Sexual Life in Ancient India: A Study in the Comparative History of Indian Culture v2.c11.53

v2.c11.53

The beloved one is not to be seen near the leaf-hut in the forest, and he cries out that without her he cannot live, nor has any wish for lordship over the gods or the earth. And how the poor timid one will pine without him! The hut itself is empty; like a madman, with eyes reddened by weeping, he runs about the forest, seeking her that is lost; from tree he wanders to tree, through the mountains, over rivers; he asks all the trees in moving speech, the beasts of the forest, whether they have seen the much loved, the wondrous-fair one; and in great horror he pictures to himself how the monsters have eaten her, have swallowed her bewitching limbs. And then again he cannot bring himself to believe that she could really have been taken from him; he calls out to her that she must now put an end to her play, as he is thus suffering; she must come forth from her hiding-place; he can see her yellow silk robe. He lets himself be persuaded by Lakshmaṇa that she has gone to pick flowers; that she, who so loves the forest, has gone wandering away in it, and will surely spring suddenly out to frighten him. And once more he searches all about with his brother, but finds her not, who to him “is dearer than his own life”. Then he breaks forth wailing once more; again he believes she is only hiding herself, and he calls out as before that he can see her, that the jest has gone on long enough. And as she still does not come, he is certain she must be dead, for how could she, she of all, otherwise leave him without consolation. He never wishes to go back to the city again; how can he go to meet his kindred without Sītā? “And without her heaven itself would feel empty for me.”