengali and others, soften the violence. Vālmīki's Sanskrit does not soften it.For the polyvalence of the episode: Paula Richman ed., Questioning Ramayanas: A South Asian Tradition (2001); on the disfigurement motif, Robert Goldman, 'Esa Dharmaḥ Sanatanaḥ: Shedding the Body of Sin' in Rāmāyaṇa Revisited (2004).

He spoke: then Lakshmaṇ’s wrath rose high, And there before his brother’s eye, He drew that sword which none could stay, And cleft her nose and ears away. Noseless and earless, torn and maimed, With fearful shrieks the fiend exclaimed, And frantic in her wild distress Resought the distant wilderness. Deformed, terrific, huge, and dread, As on she moved, her gashes bled, And groan succeeded groan as loud As roars, ere rain, the thunder cloud. Still on the fearful monster passed, While streams of blood kept falling fast, And with a roar, and arms outspread Within the boundless wood she fled. To Janasthán the monster flew; Fierce Khara there she found, With chieftains of the giant crew In thousands ranged around. Before his awful feet she bent And fell with piercing cries, As when a bolt in swift descent Comes flashing from the skies. There for a while with senses dazed Silent she lay and scared: At length her drooping head she raised, And all the tale declared, How Ráma, Lakshmaṇ, and the dame Had reached that lonely place: Then told her injuries and shame, And showed her bleeding face.