Simplified and faithful rendering
of the Adi Kavya-47
The Summons to Bharata
Dreams, Duty, and the Shadow over Ayodhya
Vanam Jwala Narasimha Rao (November 10, 2026)
The previous chapter concluded with the tragic passing of King
Dasharatha and the anxious deliberations of the elders of Ayodhya. With Rama
exiled to the forest and Lakshmana accompanying him, the kingdom suddenly found
itself without a ruler. The royal council, guided by sages and ministers,
recognized that a land cannot remain leaderless even for a short time. Therefore,
they resolved that one among the sons of Dasharatha must be summoned
immediately to assume responsibility for the kingdom.
Bharata son of Kaikeyi, the prince known for his integrity and
humility, and whom his mother wanted to make King of Ayodhya, was far away in
his maternal relatives’ place, unaware of the calamities that had struck in the
Kingdom. The events that follow now shift the narrative away from the grieving
palace of Ayodhya to the distant city where Bharata resides until his return.
Destiny began to move quietly, drawing the absent prince back toward a kingdom
in mourning. In great epics as in real life, turning points often occur when
the one person needed most is far away, unaware that history is waiting for his
return.
After listening to the words spoken by the royal priests and
ministers, Sage Vasishta responded and said that Bharata was then living
happily in the city of Raja Griha at the house of his maternal uncle, along
with Shatrughna, and without the presence of the two of them, the affairs of
the kingdom cannot proceed. Therefore, said Vasishta that, messengers were to be
sent immediately and swiftly to bring them to Ayodhya without delay. Vasishta
also reminded that, it was to Bharata that the king had granted the kingdom. All
agreed with Vasishta as the appropriate action.
Five messengers: Siddhartha, Vijaya, Jayanta, Ashoka, and Nandana
were summoned, and were explained about the task that was to be performed by
them. They were told: ‘Mount swift horses and proceed quickly to Bharata. When
you meet him, convey the message as the command of Vasishta, without any
hesitation while speaking. Say to the Prince that, Vasishta and other ministers
inquired about his welfare, and wanted to inform him that there was an
important matter that requires his presence.
Therefore, without the least delay, he should set out immediately
and come to Ayodhya. News about his father’s death and Rama’s exile should not
be revealed to Bharata, they were cautioned. Sometimes truth must wait for the
right moment. In matters of governance, leaders often choose careful timing
over sudden revelation, knowing that the stability of a kingdom depends upon
how and when difficult news is delivered.
The messengers as they travelled, passed through the west of
mountain Navaratalam, and to the north of Mount Pralambadri. Moving in the
north-western direction, they proceeded along the pleasant banks of the River Malini,
which flows between those two mountains. Continuing their journey, they crossed
River Ganga near Hastinapura, moved westward through the region of Kuru,
travelled along the forest path known as Jangala, and entered the land of
Panchala. There they saw a large lake.
Proceeding further, they crossed the River Sharadanda and the sacred
tree called Nikula that stood to the west, believed to grant the wishes of
those who prayed before it. The messengers offered their salutations to it. Later
they reached the town of Kulinga Pura, and passing through the village called
Abhikala they approached the Bodhi mountain. There they saw the River Ikshu
Mati, which once was enjoyed by the kings who ruled before Dasharatha. After
drinking some water and seeing few Brahmins living there, they continued their
journey and entered the country Bahlika.
There, in that region, they saw the mountain named Sudama and the
sacred place Vishnu Pada, where the footprints of Lord Vishnu were believed to
be present. They passed by the River Vipasha, into which Sage Vasishta once
leapt in sorrow over the loss of his sons. Along the way they saw silk-cotton
trees, beautiful wells, flowing rivers, small lakes, charming ponds, forests
filled with deer, elephants, lions, great tigers, and other fearsome animals.
They eventually reached the city Girivraja, another name for Raja
Griha, the capital city of the Kekaya king, and waited for the opportunity to
have an audience with Bharata. The Ramayana often records journeys in
remarkable detail. These descriptions quietly remind modern readers that
ancient India was connected through vibrant routes, forests, rivers, and
kingdoms: a living landscape through which messengers, sages, traders, and
kings continually moved.
On the night when the royal messengers entered the city Girivraja,
Bharata saw a dreadful dream in the early hours before dawn and became
frightened. When morning came, he recalled the dream and was deeply disturbed
by it, and was visibly unhappy, in spite of his friends trying to console him
with gentle and reassuring words. Yet all their efforts proved futile.
Bharata’s distress did not subside. Bharata also told his friends that he had a
terrifying dream, which he feared carried a serious meaning. In every age
people try to dismiss uneasy dreams as mere imagination, yet the human mind
often senses approaching change long before events actually unfold.
Bharata then described the dream in detail. He saw himself with a
soiled body and disheveled hair, as if he had jumped from the top of a mountain
into a pit filled with filth. In that pit he appeared to be splashing about
like a frog, laughing strangely. He also saw himself taking oil in a vessel,
eating rice mixed with oil, and drinking it. He dreamt that he was standing
upside down, with his feet upward, while oil was being poured and rubbed over
his body from above. He even saw himself sinking into oil. in his dream the
oceans had dried up, the moon had fallen down upon the earth, and deep darkness
had spread over the entire world. The tusk of the royal elephant was seen
broken.
He saw fire becoming cold, the earth splitting open, trees drying
up, and mountains crumbling down. He also saw King Dasharatha seated upon a
black iron throne, wearing dark-colored garments, while women of dark and
greenish complexion mocked him and laughed at him. Bharata saw his father
wearing red garlands and travelling southward in a chariot drawn by donkeys. He
saw a woman dressed in red cloth laughing while looking at the king. He also
saw a hideous demoness dragging his father away by force. Such was the dreadful
dream he saw. Perhaps an indication that either Dasharatha, or Rama, or
Lakshmana, or he himself may die.
In the Ramayana it is mentioned that Dasharatha, Bharata, and
Trijata each saw significant dreams, and all three dreams eventually proved
true. This belief that dreams may reveal hidden truths or impending events is
also discussed in many traditional scriptures and historical narratives.
Therefore, in the ancient Indian understanding, dreams were not always
dismissed as false illusions. Even today, people across cultures remember
certain dreams for years, especially those that arrive with an inexplicable
sense of warning. Whether symbolic or prophetic, such dreams often reveal the
deep anxieties hidden within the human heart.
Because his mind was disturbed, Bharata was unable to speak
cheerfully with his friends. Bharata suspected that some misfortune may have
befallen his father. In this manner Bharata explained his dream to his friends.
Restless with anxiety, wandering about like a distraught man, remembering his
father again and again and worrying deeply, he was suddenly informed that the
royal messengers arrived to see him. In moments of impending change, the human
heart often senses trouble even before the mind understands it. Anxiety
sometimes becomes the silent messenger of approaching events.
At that moment the royal messengers arrived and respectfully
touched the prince’s feet, and addressing Bharata, said that his royal priests
and ministers inquired about his welfare. They requested Bharata to prepare to
set out at once, since an unavoidable duty awaits him in Ayodhya. After
receiving them, Bharata enquired them whether his father, was in good health? Whether
Kausalya, Sumitra Devi, Sri Ramachandra, Lakshmana, sage Vasishta, and other
were well, safe, and healthy?
Finally, he enquired about his mother and said: ‘And my mother, that
harsh-natured woman, has no illness, I hope? When you departed from there, what
did she say to you?’ Bharata’s questions reveal the natural affection of a son
and brother. Yet they also show how completely unaware he still was of the
storm that had already overtaken Ayodhya.
Not as a direct reply to Bharata’s questions, but with humility
and without the slightest delay, the royal messengers assured him that all
those whom he wished to know about were well. Wishing him favors from Goddess
Lakshmi they told Bharata not to delay any longer, and prepare for the journey.
Bharata approached his grandfather, the King of Kekaya, and informed him that
he shall go to Ayodhya and return. The king consented and, to assist Bharata on
his journey and to accompany him, sent several attendants along with him.
Bharata accepted the elephants, sturdy mules, trained hounds,
chariots, horses, and cows that were given by his maternal uncle and prepared
to depart. Yet, despite the honor, the gifts, and the royal arrangements, his
heart felt no joy as he set out on the journey toward Ayodhya. In moments when
destiny begins to unfold, outward splendor often stands in quiet contrast to
the unease within the human heart. Duty sometimes calls a person forward even
when the path ahead is clouded with uncertainty. True character reveals itself
not in comfort, but in the willingness to move forward when responsibility
beckons.
Having set out on his journey, Bharata travelled some distance
toward the east and reached the river Sudama. From there he successively
crossed the Rivers Hladini and Shatrudu, which flows westward, near the village
called Neladhana. For a short while he halted near the rocky outcrops there. Afterwards
he crossed the River Shiloah, saw the town called Shalya Kartana situated to
the south-east, and visited the place known as Chitraratha. He then saw Rivers
Ganga and Sarasvati.
From there he entered the forest called Bharunda, which lies to
the north of the countries known as Vira Matsyas. Proceeding further, he halted
his army on the banks of the River Yamuna, which flows beyond the land of
Kulinga situated between the hills. There they rested and relieved their tiredness.
The horses were washed, and the men themselves bathed. They quenched their
thirst and carried some fresh water with them for the onward journey. From
there Bharata, along with his army, reached the banks of the River Ganga.
Crossing the Ganga near the village Bhragavata in the country
known as Amsudana, they saw the town called Dharmavardhana near the River
Gutikoshtika. From there they continued their journey and reached the city of
Jambuprastha through the southern region of the country called Torana. The
Ramayana often preserves long routes of travel with careful geographical
detail. Such passages quietly reveal how ancient India was interconnected
through rivers, forests, towns, and pilgrimage paths that linked distant
kingdoms.
Near the village Ramya Varudha they halted for a short while in a
forest. Then, continuing eastward, they entered their own kingdom near a place
called Nujjihana. There Bharata ordered swift horses to be yoked to his chariot
and seated himself in it to continue the journey. Since they had now entered
their own land, he instructed the army to follow slowly while he himself
proceeded ahead at greater speed.
He halted for one night at a place known as Sarva Tirtha.
Thereafter he crossed the River Nuttanaka, then the River Kutika at Hasti Vrishtaka,
the River Gapivati near the town of Lohitya, the River Sthanumati near Ekasala,
and the River Gomati near Vimata. After staying for a short while in the forest
of Sala trees at Kalinga Pura, he set out again during the night. At the break
of dawn, Bharata at last beheld the city of Ayodhya. Thus, he travelled for
seven nights. On the morning of the eighth day, he saw Ayodhya from a distance.
Journeys in the Ramayana are not merely movements across land, they
also mark the inner movement of destiny. With every mile Bharata travelled, he
was unknowingly approaching a truth that would change his life forever. Bharata
looked toward the city and spoke to his charioteer, in a shocking tone that, the
city of Ayodhya appeared pale and lifeless from afar, like the face of a man
drained of blood, despite the fact that it was ruled by Dasharatha, despite
sacrifices and sacred rituals were performed, the continuance of study of the Vedas,
and despite many noble people live in the city.
Bharata continued and said that by seeing Ayodhya like this, he
did not feel any joy in his heart. He recalled the earlier days when the lively
sounds of men and women could always be heard from a great distance, which were
conspicuously absent even after coming closer, and questioned the charioteer as
to what could be the reason? He further said that, he did not see even a single
person being delighted in pleasures and amusements by spending the evening
hours outside, before returning home only in the morning.
Observing Ayodhya’s plight not the way it should have been,
Bharata made these remarks: ‘No one is seen coming out of the city in vehicles,
nor do I see anyone going toward the city. No one is moving about on elephants
or horses. My mind suspects that something was wrong. The fertile and beautiful
gardens have lost their charm. Not a single person is seen in the gardens. The
sweet sounds of birds are not heard. No gentle breeze is blowing. The omens do
not appear favorable. My heart is becoming disturbed.’
‘Certainly, some misfortune must have befallen one among my close
relatives. Sometimes the silence of a city speaks louder than any announcement.
Even before the truth is revealed, the atmosphere itself can carry the weight
of sorrow.’ Saying these words, Bharata entered the city and again spoke to his
charioteer. ‘The more I think about this, the more my heart feels as though it
is breaking. When elders like King Dasharatha and Sri Rama are present, why
should Vasishta summon me? There must be some reason for it.’
Bharata continued to speak: ‘When Vasishta called me urgently and
asked me to come without delay, there must certainly be a cause behind it.
Seeing all these signs, I begin to suspect that some calamity had occurred. My
mind is becoming deeply agitated. As we pass through these streets and hear the
murmurs of the townspeople, everything appears exactly as it does when a king
had died. In the houses, the courtyards have not been cleaned. No fragrant
smoke of incense is rising. No cooking is being done. No worship is taking
place. The homes of householders appear dark, as though the goddess Lakshmi has
departed from them.’
‘The people too appear without brightness. The temples are not
decorated. No auspicious designs are drawn at the thresholds. No flower
garlands are hanging. Even when one looks at the faces of people, they cannot
be seen clearly. Everything appears neglected and desolate. The merchants are
neither buying nor selling. All seem overwhelmed with grief. They do not appear
as they did before. Their faces are worn with sorrow. Even the birds kept in
the temples seem to be mourning. Men and women alike appear grief-stricken. Seeing
all this, my heart is filled with sorrow. What could be the reason and what
could have happened?’
Thus, speaking with his charioteer, Bharata saw that the city of
Ayodhya, once equal to heaven itself, had fallen into such a state. Deeply
disturbed and sorrowful at heart, he lowered his head and proceeded swiftly
toward the palace where his father resided. In the Ramayana, Ayodhya is not
merely a city of palaces but a living community. When the ruler falls, the
grief of the palace spreads quietly into every home, every street, and every
heart.
Eventually, Bharata entered Ayodhya, once radiant with prosperity,
joy, and royal dignity, but now strangely silent and weighed down by an unseen
sorrow. Every sight along the streets troubled his mind. The absence of
cheerful voices, the deserted gardens, the neglected houses, and the grief
written upon the faces of the citizens all seemed to speak of a great calamity.
Bharata’s heart sensed that a grave misfortune had befallen the royal house of
Ikshvaku. The very atmosphere of the city appeared to carry the burden of
sorrow. What had once been a city equal to heaven now seemed dimmed by grief.
As his chariot moved forward through the silent streets, Bharata’s
mind grew increasingly restless. Thoughts of his father King Dasharatha and his
beloved elder brother Sri Rama filled his heart with anxiety. The urgency with
which Sage Vasishta had summoned him now seemed to hold a deeper and more
ominous meaning. Unable to bear the growing uncertainty, Bharata hastened
toward the royal palace.
With a heavy heart and troubled mind, he prepared to learn the
truth that awaited him there, a truth that would change the course of his life
and the destiny of Ayodhya itself. The sorrow that had quietly spread across
the city was about to reveal its cause. And with that revelation, Bharata’s
unwavering devotion to dharma would shine forth before the world.
>>>> Photographs Courtesy Rama Bhakta Vijaya Raghava Dasu
{{From my Published Book ‘Simplified
and Faithful Rendering of the Adi Kavya’
Valmiki Ramayana: The Greatest Epic
(Bala and Ayodhya Kandas)}}
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