Bharata Descends into the Ocean of His Own Misfortune
Ayodhya Kanda, Chaupai 261
Doha 261 · Movement 1 of 2
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Bharata looks upon the happiness that fate could not bear and the division that came through his mother. Even as he names it, he recoils from standing apart in purity and placing guilt upon her. If he calls her corrupt while imagining himself virtuous, countless crooked impulses would enter his own breast.
His images fall before the assembly with a terrible clarity. Coarse grain cannot yield the finest rice. A dark shell cannot give birth to a pearl. He will not assign even a trace of fault to another, not even in a dream. Instead he enters the fathomless ocean of his own misfortune and remembers the bitter words with which he burned his mother before understanding the ripened fruit of his own deeds.
He searches his heart in every direction and finds no ground on which self-defense can stand. Only one refuge remains bright amid the inward darkness: the guru, his Lord, Sita, and Rama. To place himself wholly in their hands is not an escape from truth. It is the one outcome in which his welfare can still be found.
Refusing the shelter of blame, Bharata sinks through his grief until only the feet of guru, Sita, and Rama remain.
Read the passage from the Manas
बिधि न सकेउ सहि मोर दुलारा। नीच बीचु जननी मिस पारा। यहउ कहत मोहि आजु न सोभा। अपनीं समुझि साधु सुचि को भा।। मातु मंदि मैं साधु सुचाली। उर अस आनत कोटि कुचाली।। फरइ कि कोदव बालि सुसाली। मुकुता प्रसव कि संबुक काली।। सपनेहुँ दोसक लेसु न काहू। मोर अभाग उदधि अवगाहू।। बिनु समुझें निज अघ परिपाकू। जारिउँ जायँ जननि कहि काकू।। हृदयँ हेरि हारेउँ सब ओरा। एकहि भाँति भलेहिं भल मोरा।। गुर गोसाइँ साहिब सिय रामू। लागत मोहि नीक परिनामू।।
Vidhi, fate itself, could not endure my happiness. Through my mother it drove a wedge, using her as its instrument. Yet even saying this does not befit me today. Knowing my own nature, how can I call myself a sadhu, pure of heart? If my mother erred, and I claim to be wise and virtuous, then by harboring such pride I invite a crore of evils into my breast. Can a stalk of kodav grain bear fine susali rice? Can a dark sambuk shell give birth to pearls? No one bears even a trace of fault, not even in dreams. It is I who am drowning in the fathomless ocean of my own misfortune. Without understanding the ripened fruit of my own sins, I have been burning my own mother with harsh, bitter words. Searching my heart, I find myself defeated on every side. Only one path leads to my true welfare. My guru, my Gosain, my sovereign Lord Siya-Ramu. Surrendering to them alone seems the finest outcome for me."