In the tranquil and reflective stillness of autumn’s retreat, Rama dwelled in the sanctity of his ascetic life, steadfastly adhering to its rigorous tenets, buoyed by the devoted presence of those around him. As the year matured into the cool embrace of Hemanta, the pre-winter season, one fine morning, Rama made his way to the sacred waters of the Godavari. There, in solemn reverence, he prepared to offer his ablutions and prayers to the Sun God. Faithful Lakshmana accompanied him, an urn in hand, while the radiant Sita followed, intent on her own devotions to Aditya.
Lakshmana, observing the shift in the season, addressed Rama with reverence:
“O revered brother, the jewel of the year, Hemanta, has graced us with its presence. In this season, the chill of the winds touches all living beings, rendering the waters forbidding for bathing. Yet, the earth thrives, adorned with the flourishing of pulses and vegetables. By the morning hearth, men seek warmth, and the virtuous fulfill sacred oblations and rituals to honor the planetary deities before partaking of the harvest. Thus, prosperity and health are conferred upon the dutiful, and their shortcomings are absolved by devotion.
The village life prospers; the cows, brimming with vitality, yield ambrosial milk, the sustenance of rural existence. Kings, recognizing the opportune moment, embark on holy campaigns against their adversaries. The southern sun lends warmth, while the northern expanse, cloaked in snow, mirrors the delicate visage of a maiden devoid of her vermilion mark. Himavat, the snow-laden mountain, stands true to its name, glistening under the weight of its wintry garb.
Though the sun brings solace by day, the nights and shadows are marked by biting cold. Morning’s icy breath troubles all, while the alternating rhythms of warmth and chill pass swiftly, veiled by fog and soft sunlight. The piercing winds silence the forest, animals retreating into stillness. Water freezes into crystalline forms, and nights lengthen, cloaking the land in frost. The moon, its brilliance subdued by snow-laden clouds, mirrors Sita’s radiance, veiled by the fiery trials of the wilderness.”
Lakshmana’s reflections turned toward Bharatha:
“O noble Rama, Bharatha, your devoted brother, endures penance for your sake. He renounces royal comforts, subsists on ascetic fare, and rules Ayodhya in your name, lying on a humble mat of grass. Delicate and raised in luxury, he now bathes in the icy waters of the Sarayu at dawn, offering prayers to Aditya. His unwavering loyalty and diligence illuminate his path. He governs with restraint, guided by truth and virtue, forsaking all personal comfort for your cause. His character, unmarred by his mother’s cruelty, exalts him above reproach.”
Hearing this, Rama gently interrupted, his voice calm and compassionate:
“Dear Lakshmana, let not your heart harbor blame against Kaikeyi. To do so would diminish our regard for Bharatha. He is a paragon of righteousness, embodying virtues that uplift us all. My heart yearns for the day we may reunite, you, Bharatha, Shatrughna, and I, together in joy and harmony. Let us not sully these sacred moments with recrimination.”
Thus, the trio—Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana—immersed themselves in the holy waters of the Godavari, their prayers ascending like fragrant offerings to the heavens. The scene evoked the divine tableau of Lord Shiva, bathing alongside Parvati, attended by Nandi.
Rama’s sojourn at Panchavati unfolded as a chapter of cosmic significance, heralding the intricate workings of destiny. The splendor of Hemanta, with its pristine beauty and the vivid tapestry of nature, transported all who beheld it into a realm of divine wonder, a reflection of the eternal and the sublime.
