All details for the year-long sacrifice commenced. The place chosen was the Naimisha forest. A pure black horse, marked with all auspicious signs and richly decorated with gold and silver strapping, was released by Ram. The horse was allowed to roam all over the country, followed by Lakshman and the army. If anyone caught and tied the horse, the army would come and fight with the person who had the temerity to challenge the king’s horse. If the horse returned unchallenged, the king could declare himself as Emperor.
The forest of Naimisha was converted into a veritable paradise, with pavilions and music halls and gardens and yajnashalas. All the kings of the realm were invited and came to pay homage to Ram and accepted him as their suzerain. Not only were kings invited but also the hermits and sages, who lived in the forests. Invitations were also sent to the vanaras at Kishkinda who came with their leader Sugriva, and to the rakshasas at Lanka who came along with Vibhishana. Food, clothes, jewellery, gems, gold and silver were distributed lavishly. There was nobody who went away empty handed.
Sage Valmiki came with Lava and Kusha. He told them to go and sing twenty cantos of the beautiful poem called the Ramyana, before the huts of the sages who had been invited and also before the king himself. He also told them never to accept any remuneration for their services. If they were asked about their lineage, they were to say that they were the disciples of sage Valmiki.
The children did as they were told and sang twenty cantos in a melodious voice before the royal audience. People were spellbound by the sight of these two hermit boys, who sang so sweetly. They also remarked on their uncanny resemblance to Ram. He had looked exactly like them so many years ago, when he went to the forest, wearing bark, with hair in matted locks. Ram was enchanted with the boys and told Lakshman to give them twenty thousand gold coins and expensive clothes but the boys refused and said that hermit boys who lived on fruits and roots had no necessity for such things, as they had been told to do by their Guru.
Ram was astonished and asked them, “Who composed this poem and how many cantos are there in it”?
The boys replied, “The venerable sage Valmiki is the composer of this wonderful poem which recounts the doings of your Majesty. It has twenty-four thousand verses and six kandas. The seventh or the Uttara Kanda is now going on. With your leave we will recite the whole poem, in its entirety to you, between the functions of the Horse sacrifice”. “So be it”, said the king.
For many days, Ram and his brothers as well as the collection of sages, kings and monkeys heard the whole story of Ram. All were enthralled by the recital. By the end of it, Ram realised that these boys were his own sons, the children of Sita.
“Go immediately to the sage Valmiki and request him to bring the mother of these boys to me, for I feel very sure that she is none other than my wife, Sita. If he thinks that she is indeed blameless and that her character is without blemish, ask him to let her come and prove her innocence tomorrow, before this august assembly. Tomorrow at dawn, the princess of Videha is welcome to come and display her virtue”.
The next day everybody from all over the realm as well as the guests who had been invited for the sacrifice, assembled in the Naimisha forest to watch the final scene, in the dRam of the lives of their king and queen. Into that motionless crowd of expectant citizens, Valmiki arrived with Sita. Her head was bent to the ground, her palms were folded together in devotion, her eyes were filled with tears, and her heart with Ram. At the sight of her, dressed in the clothes of an anchorite, looking so divinely beautiful, yet so sad, the fickle crowd set up a spontaneous cheer of welcome. They, who had been so eager to send her away, now appeared equally eager to take her back.
Valmiki led her to Ram and said, “Son of Dasaratha, here is your wife, the ever chaste Sita. Fire itself cools at her approach, for she is purer than Agni. Twelve years ago, you abandoned her in front of my ashram through fear of public censure. But I tell you truly, she is as chaste as Anasuya, the wife of Atri. If Sita is tainted, then let my austerities be in vain. Though you loved her and knew her to be innocent, you repudiated her, to satisfy your subjects. Now at your insistence, she is here to prove her innocence for the second time”.
“So be it”, said Ram. “With the gods as witness, Sita proved her innocence once before in Lanka and I accepted her, but still the people whispered and I was forced to send her away, to uphold my dharma as a king. I hereby acknowledge Lava and Kusha as my own sons and will accept Sita too as my wife, if she proves her innocence once more in front of the people of Ayodhya as she did long ago before the vanaras and rakshasas at Lanka”.
As he said this, Ram allowed himself the pleasure of gazing at his lovely wife once again. Bereft of jewels and adornment, dressed in bark as befitting an anchorite, with matted hair tied in a knot on top of her head, stood his queen—the queen of Ayodhya and the queen of his heart. His heart smote him as he looked at her. Involuntarily he stretched out his hands towards her. Without thinking, she put her delicate, pink tipped palms into his. Despite her lack of adornment, she was still incredibly lovely and he could not tear his eyes away from her. Sita gazed back at him and as their hands and eyes locked in a mutual embrace, they felt as if they were drowning in the ocean of love which was mirrored in their eyes. They held infinity in their hands and eternity in their eyes. A ring of interested spectators had formed round them but Sita and Ram stood alone within the circle, gazing at each other as if they could not bear to look apart. For twelve long years they had been starved of this pleasure. Time stopped and they beheld heaven in their eyes, and their whole life passed like a dream in front of their interlocked gaze and still they could not bear to look away.
At last Sita broke the silence and whispered, “My Lord, do I have your permission to make a public avowal of my purity”?
Ram nodded. Wearing the ochre robes of the ascetics, yet looking as beautiful as a bride, Sita, the daughter of the earth, stepped into the centre of the circle and with folded palms she bowed before her mother earth and said, “0 Madhavi! Goddess of the earth, beloved mother! If you know that I have never loved any man but Ram and never thought of any man, other than my husband, even for a moment, then please open your arms wide and accept your daughter, for I can no longer bear to live in this vale of tears. Grief alone has been my lot in life and now I long for the comfort of your arms. 0 mother! Take me to your bosom, as you brought me once, out of your womb, to the field of my father, Janaka”.
Hardly had she finished speaking when the earth split open with a shudder and out of the chasm there arose a beautiful, flower-throne on which was seated the goddess of the earth in all her bounty covered with flowers and carrying the nine types of grains in sheaves, in her hands.
She opened her arms wide and Sita ran into them and was made to sit beside her on the throne of flowers. In front of the astonished gaze of the spellbound audience, the earth gaped open once more and the throne carrying Sita and her mother slowly descended into the bowels of the earth as the gods rained flowers from above. As the gap closed over their heads, the earth shuddered and the wind moaned and the crowd came out of their mesmerised state and a great sigh broke from every mouth.
As she disappeared from sight, Ram woke up from the grip of terror which was holding him and started to weep uncontrollably. He ran to the spot where she had disappeared and called to her piteously.
