Rama, with the wisdom of a sage and the resolve of a warrior, instructed Lakshmana on the vigilant guarding of their ashram, supported by the mighty Jatayu. Girding his sword at his waist, Rama then took up his formidable bow and quiver, prepared for any adversary.
A cunning creature, an animal in disguise, observed King Rama armed and ready, fearing its end was near. Yet, driven by deceitful duty, the creature—like a deer—played a deceptive game, drawing Rama away from the ashram under the guise of fear. Rama, perceiving the creature’s fear, thought it fled from his weapons.
The demon’s magic was at its peak, shifting form from land to sky, sometimes running ahead, sometimes swimming or flying, all to distract and lead Rama far from the ashram. This cunning ruse was part of the wicked plot of Ravana. The disguised Maricha cleverly lured Rama further away, repeatedly coming near and then vanishing in an instant.
As the distance grew, Rama saw through the duplicity. Exhausted, he sat beneath a tree, contemplating the deceit. Realizing the danger, he readied himself to end this illusion. Drawing the mighty Brahmastra, blazing with divine fire, he aimed at the deceptive creature. The arrow pierced the creature, revealing its true form—Maricha, the demon.
As Maricha lay dying, his body shattered by the force of the weapon, he remembered his duty to Ravana. In his final breath, he mimicked Rama’s voice, crying out, “Ha! Sita! Ha! Lakshmana!” This cry was a deceitful signal, meant to mislead.
Rama, beholding the demon’s lifeless form, reflected on Lakshmana’s wise counsel, his thoughts turning to Sita. “This demon’s cry must have reached Sita and Lakshmana, stirring fear and confusion,” he thought. An uneasy tingle ran through his body, prompting him to hurry back to Janasthana, concerned for their safety.
Sita, hearing the deceptive cry, grew anxious and implored Lakshmana to seek out Rama. “Your brother’s wails haunt me; go to him swiftly and save him!” she pleaded. Lakshmana, bound by his duty to protect her, hesitated. “I cannot abandon you, nor disobey Rama’s command,” he insisted.
Sita, gripped by fear and anger, accused Lakshmana of harboring ill intentions. “You are a false friend to Rama, with a hidden agenda. You refuse to help him in his hour of need,” she lashed out. Her harsh words, fueled by fear for Rama, struck deep.
Lakshmana, wounded by her accusations, stood with folded hands. “O noble Sita, none can defeat Rama. His prowess is unmatched. This is a demon’s trick, not Rama’s voice. I must guard you, as he commanded.” Yet Sita, relentless, continued her harsh rebukes, suspecting Lakshmana of betrayal.
Finally, unable to bear her distress, Lakshmana agreed to seek Rama. “O pious one, the guardians of the forest will protect you. I go, but my heart is heavy with foreboding.” Sita, left behind, resolved to follow Rama to death if necessary, her mind filled with dark thoughts.
Lakshmana departed, his heart torn by duty and fear, each step weighed down by the complexity of fate. Thus, the delicate balance of duty, suspicion, and cosmic design unfolded, steering them all toward their destined end, under the impartial hand of fate.
