Ayodhyā Praja Anugamana

Praja means the people of a kingdom, and anugamana means following. When Rāma’s chariot left Ayodhyā for the forest, the people of the city would not let him go. From the old to the young, from brāhmaṇas to śūdras, they ran after the chariot on foot. They called to Sumantra to stop, and they wept and cried out to Daśaratha to call Rāma back. When Rāma was gone, Ayodhyā was like a city that had lost someone dear: empty of joy, with silent streets and unlit lamps. This is one of the most moving passages of the Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa of the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa.

The departure

Rāma’s chariot passed through the gates of Ayodhyā and onto the road south. The citizens had lined the streets hoping to see a coronation procession. They now saw with horror that it was an exile. The chariot carried Rāma, Sītā and Lakshmaṇa, dressed in forest clothes and bark cloth, not coronation robes.

The people answered at once, all together. They pressed toward the chariot to block its way. They called to Rāma: come back, do not leave, Ayodhyā cannot live without you. They called to Sumantra: do not drive the horses on, do not carry Rāma away. Old men cried out. Women wept from balconies and doorways. Even the horses, feeling the grief in the air, moved slowly (Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa, Chapters 36 to 38).

Rāma’s answer

Rāma was moved by the people’s grief, but he could not turn back. He asked Sumantra to drive faster and leave the citizens behind. He did this out of kindness, not coldness. He could not bear to see them suffer, and their following would only make the pain last longer. Sumantra drove faster, and little by little the people, unable to keep up on foot, fell farther behind.

But many would not give up even then. Some ran until their feet failed, calling Rāma’s name as long as their voices lasted. The dust of the chariot rose behind it and blew back toward the weeping crowd (Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa, Chapters 38 to 40).

The night at the Tamasā

The chariot went on until evening and stopped on the bank of the Tamasā river. Many citizens had followed all the way and camped nearby. They could not give up, and they spent the night close to Rāma, unwilling to leave.

At dawn, Rāma made a kind plan. He had Sumantra drive the chariot quietly to a ford upstream, a different crossing, and slip away before the citizens woke. When they got up and found the chariot gone, Rāma was already across the river and well on his way south. He could not bear to see them wake to find him leaving a second time, or to watch their tears again. By leaving quietly he spared them that second grief (Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa, Chapters 44 to 46).

Ayodhyā after Rāma left

The Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa describes the city after Rāma’s leaving in long detail. The markets fell silent. The lamps were not lit at nightfall. The music and entertainments that usually filled the city stopped. Shops closed and people stayed indoors. The river seemed to run warm. The horses wept in their stables. The birds were silent. The whole city, its people and its natural world, shared the grief of a people who had lost their dear prince (Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa, Chapters 57 to 60).

Sources

• Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa, Chapters 36 to 46, and Chapters 57 to 60