Week 7 Storytelling: Unquiet Waters

Sita. Siiiiitaaaaa….

I awoke with a start. “Rama?” I instinctively called out, thinking it was he who had whispered my name in the night. But no, I was not in bed… Where was I? It took a minute for me to comprehend my surroundings. I was sitting in a dry, dead patch of grass, covered in dust and dirt, twigs and leaves tangled in my hair. I realized I was still at the river. Had I fainted? Fallen asleep? Why was it night already?

“Lakshmana?” No reply. “Lakshmana? Sumantra? Wake up!” I struggled to my feet, encumbered by my huge belly. Really, to think that they would fall asleep on the job – when they were supposed to be guarding the pregnant queen, no less! Oh, Rama would give them such a lecturing when we got back to Ayodhya.

“Hello?” It was really not like them to be so careless, particularly Lakshmana. He had always been a courageous and vigilant companion to Rama and me, even during those long, terrible years of exile.

The night was still, heavy with silence, but I felt a chill as the hairs on the back of my neck quivered. Something was not right. “Lakshmana?” My heart began to seize. “LAKSHMANA! RAMAAAAA!!!”

I collapsed back down onto the dirt, sobbing. What was happening? Had Rama abandoned me? How could he do this, after all we’ve been through? Suddenly, the weight of all the years, all the torture and trials I’ve endured, came crashing down on me. I was suffocating. I could not breathe. I was once again in the cruel, iron grip of Ravana – twenty arms locked around my chest, crushing my lungs, ten heads laughing and sneering at me. Only this time, though Ravana was only in my mind, it was worse. Oh, so much worse. This time, I had no hope to lift my soul. The light had gone out. It had abandoned me.

Sita. Siiiiitaaaaa…..

My head snapped up. There it was again – surely I had not imagined that voice! Fumbling about in the darkness, I could neither see nor feel any person, any being whatsoever, beside me. I was surrounded by emptiness on all sides. No one could hear my cries, none but the rocks and the trees and the great flowing river…

The river. No, I was crazy. Delirious with grief. But that voice… it was just like the river’s quiet roar, its strong, eternal whisper. I crept to the shore. I stuck one toe in the water – it was freezing. Nothing. Surely I was just imagining things. Still, I felt an irresistible pull drawing me deeper into the icy depths. I soon had both feet in… I was up to my ankles… up to my knees…

SITA!!!

I started, slipped, and nearly fell headfirst into the murky waters. The voice was sure and clear and all around me – I was certain it was the Ganges herself addressing me. I was overwhelmed. What do you say to a river? I did not know if she was friend or foe, but it seemed I had no one else. “Yes, I am here, Great Ganges,” I whispered into the night. “Enlighten me, teach me… help me.”

Was it my imagination, or did the lapping waters begin to sway, back and forth, ever so gently? The mud curling between my toes was warm, inviting – I sank down further into it. I felt a peace come over me – well, maybe it was just more of a numbness. For once, though, it did not feel as if Rama’s arrows had pierced my heart. The tears stopped falling, and the tracks of past sorrows were washed from my cheeks by the cool caress of the waves.

Come, Sitaaaaa… Come into me… All will be washed, all will be cleaned, all will be carried away…

“Sita! SITA!” I opened my eyes – I had not realized they were closed. How did I get back on dry land? A wild, strange man covered in dust clutched my dripping sari.

“What happened?” For the second time tonight, I felt disoriented, like I had just awoken from a terrible dream. “Who are you?”

“I am Valmiki,” the stranger replied, “and I have just saved your life.”

Author's Note:

I wrote this story about Sita's abandonment. I thought it was really creepy how the Ganges tried to talk her into drowning herself - I mean, Sita's pretty quick to jump to suicide, but this time the river was goading her into it as well. I imagined it as a really spooky, creepy encounter, and so I decided to write a sort of ghost-story, creepy, foreboding version of the events. In the Ramayana in general, suicide is often brought up by women in response to their husbands dying - many characters actually immolate themselves. This practice is treated as something pretty much acceptable. Sita, however, takes this to another level. For one, she contemplates killing herself many times. For example, before she's even married she vows she will kill herself if the man who wins her in her swayamvara is not the man she fell in love at first sight with: Rama (thankfully, it is). Then, throughout her imprisonment by Ravana, she thinks of killing herself in order to avoid Ravana, the pain of separation, etc. This story, though, stands apart even from all the others. For one, instead of self immolation - a standard practice in the Ramayana - Sita contemplates drowning herself. This act seems to show a greater level of sadness and despair, rather than just a quick and efficient end. So, I thought this story in particular really symbolized Sita's depression and pain. A death by drowning would be very painful, cold, terrifying. That shows how Sita felt when she was abandoned.

I also explore Sita's reaction to realizing she had been abandoned by Rama, capturing the pain she must have felt at that moment. I tell this from her perspective. This aspect of the story is not really explored in the Ramayana - Sita seems more like a passive character in the story - things just happen to her. Here, I tell the story from Sita's perspective to give her more agency and to show her struggle. 

Buck, William (1976). Ramayana: King Rama's Way

The Ganges ; Ophelia - John Everett Millais