Lakshmana Wins Vanamala

When the rains ended and autumn brightened the sky, the yaksha lord begged forgiveness for any lapse in his service, and Rama in turn asked pardon for having made him serve; delighted, the yaksha gave Rama a necklace named Svayamprabha, Lakshmana a pair of wondrous jewelled earrings bright as sun and moon, and Sita a dazzling crest-jewel named Kalyana and a divine vina that plays sweet music of its own accord. He then withdrew the city, grieving at their departure, and the exiles crossed forests full of lions and elephants and reached Vijayapura at sunset, halting in a fearsome garden north of the city, neither too near nor too far.

Vijayapura's king Prithvidhara and his queen Indrani had a beautiful daughter, Vanamala, who had loved Lakshmana since childhood from hearing of his virtues; but on learning that Dasharatha had taken diksha, that Bharata reigned by Kaikeyi's word and that Rama and Lakshmana had gone abroad, Prithvidhara decided to give her to Balimitra, son of the king of Indranagara. Vanamala resolved that hanging was better than union with any man but Lakshmana; fasting, she begged the sun to set quickly, and at twilight, with her parents' leave and on the pretext of a forest pilgrimage, rode in a chariot to the very garden where the exiles were staying.

Keeping vigil, she waited until her people slept and then stole out like a doe, her fragrance filling the forest; Lakshmana, sensing that this radiant princess meant to take her own life, hid beneath a banyan to watch. Beneath that very banyan she made a noose of her wetted cloth and asked the tree's deity to tell Lakshmana, if he ever passed, that Vanamala had died there for love of him and prayed that he be her husband in the next life; as she slipped on the noose, Lakshmana said, ‘Why put a noose on a neck meant for my embrace? I am Lakshmana,’ and took it from her hands.

Gazing at Lakshmana with shy love and wonder, Vanamala thought some kind god must have pitied her plight and given her the husband she had heard of. Rama, waking on his bed of fragrant leaves and missing Lakshmana, called out, ‘Brother, Lakshmana, child, where have you gone?’, and Lakshmana came with Vanamala just as the moon rose at midnight; she bowed shyly to Rama and Sita, and Sita teased that the prince had rivalled the moon, since the moon had risen with its crescent just as Lakshmana arrived with the maiden, which delighted Rama.

Vanamala's companion woke to an empty bed and cried out; warriors rode off in all directions with lances and bows, and some, finding the princess sitting with Rama, Lakshmana and Sita, rushed to tell Prithvidhara that the very men he had long sought in vain had come of themselves, that his son-in-law Lakshmana had saved Vanamala from death, and that Rama was there with Sita like Indra with Shachi. The king fainted for joy, rewarded the messengers richly and reflected that wealth and union with loved ones come only through merit, while his queen asked again and again whether it was true or a dream.

At sunrise Prithvidhara came on an elephant with his whole household, and Vanamala's mother came in a palanquin with eight daughters; the king embraced Rama and Lakshmana, the queen touched Sita's feet, and amid vinas, flutes and drums, bards' praises, dancing and lavish gifts the guests were bathed and feasted. Riding an elephant amid vassals and leaping foot soldiers, Rama, Lakshmana and Sita entered the decorated city in priceless robes, radiant as the sun and moon, and lived in the palace like the Indras of the Saudharma and Aishana heavens, enjoying every pleasure yet ever mindful of dharma.