Varsha Ṛtu Kathā (Tulasī Rāmāyaṇa)

When the rains came, Bhagavān Rāma lived with Lakshmaṇa on the Pravarashaṇa mountain near Kishkindhā. In the Kishkindhā Kāṇḍa of the Tulasī Rāmāyaṇa he speaks to Lakshmaṇa at length. Each sight of the rainy season and then of the autumn is a picture of how beings live and of the spiritual path. Under every word runs Rāma’s viraha (pain of separation) from Sītā.

Setting on Pravarashaṇa mountain

After Sugrīva was crowned at Kishkindhā, Bhagavān Rāma was bound by the fourteen years of forest exile and could not enter any city or village. He made his home on the Pravarashaṇa mountain near Kishkindhā. In the rainy season the rivers were in flood, the roads were lost and the world was hidden from view, so the search for Sītā could not go on. Rāma settled with Lakshmaṇa in a cave on the mountain top, on a smooth slab of stone like crystal. The devas had made the cave ready for his coming. Celestial beings took the forms of birds and animals and lit up the forest with their movements. In the presence of Bhagavān Rāma, nature showed all the beauty of the monsoon.

The talk on varsha, the rains

Rāma looked out from the mountain at the rain-soaked forest and spoke at length to Lakshmaṇa in a series of pictures taken from the season. Each picture had two meanings: what could be seen in nature, and what it showed about beings, the world and the spiritual path.

The peacocks. Rāma pointed to the peacocks, dancing and crying with joy at the sight of the coming clouds. He compared them to bhaktas (devotees) who rejoice at the sight of a Vaishṇava. As a guest brings delight to a householder, so the clouds brought delight to the peacock.

Lightning. The flashes of lightning among the clouds were like the passing affection of a dishonest person. They shine and are seen for a moment, and then vanish without a trace.

The rain. The great rain clouds were humble and bent low to pour out their water. In the same way the learned and the great, though they have so much, bow down in service.

Mountains in the rain. The peaks of the Himālaya stood unmoved and untroubled while the torrents poured over them. In the same way the saintly bear the abuse of the wicked with calm and take it without distress.

Small rivers. The little streams swelled and rushed noisily in the rains. In the same way shallow and proud people, puffed up by small success, make a great show.

Raindrops falling to earth. A raindrop that leaves the sky and falls to the earth at once becomes muddy and impure. In the same way an ātmā (soul) that falls into the company of māyā becomes bound and loses its first purity.

Rivers meeting the ocean. After all their noisy journey through the world, the rivers find peace when they join the ocean. In the same way the jīva (the soul in the world), after wandering through saṃsāra (the cycle of birth and death), finds peace on reaching the Paramātmā.

Footpaths lost in the grass. In the rainy season the paths disappeared under the new grass. In the same way the sacred texts and their teachings are hidden by the noise and crowd of empty speech and worthless talk.

Fields broken by water. The banks around the fields were broken by the floods. In the same way women who are left without restraint lose their limits.

Cātaka birds. The cātaka birds (pied cuckoos) fell silent in the rains and did not move about. In the same way, in the Kali Yuga, virtuous people withdraw from public life.

The sun through clouds. The sun showed itself and hid again, without warning, behind the clouds. In the same way a person who keeps the company of the learned gains moments of wisdom, but the moments pass when the company passes.

The talk on śarat, the autumn

When the rains eased and autumn came, Rāma again turned to Lakshmaṇa with a new series of pictures.

White autumn grass. The white-tipped grass of autumn that covered the earth was like old age coming to the rainy season itself.

The drying lakes. The Agastya star (Canopus) rose on the horizon, and the swollen rivers and lakes began to shrink. In the same way devotion to a true guru makes all the doubts and sorrows a person has gathered grow smaller.

Clear water. The river water of autumn was clear and pure. In the same way the heart of a person free from pride and delusion becomes clear and calm.

The earth without dust. In autumn the earth was free of dust and clean. In the same way the rule of a wise king, carried out with justice, leaves no trace of injustice.

The autumn sky. The autumn sky was clear of every cloud. In the same way the heart of a bhakta, cleansed of attachment and delusion, is pure and unclouded.

The khaṃjana birds. The khaṃjana birds (wagtails) appeared in the autumn sky. They were like welcome guests who arrive at a time of celebration, or like holy occasions that come to the righteous.

Merchants, renunciants, beggars and kings. Rāma saw that all kinds of people, merchants, monks, kings and wanderers, who had been held still by the rains, now began their work again in the autumn. In the same way, with the guidance of a realised sat-guru (true guru), all the confusions the mind has gathered are cleared up and the being moves again with clarity.

Lotuses in autumn ponds. The ponds full of lotuses in autumn were like Brahman beyond qualities becoming visible and shining as Brahman with qualities, shown to those who come with devotion.

Viraha in the midst of beauty

Through the whole talk on nature, Rāma’s words carried the pain of longing for Sītā. The monsoon clouds reminded him of her dark eyes. The lightning recalled her smile. The sound of the kadamba trees and the thunder made his heart tremble with longing.

When the rains passed and autumn came, the same bitter sweetness filled his speech. He told Lakshmaṇa that months had gone by since Sītā was carried off, and still no news had come. His worry for her grew. He spoke with grief:

“If she lives, she is still suffering in Rāvaṇa’s prison. If she is well, it is only through the power of her tapas and her pativratā (faithfulness to her husband). But the months pass, and Sugrīva has not started the search.”

This grief, spoken at last when autumn came, led Rāma to decide to send Lakshmaṇa to Kishkindhā to rouse Sugrīva.

Sources

• Tulasī Rāmāyaṇa (Tulasīdāsa’s Rāmacaritamānas), Kishkindhā Kāṇḍa.