A story · Ramayana · The Forest

Shabari

Valmiki Ramayana 3.74 · read aloud in the app

The story · English

Kabandha had told the two princes how they might find the lady they were searching for, and he urged them on. Then he spoke to Rama once more. "Take this path west, son of Raghu, where the flowering trees stretch far ahead: rose-apple, jak and mango. Climb them whenever you like, or shake the long branches down, and eat fruit as sweet as amrit. Then keep walking. Past that forest you will come to another grove, as lovely as Nandana, the garden of the gods, or the blessed land of the Northern Kurus. There the trees drip with sweet sap and bear fruit all year round, and their loaded boughs rise up like mountains or clouds. Lakshmana can climb them, or shake them, and bring you fruit as sweet as amrit."

"Go on from wood to wood and hill to hill," Kabandha said, "and at last you will see Pampa, covered in lotuses. Her banks slope gently, with no stones or weeds, and lilies open over beds of silver sand. Swans, ducks and curlews play there, and the birds have never learned to fear people, so they will not fly from you. Lakshmana will shoot fish from the water, clean them, and broil them on iron skewers for you. You will rest on a heap of flowers and eat what he has cooked, and he will bring you cool water in a lotus leaf, scented by the blossoms. In the evening he will show you where the monkeys sleep in caves under the cliffs, and you will see Pampa glow rose-red at dusk, and for a while you will forget your sorrow."

"Long ago," Kabandha went on, "the pupils of the sage Matanga lived there, their minds on holy things. Once, as they carried fruit and berries home for their teacher, sweat fell from their brows and limbs, and from those drops sprang trees whose flowers never fade or dry. Such is the power of people who give their lives to devotion. Shabari still lives there. She served those hermits, and they are all gone now, but she keeps her vows under the holy trees. She will set eyes on you, prince, and because her life is pure she will win a place in heaven. Then cross to Pampa's western shore. You will find a quiet hermitage, Matanga's wood, famous for ages. No wild elephant ever breaks into it, held back by the sage's power."

"East of Pampa stands the mountain Rishyamuka, crowned with forest and hard to climb, where snakes sleep undisturbed. Brahma made it long ago. A generous person who sleeps on its summit wakes to find that whatever wealth he dreamed of is real. But if a wicked man dares to climb it, giants throw him off the top in his sleep. Elephants roar along Pampa's shore and bathe there, then scatter, dark as storm clouds. You will see bears and tigers there, and deer that run from you unharmed. High on the mountain is a wide cave, its mouth blocked by rocks, with a cool pool by its eastern door, and fruit and roots all around. Sugriva, a good-hearted king, lives in that cave with his vanaras, and he often climbs those peaks."

Kabandha said all this from high in the air. He still wore his garland around his neck, and he shone like the sun. The two brothers looked up at him in his happiness. "We are going now," they said. "Do not wait any longer. Begin your journey to heaven." "Go," Kabandha answered, "and keep searching. May all go well with you." With those words he rose and left for heaven. So Kabandha had his own shape again, shining like the sun, without spot or stain. And from the sky he had sent Rama to go to the great Sugriva, to win his friendship. The brothers turned toward the path he had shown them, and the trees and hills of the eastern road opened before them.

So the princes went on through the forest, on the road east toward Pampa, past mountain trees whose fruit tasted like honey. They spent the night on a wooded hilltop, tired out, and at dawn they set off again and came to Pampa's western shore. There, deep in the quiet shade, they saw Shabari's home among tall, beautiful trees. As they came near, the old woman rose to meet them, her hands joined. She bowed low, touched their feet, and gave them water to drink and to wash their feet, as a host should. Rama spoke gently to her. "I hope nothing troubles your peace," he said. "I hope your devotions go well, that you are content with little food, that anger has long since left you, and that serving your teachers has brought you its reward."

The old woman stood beside him and answered softly. "Today, my lord, all my years of discipline are complete, because I have met you. Today my life has its meaning. Serving the sages was not in vain. Heaven is waiting for me now that I have honoured you. I can feel your kind eyes making my spirit clean. When you were still at Chitrakuta, the great sages I served rose from here to heaven in shining chariots. As they went, I heard them say to me, 'Rama will come to this grove. When he and Lakshmana arrive, honour them as your guests. You will see him, and then you will go to the worlds that never end.' That is what they told me. And I have gathered fruit for you, every kind that grows on Pampa's shore, and stored it in my house."

Rama answered her. "Danu told me of the power of your great teachers. If you are willing, I would like to see it for myself." So she rose and led the two brothers through the forest around her home. "This is Matanga's wood," she said, "known far and wide, dark as heavy clouds, full of deer and birds. Here the sages fed the sacred fire. This is the western altar, where they laid flowers every day with trembling old hands, and their power keeps it shining still. Those seven lakes came here at their thought, when they grew too weak from fasting to walk to them. Look where they hung their bark robes after bathing. They are still wet, still dripping. And the flowers they worshipped with have stayed fresh to this day."

"You have seen it all now," she said, "and heard what I had to tell. Let me leave this body, my lord. I want to go and be with those great sages I served here for so long." Rama and Lakshmana were filled with joy and wonder at her words, and they praised her. Then Rama said to her, "Go where you wish to be, lady. You have honoured me well." With his leave, Shabari, her hair tied up like a hermit's, wearing bark and black deerskin, gave her body to the fire. And out of it she rose to heaven like a flame, dressed in heavenly clothes, wreaths around her neck, bright with jewels, like lightning across the sky. She reached the world where the pure-hearted sages live in joy that never ends.

Rama stayed with Lakshmana, thinking about all they had seen, and about those sages and their power. "Here tigers live in peace," he said, "and deer wander without fear. We have bathed in the seven lakes and made offerings to our ancestors. My hope has come back, and my grief has lifted. Let us go to Pampa, near Rishyamuka, where Sugriva hides from Vali with four vanara chiefs. Everything depends on him." "Come," said Lakshmana, "let us go now." They bathed in the stream called Matanga and walked on. But as Pampa's lotuses and flowering trees came into view, Rama's grief for Sita broke over him again. "Go to Sugriva, Lakshmana," he cried. "Without Sita I cannot bear this." Slowly they went on through the singing woods, until Pampa lay before them at last.

कथा · हिन्दी

In this book

• Before: Kabandha · Valmiki Ramayana 3.69
• All of Ramayana · Ask Krishna about it

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