भरतस्य पुनर्याचनम्

At the end of the last sarga Rāma had spoken his meaningful words and fallen silent for a while; this sarga begins from that silence. When Rāma had stopped, righteous Bharata, there on the bank of the Mandākinī, addressed a remarkable speech to righteous Rāma, who loved his people. First he praised him in the form of a question: "Who in the world could be like you, subduer of foes?" Then he counted his virtues: "Sorrow cannot shake you, nor pleasure elate you; though the elders hold you in esteem, you still ask them about your doubts" — such humility is itself the mark of wisdom. Then a truth about the wise: "As with the dead, so with the living; as when a thing is absent, so when it is present — how could a man who has gained this understanding be tormented? One who knows the higher and the lower, as you do, lord of men, need not despair when calamity comes. You are like an immortal in strength, great-souled, true to your word, all-knowing, all-seeing and wise, Rāghava. Sorrow, however unbearable, cannot reach one like you, gifted with such qualities and versed in coming-to-be and passing-away." With this praise Bharata honoured Rāma's resolve, and yet he began his plea in order to change that very resolve. The praise is not mere courtesy: it sets Rāma where Bharata wants him — you are wise, so you can also reconsider your decision. So Rāma's teaching in the previous sarga becomes the ground of Bharata's plea: a man equal in gain and loss should not shrink from taking the kingdom either. In these verses Bharata shows both his own inferiority and Rāma's depth.

After the praise Bharata laid bare his own pain. "The sin my mean mother committed on my account while I was away is hateful to me; be gracious to me." He did not own the deed, but he bore its consequences himself. Then a hard word: "I am bound by the bond of righteousness; that alone keeps me from killing this mother of mine here with harsh punishment, sinner though she is and deserving of it. Born of Daśaratha, whose line and deeds were pure, and knowing right from wrong, how could I do so hateful a thing?" About their father too he showed restraint: "He was my elder, a performer of rites, old, a king, my father, and now he is dead; he is a god to me, and I will not reproach him in this assembly." Yet the deed itself was blameworthy: "Knower of righteousness, who that knows righteousness would, to please a woman, do such a sinful deed, void of both righteousness and advantage?" At last he recalled an old saying: "At the hour of their end beings are deluded" — and the king, by acting as he did, had shown the world its truth. So he does not condemn his father, but shows that his act came from delusion. In this passage Bharata's three relationships are set apart: anger at his mother, held in check by righteousness; no blame for his father, but opposition to his deed; and for Rāma, only entreaty. The poet shows that Bharata's grief came not from losing a kingdom but from the stain on his family. "Be gracious to me" is the centre of his whole speech.

Now Bharata's main argument began. "What our father overstepped, meaning well but out of anger, delusion and rashness — undo it." Their father had wished only good, but anger, delusion and rashness had carried him past righteousness, and setting that right is a son's work. "A son who puts right what his father overstepped is counted in the world as true offspring; one who does otherwise is not. Be such a son. Do not uphold your father's misdeed, a thing done in excess, which the steadfast in this world condemn." Then he named everyone concerned: "To save Kaikeyī, me, our father, our friends and kinsmen and all the people of city and country — all of it rests with you." And at the end he pointed out a contradiction: "Where is the forest and where a warrior's duty? Where are matted locks and where the protection of a realm? You should not do a thing so at odds with itself." Matted hair is not a warrior's dress and forest life not a warrior's work; that is Bharata's objection. Here for the first time Bharata relies on argument, not only entreaty. In his view a son's duty is not to follow his father's word blindly but to protect what is right in it; Rāma's view is the opposite — the word itself must be kept. This is the root difference in their dispute, which Rāma will make plain two sargas later.

Then Bharata put forward an argument from the law books. "The first duty of a warrior is this: to be consecrated, for through it, wise one, the people can be protected. What warrior would give up a duty that lies plainly before him and practise instead one that rests on doubt, has no clear mark, bears fruit only in the future and is uncertain?" A duty whose fruit is seen should not be abandoned for one whose fruit is unseen. "Or if you wish to practise a righteousness won through hardship, then take on hardship by protecting the four classes according to righteousness" — ruling a kingdom is hard too, so the wish for austerity can be fulfilled right here. "Of the four stages of life, those who know righteousness call the householder's the best and highest; how can you, who know righteousness, wish to leave it?" Finally he spoke again of his own unfitness: "In learning, in standing and in birth I am a child beside you; how shall I rule the earth while you are here? Poor in judgement and in merit, a child and lower in standing, parted from you I have not the heart even to live." Bharata brings four proofs from the treatises: consecration is a warrior's first duty, a visible duty is better than an unseen one, hardship is found in kingship too, and the householder's life is the highest. By all of them he means to show that forest life is not Rāma's own duty. And at the end he drops argument and sets his own helplessness before Rāma again, so that the debate turns back into entreaty.

Then Bharata put forward a practical plan. "Knower of righteousness, rule this whole ancestral kingdom, foremost of all and free of thorns, by your own duty, together with your kinsmen. Let all the subjects together consecrate you here and now, with the priests who know and are skilled in the sacred formulas, and Vasiṣṭha with them." The consecration need not wait for Ayodhyā; it could be done at Citrakūṭa. "Consecrated by us, conquer the worlds swiftly like Indra with the Maruts and go to Ayodhyā to protect it. Paying off the three debts, burning up your ill-wishers as they deserve and satisfying your friends' wishes, rule me too, here." Then words like a blessing: "Today, noble one, let your friends rejoice at your consecration; today let those who would harm you flee in terror to the ten directions. Wipe away the reproach on my mother, bull among men, and today save our revered father from blame" — one act would cleanse both the stain on his mother and the blame on his father. "With bowed head I beg you: show mercy to me and to all our kinsmen, as the great Lord shows mercy to all beings." And the last argument: "Or else, if you turn your back on all this and go from here into the forest, I shall go with you." So Bharata presents in turn a plan, a blessing, a plea and finally his own renunciation. His new idea, consecration here and now, would remove any need to go to Ayodhyā, so that — as he thought — Rāma's vow would stay unbroken. And by saying "I shall go with you" he proves his selflessness: the plea of one ready to give up the kingdom itself cannot come from self-interest.

The sarga ends with three verses in a longer metre. Though Bharata, wasting with grief, bowed his head and entreated him, the delightful lord of the earth, strong in spirit, did not set his mind on going; he stood firm in his father's word. Seeing that wonderful steadfastness in Rāghava, the people felt joy and sorrow together: sorrow that he would not go to Ayodhyā, joy at the sight of his unshaken vow. This double response shows the poet's fine insight. Finally the priests, the leaders beloved of the townsmen's guilds, and the mothers, half fainting and streaming with tears, praised Bharata for speaking so, and bowing to Rāma they joined in his plea. The solemn metre marks the sarga's close: the debate is over but no decision has been reached. Even the pleas of all cannot move Rāma's resolve, and that immovability is the centre of his character. The next sarga begins with his answer.