Mandara and Sita: An Imaginary Dialogue

Mandara and Sita: An Imaginary Dialogue

By Bitasta Ghoshal
June 17, 2024

Having conquered Lanka, Ram returned to Ayodhya with Sita. For fourteen years, Bharata had ruled in his absence, placing Ram’s sandals on the throne as a symbolic gesture. Sita, however, was only allowed entry into Ayodhya’s palace after proving her purity through a trial by fire.

Four months later, Sita became pregnant. Upon learning this, Ram ordered her to be left in the deep forest, far from the palace—the same Ram who had defeated Ravana to protect his wife’s honor. He justified this as a sacrifice for the greater good, to uphold truth and preserve his kingdom’s morality.

Now, in Valmiki’s hermitage, Sita lived alone. Most days, she sat by the Tamasa River, gazing at her reflection, watching it ripple and fragment with the water’s motion. The sounds of birds, peacocks, and wandering deer filled the air, but her heart was heavy with memories of times when Ram’s presence had brought her joy, even in exile.

This time, however, she was alone, enduring this exile only for the sake of her unborn children. She held onto the hope that one day Ram would accept their sons as his own.

One day, she noticed another shadow in the water beside her reflection. It flickered momentarily, as if it were watching her. Sita turned to look but found nothing. Yet, she sensed a silent presence—an unseen figure following her through the rustle of leaves and the soft murmur of the forest.

Without turning around, she said, “Whoever you are, come forward. I am not afraid. Do not fear me either.”

The shadow emerged, taking shape beside her. Sita gasped. “Mandara!”

It had been years since Sita last saw Mandara, the maidservant of Queen Kaikeyi. She remembered Mandara’s scheming grin as she handed Sita her bark garment when Ram, Sita, and Lakshman were exiled. Mandara, the woman who had influenced Kaikeyi to demand Ram’s banishment and Bharata’s coronation. Sita thought Mandara had long disappeared from the kingdom after Bharata had expelled her.

“Mandara, you? Here? Why didn’t you return to Ayodhya or Kaikeya? Ram even forgave Kaikeyi—he would have forgiven you too,” Sita said, her voice tinged with surprise and curiosity.

Mandara replied softly, “I was not waiting for Ram’s forgiveness, Sita. I have been waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me? Did you know I would come here?”

“Yes. Your exile was inevitable, just as Ram’s fourteen years in the forest were destined.”

Sita frowned, trying to grasp Mandara’s cryptic words.

Mandara continued, “You have always seen me as a villain. But I never intended harm.”

“You filled Kaikeyi’s heart with greed, convinced her that Bharata deserved the throne. Was that not harm?”

Mandara’s face clouded with sorrow. “Kaikeyi grew up under my care. She was like my daughter, and I knew her better than anyone. There was no greed in her heart. But the truth is, I was instructed to guide her actions—to make her appear ruthless.”

“By whom?”

“Kaikeya’s king. He could understand the language of animals and once overheard two birds discussing Dasaratha’s fate. They spoke of how Dasaratha would die grieving the loss of his son. When asked how this would happen, one bird replied that Ram would go into exile to destroy the demon race, guided by sage Vishwamitra.”

Mandara explained how Kaikeyi’s father, fearing chaos in Ayodhya, had devised a plan. He had instructed her to manipulate Kaikeyi into demanding Ram’s exile—not out of malice, but to ensure Ram’s safety and the stability of the kingdom.

“You bore the blame for this willingly?” Sita asked, incredulously.

Mandara nodded. “I had to. For Kaikeyi’s honor, for Ayodhya’s future. I accepted my fate.”

Sita’s voice trembled. “And yet, after all that, I was cast out. What justice is there in that, Mandara?”

Mandara’s eyes met Sita’s. “Sita, you are not cast out. You live in the hearts of every person in Ayodhya. Even Ram carries you within him every moment.”

Sita’s bitterness surfaced. “But why, Mandara? Why keep me in his heart but not at his side? Why deny me the right to raise my children in my home? They are his children too.”

Mandara replied, “Because you have a greater role, Sita. Here, in the forest, you will nurture your sons to become strong like the mountains and compassionate like the rivers. They will be kings, protectors, and symbols of justice, just as you are now.”

Sita shook her head. “Mandara, your loyalty to Ram amazes me, even after all the wrongs you have suffered. You still sing his praises.”

“Right and wrong are but perspectives shaped by need, Sita. Even Ram’s actions, though painful, have their purpose. Do you not recall how Vishwamitra instructed Ram to slay Tataka? He hesitated to kill a woman, but Vishwamitra saw her as an obstacle to his ambitions. Power and justice often demand sacrifices.”

Sita thought of Ahilya, Renuka, and now herself—women punished unjustly. A wave of resignation washed over her.

“And you, Mandara? Why did you never return to Kaikeya?”

“My task, given by Vishnu, was to guide Ram away from indulgence and toward his destiny as a just ruler. That task is complete,” Mandara said.

Then, before Sita’s eyes, Mandara transformed into the radiant form of Goddess Saraswati.

“I was sent to ensure Ram fulfilled his dharma. But I leave with one regret, Sita.”

“What is that?”

“That I will forever be remembered as the scheming, hunchbacked Mandara. No one will know of my sacrifice.”

Sita smiled, a sad yet knowing smile. “Sacrifice is the dharma of women, Mandara. That is how we are written into the scriptures. Until we change that narrative ourselves, this cycle will continue.”

Mandara waited for Sita’s final words.

“Our destinies may be written before our birth, but I no longer believe they are written by gods. We endure in silence, letting others dictate our lives. But here, in this forest, I am rewriting mine. Once I hand my sons over to their father, my journey will end—on my terms, not fate’s.”

Sita kept her promise. She returned her sons, Luv and Kush, to their father before leaving this world, completing her story as she chose, not as destiny dictated.