Dasharatha's Karma
Indian Epics Stories
Now I lie dying, my chest replete with sorrow and grief,
And I begin to remember an incident from long ago.
Before that day was the last that I knew of true peace.
My poor heart must repent my sins before to the celestial heavens I go.
In my youth, I was known for my quick hunting skill.
I could track an animal by the sound of it drinking water.
To the stream I would go and my excitement would instill
In my body the energy with which the unaware animal I would slaughter.
I was doing this routine quite happily one fine, bright day,
The sun gleaming through open patches in the swaying leaves,
The heavenly object bestowing graciously upon me its ray.
Or so I thought, until a sound I did unfortunately misconceive.
An animal! I could hear it drinking water down below in the stream.
A Deer, I supposed, as was the most common in the wood there.
I fired my good crossbow only to hear an unexpected scream,
Which was no Deer, but a boy of a most youthful year.
What have I done? Oh, Sun, have you led me astray?
Sprinting and stumbling to the source of the cry I did hastily go.
To this day does the sight of the youth there on my heart heavily weigh,
Soaking in blood, young child that I mistook for a Doe.
Nothing was there that I could do for the lad, mortally wounded,
But look into his radiant and knowing eyes.
Where I was expecting a loathing gaze from the moribund,
The boy instead graced me with undeserved absolution as he died.
His blind parents I found in a burrow on top of a nearby hill;
A decrepit old couple tired and awaiting their son.
Suddenly, I experienced through my own core a brutal chill,
For I was obligated to repent for the awful thing that I had done.
Oh! The dear mother was silent all the while I spoke,
But the father, though blind, regarded me with a look so dangerous,
I thought, troubled, that I might soon cry and choke!
Once I had confessed my deed, I worried the effect would be disastrous.
The old man was in no magnanimous state of mind,
For I had just robbed him of his sole comfort,
Who cooked and cleaned and was awfully kind,
And for this the old man my future did greatly contort.
Said he, “You shall never be pardoned for the crime you have committed!
What was to be your pleasant future I in my mind can see.
On a day in the distant future your own happiness shall truly be omitted,
And I shall take from you what you have taken from me.”
Now I lie in my bed deprived of my own strong, brave son,
Dear Rama, who delighted me with hope and contentment.
I know that I shall never lay eyes upon you again, dear one,
And I die today ripe with regret and disappointment.
Author’s Note: I wrote on Dasharatha’s Karma from the Public Domain Edition of the Ramayana for this story. I decided to write a poem because I noted that several chapters from the epic were in the form of poetry. Since it was relevant to the work, and I can’t remember the last time I wrote a poem, I decided to give it a go. I felt kind of silly, but as I’m not used to story writing or poetry writing, I thought that I would feel silly either way. I did not change the story much, but the writing is completely different. In the original version of the story, the young boy's parents are blind. In my edition, I contrasted this blindness with the young boy's knowing gaze. I wanted to show the difference between parents and child and emphasize how important the youth was to his family. In the literal translation of the ancient Sanskrit, the young boy poses many questions to the king. Wanting the youth to seem wise and beyond his years, he does not question the king's actions in my version. Also, in the original, I was given the sense that the father had cursed Dasharatha mostly out of sorrow rather than anger. In my version, Dasharatha is as distraught as he is in the original, but the father is simply angry and wants to have a negative impact on Dasharatha's future karma.
Ramayana. Public Domain Edition, Web. Link
You can access the original Sanskrit translation here: link.
 |
| Dasharatha on Wikimedia |
Now I lie dying, my chest replete with sorrow and grief,
And I begin to remember an incident from long ago.
Before that day was the last that I knew of true peace.
My poor heart must repent my sins before to the celestial heavens I go.
In my youth, I was known for my quick hunting skill.
I could track an animal by the sound of it drinking water.
To the stream I would go and my excitement would instill
In my body the energy with which the unaware animal I would slaughter.
I was doing this routine quite happily one fine, bright day,
The sun gleaming through open patches in the swaying leaves,
The heavenly object bestowing graciously upon me its ray.
Or so I thought, until a sound I did unfortunately misconceive.
An animal! I could hear it drinking water down below in the stream.
A Deer, I supposed, as was the most common in the wood there.
I fired my good crossbow only to hear an unexpected scream,
Which was no Deer, but a boy of a most youthful year.
What have I done? Oh, Sun, have you led me astray?
Sprinting and stumbling to the source of the cry I did hastily go.
To this day does the sight of the youth there on my heart heavily weigh,
Soaking in blood, young child that I mistook for a Doe.
Nothing was there that I could do for the lad, mortally wounded,
But look into his radiant and knowing eyes.
Where I was expecting a loathing gaze from the moribund,
The boy instead graced me with undeserved absolution as he died.
His blind parents I found in a burrow on top of a nearby hill;
A decrepit old couple tired and awaiting their son.
Suddenly, I experienced through my own core a brutal chill,
For I was obligated to repent for the awful thing that I had done.
Oh! The dear mother was silent all the while I spoke,
But the father, though blind, regarded me with a look so dangerous,
I thought, troubled, that I might soon cry and choke!
Once I had confessed my deed, I worried the effect would be disastrous.
The old man was in no magnanimous state of mind,
For I had just robbed him of his sole comfort,
Who cooked and cleaned and was awfully kind,
And for this the old man my future did greatly contort.
Said he, “You shall never be pardoned for the crime you have committed!
What was to be your pleasant future I in my mind can see.
On a day in the distant future your own happiness shall truly be omitted,
And I shall take from you what you have taken from me.”
Now I lie in my bed deprived of my own strong, brave son,
Dear Rama, who delighted me with hope and contentment.
I know that I shall never lay eyes upon you again, dear one,
And I die today ripe with regret and disappointment.
Author’s Note: I wrote on Dasharatha’s Karma from the Public Domain Edition of the Ramayana for this story. I decided to write a poem because I noted that several chapters from the epic were in the form of poetry. Since it was relevant to the work, and I can’t remember the last time I wrote a poem, I decided to give it a go. I felt kind of silly, but as I’m not used to story writing or poetry writing, I thought that I would feel silly either way. I did not change the story much, but the writing is completely different. In the original version of the story, the young boy's parents are blind. In my edition, I contrasted this blindness with the young boy's knowing gaze. I wanted to show the difference between parents and child and emphasize how important the youth was to his family. In the literal translation of the ancient Sanskrit, the young boy poses many questions to the king. Wanting the youth to seem wise and beyond his years, he does not question the king's actions in my version. Also, in the original, I was given the sense that the father had cursed Dasharatha mostly out of sorrow rather than anger. In my version, Dasharatha is as distraught as he is in the original, but the father is simply angry and wants to have a negative impact on Dasharatha's future karma.
Ramayana. Public Domain Edition, Web. Link
You can access the original Sanskrit translation here: link.
