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…the deity of patience, the feminine face of courage and power, a strongest but softest female born on this earth – Sita – walked slowly in the trodden path.
One good place, where the early morning breeze caressed her face and made her long hair to dance to the song of the birds and replenished her suffering heart, she stopped and paused her walk. Her soul-mate, Rama, stopped too to see what made his wife stop.
The deity overlooked her path that enfolded before her. The surrounding was all good, with singing early morning birds, aromatic welcoming flowers, holy water running towards her destination with enchanting music and filling the duns with water to fulfill the wishes of the mother earth. The soulful igniter of earth, the mater of all sources of power, the Sun, slowly raised at the long distance horizon like a gold coin tossed from the sea. The wind was mild and joyful. The apes jumped from tree to another and celebrating the moment for no reason. The snakes moving hear and there felt no fever even after looking at the strangers in their place as if they felt they all where true humans that will hurt none.
In spite of all magical surrounding, Sita found her path before her filled with stones and thorns. She already felt the pang she is going to endure. At the end of the road she saw the light, the masterful Sun glowing. She smiled at the light at the end of her path but the smile didn't last for long. Suddenly the burning ball looked like a pyre ball to her. She smiled again, now, without joy in her countenance as if she understood her destiny.
Rama looked at her to say “my dear goddess, deity of patience, I have told you the path is not so easy to walk. Since you have married me it is not mandatory to you to walk on the same trodden path that I walk. I know it hurts you but know this; it hurts me more than you”
Sita walked near her husband “I could have stayed in the palace, slept in the softest of soft bed, ate sweetest feeds and enjoyed all the luxuries that a princess deserves but what could a veena sing when its strings are removed” she continued, “what could just breathing can do to a body that has no soul in it”. She looked into her husband’s pure countenance and felt the purity and love he has for her.
Every woman born on this planet carries a part of Sita, the deity of patience and endurance, in fact the whole of Sita. They have to undergo a test of patience at some point of time in their life in order to bring out the glitter in them, which is hiding inside. Sita knew she has to undergo a great test that which will bring out the native nature of femininity – the purity. What makes difference between the palace and the forest, for Sita and for all Sitas’ it is the presence and absence of Rama.
Sita walked on the thorns and stones with her rosy feet which ached but not more than her breeze hearth which ached for the sorrows of her husband. When Rama walked like a Sun, Sita followed him like a Moon. Though Sun does everything, moon is always enchanting. It’s the Moon; its beauty makes anybody a lunatic. Sometimes lunatic people destroy themselves and sometimes they try to destroy the Moon itself. After long agony the dusk covered the eyes of the Sun and in that dense forest of poisonous trees Sita lost her light and fell on the lap of the earth and slept.
O! Everyone on the Earth,
Sita knew her destiny, but
She believed her husband would make it tiny.
Darkness covered his eyes, and
Sita’s purity and sanity became lies.
O! Everyone on the Earth,
Do not test the pure honey,
It requires not of preservatives any.
Sitas’ of this earth are just not flames,
They are the source of the fire, do not be lame.