Tales froM Indian Mythology

Author(s): A S Raman
Publisher: Kutub Popular

Page 43

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The Childhood of Sita handiwork crumbled in a gust of wind. Sometimes they themselves would destroy it, not satisfied with its foundations, and concentrate on creating a likeness in clay of their rotund dance preceptor. Then, before taking a dip in the river, they would write love letters on water addressed to the gods and burst into laughter. After their bath, they would hurry to the garden and empty their pitchers beneath the creepers and trees which they had planted. Now they would feed the doves and deer with the choicest grain and grass, now they would smile at the cham pak flower, now they would greet the jasmine, now they would salute the parijaat, now they would bow to the lotus in the pond nearby, now they would sing to the sonorous rhythm of the distant waterfall.
On a Monday morning, they were in the garden watering the plants. Urmila was her usual bright self, but Sita was pensive. "Sister, why are you sullen and silent ? Are you thinking of your future husband ? Father's offer that whoever strings the bow of Shiva shall become your lord is worthy of you. And the great God will take care of you. You know, father is going to propitiate Him today through a big puja. So be cheerful, Sita." "No, Urmila. You do not know anything. Father is preparing himself to meet the challenge of Sudhanva, the ruler of Sankasyapuri, who is threatening Mithila with death and destruction if I do not marry him. And the King Tanaka is invoking Mahesa's grace, during the impending battle. Urmila, I can no longer be the cause of Videha's troubles. I want to put an end to my life.” The nibbling deer cast its desperate glances at her and a sad smile forced itself on Sita's lips.