Of the world guardians,

Some say that there are seven,

While others that there are eight;

Seven names are known to us,

The eighth rests unknown,

And is revered in silence,

Or in whispered undertones.

Not much is known of him,

Save that he traces his lineage from a sage,

And that he reigns in splendour.

Of his tale, what little I know,

I shall tell in proper sequence.

In honour of his mother,

In search of the lingam (cosmic egg),

He set out upon a quest,

To recover what was lost long-ago.

He gave up the magic chariot,

He forsook the palace of gold,

He left behind the city,

And the nation whose leader he was chosen;

With the blessings of his mother,

And an instrument to sing a song,

He set out to Kailasha, the abode of the lord,

As but a humble devotee.

Such the benevolence of Lord Shiva,

Lord of the cosmic dance,

That he was granted three boons:

He chose the lingam,

Which he surrendered to the earth,

He chose the goddess of beauty,

Whose freedom he restored,

And he chose immortality,

Only to renounce it again.

What the lord gives, it is the lord’s to take away…

This is my interpretation,

This is my understanding of past events.

If one meets a damsel in the forest,

A damsel in love, it so seems,

Her honour is to be safeguarded, her reputation upheld;

Dressed in one’s best attire,

She is to be invited to the safety of one’s humble home.

These are the manners proper to a prince!

A lady’s affections may be returned with grace,

By gentle words, and a gentle demeanor,

By modest praise, and modest manner.

Nonetheless, if she is a princess of the land,

Her honour must be upheld,

By strangers from another realm.

Though Rama is a just and righteous prince,

Fair skin alone is not a mark of beauty,

The lady has been scorned by his brother,

And her honour must be redeemed.

The lovers must be reconciled, the lovers must be wed!

A proposal be sent that amends be made,

And the lovers be led to their royal home.

Rama sends forth a messenger,

With another version of events!

The invitation to his queen was misconstrued,

And the King stands accused

Of wayward lust, and forced abduction.

Almighty King, even now all is not lost,

One should stake out the high and moral ground,

And return the intruder as a sign of peace,

We do not desire war,

Nor is this a war that we seek.

One should not be misled by falsehoods,

Rama’s queen lives in luxury,

With many attendants by her side;

And if the truth be told,

Rather one who jests,

Than one who shoots an arrow in your breast.

Nonetheless, generous to a fault,

Rama’s envoy was heard in silence,

And given full freedom to go where he wished;

That was the custom,

And that was required by tradition.

Noble Rama, foreign prince,

Were I not King,

I would welcome you with open arms,

In my kingdom, there are many who sing your praise,

And in my court, there is one who reveres your name.

Noble Rama, illustrious prince,

Your fame precedes you,

And to me, your true identity is known ,

But the duties of a King,

Tells me to stand by my own.

Noble Rama, honoured prince,

I beseech you – listen to what I have to say,

Then do as you will.

There are two who are close to you:

One who does not wish to take back his word,

And break his vows once given,

Then, there is another, who desires to be King.

Why then do you trespass in my domain?

I have not wronged you,

Nor do I bear you any ill-will,

For you are but strangers in my land.

We should not be seduced 
By the trappings of power,

The right of primogeniture must be upheld,
Against their innermost will,

No one can be forced to wear a crown,

Against their volition, no one can be forced to reign.

We should take due care in the granting of boons,

The King’s word is sacred,

And should not be broken once given.

Refugees from another land,

He guessed that they were innocent,

Nonetheless, as the Regent,

He had to uphold the honour of his sister,

And defend his island home.

Those are the duties proper to a King…

Noble Rama, peerless prince,

The force of circumstance brought us together,

The world shall remember who won, who lost,

I accept my destiny, I know my fate,

In the hereafter, let us meet as friends.

Ascetic King, how can this be?

Rama and his brother, laid low upon the field,

From far mountain reach,

Allow them to fetch the herbs they need.

In this chivalrous deed,

The scriptures shall find fulfillment.

Humble not this noble prince,

He should return, in peace, to his capital,

His people are in need.

Replied the King of Kings:

Words of wisdom!

Send an ambassador to his people,

To pay him the respect that is his due.

His people should celebrate his safe return,

In a display of joy,

And in a festival of lights.

In the days to come,

They shall recall the valour of another King!

Each tale has a moral to tell:

Never judge a man by his appearance,

Or by his repute alone.

There is some good in each one of us,

It is for the seeker to look, for the seeker to find.

To a difference of opinion,

There are two sides of a story to tell,

And two or more points of view.

Presume a man to be innocent,

Until he is found guilty,

This is the wisdom I have gleaned.

His virtues are ten in number,

So, let me list them for the reader:

An ascetic, and a born leader of men,

He derived his strength from austerity,

A man of great learning,

He was devoted to Shiva, his lord,

And venerated Brahma, his creator.

He loved his mother, and his country,

He was devoted to his sister,

And protected the ladies in his care.

What is his name? Who can it be?

 
There are four brothers,

Four true heads, not one;

The first is known for ascetism,

And by common consent crowned King,

The second is known as the conqueror,

His the boon of immortality,

The third is known for valour,

A giant who towers above the rest,

The fourth is known for wisdom,

The sage counsel is his to give.

By the dint of their labours,

They have built a city of gold upon this earth.

Remember their names – history is theirs!