Chapter 82 — The Hermits' Petition

Rama ordered the ascetics admitted.

They entered the palace in a large company, their bodies bright with the force of their discipline. They carried full vessels of water gathered from sacred fords, along with roots and fruits from the country around the Yamuna. Rama received their gifts with respect and offered them seats according to their standing. Then he stood with joined hands before them.

“Why have you come?” he asked. “What work do you ask of me? My kingdom, my life, and everything held in my heart are for those who live by sacred duty. Tell me what you need.”

The ascetics welcomed the answer. Many powerful kings, they said, had passed through the world; not every one had promised aid before hearing the weight of the request. Chyavana then spoke for them.

“In an earlier age there was a powerful asura named Madhu,” he said. “He was the son of Lola. Though strong, he honored the gods and those devoted to sacred learning. Rudra, pleased by that conduct, gave him a terrible trident, a three-pronged weapon. So long as Madhu did not turn against gods or Brahmins, it would remain his. Whoever challenged him would be reduced to ashes by it, and the weapon would return to his hand.”

Madhu asked that the weapon remain in his line. Rudra did not grant that wish without limit: it would pass to only one son. While that son held it, no living being could kill him.

Madhu's wife was Kumbhinasī, a daughter of the gandharva Vishvavasu and of Anala. Their son was Lavana. From childhood, Lavana had chosen cruel acts. Madhu saw the evil in him and grieved, yet did not correct it. When Madhu left the world and entered Varuna's realm, he placed the trident in Lavana's care and told him its condition.

“Now Lavana lives in Madhu's forest,” Chyavana said. “He eats living creatures, and especially those who live in hermitages. Each day he kills great numbers of lions, tigers, deer, elephants, and people for food; then he consumes whatever else he finds. His way is violence. We have asked kings before for safety, and none has been able to give it. But we heard that Ravana was killed with his army by Rama. We know no other protector.”

Rama heard them without delay. “I will kill Lavana,” he said. “Let your fear end.”

Then he called his brothers. “Which of you will take this task? Shall it be Bharata, or Shatrughna?”

Bharata answered first. “I will kill him. Give me the charge.”

But Shatrughna rose from his seat and bowed before Rama. He did not deny Bharata's courage. Instead he remembered what Bharata had borne in the years when Rama was absent: the empty throne, the rough bed at Nandigrama, the food of roots and fruit, the matted hair and bark garments, the care of Ayodhya while he waited for his elder brother's return.

“He has already endured much for you,” Shatrughna said. “While I am here to serve, let him not be sent again into hardship. Give this work to me.”

Rama listened. The petition of the ascetics still stood before him; so did the different loyalties of his brothers.