अयोध्यायाः शोकप्रकम्पः (Ayodhya’s Tremor of Grief and Omens)
अयोध्याकाण्ड
Sarga 41 depicts the immediate civic and cosmic reverberation of Rāma’s departure. As Rāma exits with folded palms, distress-cries surge from the palace inner apartments, and Daśaratha—already scorched by separation—hears the wailing and sinks deeper into anguish. The text widens from domestic lament to city-wide dysfunction: agnihotra fires are not invoked, household cooking ceases, and routine duties collapse. The sorrow is mirrored in animal behavior—elephants drop food, cows refuse to suckle—and in social bonds loosening as families fix their attention solely on Rāma. A dense omen-register follows: stars lose radiance, planets dim, Viśākhā appears smoke-shrouded, and fierce grahas cluster near the Moon; directions seem wrapped in darkness. Meteorological and cosmic imagery culminates in Ayodhyā ‘shaking’ like earth bereft of Indra, dramatizing a political-theological vacuum created by the absence of the rightful protector. The sarga functions as a literary bridge from personal grief to a cosmological framing of dharma’s disruption.
Verse 2.41.1
तस्मिन्स्तु पुरुषव्याघ्रे विनिर्याति कृताञ्जलौ।आर्तशब्दोऽहि सञ्जज्ञे स्त्रीणामन्त:पुरे महान्।।2.41.1।।
As that tiger among men departed with palms folded in reverence, a great wail of anguish arose from the women in the inner palace.
Verse 2.41.2
अनाथस्य जनस्यास्य दुर्बलस्य तपस्विनः।यो गतिश्शरणं चासीत्स नाथः क्व नु गच्छति।।2.41.2।।
For these people—bereft, weak, and afflicted—he was their refuge and protection; where, then, is that very lord and guardian going now?
Verse 2.41.3
न क्रुध्यत्यभिशप्तोऽपि क्रोधनीयानि वर्जयन्।क्रुद्धान्प्रसादयन्सर्वान् समदुःखः क्व गज्छति।।2.41.3।।
Where has he gone now—he who, even when reviled, does not grow angry; who avoids deeds that provoke wrath; who pacifies all who are enraged; and who shares in the sorrow of others?
Verse 2.41.4
कौशल्यायां महातेजा यथा मातरि वर्तते।तथा यो वर्ततेऽस्मासु महात्मा क्व नु गच्छति।।2.41.4।।
Where has that radiant, great-souled one gone now—he who treated us just as he treated his mother Kausalyā?
Verse 2.41.5
कैकेय्या क्लिश्यमानेन राज्ञा सञ्चोदितो वनम्।परित्राता जनस्यास्य जगतः क्व नु गच्छति।।2.41.5।।
Pressed by Kaikeyī, the king—tormented—has ordered him to the forest. Where is he going now, he who was the protector of this people, of this whole world?
Verse 2.41.6
अहो निश्चेतनो राजा जीवलोकस्य सम्प्रियम्।धर्म्यं सत्यव्रतं रामं वनवासे प्रवत्स्यति।।2.41.6।।
Alas—senseless is the king, for he is sending Rāma to dwell in the forest: Rāma, dear to all living beings, righteous in dharma, and steadfast in the vow of truth.
Verse 2.41.7
इति सर्वा महिष्यस्ता विवत्सा इव धेनवः।रुरुदुश्चैव दुःखार्ताः सस्वरं च विचुक्रुशुः।।2.41.7।।
Thus all those queens, anguished with grief, wept and cried out loudly—like cows bereft of their calves.
Verse 2.41.8
स तमन्तः पुरे घोरमार्तशब्दं महीपतिः।पुत्रशोकाभिसन्तप्तः श्रुत्वा चासीत्सुदुःखितः।।2.41.8।।
Hearing that dreadful wailing within the inner palace, the king—already scorched by grief for his son—became even more distressed.
Verse 2.41.9
नाग्निहोत्राण्यहूयन्त नापचन् गृहमेधिनःअकुर्वन्न प्रजाः कार्यं सूर्यश्चान्तरधीयत।।2.41.9।।
The agnihotra fires were not invoked; householders did not cook; the people did not attend to their daily tasks—and the sun too disappeared from sight as it set.
Verse 2.41.10
व्यसृजन् कबलान्नागा गावो वत्सान्न पाययन्।पुत्रं प्रथमजं लब्ध्वा जननी नाभ्यनन्दत।।2.41.10।।
Elephants let fall their mouthfuls; cows did not let their calves suckle; even mothers, having borne their firstborn sons, found no joy—such was the heaviness of the moment.
Verse 2.41.11
त्रिशङ्कुर्लोहिताङ्गश्च बृहस्पतिबुधावपि।दारुणा स्सोममभ्येत्य ग्रहास्सर्वे व्यवस्थिताः।।2.41.11।।
Triśaṅku, Lohitāṅga (Mars), and even Bṛhaspati and Budha—indeed all the planets—stood in a fierce array as they drew near the Moon.
Verse 2.41.12
नक्षत्राणि गतार्चींषि ग्रहाश्च गततेजसः।विशाखास्तु सधूमाश्च नभसि प्रचकाशिरे।।2.41.12।।
The stars were stripped of their radiance, and the planets lost their brilliance; in the sky Viśākhā appeared, as though wreathed in smoke.
Verse 2.41.13
कालिकानिलवेगेन महोदधिरिवोत्थितः।रामे वनं प्रव्रजिते नगरं प्रचचाल तत्।।2.41.13।।
When Rāma departed into exile for the forest, that city shook, as though the great ocean had risen up, driven by the force of a dark, stormy wind.
Verse 2.41.14
दिशः पर्याकुलास्सर्वा स्तिमिरेणेव संवृताः।न ग्रहो नापि नक्षत्रं प्रचकाशे नकिञ्चन।।2.41.14।।
All the directions seemed thrown into confusion, as if veiled in darkness; no planet and no star—nothing at all—appeared to shine.
Verse 2.41.15
अकस्मान्नागरस्सर्वो जनो दैन्यमुपागमत्।आहारे वा विहारे वा न कश्चिदकरोन्मनः।।2.41.15।।
Suddenly, all the townspeople sank into misery; no one could bring their mind to food or to any enjoyment.
Verse 2.41.16
शोकपर्यायसन्तप्त स्सततं दीर्घमुच्छवसन्।अयोध्यायां जनस्सर्व श्शुशोच जगतीपतिम्।।2.41.16।।
In Ayodhya, all the people—scorched by wave after wave of sorrow—kept heaving long sighs and lamented for the Lord of the world, their king.
Verse 2.41.17
बाष्पपर्याकुलमुखो राजमार्गगतो जनः।न हृष्टो लक्ष्यते कश्चित्सर्व श्शोकपरायणः।।2.41.17।।
Along the royal road, the people’s faces were overwhelmed with tears; no one could be seen as joyful—everyone was wholly absorbed in grief.
Verse 2.41.18
न वाति पवन श्शीतो न शशी सौम्यदर्शनः।न सूर्यस्तपते लोकं सर्वं पर्याकुलं जगत्।।2.41.18।।
The wind did not blow cool; the moon no longer looked gentle; the sun did not warm the world—everything in the world seemed unsettled.
Verse 2.41.19
अनर्थिनस्सुताः स्त्रीणां भर्तारो भ्रातरस्तथा।सर्वे सर्वं परित्यज्य राममेवान्वचिन्तयन्।।2.41.19।।
Sons no longer cared for their mothers, husbands for their wives, and brothers for one another; everyone abandoned all else and thought only of Rama.
Verse 2.41.20
ये तु रामस्य सुहृद स्सर्वे ते मूढचेतसः।शोकभारेण चाक्रान्ता श्शयनं न जहुस्तदा।।2.41.20।।
And all those who were Rama’s friends, their minds bewildered and crushed by the weight of sorrow, did not rise from their beds at that time.
Verse 2.41.21
ततस्त्वयोध्या रहिता महात्मनापुरन्दरेणेव मही सपर्वता।चचाल घोरं भयशोकपीडितासनागयोधाश्वगणा ननाद च।।2.41.21।।
Then Ayodhya, bereft of the great-souled Rama, was like the earth with its mountains bereft of Indra. Stricken by fear and sorrow, it trembled terribly, resounding with its hosts of elephants, horses, and warriors.