Sarga 62

Verse 1

एवं तु क्रुद्धया राजा राममात्रा सशोकया।श्रावितः परुषं वाक्यं चिन्तयामास दुःखितः।।।।

Thus, compelled to hear the harsh words spoken in anger and grief by Rama’s mother, the king, distressed, sank into troubled reflection.

Verse 2

चिन्तयित्वा स च नृपो मुमोह व्याकुलेन्द्रियः।अथ दीर्घीण कालेन संज्ञामाप परन्तपः।।।।

Having pondered, the king—his senses in turmoil—fell into a swoon; and only after a long while did that subduer of foes regain consciousness.

Verse 3

स संज्ञामुपलभ्यैव दीर्घमुष्णं च निश्श्वसन्।कौसल्यां पार्श्वतो दृष्ट्वा पुन श्चिन्तामुपागमत्।।।।

Regaining consciousness, he breathed long, burning sighs; and seeing Kausalyā at his side, he once again sank into anxious brooding.

Verse 4

तस्य चिन्तयमानस्य प्रत्याभात्कर्म दुष्कृतम्।यदनेन कृतं पूर्वमज्ञानाच्छब्दवेधिना।।।।

As he pondered, a sinful deed flashed back to him—what he had once done in ignorance, loosing an arrow guided by sound alone.

Verse 5

अमनास्तेन शोकेन रामशोकेन च प्रभुः।द्वाभ्यामपि महाराज श्शोकाभ्यामन्वतप्यत।।।।

Broken in spirit by that sorrow and by sorrow for Rāma, the lordly king was tormented by two griefs at once: the earlier grief and the grief born of separation from Rāma.

Verse 6

दह्यामान स्सशोकाभ्यां कौसल्यामाह भूपतिः।वेपमानोऽञ्जलिं कृत्वा प्रसादार्थमवाङ्मुखः।।।।

Burning with a twofold grief, the king—trembling, head bowed—addressed Kausalyā with folded hands, seeking to win her calm and forgiveness.

Verse 7

प्रसादये त्वां कौसल्ये रचितोऽयं मयाऽञ्जलिः।वत्सला चानृशंसा च त्वं हि नित्यं परेष्वपि।।।।

O Kausalyā, I beg you—this folded gesture is made by me for your grace. You are ever affectionate and compassionate, never harsh, even toward those who oppose you.

Verse 8

भर्ता तु खलु नारीणां गुणवान्निर्गुणोऽपि वा।धर्मं विमृशमानानां प्रत्यक्षं देवि दैवतम्।।।।

O lady, for women who reflect upon dharma, the husband—virtuous or even without virtue—is a visible divinity to be honored.

Verse 9

सा त्वं धर्मपरा नित्यं दृष्टलोक परावरा।नार्हसे विप्रियं वक्तुं दुखिःताऽपि सुदुःखितम्।।।।

You are ever devoted to dharma and have seen the world’s heights and depths; therefore, though grieving yourself, it does not befit you to speak harshly to one even more crushed by sorrow.

Verse 10

तद्वाक्यं करुणं राज्ञः श्रुत्वा दीनस्य भाषितम्।कौसल्या व्यसृजद्बाष्पं प्रणालीव नवोदकम्।।।।

Hearing the king’s pitiable words, spoken in wretchedness, Kausalya let her tears flow—like a water-spout releasing fresh rainwater.

Verse 11

सा मूर्ध्निबध्वा रुदती राज्ञः पद्ममिवाञ्जलिम्।सम्भ्रमादब्रवीत् त्रस्ता त्वरमाणाक्षरं वचः।।।।

Weeping, she lifted the king’s folded palms—like a lotus—up to her head; frightened and overwhelmed, she spoke in hurried, stumbling syllables.

Verse 12

प्रसीद शिरसा याचे भूमौ निपतितास्मि ते।याचितास्मि हता देव क्षन्तव्याऽहं न हि त्वया।।।।

Be gracious, my lord—I beg with bowed head; I have fallen to the ground before you. Yet, O king, I have been wounded by having to plead; I am not, indeed, one who should need to be forgiven by you.

Verse 13

नैषा हि सा स्त्री भवति श्लाघनीयेन धीमता।उभयोर्लोकयोर्वीर पत्या या सम्साद्यते।।।।

O hero, a woman who must be appeased by her husband—though he be wise and worthy of praise—truly attains no well-being in either of the two worlds.

Verse 14

जानामि धर्मं धर्मज्ञ त्वां जाने सत्यवादिनम्।पुत्रशोकार्तया तत्तु मया किमपि भाषितम्।।।।

I know dharma, O knower of dharma, and I know you to be a speaker of truth. Yet, stricken by grief for my son, I uttered something improper.

Verse 15

शोको नाशयते धैर्यं शोको नाशयते श्रुतम्।शोको नाशयते सर्वं नास्ति शोकसमो रिपुः।।।।

Grief destroys fortitude; grief destroys sacred learning; grief destroys everything—there is no enemy equal to grief.

Verse 16

शक्य आपतित स्सोढुं प्रहारो रिपुहस्ततः।सोढुंमापतितश्शोकस्सुसूक्ष्मोऽपि न शक्यते।।।।

A sudden blow from an enemy’s hand may be endured; but sudden grief—however subtle—cannot be borne.

Verse 17

धर्मज्ञा श्श्रुतिमन्तोऽपि छिन्नधर्मार्थसंशयाः।यतयो वीर मुह्यन्ति शोकसम्मूढचेतसः।।।।

O heroic one, even ascetics—who know dharma, are learned in sacred scripture, and whose doubts about dharma and worldly good are cut away—become bewildered when grief overwhelms the mind.

Verse 18

वनवासाय रामस्य पञ्चरात्रोऽद्य गण्यते।य श्शोकहतहर्षायाः पञ्चवर्षोपमो मम।।।।

Today counts as the fifth night of Rāma’s forest-exile; yet for me—whose joy has been slain by sorrow—this span feels like five years.

Verse 19

तं हि चिन्तयमानाया श्शोकोऽयं हृदि वर्धते।नदीनामिव वेगेन समुद्रसलिलं महत्।।।।

As I keep thinking of him, this sorrow grows within my heart—like the mighty ocean swelling with the rushing force of rivers.

Verse 20

एवं हि कथयन्त्यास्तु कौसल्यायाश्शुभं वचः।मन्दरश्मिरभूत्सूर्यो रजनी चाभ्यवर्तत।।।।

As Kausalyā spoke these gentle and auspicious words, the sun’s rays grew faint, and night came on.

Verse 21

तथा प्रसादितो वाक्यैर्देव्या कौसल्यया नृपः।शोकेन च समाक्रान्तो निद्राया वशन्तोमेयिवान्।।।।

Thus soothed by Queen Kausalyā’s words, the king—still overcome by grief—seemed to pass under the power of sleep.