Rama and Lakshmana live on Mount Prasravana after the Coronation of Sugreeva
Upon the coronation of Sugreeva, all the eminent lords and chieftains gathered before Rama, offering their reverence and seeking his blessings. Once their respects were duly rendered, they departed to their respective abodes, leaving the vanquisher of evil to his own contemplations.
Rama, accompanied by his steadfast brother Lakshmana, journeyed towards the towering heights of Mount Prasravana. As they ascended, the very air was pierced by the reverberating roars of the mountain tigers, creatures infamous for their merciless ferocity. Bears, startled by the fearsome cries, dashed from one thicket to another, their eyes wide with terror. Amidst this wild tumult, noble lions—symbols of bravery and regal strength—resided in their natural abodes within the shadowy caves and deep mountain recesses. Their thunderous roars shattered the stillness, sending the lesser beasts fleeing for their lives.
The landscape was adorned with a resplendent canopy of towering trees, entwined creepers, and lush greenery, casting a shadowy coolness akin to clustered clouds. In this verdant wilderness thrived a vibrant host of creatures: mischievous monkeys, playful langurs, curious baboons, sprightly pygmy marmosets, elusive talapoin monkeys, and lively squirrel monkeys—all swinging through the treetops in joyous abandon.
Choosing a vast cave perched atop a hill, Rama instructed Lakshmana to cleanse and prepare it for their dwelling. Faultless in character and broad of mind, Rama, in his wisdom, granted Sugreeva ample time to marshal his forces for the search of Sita. Meanwhile, the brothers sought solace and rejuvenation, adjusting to the newfound comfort after long months of hardship in the wild forests and treacherous mountains.
One day, as the cool mountain breeze whispered through the trees, Rama addressed Lakshmana, whose spirit burned bright like a celestial flame.
“O valiant and indomitable Lakshmana!” said Rama, his voice steady yet tender. “The breeze that caresses this mount is gentle and comforting, the light pure, and the expanse vast. Let us make our abode here for the duration of the rains. O son of a mighty king! Behold how this mountain peak glows with a serene charm. Its stones are rich with ores, reflecting myriad colors under the touch of the sun and moonlight. Each gem-strewn rock tells silent tales, their hues shifting with the heavens, as if whispering ancient secrets to those who listen. The lakes mirror the verdant trees and azure skies, casting prismatic reflections that rival the splendor of a peacock’s fanned tail, vibrant and alive.”
He paused, inhaling deeply the intoxicating fragrance of fruit-bearing creepers that sprawled across the land. “O Lakshmana! The lake before us blooms with radiant lotuses and delicate lilies. Peacocks strut along its banks, their calls quivering in the air like playful laughter. Around our cave, nature weaves a garland of Malathi creepers, jasmine, Sinduvāra, and Sirisha blossoms, intertwined among groves of Kadamba, arjuna, and Sirisha trees, each vying in natural beauty.”
Rama pointed towards the nearby lake, its waters clear and sparkling. “This sacred lake shall serve us for our daily rituals and purification, its proximity a blessing. See how our cave, low to the east and elevated to the rear, shelters us from the harsh mountain winds, creating a tranquil abode. At its entrance stands a mighty black stone, like a sentinel, radiating an energy that shall strengthen us and balance the cave’s natural forces.”
Turning his gaze northward, Rama continued, “Observe that towering mountain to the north, its dark visage like storm clouds suspended in the sky. To the south, another peak glistens with ores, its brilliance rivaling the sacred Mount Kailasa. Beyond, a river meanders eastward, its muddy waters reminiscent of the sacred Ganga flowing through the Trikuta mountains. Along its banks flourish Asoka, sandalwood, Tilaka, Tamala, Achimota, Padmaja, and Sarala trees, their exotic beauty enhancing the river’s grace. The fragrant Screw pines and colorful blossoms of Vaneera, Timida, Vakula, and Hintala adorn the riverbanks like a divine maiden bedecked in silks and jewels.”
Flocks of sparrows, coots, parrots, cuckoos, and nocturnal songbirds filled the air with their harmonious melodies, as though singing a welcome to the valiant brothers. Swans and waterfowl glided gracefully across the river, their movements regal, while kites soared above, their wings slicing the sky like the heralds of destiny. Along the riverbanks, sages performed sacred rituals, their chants blending with the music of nature, weaving a tapestry of serenity and reverence.
Rama marveled at the uniformity of the sandalwood and Kakubha trees, standing as if born from the earth at the same moment, a testament to nature’s harmonious order. The diverse flocks of birds, though varied in origin, moved in perfect unison, embodying the principle of unity in diversity. From afar, the scene resembled a divine maiden, her laughter echoing through the hills.
“O Lakshmana,” Rama sighed, “this place is a sanctuary, perfect for our ascetic life until Sugreeva and his forces commence the search for Sita. Sugreeva’s kingdom lies near our dwelling, and I am content with the bounty and splendor of nature here. Yet, though my surroundings bring peace, my heart remains heavy, gnawed by the pain of separation from Sita.”
As Rama stood upon Mount Udaya, gazing at the full moon’s ethereal glow, his mind drifted to the past. The moon’s pale light reminded him of Sita’s radiant face and gentle voice, stirring a deep longing within him. Tears welled in his eyes, burning hot against his cheeks as his thoughts wandered, lost in sorrow.
Seeing his brother’s distress, Lakshmana spoke with gentle firmness. “Rama! You are the hero, the beacon of faith and strength across the realms. You must not succumb to grief, for it will weaken your spirit and cloud your purpose. Those burdened by sorrow cannot achieve great deeds. You are the scion of virtue, a pillar of unwavering faith. If your resolve wavers, the wicked Ravana will find strength. You must rise above this sorrow and prepare to vanquish him, ensuring the safety of the world.”
“Rama, your might can overturn the earth, the oceans, and the mountains. Where can Ravana stand against the divine force that courses through you? Let us wait for the rains to pass and, with the arrival of autumn, you shall strike down Ravana and rescue Sita from his vile grasp.”
“Your fiery spirit is momentarily dimmed by grief, like a sacred flame buried beneath ashes. My words are meant to rekindle that fire, capable of shaking the heavens.”
Hearing Lakshmana’s counsel, Rama’s sorrow lifted like a mist under the morning sun. “Lakshmana,” he said, his voice resolute, “your affection, respect, and wise words are timely and just. I cast aside my sorrow, the root of inefficacy, and now you shall witness my brilliance unclouded by grief. I shall wait for Sugreeva’s aid in the autumn season, for a righteous man honors his promises. Should he falter, it would be a painful betrayal—but I trust his word.”
Lakshmana bowed with folded hands. “O King, Sugreeva will fulfill his oath. Be strong and embrace the beauty of the rainy season with confidence. Retain your strength, for it shall be needed to conquer our enemies. Without anger and sorrow clouding your heart, you shall triumph.”
Thus, the brothers spent the rainy months in the cave, amidst lions and tigers, their hearts attuned to the unity of nature. For when the mind sees harmony in diversity, fear and despair find no place. Rama, embracing the oneness of creation, found solace in the wild, awaiting the season when destiny would call him to action.
