सरमया सीतायाः आश्वासनम्

Seeing Sītā bewildered by Rāvaṇa's illusion and in the depths of grief, a rākṣasī named Saramā, Vaidehī's dear and loving friend, came to her. Gentle-spoken Saramā set about comforting Sītā, whom the lord of the rākṣasas had so deluded. Saramā guarded her at Rāvaṇa's command, but she had made a friend of the woman she guarded; she was compassionate and firm in her vows. She found her friend senseless, having rolled in the dust and risen again, battered like a weary mare. With a friend's affection she comforted Sītā, who was so true to her vows: "Take heart, Vaidehī; don't let your mind be tormented. Everything Rāvaṇa said to you, and everything you answered him, I heard, timid one, hiding in a lonely thicket out of love for you, and putting aside my fear of Rāvaṇa. For your sake, large-eyed one, I am not afraid of Rāvaṇa." Saramā is a rākṣasī, yet a good soul, Sītā's only friend in Laṅkā. Her words "I am not afraid of Rāvaṇa" show real courage: setting aside the king's orders, she acts for her friend's good. The image of the mare, risen weary after rolling on the ground, paints Sītā's state.

"And when the lord of the rākṣasas rushed out in such agitation, I went out too, Maithilī, and learned the whole reason. Rāma knows his own mind; no one can kill him in a night raid, and death simply cannot come to that tiger among men. Nor can the monkeys, who fight with trees, be killed like that; Rāma guards them well, as Indra, bull among gods, guards the gods. Long-armed, glorious, broad-chested and majestic, an archer, strongly built, righteous and renowned throughout the world, valiant, always the protector of himself and of others, standing with his brother Lakṣmaṇa, nobly born and versed in the science of policy, destroyer of the hosts of enemy armies, of inconceivable strength and manhood — glorious Rāghava, slayer of his foes, has not been killed, Sītā. This illusion was worked on you by that cruel master of illusions, whose mind and deeds are unfit and who is the enemy of all beings. Your sorrow is over; every blessing has come to you. Fortune is surely waiting on you. Something that will delight you is happening — listen." Saramā's argument has two parts: first Rāma's nature, for he is self-possessed and watchful; then his virtues — a hero, a protector, a master of policy. A trick like killing men in their sleep could never succeed against him, and the long roll of his qualities is meant to rebuild Sītā's trust. Calling Rāvaṇa "the enemy of all beings" points to the cause of his ruin: whoever opposes everyone will be opposed by everyone. Saramā is herself a rākṣasī and knows how rākṣasas work their illusions, so her testimony carries special weight for Sītā. She has also found out why Rāvaṇa rushed out — Prahasta's arrival and the council of war — which proves that Rāma is alive, for otherwise there would be no need to plan a war. The reasoning is simple and firm, and with "listen" she lovingly rouses Sītā's curiosity.

"Rāma has crossed the ocean with the monkey army and is encamped on the southern shore of the sea. I have seen Kākutstha myself, with Lakṣmaṇa, his purposes accomplished; he is well guarded by his united forces stationed at the edge of the ocean. The swift rākṣasas this Rāvaṇa sent out have brought back word that Rāghava has crossed, and having heard that news, large-eyed one, Rāvaṇa, lord of the rākṣasas, is now holding counsel with all his ministers." Even as Saramā was saying this, she and Sītā heard the dreadful noise of the troops being mustered with all speed. Hearing the great boom of the drum under the strokes of the drumsticks, sweet-spoken Saramā said to Sītā... Her account sums up the events of the previous sargas: the sending out of Śuka, Sāraṇa and Śārdūla, their return, and the council. The epithet "his purposes accomplished" foreshadows Rāma's victory, as though all his aims were already won. "I have seen him myself," she says, so her word is that of an eyewitness. The spies were swift, but the news they brought was ill news for Rāvaṇa. And here the threads of time are tied together: even as Saramā speaks, the drums sound that Rāvaṇa ordered at the end of the previous sarga, beaten with sticks as he had commanded, and the whole city makes ready for war. The drumming itself proves her words: if Rāma had been killed, why would Laṅkā be arming for battle?

"This dreadful drum, timid one, is calling the troops to arms. Listen to the deep boom of the war-drum, like the rumble of a rain-cloud. Rutting elephants are being made ready and horses yoked to chariots, and thousands of horsemen can be seen, spears in hand. Everywhere men in armour are rushing up by the thousand, and the royal highways are filling with troops of wondrous appearance, roaring and surging like the ocean with its rushing waters. The gleam of bright weapons, of shields and coats of mail, of chariots, horses and elephants, and of the eager, impetuous rākṣasas who follow their lord — this is their commotion. See the many-coloured light they give off, like fire burning a forest in summer. Hear the clang of bells and the rumble of chariots, the neighing of horses and the sound of trumpets. This tumultuous, hair-raising commotion is the rākṣasas who follow their lord, weapons raised in their hands." In Saramā's description the uproar of war comes through sound and sight: the drum like thunder, the army like the ocean, the glint of weapons like a forest fire. But her meaning runs the other way: the rākṣasas' commotion is a sign of fear, not of victory. She makes the din of war a ground for Sītā's hope, since the rākṣasas arming for battle is certain proof that Rāma is alive. The four sounds — bells, chariots, horses and trumpets — recall the four limbs of an army. "Eager" shows the rākṣasas' zeal, but "commotion" shows their agitation too. Comparing the gleam of weapons to fire hints at destruction: as fire burns a forest, so war will burn Laṅkā. And the repeated "hear" makes the whole scene ring in the ear.

"Fortune that ends sorrow is waiting on you, and fear has come upon the rākṣasas. Your husband Rāma, with eyes like lotus petals, who has conquered his anger and whose prowess is beyond imagining, will defeat Rāvaṇa as Indra defeated the Daityas, kill him in battle, and win you back. With Lakṣmaṇa at his side your husband will show his valour among the rākṣasas, as Indra did among his foes with Viṣṇu at his side. When the enemy has been struck down I shall soon see you, virtuous lady, your hopes fulfilled, seated in the lap of Rāma when he has come. You will shed tears of joy, Jānakī, when you are clasped to that broad-chested hero's breast. Before long, Queen Sītā, mighty Rāma will loosen the single braid you have worn for so many months, hanging down to your hips. When you see his face like the rising full moon, my queen, you will shed your tears of grief as a she-serpent sheds her old skin. Soon, Maithilī, having killed Rāvaṇa in battle, Rāma, who deserves every happiness, will have all he wished for and will be happy with you, his beloved. Honoured by the great-souled Rāma, you will rejoice like the earth blessed with good rain and a rich harvest." Loosening the single braid marks the end of her vow of separation, and the braid hanging to her hips shows how long it has lasted — for many months her hair has gone uncared for, bound in one plait. As a she-serpent sheds her worn-out skin, Sītā will cast off her sorrow; and the earth after good rain promises the fruitfulness of their reunion. Every verb in Saramā's comfort is in the future — he will win you back, he will show his valour, I shall see you, you will weep for joy, he will loosen the braid, you will shed your grief, he will be happy, you will rejoice — firm promises of happiness to come. The comparison with Indra and Viṣṇu gives the brothers a divine cast: Lakṣmaṇa the helper like Viṣṇu, Rāma the leader like Indra. "Your hopes fulfilled" says that her vow and her austerity will bear their fruit, and "who deserves every happiness" is tender, since one so deserving has known only hardship in exile. One by one Saramā names the signs of Sītā's separation — the tears, the braid, the grief — and tells of their end, so that her words are not just news but a picture of the reunion to come.

Finally Saramā gave Sītā a piece of advice, in a closing verse of different metre: "The one who, like a horse, swiftly circles round Meru, the best of mountains — the maker of the day, the Sun — take refuge in him here, my queen, for he is the source of all creatures." The Sun is the first god of the Ikṣvāku family, so to take refuge in him is to take refuge in the family god of Rāma's line. With this verse the sarga ends, and this worship of the Sun is like a foreshadowing of the Hymn to the Sun, the Ādityahṛdaya, that is to come.