बालकाण्डम्Bālakāṇḍa

Having heard that that word of Nārada, the master of speech, the righteous one, together with his disciple, the great sage, honored him.

Duly honored by him, the divine sage Nārada then, having taken his leave and been granted dismissal, he went into the sky.

He — when that one had gone to the world of the gods but for a moment — the sage then went to the bank of the Tamasā, and not far from the Gaṅgā.

He now, having reached the bank of the Tamasā, the great sage, and having seen the mud-free ford, spoke to his disciple standing at his side:

"This ford here is mud-free, O Bharadvāja — behold: lovely, its waters clear, as the mind of a good man.

Let the pot be set down, dear child; let be given the bark-garment to me. This very excellent ford of the Tamasā I shall bathe in."

Addressed thus by Vālmīki the great-souled, Bharadvāja, self-controlled, handed over the bark-garment to that sage, his teacher.

He, having taken the bark-garment from his disciple's hand, his senses restrained, wandered indeed, gazing on all sides at that vast forest.

And nearby to that spot, the blessed one there saw a pair moving about inseparably of krauñca birds, sweet of voice.

But one male of that pair, a man of evil intent, a haunt of enmity, a Niṣāda, slew while that one looked on.

But the female, having seen him slain, his limbs covered with blood, writhing on the ground, uttered a piteous cry.

Thus now, having seen that bird struck down by the Niṣāda, compassion arose in that sage, the righteous one.

Then, out of a sense of compassion, the brahmin, having observed the weeping female krauñca, these words spoke, this — "This is unrighteous," so he thought:

"May you not, O Niṣāda, you attain any fixed station for everlasting years, since you killed one of the pair of krauñcas, one deluded by love."

For him, thus speaking, a thought arose in his heart as he reflected: "Stricken with grief over this bird, what is this that has been uttered by me?"

Reflecting, that greatly wise, sagacious one made a resolve; and indeed he, the bull among sages, spoke this word to his disciple:

"Bound into quarters, with equal syllables, set to the rhythm of lute-strings — let the śloka that has issued from me stricken with grief be not otherwise."

But the disciple, as that sage spoke, received the unsurpassed word, greatly delighted; the teacher became pleased with him.

He, then, having performed the ablution in that ford according to rule, pondering that very matter, turned back indeed, the sage.

Bharadvāja then, the disciple, humble, obedient to his teacher, having taken the full pot, behind him followed indeed.

He, the knower of dharma, having entered the hermitage together with his disciple, seated, engaged in other conversations too, and settled into meditation.

Then came Brahmā, the maker of the worlds, the lord himself, the four-faced one, of great splendor, to see that bull among sages.

Vālmīki then, having seen him, having suddenly risen, with speech restrained, palms joined, having become reverent, stood utterly amazed.

He honored that god with water for the feet, a guest-offering, a seat, and salutations, having bowed duly and having asked him after his well-being, unfailing.

Then, having sat down, the blessed one on a seat highly honored, directed to the great sage Vālmīki a seat then.

When that grandfather of the worlds in person had then seated himself, Vālmīki, with his mind gone wholly to that, entered meditation.

"A grievous deed has been done by the evil-souled one whose mind was bent on hostility, who so sweet-voiced a krauñca would slay without cause.

Grieving still repeatedly for the female krauñca, once again he sang this verse, having become one whose mind was turned inward, given over to grief.

Then Brahmā, smiling, spoke to him, to the bull among sages: "A śloka indeed by you has been composed; no deliberation need be made here."

"From me, by (my) will indeed, O brahmin, this eloquence has sprung forth for you. The whole tale of Rāma compose, you, O best of sages."

Tell — relate — the story of Rāma, the righteous, the virtuous, the wise, the steadfast in the world, just as it was heard by you from Nārada.

Whatever conduct — secret and open alike — of that wise one, of Rāma together with Saumitri, and of the rākṣasas in every way,

And whatever conduct of Vaidehī too, open whether or secret — that too, all of it unknown even, known shall become to you.

Your speech in the poem will not in any respect herein be false ever. Make the story of Rāma, holy, bound in ślokas, delightful.

As long as the mountains and the rivers — shall stand on the earth, so long the story of the Rāmāyaṇa among the worlds shall circulate.

As long as the story of Rāma, made by you, — shall circulate, so long above and below you in my worlds shall dwell.

Thus having spoken, the blessed Brahmā there at once vanished. Then together with his disciples Vālmīki the sage fell into wonder.

His disciples then, all, sang this śloka again, over and over, delighting; and they spoke, greatly amazed.

That which, in four equal-syllabled quarters, was sung by the great sage — that grief (śoka), through its being uttered anew, came to the state of a śloka.

This thought arose in him, in Vālmīki of composed spirit: "The entire Rāmāyaṇa poem with such verses let me compose."

Then the illustrious, noble-minded sage, with words of noble meter and meaning, delightful, with equal-syllabled hundreds of ślokas, made the fame-producing poem of that Rāma, the glorious one.