Ayodhya Kanda · Sarga 114 of 119 · 31 verses
Ayodhya Without Its Lights
Driving in with the smooth, deep sound of his chariot, the glorious lord Bharata quickly enters Ayodhya. It is haunted by cats and owls, its men and elephants hidden away, dark and lightless like a black night struck by darkness; like Rohini, the beloved wife of the moon, enemy of Rahu, blazing with beauty, tormented by the planet that has risen against her; like a thin mountain river, its scanty water hot and troubled, its birds scorched by heat, its fish and crocodiles hidden; like the flame of a sacrificial fire, golden and smokeless when it rose, gone out after oblations are poured on it; like an army ruined in a great battle, its armour shattered, its elephants, horses, chariots and banners broken, its heroes killed; like a wave of the ocean that rose foaming and roaring and has fallen silent when the wind dropped; like a sacrificial altar, silent after the pressing is over, abandoned by all the sacrificial tools and the handsome priests; like a cow standing distressed in the middle of the pen, not grazing the new grass, abandoned by the bull; like a new string of pearls stripped of its fine, glossy, blazing jewels, rubies and the rest; like a star fallen from heaven, suddenly shaken from its place when its merit was spent, its spreading light withdrawn; like a forest creeper at the end of spring, once covered in flowers and humming with drunken bees, scorched by a rushing forest fire and withered; like the sky covered with clouds, its moon and stars hidden: its merchants bewildered, its shops and markets shut; like a drinking ground, uncleaned, strewn with broken cups, its fine drinks gone, its drinkers killed; like a ruined water-stall, its floor broken and sunken, strewn with broken vessels, its water used up; like a long bowstring cut by arrows, fallen from the bow to the ground; like a weak young mare suddenly ridden by a war-loving horseman, its load thrown off, abandoned; like a pond with its water dried up, crowded with great fish and many tortoises, its banks broken, its lotuses gone; like the body of a man who is unhappy, forbidden ointment, without ornaments, burning with grief; like the light of the sun hidden by dark clouds when it has entered the mass of clouds in the deep rains.
Standing in his chariot, glorious Bharata, son of Dasharatha, says to the charioteer driving the fine chariot: “Why is the deep, swelling sound of song and music not heard in Ayodhya today, as before? The heady smell of wine, the scent of garlands and the fragrance of aloe incense do not spread on every side. The sound of fine carriages, the smooth neighing of horses, the trumpeting of rutting elephants and the great rumble of chariots are not heard in this city now that Rama is banished. Since Rama left, the young men, grieving, do not enjoy sandal and aloe scents or costly fresh garlands. Men wearing bright garlands do not go out on excursions; no festivals are held in the city stricken with grief for Rama. Surely the city’s light has gone with my brother; Ayodhya does not shine, like a bright night lashed by rain. When will my brother come back like a great festival and bring joy to Ayodhya, like a rain-cloud in summer? The great roads of Ayodhya do not shine without young, finely dressed men walking proudly about.” Talking so in many ways, he enters his father’s dwelling, bereft of that lord of men, like a cave without its lion. Seeing the inner palace, its lustre gone, like a day without its sun abandoned by the gods, all empty, self-controlled Bharata, deeply grieved, sheds tears.
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स्त्रिग्धगम्भीरघोषेण स्यन्दनेनोपयान् प्रभुः । अयोध्यां भरतः क्षिप्रं प्रविवेश महायशाः ॥ १ ॥
Approaching with his chariot’s smooth, deep sound, the lord Bharata, greatly glorious, quickly entered Ayodhya,
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Ayodhya Without Its Lights 1 min read.
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बिडालोलूकचरितामालीननरवारणाम् । तिमिराभ्याहतां कालीमप्रकाशां निशामिव ॥ २ ॥
haunted by cats and owls, its men and elephants hidden, struck by darkness, black and lightless like the night;
राहुशत्रोः प्रियां पत्नीं श्रिया प्रज्वलितप्रभाम् । ग्रहेणाभ्युत्थिते नैकां रोहिणीमिव पीडिताम् ॥ ३ ॥
like Rohini, beloved wife of the enemy of Rahu, blazing with beauty, tormented by a planet risen against her alone;
अल्पोष्णक्षुब्धसलिलां धर्मोत्तप्तविहङ्गमाम् । लीनमीनझषग्राहां कृशां गिरिनदीमिव ॥ ४ ॥
like a thin mountain river, its little hot water troubled, its birds scorched by heat, its fish, jhashas and crocodiles hidden;
विधूमामिव हेमाभामध्वराग्नेः समुत्थिताम् । हविरभ्युक्षितां पश्चात् शिखां विप्रलयं गताम् ॥ ५ ॥
like the flame of a sacrificial fire, risen smokeless and golden, then gone out when oblations were sprinkled on it;
विध्वस्तकवचां रुग्णजवाजिरथध्वजाम् । हतप्रवीरामापन्नां चमूमिव महाहवे ॥ ६ ॥
like an army fallen into trouble in a great battle, its armour shattered, its elephants, horses, chariots and banners broken, its heroes slain;
सफेना सस्वना भूत्वा सागरस्य समुत्थिताम् । प्रशान्तमारुतोद्घातां जलोर्मिमिव निस्वनाम् ॥ ७ ॥
like a wave of the ocean that rose foaming and roaring, now soundless, its wind-driven surge calmed;
त्यक्तां यज्ञायुधैः सर्वैरभिरूपैश्च याजकैः । सुत्याकाले विनिर्वृत्ते वेदिं गतरवामिव ॥ ८ ॥
like an altar fallen silent after the pressing time is over, abandoned by all the sacrificial implements and the handsome priests;
गोष्ठमध्ये स्थितामार्त्तामचरन्तीं तृणं नवम् । गोवृषेण परित्यक्तां गवां पत्तिमिवोत्सुकाम् ॥ ९ ॥
like a cow standing distressed in the middle of the pen, not grazing new grass, abandoned by the bull, longing for the lord of the cows;
प्रभाकराद्यैः सुस्निग्धैः प्रज्वलद्भिरिवोत्तमैः । वियुक्तां मणिभिर्जात्यैर्नवां मुक्तावलीमिव ॥ १० ॥
like a new string of pearls separated from its fine, very glossy, almost blazing gems, rubies and the rest;
सहसा चलितां स्थानान्महीं पुण्यक्षयाद्गताम् । संहृतद्युतिविस्तारां तारामिव दिवश्च्युताम् ॥ ११ ॥
like a star fallen from heaven, suddenly moved from its place, gone to earth through the waning of its merit, the spread of its light withdrawn;
पुष्पनद्धां वसन्तान्ते मत्तभ्रमरनादिताम् । द्रुतदावाग्निविप्लुष्टां क्लान्तां वनलतामिव ॥ १२ ॥
like a forest creeper at the end of spring, covered with flowers, resounding with drunken bees, scorched by a rushing forest fire, withered;
सम्मूढनिगमां स्तब्धां संक्षिप्तविपणापणाम् । प्रच्छन्नशऺशिनक्षत्रां द्यामिवाम्बुधरैर्वृताम् ॥ १३ ॥
its merchants bewildered, motionless, its shops and markets shut, like the sky covered with clouds, its moon and stars hidden;
क्षीणपानोत्तमैर्भिन्नैः शरावैरभिसंवृताम् । हतशौण्डामिवाकाशे पानभूमिमसंस्कृताम् ॥ १४ ॥
like an uncleaned drinking ground, strewn with broken cups, its best drinks gone, its drinkers as if slain in the open;
वृक्णभूमितलां निम्नां वृक्णपात्रैः समावृताम् । उपयुक्तोदकां भग्नां प्रपां निपतितामिव ॥ १५ ॥
like a fallen water-stall, its floor broken and sunk, strewn with broken vessels, its water used up, ruined;
विपुलां विततां चैव युक्तपाशां तरस्विनाम् । भूमौ बाणैर्विनिष्कृत्तां पतितां ज्यामिवायुधात् ॥ १६ ॥
like a long, wide bowstring, fitted with its loops, cut by the arrows of the strong, fallen from the weapon to the ground;
सहसा युद्धशौण्डेन हयारोहेण वाहिताम् । निक्षिप्तभाण्डामुत्सृष्टां किशोरीमिव दुर्बलाम् ॥ १७ ॥
like a weak young mare, suddenly driven by a war-loving horseman, her load thrown down, abandoned;
शुष्कतोयां महामत्स्यैः कूर्मैश्च बहुभिर्वृताम् । प्रभिन्नतटविस्तीर्णां वापीमिव हृतोत्पलाम् ॥ १८ ॥
like a pond with its water dried up, crowded with great fish and many tortoises, its banks broken and spread out, its lotuses taken;
पुरुषस्याप्रहृष्टस्य प्रतिषिद्धानुलेपनाम् । सन्तप्तामिव शोकेन गात्रयष्टिमभूषणाम् ॥ १९ ॥
like the body of an unhappy man, forbidden ointment, without ornaments, as if burning with grief;
प्रावृषि प्रविगाढायां प्रविष्टस्याभ्रमण्डलम् । प्रच्छन्नां नीलजीमूतैर्भास्करस्य प्रभामिव ॥ २० ॥
like the light of the sun covered by dark clouds when it has entered the circle of clouds in the deep rains.
भरतस्तु रथस्थः सन् श्रीमान् दशरथात्मजः । वाहयन्तं रथश्रेष्ठं सारथिं वाक्यमब्रवीत् ॥ २१ ॥
And Bharata, glorious son of Dasharatha, standing in his chariot, said these words to the charioteer driving the excellent chariot:
किं नु खल्वद्य गम्भीरो मूर्च्छितो न निशम्यते । यथापुरमयोध्यायां गीतवादित्रनिस्वनः ॥ २२ ॥
“Why is the deep, swelling sound of song and music not heard in Ayodhya today as before?
वारुणीमदगन्धश्च माल्यगन्धश्च मूर्च्छितः । धूपितागरुगन्धश्च न प्रवाति समन्ततः ॥ २३ ॥
“The heady smell of wine, the swelling scent of garlands, and the scent of aloe incense do not blow on every side.
यानप्रवरघोषश्च स्निग्धश्च हयनिस्वनः । प्रमत्तगजनादश्च महांश्च रथनिस्वनः । नेदानीं श्रूयते पुर्यामस्यां रामे विवासिते ॥ २४ ॥
“The sound of fine carriages, the smooth neighing of horses, the trumpeting of rutting elephants and the great sound of chariots are not heard now in this city, with Rama banished.
चन्दनागरुगन्धांश्च महार्हाश्च नवस्रजः । गते हि रामे तरुणाः सन्तप्ता नोपभुञ्जते ॥ २५ ॥
“With Rama gone, the young men, burning with grief, do not enjoy scents of sandal and aloe, or very costly fresh garlands.
बहिर्यात्रां न गच्छन्ति चित्रमाल्यधरा नराः । नोत्सवाः सम्प्रवर्त्तन्ते रामशोकार्दिते पुरे ॥ २६ ॥
“Men wearing bright garlands do not go out on excursions; festivals are not held in the city afflicted by grief for Rama.
सह नूनं मम भ्रात्रा पुरस्यास्यद्युतिर्गता । नहि राजत्ययोध्येयं सासारेवार्जुनी क्षपा ॥ २७ ॥
“Surely the splendour of this city has gone with my brother. For this Ayodhya does not shine, like a bright night lashed by rain.
कदा नु खलु मे भ्राता महोत्सव इवागतः । जनयिष्यत्ययोध्यायां हर्षं ग्रीष्म इवाम्बुदः ॥ २८ ॥
“When will my brother come like a great festival and create joy in Ayodhya, like a rain-cloud in summer?
तरुणैश्चारुवेषैश्च नरैरुन्नतगामिभिः । सम्पतद्भिरयोध्यायां नाभिभान्ति महापथाः ॥ २९ ॥
“The great roads in Ayodhya do not shine without young, finely dressed men walking about with lofty gait.”
एवं बहुविधं जल्पन् विवेश वसतिं पितुः । तेन हीनां नरेन्द्रेण सिंहहीनां गुहामिव ॥ ३० ॥
Talking so in many ways, he entered his father’s dwelling, bereft of that lord of men, like a cave bereft of its lion.
तदा तदन्तःपुरमुज्झितप्रभं सुरैरिवोत्सृष्टमभास्करं दिनम् । निरीक्ष्य सर्वन्तु विविक्तमात्मवान् मुमोच बाष्पं भरतः सुदुःखितः ॥ ३१ ॥
Then, seeing the whole inner palace with its lustre gone, empty, like a day without the sun abandoned by the gods, self-controlled Bharata, deeply grieved, shed tears.