The Ramayana by Ramesh Menon Read Free Book Online

high mountains, from the Manasa lake that Brahma made with a thought. The Ganga, which fell from the stars, you know about. This place of the echo is where the Sarayu flows into the golden Ganga. Worship the rivers; they are Goddesses and will bless you.”
    With folded hands the princes prayed to the swirling currents. It seemed to them that, in the bank of morning mist poised over the water, they saw two great and lovely faces. For just a moment, the faces shimmered in the air, their lips mouthing a blessing. But when Rama and Lakshmana glanced at Viswamitra to confirm the vision, he was already peering at the far shore as if he had seen nothing himself.
    They gained that shore and walked away from the river, which was so wide they could not see the rishis who stood across it, waving to them still. Now they entered a jungle that grew, thick and forbidding, not a hundred paces from the water. Viswamitra walked unhesitatingly into the vana, as if he saw an invisible trail leading into it. The princes followed him.
    Dark, dense, and damp was that forest. No light or wind entered it, to dry the rain and dew that lay upon the leaves and grass, or blow away an evil air that hung heavily. All was still, the silence deep and uncanny under the canopy of branches. An aura of stagnant age lay upon this jungle. There were no paths and it was plain that no men ventured in here. They heard snakes on the ground, bees in the air, and birds in the trees, all eerily loud. They heard their own breaths and heartbeats so clearly.
    Rama said, “Surely this is a perfect forest for rishis to have their asramas; but it is deserted. Even the songs of birds seem to grate in their throats from anxiety. Are there no flowers, streams, or pools here? Why is this jungle such an ominous place?”
    Viswamitra said, “Once there was no jungle here at all, but the kingdoms of Malada and Karusha, fertile and populous. When Indra slew the brahmana Asura, Vritra, he was guilty of brahmahatya. The rishis of Devaloka washed his sin from him with water from the rivers of heaven. This was the place where that water fell, with the sin. Indra cried out to Bhumi Devi in gratitude, ‘I bless this country to be as fecund as the fields of Devaloka!’
    â€œMalada and Karusha were the most luxuriant kingdoms in the world, renowned even among the stars. But then a scourge in the shape of a rakshasi came to this place. Her name is Tataka and hers is a twisted tale: for she was not born a rakshasi but the child of a yaksha called Suketu.
    â€œSuketu had no children; he performed a tapasya to Brahma, to bless him with a son. Brahma did not give Suketu a son but a daughter, as strong as the yaksha could have wished any child of his to be. When Tataka was a ravishing young woman, Suketu gave her to Jarjara’s son, Sunanda, a handsome young yaksha.
    â€œIn time, Tataka gave birth to a boy she named Maricha, whose death will bring you fame one day, Rama.” The prince looked startled at the prediction. Viswamitra continued: “Sunanda died soon after his son was born and Tataka was unhinged with grief. Her hair hanging loose, drunk on forest brew, she went to Agastya’s asrama. With her infant on her hip, she made advances to the great rishi. Agastya, bright as flames, cursed her, ‘Shameless woman! Be a rakshasi as monstrous as your heart is full of darkness. Your beauty will be a thing of the past. You will feed on flesh, and all the creatures of the earth will hate you.’
    â€œAs soon as the curse was pronounced, Tataka’s lissom body was transformed into demon flesh. She fled screaming from Agastya’s asrama. She came to a jungle stream, her heart on fire with weird and unfamiliar lusts. When she looked into the water the face she saw reflected there, glowering back at her, was not her own but a face of terror. It was the face of Tataka the rakshasi, for fear of whom no man and few beasts enter this forest any