The Death of King Dasharatha

Sumantra reached Ayodhya on the evening of the third day. The chariot was empty. People who had hoped that Ram would come back looked at it and turned their faces away. No one in the city laughed, and no shop was open.

King Dasharatha was in Kaushalya's apartments. In a shaking voice he asked, "Sumantra, where does my Ram sleep? What does he eat? What did Sita say? Tell me everything." Sumantra told him each thing: Ram sent his greetings and said they were content; Sita walked in the forest as fearlessly as in a garden. The king listened, and his tears ran.

Kaushalya's patience gave way, and a bitter word escaped her: "At a woman's bidding you drove out my innocent son." The old king folded his trembling hands. "Kaushalya, you are merciful even to enemies. Have mercy on me in my misery." Weeping, Kaushalya placed his hands on her own head. "Grief had taken my sense. Forgive me."

An old sin

It was the sixth night after Ram's departure. At midnight Dasharatha woke Kaushalya. "My queen, a man reaps what he sows. Tonight I remember what I once did." And he told her what had lain buried in him for years.

"I was young then, and not yet married. I was proud that I could hit a target in the dark by sound alone. One rainy night I went hunting on the bank of the Saryu. In the darkness I heard the sound of water being drawn and took it for an elephant drinking. I let my arrow fly."

"Then I heard a human cry: 'Who has struck an ascetic like me? What harm did I do to anyone?' I ran to the place. A young ascetic lay pierced by my arrow, his pitcher rolled beside him. He said, 'King, I do not grieve for my own death. My mother and father are old and blind. They are sitting thirsty, waiting for me. Take this water to them, and draw out this arrow, for the pain is great.' I drew out the arrow, and his life went with it." In popular tradition this boy is known as Shravan Kumar.

"I took the pitcher to his parents. Hearing footsteps, the old man said, 'Son, why were you so long? Why do you not speak?' Shaking, I told them the whole truth. They had me lead them to their son, and they clung to him and wept. Then his father said, 'You did this unknowingly and came to tell us yourself, so I do not burn you to ashes now. But as I die grieving for my son, so shall you die grieving for yours.' And both of them gave up their lives there, on his pyre."

The end

Dasharatha said, "Kaushalya, that curse bears fruit tonight. I can no longer see you. Touch me. Those who will see Ram's face when he returns after fourteen years are not men but gods. O Ram! O Sita! O my son!"

Speaking so, after midnight, he died. The father of four sons did not have one of them beside him.

In the morning the bards came to wake the king, and nothing stirred in the palace. Then the wailing of the women rose. Ram and Lakshmana were in the forest, Bharata and Shatrughna at their grandfather's house; there was no one to perform the last rites. Vasishtha had the body laid in a vessel filled with oil and sent messengers on swift horses to the land of Kekaya. Their orders were: tell Bharata nothing. Say only that the guru calls him at once.