When
Renunciation Becomes Preparation
Simplified and
faithful rendering
of the Adi Kavya-34
Lakshmana
Joins Rama
on the Path of Dharma
Vanam Jwala
Narasimha Rao
In the preceding episode, exile ceased to be a royal
command and became a shared spiritual resolve when Sita chose to walk beside
Rama into the forest. What followed was not a hurried departure, but a
deliberate and principled preparation, the one that revealed how renunciation,
in the Ramayana, is never abrupt or careless, but thoughtful, inclusive, and
deeply humane. This article of Ayodhya Kanda unfolds the moment when Lakshmana,
stirred by love, reason, and righteousness, insisted on joining Rama and Sita.
It also revealed Rama’s meticulous care for dharma through charity, reverence
to elders, and compassion for the weakest, portraying the reminder that, great
transitions are measured not by speed, but by conscience.
Lakshmana, who had earlier accompanied Rama
to Sita’s chambers, overheard the entire dialogue between Rama and Sita. Deeply
moved by their reasoned exchange, its moral clarity, emotional restraint, and
unwavering commitment, his heart overflowed with grief. Unable to bear the
anguish any longer, Lakshmana approached Rama, tears streaming down his face,
touched his brother’s feet, and declared that if Rama had resolved to go to the
dreadful forest along with Sita, he too would accompany them, walking ahead
with bow in hand. True loyalty does not wait to be invited, but it steps
forward when duty calls.
Lakshmana
asserted that without Rama, neither heaven, immortality, nor sovereignty over
the three worlds held any meaning for him. Existence itself lost value in
separation. This declaration was not youthful emotion, but a conscious
affirmation of brotherhood rooted in dharma. Some relationships are not
sustained by benefit, but by belonging. Rama, however, sought to dissuade
Lakshmana with gentle yet firm words. He praised him as valiant, righteous,
affectionate, obedient, and dearer than life itself. Then Rama raised a serious
concern: if Lakshmana too departed, who would remain in Ayodhya to serve and
protect Kausalya and the venerable Sumitra? Responsibility, Rama taught, does
not diminish when love expands; it multiplies.
Rama
further explained that Kaikeyi, once in possession of the kingdom, might not
treat her co-wives kindly. Bharata, on
acquiring the kingdom, bound
by devotion to his mother, would naturally remain aligned with her, and would not think of sorrowful Kausalya or Sumitra. King Dasharatha himself stood helpless, bound by
love and promise. Therefore, clarifying that
Lakshmana’s devotion towards him had been fully demonstrated, Rama urged him to remain behind and support
Kausalya, for no sorrow would equal that of a mother deserted by both sons.
Lakshmana
remained unconvinced. He declared with confidence that Bharata, inspired by
Rama’s moral Splendour, would certainly revere Kausalya and Sumitra. Moreover,
Kausalya possessed resources sufficient to maintain thousands, including
herself and Lakshmana. He pleaded that serving Rama in the forest involved no
unrighteousness, repeating his readiness to walk ahead, gather fruits and
roots, guard them by day and night, and remain ever alert. Service, when chosen
freely, becomes sacred strength.
Rama,
delighted by Lakshmana’s unwavering devotion, finally consented to his joining
them. He instructed Lakshmana to bid farewell to friends and prepare for
departure. Rama then issued an important directive that, Lakshmana must bring
the divine weapons entrusted earlier, the bows, armor, quivers, and swords decked with gold, all of which were given by Varuna (The God of
Water) personally, at the grand sacrifice performed by Janaka, that were kept in the hermitage of Sage
Vasishtha, but only after paying due reverence. Even instruments of war, Rama
reminds must be approached with humility.
At this
juncture, the commentary of Andhra Valmiki Vasudasa Swamy in Ramayana Mandaram
becomes invaluable. He observed that although Valmiki did not mention in Bala
Kanda that Varuna gifted these weapons to Rama and Lakshmana, he introduced
this detail here to connect different segments of the narrative. This, he
explained, was a distinctive feature of Valmiki’s style. Valmiki did not
narrate all events at once and in a single place. He revealed details
contextually, some earlier, some later, only when they become necessary.
Vasudasa
Swamy farther observed that, though Varuna’s role was not mentioned earlier, it
had to be revealed here because those weapons must now accompany Rama.
Repetition would be wasteful. Similarly, the episode of Kakasura (will be known
later) occurred at Chitrakoota but was narrated later in Sundara Kanda through
Sita herself, preserving narrative propriety and emotional relevance. Likewise,
incidents such as the Dundubhi episode were recalled multiple times where
context demanded. Knowing what to say, where, and how much, was the Valmiki’s
hallmark.
Having
secured permission, Lakshmana took leave of his friends, approached Vasishtha,
reverently worshipped the divine armor, and brought it to Rama. Rama then
instructed Lakshmana that all his remaining wealth must be distributed among
Brahmanas practicing austerities and to dependents. He wished to depart only
after honoring every worthy soul. Renunciation begins not by leaving
possessions, but by releasing attachment to them. Rama bestowed gifts upon
Vedic Scholars and their wives, servants, young students, and the needy. He
made an extraordinary donation of countless cows to a poor Brahmana named
Trijata.
Thereafter,
blessed by eminent scholars, Lakshmana summoned Suyajna, son of Vasishtha. Rama
and Sita received him with ritual reverence, moving clockwise around him as one
would around sacredly fire. Rama adored and adorned Suyajna with precious ornaments, excellent Bracelets, beautiful earrings of gold, gems stung
on gold threads, and
valuables. At Sita’s request, he gifted her ornaments, furnishings, and even
the elephant Satrunjaya along with a thousand elephants. Suyajna accepted these
gifts and blessed Rama, Lakshmana, and Sita. Giving, in Rama’s vision, was not
loss, but it was alignment with cosmic order.
Rama next
instructed Lakshmana to honor sages Agastya and Kausika with generous gifts and
to gratify their father’s long-standing charioteer, Chitraratha. Students,
ascetics, servants, and dependents were all remembered. Lakshmana distributed
wealth like Kubera himself, until nothing remained. The remaining riches were
gathered and distributed among Brahmanas, children, the elderly, and the
helpless. Thus, Rama ensured that no one associated with him felt abandoned.
True leadership departs only after securing the wellbeing of all.
Meanwhile,
by divine ordinance, a Brahmin named Trijata happened to be residing in the
city of Ayodhya at that time. Andhra Valmiki Vavilikolanu Subbarau, in his
timeless Ramayana Mandaram, narrated this episode so vividly that its true
essence can be grasped only by reading it in full. Trijata lived in utter
poverty. He did not even possess a plough. His body was unclean, his nails long
and hardened like sickles used for cutting fruits. He had taken up to ‘Unchavṛtti,’ living
by gleaning grains, a specific ancient practice of austerity or a method of
livelihood in Hinduism.
‘Gleaning’
literally refers to the practice of subsisting only upon the stray grains of
corn or seeds that have dropped on the ground around barns or threshing floors,
rather than actively harvesting or begging for food. He wandered through
forests all day, immersed in destitution. Having grown extremely old, he could
not walk steadily and moved about swaying. Born in the Garga lineage, he
struggled with great difficulty to protect his devoted wife and young children.
Owing to prolonged poverty, his body appeared emaciated and decayed, resembling
a worm-eaten frame.
His ‘Pativrata
Wife’ filled with concern, offered him counsel. She advised him to abandon his
digging tools and go to seek the Darshana of Sri Ramachandra, asking him to
state humbly that he was a poor man burdened with wife and children. ‘Pativrata’
refers to a concept in Hinduism describing a wife's supreme loyalty,
devotion, and fidelity to her husband, viewing him as a divine figure
(Paramatma), and dedicating her mind, body, and speech to his service,
embodying chastity, and unwavering commitment, like legendary figures such as
Sita or Savitri. It signified an ideal of marital devotion, but interpretations
vary, focusing on deep emotional connection and commitment rather than mere
subservience.
Trijata’s
wife assured him that the righteous and compassionate Rama would certainly
grant some assistance. Accepting her words, Trijata attempted to conceal the
tears in his tattered garment but failed. Just as he was, he set out for Rama’s
residence. Though poor in sustenance, his ascetic radiance, earned through
penance and comparable to that of Angiirasa and Bhrugu, ensured that no one
obstructed him. Moreover, Sri Rama had already issued a command that no visitor
should be stopped from entering up to the fifth inner chamber of the palace.
Thus, Trijata passed through unhindered. Reaching the presence of Sri Rama,
Trijata humbly submitted that he was an exceedingly poor Brahmin, burdened with
wife and many children, living by Unchavṛtti, and sought compassion.
For
sustaining the body and protecting the family, a householder may acquire wealth
through means not forbidden by Sastra. Since accepting gifts was included among
Brahmin duties, it was not prohibited. Trijata’s request, made solely for
bodily maintenance and family protection, was therefore not sinful. Though a
Brahmin should neither hoard wealth nor habitually beg for it, Manu enjoins
that aged parents, a devoted wife, and tender children must be protected, even
by undertaking a hundred tasks if necessary. Hence, Trijata’s appeal was not
improper. Sudama or Kuchela was cited as an example of restraint, yet necessity
justified Trijata’s supplication.
Seeing
that such an aged ascetic had been compelled to seek assistance for the sake of
his family, Sri Rama resolved to test his spiritual power and at the same time
remove the blemish of begging. Addressing Trijata as a noble soul, He stated
that there were still thousands of cows in the royal herds awaiting donation.
He directed that a stick be taken and hurled toward the herd, declaring that
all the cows lying between the point where it fell, and His presence, would be
granted, and asked that physical strength be displayed.
Trijata
tightened the frayed ends of his hanging garment so that they would not slip.
Holding the stick firmly in his right hand, placing his feet securely,
clenching his teeth, and summoning all his life force, the Brahmin spun the
staff and hurled it forcefully toward the cattle. Although Sri Rama had already
resolved in His heart to bestow all the cows, He wished to reveal the Brahmin’s
hidden potency. His words were not spoken in mockery, nor did they cause
Trijata any pain. By requiring effort, Sri Rama transformed the act of charity
into earned merit, thereby removing the stigma of solicitation.
The stick
hurled by the Brahmin flew past the cow herds grazing near the Sarayu River and
fell close to the bulls beyond. Overcome with affection, Sri Rama embraced the
foremost of Brahmins. He instructed the cowherds to drive all the cows grazing
along the banks of the Sarayu to Trijata’s hermitage and release them there. Sri
Rama then sought forgiveness, explaining that although Trijata’s body was
weakened by age and lack of nourishment, the words spoken were intended only to
reveal his divine brilliance to all and were uttered in gentle sport, not to
deny the gift of cows.
Rama further
declared that all royal wealth existed solely for the protection of Brahmins
and not for personal enjoyment, and that even if it were entirely bestowed upon
exalted souls such as Trijata, it would only bring renown and joy. In response,
Trijata stated that he had no attachment to wealth. He blessed Sri Rāma with
fame, strength, joy, and incomparable happiness, and departed with his wife and
the cows to his hermitage.
Having
thus given away abundant riches to Brahmanas, ascetics, servants, the aged, the
children, and the destitute, Rama, Lakshmana, and Sita prepared to proceed
towards King Dasharatha. The divine weapons borne by Rama and Lakshmana were
reverently adorned with fragrant garlands by Sita herself. Thus decorated, the
weapons shone with extraordinary brilliance, awe-inspiring yet sanctified by
devotion. The sight of these princely figures, now divested of royal luxury yet
radiant with resolve, stirred the hearts of the citizens profoundly.
Renunciation, when voluntary and righteous, shines brighter than sovereignty.
As the
royal trio moved through the streets on foot, noblemen and women climbed lofty
mansions, seven-storied palaces, and elevated terraces to behold them. The
roads became impassable with crowds, choked not by celebration but by sorrow.
People who once saw Rama ride in Splendour now watched him walk without chariot
or umbrella. Grief struck their hearts like a physical blow, and voices
trembled with anguish. The pain of witnessing righteousness suffer often
exceeds personal sorrow.
Many among
the people cried aloud in indignation. They lamented that King Dasharatha,
overwhelmed by fate, had acted as though possessed by an evil force. They
questioned how a father could exile a son so virtuous, the very protector of
the world. ‘When the root of a flowering tree is cut,’ they said, ‘the entire
tree withers.’ They felt that Rama’s exile afflicted not merely Ayodhya, but
the whole earth. Some declared that they would abandon their homes and follow
Rama into the forest, just as Lakshmana had done, leaving behind fields,
gardens, and palaces. When justice is wounded, loyalty seeks new ground.
Their
lament intensified further. They declared that Kaikeyi and her son should
inhabit the deserted city, stripped of wealth, rituals, and divine presence,
while they themselves would dwell joyfully in the forest with Rama. They
imagined Ayodhya reduced to silence, with courtyards broken, treasures removed,
sacred fires extinguished, mantras not chanted, homes overrun by dust and
rodents. ‘Let the forest become a city,’ they cried, ‘and let this city,
abandoned by us, become a forest.’ In the people’s vision, true civilization
followed virtue, not walls.
Rama heard
these varied and passionate utterances, yet his mind remained unshaken. Unmoved
by praise or protest, anchored firmly in dharma, he proceeded towards his
father’s palace, which from a distance gleamed like Mount Kailasa itself. Near
the entrance stood Minister Sumantra, grief-stricken and motionless. Rama,
resolved to fulfil his father’s command without hesitation or resentment,
paused respectfully, and requested Sumantra to announce his arrival to the
king. His heart was steady, his purpose was clear. Here, Rama stands at the
threshold where obedience, compassion, and destiny converge.
Thus,
Rama’s departure unfolds not as an impulsive renunciation, but as a masterclass
in ethical transition, where every relationship is honored, every obligation
fulfilled, and every vulnerable soul protected. Lakshmana’s choice reflects
selfless fraternity, Rama’s conduct reveals leadership grounded in compassion, and
Sita’s silent participation sanctifies every act. In an age driven by haste and
self-interest, this episode teaches that true change must first be just,
inclusive, and humane. As Rama now steps closer to his father, destiny pauses, knowing
that a kingdom has already been relinquished with dignity.
The
episode of Trijata, when viewed in a contemporary light, offers a timeless
lesson in how compassion must be exercised without diminishing dignity. Rama
did not merely give charity, and instead, he restored self-respect. By
transforming alms into effort, and need into opportunity, he ensured that the
recipient remained a participant, not a dependent. In a world where assistance
often creates silent hierarchies between the giver and the receiver, Rama’s
approach stands apart. He recognized poverty without romanticizing it,
acknowledged weakness without exploiting it, and offered support without
humiliation.
The
Trijata episode thus becomes more than an act of generosity. It becomes a
template for ethical leadership, where responsibility is shouldered by the
strong, effort is honored in the weak, and compassion uplifts without
condescension. In every age, societies prosper not merely by the distribution
of wealth, but by the preservation of dignity. When public generosity
degenerates into competitive promises rather than moral commitment, and when ‘Ramarajya’
is invoked endlessly in speech but abandoned in practice, the spirit of Rama’s
compassion is reduced to slogan rather than governance.
>>> 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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