Sita Speaks in Silence

There was an eerie silence in Dandakaranya.

The dense forest, which was always full of sounds of birdcalls, deer hooves and rustling leaves, now stood still.  

 

Sita was alone in the small mud hut, standing and watching the vast jungle around her.

 

Her husband, Ram, and his beloved brother, Lakshman, had gone inside the forest some time ago to gather fruits and firewood.

 

The trio had already completed twelve years in exile; two more were left.

 

The years had been tough. From living in a palace to spending twelve years in a small hut inside this vast Dandakaranya forest was a big change.

 

However, Sita was not complaining. She knew it was part of her legacy – the hardship, the suffering was necessary to achieve the higher goal – the destruction of evil.

 

The end of the Demon King Raavan in the hands of her husband, the virtuous Prince Ram, has been prophesied. And she knew that her life was a part of all this.

 

The Dandakaranya forest, spanning from the Narmada to the Godavari and Krishna Rivers, now almost felt like home to Sita.

 

But, yet, sometimes it got all lonely!

 

As she was lost in her thoughts, Sita watched a bird fly above her.

 

‘Wish I could fly!’ Sita thought for a moment, as she kept watching the bird.

 

It was a kokila (cuckoo) bird; its black wings glinting in the sun.

 

On an impulse, Sita decided to follow it.

 

In fact, it seemed like the bird wanted her to follow it.

 

With measured steps, Sita walked towards the jungle.

 

The bird was now perched on a low-hanging branch of a tree. As Sita drew near, the bird flew ahead again. Sita followed.

 

Soon Sita could see a clearing inside the jungle through the trees. As she passed between two large Sal trees, Sita was surprised to see a pond. Few days ago, she had accompanied Ram through this stretch of the forest and there was no pond here. 

 

As Sita stood near the still waters of the pond and wondered, the bird flew in front of her.

 

And then Sita saw her!

 

It was a woman – but she did not seem like anyone Sita had seen before.

 

The woman stood ankle-deep inside the water. Her body seemed to be covered in green leaves and vines. Flowers adorned her head and her face radiated the innocence of a child.

 

Sita slowly walked towards her, both confused and surprised. She also felt an alarm bell tingling in her brain, as she knew this vast forest was also said to be home to demons with magical abilities.  

 

“How is the forest treating you, Sita?”

 

As the woman spoke, the soft breeze carried those words to Sita.

 

For a few seconds Sita was silent, as if trying to decide whether this was a friend or foe.

 

But then, her eyes fell upon the very kokila bird that had flown in and now sat perched on the woman's shoulder, calm and unafraid. Sita knew that such birds could sense the dark presence of demons and stayed away from them. But, here, this bird was cooing softly and brushing its beak against the woman’s cheek.

 

Sita knew at that instant that this was no demon. The woman seemed to be someone – or something – totally different.

 

Now assured, Sita replied, “This forest has treated me as one of its own. It has provided me food and shelter and have kept me safe.”

 

The woman listened to the words of Sita and then said, “Things may change soon.”

 

Sita nodded. She knew something was bound to happen.

 

Sita was not an ordinary woman. Born from the soil of this Mother Earth, she could see more than her eyes.

 

She knew when King Dasharatha exiled his beloved son Ram to fourteen years in exile, it was not a mere twist of fate, but was part of a larger, divine design.  

 

And Sita knew she would play a major role in whatever happened in the future.

 

But she was uncertain as to what role that would be and what the future stored for her.

 

“Everything will make sense when the right time comes”, the woman said, as if reading Sita’s thoughts.

 

Sita looked the woman and gently asked, “Who are you?”

 

“I am the deity of this forest. I have watched over this forest long before men named it Dandakaranya. And I will be here till the end of time.”

 

Sita looked at the woman – unsure what to say.

 

“Do you know why I called you here?” The woman spoke, casually glancing towards the bird which was now perched atop a stone by the side of the pond.

 

“Please do tell me”, Sita replied.

 

“I called you to let you know what whatever happens next, do remember you are more than the story they will tell. You are not only an obedient wife, you are not only a perfect queen - you are much more than that. You will be tried and tested, you will fight with fire, you will suffer – but always remember who you are.”

 

“And who exactly am I?”

 

“You are a daughter of this Earth. You rose from this soil without hearing your mother’s cries. You are the creator and you are the nurturer.”

 

Sita laughed a little.

 

“And yet you say that I will suffer, even though I have followed the path of dharma all my life.”

 

This time the Deity smiled and said, “Dharma is not always a straight road. The path is riddled with twists and turns and it will make you walk through fire. Whether you followed dharma or not, there will still be people who will not believe you, who will doubt you.”

 

“Why will they doubt me?”

 

“Because my dear lady, the world has always doubted women who carry a fire in their hearts!”

 

The words somehow stun Sita. She looked at the bird, which was now flapping its wings.

 

‘Hasn’t men always tried to stop women from flapping their wings?’, Sita wondered.

 

“I guess you are wondering about the future”, the woman asked as Sita continued looking at the bird.

 

“Not exactly the future. I am wondering why will I suffer even after following dharma all my life.”

 

“You will suffer because you can endure. You will suffer because dharma tests you once in a while.”

 

As the woman stopped speaking, Sita heard a sharp, frantic squeaking.

 

Sita’s eyes turned towards the sound. A snake, long and dark as night, had coiled itself around the bird. The bird fluttered helplessly, as the snake gripped it hard with its body.

 

Without thinking, Sita ran forward. She grabbed a fallen branch and poked at the body of the snake.

 

The snake hissed. Its anger palpable.

 

Sita didn’t care as she poked the snake harder. The snake hissed again but its grip loosened.

 

As she lifted her hand, as if to hit, the snake uncoiled itself from the bird and looked at Sita. It bared its fangs, with its head poised to strike.

 

But Sita did not flinch.

 

As they watched each other in silence, something passed between them - defiance, perhaps, or understanding.

 

Then the snake lowered its head and slid back into the forest.

 

Sita looked at the bird, still lying in the ground. She knelt beside it and picked it up. The bird looked at her. There was no sense of panic or fear in those little eyes but an uncanny calmness.

 

Sita understood.

 

It was a test!

 

Sita, now, looked at the woman, as the bird flew into the forest.

 

As she began walking towards the woman, suddenly a wall of water appeared before her.

 

Sita could see her reflection in the water.

 

But it was a different Sita – this Sita was burning. Flames enveloped her body, as she offered her hand ahead.

 

Sita held the hand and went inside the wall of water,

 

The fire now enveloped her. She could feel the burning sensation in her body. She could feel the heat tearing off her skin.

 

And then she saw her father – the sage king Janak - with a plough in his hand. It was this very plough that had unearthed Sita from the lap of Mother Earth.

 

“Janaki”, her father called, referring to her name long lost over time.

 

Sita staggered forward, her skin blazing. The pain was getting unbearable but she pushed herself towards her father.

 

“Fire will test you, my child. But it should not break you. Fire must bear witness to your purity.” The calm voice of her father reached Sita.

 

And then, suddenly, everything disappeared. Her father, her reflection as well as the fire – all vanished.

 

The forest was silent again.

 

Sita found herself standing on the edge of the pond.

 

The woman was looking at her with a smile in her face. And then she pulled out a single petal from a flower in her head. The petal was deep red, almost the colour of blood.

 

The woman put the petal in the palm of her hands. The bird came flying and picked the petal with her beak. It then flew towards Sita.

 

Sita opened her palm and the bird dropped the petal and flew away.

 

“Keep this. This petal will remind you of this meeting. There will be no mention of this meeting anywhere – no scriptures will record it; no devotional songs will be made on this – world will never know of this. But it will remain in your heart.”

 

Sita closed her hand around the petal. It felt warm, as if heated with the blessings of the forest deity.

 

Sita understood the deity would disappear now. So, she asked, “Will you continue to be near me?”

 

“I am always around, dear. I am always there where the Earth breathes through women.” She replied and gradually disappeared from view.

 

The water in the pond began to ripple. And then there was a brilliant flash of light.

 

Sita closed her eyes.

 

When she opened it, she found herself near the edge of the forest, a few metres away from her hut.

 

She could see Ram carefully stacking pieces of firewood outside the hut and Lakshman polishing his bow.

 

Sita began walking towards the hut.

 

“Devi, you wandered far”, Ram said as Sita came near.

 

“Yes,” Sita replied, “I went to listen to the forest speak.”

 

Ram nodded with a faint smile, not pressing her further.

 

That night Sita stayed awake. She could feel the fire around her but this time there was no pain, instead there was a warmth that enveloped her heart. 

 

The petal was in the palm of her hand.

 

She closed her fingers gently around it and whispered to the night:

 

“I am ready.”

 

And the forest, it seemed, whispered back.
(This Story was longlisted for the Ink of Ages Fiction Prize 2025)