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Raghuvaṃśa 1.1 of Kālidāsa

vāk-arthau iva saṃpṛktau vāk-artha-pratipattaye |

jagataḥ pitarau vande pārvatī-parameśvarau ||

for correct knowledge of word and meaning,

i pray to the parents of the universe,

śiva and pārvatī

who are eternally intertwined like word and meaning.

#sanskrit #poetry #translation #kalidasa #raghuvamsa

Ikshvaaku Kula Tilaka

Sage Vasishta's mind was unusually troubled. He looked down at the infant on his lap. Little Nemi smiled up at the Rajaguru, quite unaware of the tragedy that had befallen him. Both his parents had left this world a few days ago. The only remaining son of the Ikshvaaku dynasty, the Ikshvaaku Kula Tilaka, had been orphaned when he was just 18 months old. The child was the 39th descendant of a race, whose lineage was said to begin with Lord Brahma himself. Great kings like Manu, the father of humanity, Trisanku, who created a new heaven for himself with the help of Vishwamitra, Bhageeratha, who brought the Ganges to earth, and Raghu, the great warrior after whom the clan was nicknamed 'Raghuvamsa', were his forefathers. The heir to this legacy, was now smiling up at Vasishta. The sage now had the responsibility of bringing him up to be righteous king. He looked up at Sumantra, the wisest minister in all of Koshala, who was equally lost in his thoughts. Vasishta decided to break the silence.

"Sumantra, look at me. There is no use brooding over the loss of the King anymore. Enough time has been wasted already. We have work to do."

"I agree with you, O great Sage! But quite honestly, I have still not come to terms with the events of the last few days. The mere thought that the entire future of the Ikshvaaku clan now rests in our hands is quite unsettling. Who will care for Prince Nemi? What if something happens to him? Who will tutor him in warfare, politics and administration? What if he yearns for his mother's love? Who will rule the kingdom till he comes of age? There are just too many things on my mind right now", said Sumantra.

All had been normal in the great Kingdom of Koshala until a fortnight ago. King Aja had ruled the vast expanse of land on the southern banks of River Sarayu, with the great city of Ayodhya as his capital. Aja was a good ruler and ensured that all the needs of his citizens were met. But he was not without his faults. Aja was known to spend most of his time seeking worldly pleasures. He loved to drink, dance and frolic with womenfolk. He was quite a romantic and loved surprising his wife with the most heavenly gifts. Ah, Indumathi. Man had yet to invent words that could describe her beauty. He had fallen in love with her at first sight. They spent many an evening together in their private garden, both unable to get enough of the other. It was on one of those evenings that the divine Sage Narada had happened to pass by in the skies. As he crossed the king's gardens, one of his garlands slipped and fell on the couple, who were until then, lost in a world of their own. As soon as the garland touched the queen, she transformed into an Apasara, her beauty increasing manifold. But from that moment on, she also lost her earthly body. The shocked king watched her glow with a divine light, as she stood up, bowed and murmured a prayer of thanks to Narada. She then turned to her erstwhile husband and told him her story.

"It is time for me to take leave of you, O King!", said she. "I am an apsaras from the heavens, a free spirit who was cursed to be born as a human. Narada's garland has relieved me of the curse and it is now time for me to return to my abode. I wish you well in all that you do." And in the blink of an eye, she vanished from sight. Aja was unable to take it. He searched the entire garden like a madman, for the woman who had made love to him just minutes before. He wore the garland she left behind, hoping it would take him where she went. It did not. He screamed for help, he called to the Gods, he even looked behind the bushes to see if she was just pulling a trick on him. Nothing worked. She had indeed gone. Forever. Heart broken, the King had run into his palace and killed himself.

"Sumantra! Are you listening?" The minister was jolted back into reality. "Whether you like it or not, we are duty-bound to bring up our Prince. And we will achieve nothing by just staring into space and cursing our luck. Now if you will listen to me, I have a plan. If you won't, I'll just leave". Vasishta was livid.

"Please accept my apologies, RajaGuru. I have not behaved like a responsible minister. Please tell me what I should do. I will do anything to ensure the well-being of our Prince and our kingdom". Sumantra realized that he had to get his act together. Decisions had to be made. People had to be taken care of. The show had to go on.

Vasishta smiled, for the first time in several days. Sumantra the Minister was back.

After long discussions, Sumantra agreed to take care of the state administration till the prince turned 18. Vasishta left the prince in the care of Rishi Marudanva, who was learned in all the sastras, vedas and puranas. He grew up drinking the milk of Nandini, the divine cow. He excelled in every subject he learnt. He became a most skilled warrior, displaying a special talent for archery. At 18, he was crowned the King of Koshala. The people loved him. Enemies feared at the mention of his name. Even the Gods sometimes seeked his help to win battles against the demons. Never had the world seen such a wise and brave man, they said. He was so skilled that it was like fighting ten warriors at once, they said. His chariot could move in ten directions, they said. The usual eight, upwards and downwards. And so, they called him Dasharatha. The man of ten chariots.

#ikshvaku #raghuvamsa #vasishta #dasharatha