Sita

Rama and Sita

The Ramayana is based on real events that took place during the Dvapara Yuga (a time period with roughly twice as much dharma as we have known in the Kali Yuga). It is about Vishnu being born as a prince named Rama, who was destined to rid the world of an evil warlord who could only be killed by a human. In the poem, you can see that even if they weren’t perfect, most of the people in the story put effort into doing the right thing and tended to be good and gracious to one another. The end of the poem is very sad, though, and dharma seems to collapse, causing a lot of tragedy.

Whether Rama and his wife Sita separated at the end of their difficulties in and leading up to Lanka depends on where you ask. It’s different in some cities and households and times than others. I believe and have recovered the information that the tradition that says that Rama and Sita stayed together permanently after she was rescued from the warlord’s grasp is the accurate one.

The tragic ending of Valmiki’s Ramayana, which I believe was adapted in during the Kali Yuga, brings up important feminist questions. They may have been particularly historically or socially relevant questions at that time.

Rama and Sita are known throughout the world as models of a good king and queen, and as good parents. Rama was the Gemini Christ by the same time metric where Jesus is known as the Piscean Christ, Gautama Buddha was the Aries Christ, and Krishna was the Taurean Christ.

──── by Lync Dalton ────

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The Winning of Sita

The bride sits on her velvet throne.
Her red sari is heavy with gold,
drawn ’round her jasmine-plaited hair.
It hides her smooth brow,
shining with rubies and pearls,
and her large eyes
turned within.

Her jeweled feet rest in rose petals.
Garlands twine a canopy above
the narrow-waisted,
the envy of maidens,
King Janaka’s daughter.

Mithila’s bravest princes
gather at her feet.
The bronzed arms
of two hundred heroes
flex with pride and glory.
Who will lift Shiva’s bow
and claim her?

She smiles at none.
Her veiled eyes do not reveal
her secret desire.


Twenty thousand blow their conches and ring their bells
when the first man bends to lift the bow
glittering in the morning sun.
But when the evening star rises above
the dim embers of the sinking orb,
the bow lies in the dust still,
unmoved, none dare whisper.

Then the golden Prince of Ayodhya
enters the city of Sita.
Her breath soaks inward,
collected in a quiet pool,
and the air hangs heavy
over the earth standing still.

In one swinging motion Rama raises the bow,
bends the ends of infinity,
and cracks the waiting silence.
Her eyes, still inward, see the sun.

— From The Ramayana by Valmiki, translated by Linda Egenes and Kumuda Reddy


──── posted by Lync Dalton ────

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