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| By Gemini AI |
The
Sarayu wept again. In silence. Sita had been swallowed by the earth.
If I have been pure in thought, word,
and deed,
and have never once thought of any man but Rama,
then, O Mother Earth, receive me into your bosom.
Sita prayed and Bhumi Devi, Mother
Earth, appeared personally to take Sita into her embrace. She vanished from the
earth after that.
Silence descended on Ayodhya. It
engulfed Rama and Lakshmana and everyone else. The Sarayu was both a witness
and a participant of all the sighs that underlay the silence.
Rama fell into silence after Sita’s
departure. He knew he was incomplete without Sita. He knew that words would
have no meaning hereafter. The silence of the fissured heart is more eloquent than the
music of apsaras. The Sarayu could feel the pulse of Rama’s silence as he sat
on her shore looking into her depths for days on end.
Words have had their time already.
The Sarayu recalled how words fell from Sita’s noble lips when Rama asked her
to undergo the fire test again. “I am not the woman you take me for,” she
asserted herself on Rama’s face. “My purity is untouched. You speak like a
common man, not a noble king. If there is any impurity in me, let fire consume
me. If I am pure, Agni will protect me.”
They turned out to be mere words.
Like a mathematician’s elegant equation recited to a crowd unburdened by
numbers. Like a sweet melody played to a deaf audience. The mathematician and
the melodist all bow out. Silence descends. A silence that transcends mere
absence of sound. A silence that is more potent than any eloquent speech.
The Sarayu flowed silently, mirroring
the amber of the sky in the day and its darkness at night. The silence grew
heavy and heavier. It was a pregnant silence. And then, one day, it delivered.
No fanfare, no chariots, no
vanquished foes this time – only the gentle hush of water receiving its own
king. Rama walked into the river, no more a warrior, but a weary soul returning
home.
It was the time of the ultimate
renunciation on the part of Rama. Renunciation of karma itself. All the roles
had been played out: son, king, husband, warrior. Now it is time to merge into
the silence of eternity. The Sarayu absorbs the final merging of the human into
the divine. How much of it all was real, and how much maya? Sarayu reflected.
Humans, demons, and the divine. A lot of noise that peters out to this final utter
silence.
Sarayu has been there from the
beginning: Rama’s exile and then the triumphant return. She has seen them all:
the agonies and the ecstasies. Now she knows that all of it comes to this
finality: the ultimate silence.
Perhaps that is how all stories end:
not in thunder or applause, but in silence. In the gentle hush of a river that
carries away kings and commoners, and keeps the story flowing.
PS. I’m participating in #BlogchatterA2Z. This series looks at the Ramayana
from various angles.
Tomorrow: Tara of
Kishkindha
Previous Posts in this series:
This is beautiful! The whole post has a sense of melancholy but also soothes the reader with assurance that life will continue, just like the river.
ReplyDeleteThe show must go on!
DeleteWhat may begin with a bang will have to end with a whimper.
ReplyDeleteHari Om
ReplyDeleteI agree with Srivalli. Here, your words take on a river-like current drawing us through the silence which we all must, finally, face. YAM xx
Someone told me this is repetitive, my love for the Sarayu. I'm in love with water, rivers particularly. Rivers can make me a poet sometimes.
DeleteAll stories end in silence
ReplyDeleteHow profound
Didn't read ur other posts but could visualise this ...stumbled upon blog remembering my old a to z days :) so good to see u writing so bfully!
My best
I hope you'll return. :) The series is ending soon and the final episodes are going to be slightly louder.
DeleteThe sarayu sees it all, feels it all. Never speaks, but in silence, she answers
ReplyDeleteShe answers in the deeps of our silence.
DeleteYour portrayal of Rama’s silence after Sita’s departure is hauntingly beautiful. The way you describe his realization of incompleteness, sitting by the Sarayu, speaks volumes about the depth of his grief. It’s a silence that transcends words, a silence that the river itself seems to echo.
ReplyDeleteThe imagery of Sita’s final moments, her prayer to Mother Earth, and her subsequent disappearance into the earth is poignant. It’s a powerful reminder of the transient nature of life and the impermanence of even the most steadfast beings. The Sarayu, witnessing and absorbing all these emotions, becomes a silent participant in the unfolding tragedy.
Your reflection on how stories often end not with grandeur but in quietude resonates deeply. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most profound moments are those that are unspoken. Thank you for sharing this contemplative piece—it’s left me with much to ponder.
Thank you for your detailed comments on my Ramayana posts. Each of your comments summarises as well as explains the post succinctly.
DeleteThis was a sad post. Also a very wise one - telling us that all actions have consequences. I was unaware that this is how Lord Ram ended his life . Mayuri
ReplyDeleteHow does one interpret silence? And was Sita taken for granted by Rama? I often wonder. A thought provoking post, Sir !
ReplyDelete