Liberation Of Sita Quotes

Do women exist only to be used by men to settle their scores?

Each one to their own truth. Does anyone in this world have the power to decide between truth and untruth?

Whatever gives you peace of mind, consider that the truth.

There is no better path to wisdom than experience.

That there is no truth and untruth. Is that the wisdom you gained?’ Sita asked sarcastically. ‘Truth does not remain the same forever but keeps changing continuously—that is the wisdom I earned.

Your truth and mine are not the same.’ ‘Perhaps not. As you see more of the world, you may understand the truth of my words, too.

You need to be liberal, of course. For that is the Indian way. But don’t be a blind and stupid liberal.

I, who loved beauty, began hating everything that was beautiful. My love of beauty turned into jealousy of all those who were beautiful.

if you ever have to face the kind of trial I did, do not respond in a predictable manner. Do not allow the situation to force you into mundaneness, into nastiness. Do not let it burn you up in anger, hatred. Save yourself. Assert your right over yourself. Give up your power over others. Then you will belong to yourself. You will be yourself. It’s not easy to remain ourselves.

Devoid of Sita’s support, Rama tasted defeat for the first time in his life. By refusing to bow down to external authority, Sita had fully experienced, for the first time, the inner power of self-authority.

Jealousy, hatred, love, respect—what’s the real difference between these feelings? Is there any difference at all or are they merely shades of the same feeling? How does light barge into shadow, and shadow encroach on light? Which is light and which is shadow?

What does conducting an enquiry mean, Sita? Distrust, isn’t it? Wouldn’t it be better, instead, to believe in either your innocence or guilt? … All men are the same, Sita.

I, who hated everything including myself, began to love everything including myself.

I've realized that the meaning of success for a woman does not lie in her relationship with a man. Only after that realization, did I find this man's companionship.

Ram, taken by surprise at what was happening, rushed to stop his wife, hold her hand and pull her out, but the earth had closed before he could reach her. All that he could clutch were the ends of her hair that turned into blades of grass. Would the pain have been less had she chastised him before she left? Would the pain have been less had they at least spoken before she left? Would the pain have been less had she at least looked at him before she left? But then she was under no obligation. He had liberated her long ago from the burden of being Ram’s wife. But he would always be Sita’s husband.

It is difficult to bear with women who talk like me, Sita. It becomes easier if I accept that I have made a mistake. Then there is atonement for every sin. If I argue that I have not made any mistake, they will take pity on me. They will take my side, seeing me as the victim of an unjust allegation. But if I say, “Right or wrong, it’s my business, what has it to do with you? Who gave you the right or authority to judge”, then nobody will be able to tolerate it.’ ‘Are you saying that even Maharshi Gautama does not have that authority?’ Sita was unable to understand Ahalya. ‘Society gave him that authority. I didn’t. Till I give it, no one can have that authority over me.’ ‘But he has disowned you.’ ‘Pity, that’s his loss.’ ‘And you … they say you lived like a lifeless stone for years.’ ‘That’s what you think. I have spent all these years thinking about my identity in this universe. I have learned how the world runs—on what morals and laws, and what their roots are. I have gained a lot of wisdom.

Renuka’s words had caused aversion in Sita that day. Now she could understand Renuka’s pain. The day Rama demanded a trial by fire, the day he sent her away into the forest, Sita remembered the sand pot Renuka had made. Ahalya, Renuka, Sita—they were all victims of mistrust and humiliation.

I know it is difficult to understand, Sita. I don’t know why my story was told to you and how it was narrated. Indra lusted after me. Like everyone else, he too looked at women as if they are meant for men’s enjoyment. Knowing that I wouldn’t surrender to his desire, he came in the hours of darkness in the guise of my husband. Did I see through his disguise? That is the question that bothers many people in this world. But to my husband, the question was irrelevant. It was the same to him either way. His property, even if temporarily, had fallen into the hands of another. It was polluted. Pollution, cleanliness, purity, impurity, honour, dishonour—Brahmin men have invested these words with such power that there is no scope in them for truth and untruth. No distinction.

In our relationship, what is it that you like the most?’ Sita had asked Rama one day. ‘Protecting you like an eyelid protects the eye. If a thorn pierces your foot, I must pluck it out. I must, myself, kill the wild animals that approach you. The thought that I’m protecting you gives me greater pride and pleasure than sovereignty over Ayodhya,’ Rama had said. ‘I can protect myself. I can match you in archery,’ Sita had said, laughing. Rama’s face had fallen. ‘As long as I am alive, you will never have to protect yourself. Such a situation must never arise. You must look towards me for protection. You must turn to my strong arms for protection. If you take care of yourself, what am I for? Promise me that you will never do that.’ Sita had placed her hand in Rama’s. Abduction. Waiting in Ashoka Vanam—Sita had no alternative.

The laws of nature do not change. If they do, it will be calamitous for the world. Human laws change. Human beings change them. Unable to cope with the change, they get perturbed. Slowly they get used to the change. Once the change stabilizes, they desire change again. Human law becomes the law of the time, and the law of the moment becomes the law of human beings. During the period of transition, the lives of the people who are key to the change go haywire.

Lava and Kusa returned and were dejected to find the ashram empty. They now knew the whole story about their mother. They charged up to Valmiki, to ask about her. Valmiki told them what Sita had said. For the first time, they were angry with their mother. How nice it would have been had she come to the court once and proved her innocence as their father desired! It would have been so good for them. A thin flame burned in their young hearts. They were not little boys growing up in an ashram any more. They were Aryan heirs, princes, future kings. Sita, on the other hand, was the daughter of Mother Earth. Would she ever be understood?

Surpanakha, Ahalya, Renuka, Urmila—each one had a story of her own. Each one had followed a path of her own. Her path, her way, was hers alone. Sita had learnt what she could from their experiences. At first, she felt only disdain and anger for them. Later, when she understood that the anguish in their lives was similar, she felt a camaraderie, a companionship with them. When Sita heard the sufferings of others, she realized that she was not alone. The awareness that she was one of them gave her strength. And it was that strength which enabled her to withstand the disgrace and bear her children, to give them a happy childhood and to train them in all the skills.

When I began, it was, indeed, wrath. But gradually it turned into a quest for truth—within me and with myself. Why so much fury—fury that consumed me—fury that wanted to burn everyone? Why this anguish? I knew the cause. But a longing to delve deeper into that cause was born in me without my noticing it. What is anger? What is sorrow? What is joy? What is the relation between my body and these feelings and emotions that I experience? Many such questions—they engulfed me. I began to observe my body, my thoughts, and the emotions they triggered within me. Any distraction to this process annoyed me. That’s why I desired solitude. Not loneliness, solitude. The solitude in which I could converse within and with myself.

Who would hold her hand and guide her through that darkness? ‘Am I not here, my girl?’ The affectionate words of Mother Earth gave her the strength of a thousand elephants. Her mother was independent. She would go to her mother. Her mother was omnipotent. So she could take Sita into her embrace. Sita had now seen it all—sons, fathers, sons’ obedience to fathers, wives’ faithfulness to husbands, motherhood. But there was one thing she had not seen. Nor had Ahalya, Surpanakha or Urmila experienced it. It was what Renuka had faced—the brutality of her own son. She had seen the dharma-bound cruelty of her son who, taking his father’s word as the word of the Vedas, was ready to hack her head off. She then realized what the foundation of that cruelty was. How many whirlpools must have stirred in her heart then? And how deep they must have been? In fact, so deep as to challenge Arya Dharma itself.

I agreed to the trial only for the sake of Rama, not for my own.' ‘Don’t I know that.' ‘But again … will my decision haunt me forever?’ ‘Till you take decisions for Rama’s sake and not yours, it will continue to pursue you, Sita. Look at yourself. You are enduring great pain. You think you are enduring it for the sake of someone else. You think that you have performed your duty for the sake of someone else. Your courage, your self-confidence … you have surrendered everything to others. What have you saved for yourself?’ ‘What is “I”, sister? Who am I?’ Ahalya smiled. ‘The greatest of sages and philosophers have spent their lifetimes in search of an answer to this question. You means you, nothing else. You are not just the wife of Rama. There is something more in you, something that is your own. No one counsels women to find out what that something more is. If men’s pride is in wealth, or valour, or education, or caste–sect, for women it lies in fidelity, motherhood. No one advises women to transcend that pride. Most often, women don’t realize that they are part of the wider world. They limit themselves to an individual, to a household, to a family’s honour. Conquering the ego becomes the goal of spirituality for men. For women, to nourish that ego and to burn themselves to ashes in it becomes the goal. Sita, try to understand who you are, what the goal of your life is. It is not easy at all. But don’t give up. You will discover the truth in the end. You have that ability. You have saved Sri Ramachandra, can’t you save yourself? Don’t grieve over what has already happened. It is all for your own good, and is part of the process of self-realization. Be happy. Observe nature and the evolution of life. Notice the continual changes in them. The forest doesn’t comprise ashrams alone. There are also people of many races in it. Observe their lives. You belong to this whole world, not just to Rama.

When I understood my relationships with others, I felt I understood everything. Power is the root cause of all sorrow, Akka. Do you know another strange thing? We must acquire this power. And then give it up. I shall not submit to anyone’s power. Nor will I bind anyone with my power. Then I will feel I have liberated myself. I will feel only joy within myself! Great peace! Much love! Compassion for all! ‘It’s a pity how people get bogged down by structures of power. Unable to see how they can liberate themselves, they rot in unrest, sorrow and hatred. ‘I wonder if I should share this secret to achieving peace with everyone. ‘But who will understand? ‘Will those who consider my fourteen-year-long meditation in search of truth mere sleep understand my words? ‘They concluded that I was sleeping. Do they know the difference between sleep and wakefulness? ‘Did they ever sleep peacefully? Were they ever truly awake and conscious? ‘They say I was asleep—they will label me as mad if they hear what I have to say.

If they understand that their paativratyam and fidelity are like these sand pots, they will be able to live in peace.’ Sita was confused. ‘To make this pot, you need a lot of concentration. Those who did not know this thought I was making a miracle happen by virtue of my chastity, my paativratyam. Since there was no flaw in my character anyway, I let them think what they liked. Concentration can be broken at any time. The cause may be anything. In my case, a man became the cause of distraction. My husband was enraged. He believed that my paativratyam was violated by the mere act of looking at that man. A good pot is a product of many things—practice, concentration, sand, the right amount of water and so on. Sage Jamadagni was a man of great wisdom, yet he did not understand such a simple truth. But such is the wisdom of these spiritual seekers. No matter how much wisdom they earn through penance, they continue to have a dogmatic view on the paativratyam of their wives.’ Sarcasm was evident in Renuka’s voice.

Lot of questions came up during that struggle between life and death. Are such bonds, with a husband and sons, necessary for women? I thought they were not, so I moved away from them. I am living with my art. I give the same advice to my students. I don’t make a sand pot often. I make it occasionally so that I don’t forget the fragile nature of paativratyam.’ ‘Does a woman have a world other than her husband’s? Is there a higher meaning to a woman’s life than motherhood? Your experience may have been different. But to preach everyone on the basis of your experience …’ ‘A woman thinks she doesn’t have a world other than that of her husband’s. True. But some day that very husband will tell her that there is no place for her in his world. Then what’s left for her? She thinks giving birth to sons is the ultimate goal of her life. But those sons become heirs to their father, and even before we realize it, they leave her hands and go under the wing of their father. They submit to his authority. Or they begin to legislate our lives. Why bear such sons? Nobody will experience this as harshly as I have. Having realized this bitter truth, isn’t it my responsibility to share it with other women? But you Brahmins give no value for my words anyway. I teach my skills to people of different tribes in this forest and give them the essence of my experience.

But won’t creation come to an end if there is no bond of marriage?’ ‘Why would it come to an end, Sita? Many creatures take birth and grow in this forest. They have no marital bonds, do they? There are people of different tribes whose customs are different from yours.’ ‘Does that mean human beings should live like animals, uncivilized?’ ‘Why do you look down upon animals, Sita? We should love animals and nature. We should worship them. We should befriend them. That’s the duty of humans. Ignoring that basic duty, you think what is written in books is civilization. Is that right? You have come to the forest from the city. Why insist so much on the civilization of the cities? Isn’t nature the best teacher?’ ‘I don’t understand your words. I feel they will cause harm to women.’ ‘They certainly won’t. When a child belongs to its mother, there is no harm in that. A situation where children ask their mother who their father is or where a husband asks his wife who fathered her children comes only in the lives of some women, Sita. Think of the predicament of those women, and you’ll understand my words.’ ‘Just because something happened to someone, somewhere, should people remain without marrying and bear children outside wedlock? Does it happen anywhere? Is that good conduct?’ asked Sita resentfully. ‘I don’t know if it is good conduct or not—I speak of what I know. It is only through experience that one understands the truth. And whatever you understand, you tell others.

The children were pining for their father. They were dreaming about him. Though she had brought them up like they were her very life, though they knew nothing about their father, though their father did not even know about their birth or growing up—they wanted him. Sons needed to grow up inheriting their father’s name. She was Janaki—daughter of Mother Earth. Yet, she became Janaki—daughter of Janaka—under his care. These boys would get recognition only when they were regarded as Rama’s offspring. Rama was Dasarathi—‘of Dasaratha’—he was fond of that name, revered it and took pride in it. These children too wanted that kind of acknowledgement. It was indeed the order of the world. But would that happen? Would Rama embrace these children? Would he give them his name? Would he acknowledge them as descendants of his family? If that did not happen, how these innocent hearts would grieve! If Rama accepted them as his children and took them to Ayodhya, what would happen to her? She had left her father who loved her like his own life and taken Rama’s hand. Rama, whom she loved like her own life, had let go of her hand. These children whom she had brought up, caring for them like her own life—would she be able to hold on to them? Should she even attempt to do that? Would they remain in her grasp even if she did? Would they not run to their father if he called them? What did she have, other than the disgrace that Rama, bowing to public opinion, had heaped on her? In comparison, Rama had a kingdom—which was so dear to him that he could not give it up even for her sake. Would these children give up such a kingdom for her sake? Would their kshatriya blood allow them to do that? Sita’s mind was in turmoil. As a mother she had no power over them. Power never fascinated her anyway. She only had love—she loved her father; she loved Rama; she loved her children. There was no desire for power in any of those relationships. She did not want it. These children were nature’s gift to her. She had raised them like fawns. When fawns grow up, they go off into the forest, never to return. These children too … Sita struggled to rein in her mind.

Many poets have wondered about Urmila, the wife abandoned by the husband who considers duty to his elder brother more important. Through her, they have expressed the status of the Indian woman, as being servile to the larger institution, the husband's family. Even the husband is servile to his family. In the Indian social order, the individual is inferior to the family. Individualism is expressed only as a hermit; else one has to submit to the ways of the household. The household is this bondage, from which one yearns for liberation.

But don’t be a blind and stupid liberal.

The laws of nature do not change. If they do, it will be calamitous for the world. Human laws change. Human beings change them. Unable to cope with the change, they get perturbed. Slowly they get used to the change. Once the change stabilizes, they desire change again. Human law becomes the law of the time, and the law of the moment becomes the law of human beings. During the period of transition, the lives of the people who are key to the change go haywire.

what is the truth? If there is something called truth, wouldn’t it have a meaning?

Did Ahalya know it would turn out like this? Rama has asked for my chastity test. Isn’t death better than this? Isn’t leaving me to my fate better? Why humiliate me like this? Why wage such a war if this is how I was going to be treated? War is for demonstrating the valour of men. Rama has proved his heroism. He is awaiting the demonstration of his wife’s chastity. Isn’t this what Ahalya called distrust? Wouldn’t accepting her in trust or rejecting her in distrust be better? What should be done now? Sita’s heart was like a volcano.

For months, I vacillated between life and death. In front of me—I, who had returned from the threshold of death—were three figures: of my husband, whom I had served with my thoughts, words and deeds, and my wifehood; of my son, whom I had carried for ten months, given birth to and raised, and my motherhood; and of this pot, the result of my focus and my art. All three are the same. They are shattered by the slightest cause and life hangs on a sword’s edge.

Amma, Rama has asked you to affirm the truth in the royal court, in the presence of the courtiers. After that you’ll be the queen. Mother of heroes, queen mother.’ Sita felt like laughing out loud. She controlled herself, out of respect for Valmiki, and said with a smile, ‘Do I need to do that? Is there any sense in such an effort?’ Valmiki was dumbstruck. But he understood Sita’s mind, which was strong and steady.

I have been able to find happiness in trying to understand the very meaning of beauty.

S unset time. The forest, with crimson brightness on one side and engulfing darkness on the other, was like a red furnace emitting black smoke.

Sunset time. The forest, with crimson brightness on one side and engulfing darkness on the other, was like a red furnace emitting black smoke.

Do women exist only to be used by men to settle their scores?...... ...Poor Surpanakha came longing for love.