Hello and welcome to the Discourse. The poem "Lakshman" by Toru Dutt is inspired by an episode from the Ramayan, specifically the events that unfold in Panchvati. In this forest, Lord Ram, his wife Sita, and his devoted brother Lakshman live during their exile. In this serene setting, surrounded by nature, they build a humble cottage, unaware of the impending danger. One day, Maricha, a demon disguised as a mesmerizing golden deer, appears near their dwelling. The deer’s enchanting beauty captivates Sita, who, entranced by its allure, urges Ram to capture it for her.
Ram, obliging his wife’s wish, pursues the deer into the forest. However, upon being struck by Ram’s arrow, the creature reverts to its true demonic form and lets out a deceptive cry, mimicking Ram’s voice to call for Sita and Lakshman. Hearing these distressful shouts, Sita grows frantic and insists that Lakshman rush to Ram’s aid immediately. This moment marks the beginning of a tense and emotional exchange between Sita and Lakshman, which becomes the central conflict of the poem.
Lakshman, bound by Ram’s command to protect Sita, hesitates to leave her alone in the perilous forest. His refusal ignites Sita’s fury, leading to accusations that test his loyalty and devotion. This charged dialogue drives the narrative forward and highlights the themes of duty, trust, and sacrifice, making it the heart of Toru Dutt’s poetic retelling.
Structure of Lakshman:
Structured in twenty-two stanzas, each consisting of eight lines with an alternating rhyme scheme, the poem adopts a modified ballad form. While traditional ballads typically follow a four-line structure, Toru Dutt expands it to eight lines, blending lyrical storytelling with a rhythmic flow. The language retains echoes of the original Sanskrit epic, with terms like "Succour" and "Videhan Queen" (referring to Sita) enriching its mythological essence. It is a long narrative poem in which the omniscient narrator offers dramatic dialogue between Sita and Lakshman along with her interjections. It primarily uses iambic pentameter, with a tight rhyme scheme of ABABCDCD, to enhance the emotional impact and convey the dialogue between Sita and Lakshman. Toru Dutt uses alliteration, consonance, assonance, enjambment, metaphor, simile, personification, repetition, and rhetorical questioning in the poem.
Summary of Lakshman:
Stanza 1
"Hark! Lakshman! Hark, again that cry!
It is, — it is my husband's voice!
Oh hasten, to his succour fly,
No more hast thou, dear friend, a choice.
He calls on thee, perhaps his foes
Environ him on all sides round,
That wail, — it means death's final throes!
Why standest thou, as magic-bound?”
In this urgent and emotionally charged opening stanza, Sita pleads with Lakshman after hearing what she believes to be Ram’s distress cry. Convinced that her husband is surrounded by enemies and near death, she desperately commands Lakshman to rush to his aid, accusing him of standing frozen "as magic-bound." The dramatic tension arises from Sita’s panic, contrasting with Lakshman’s duty-bound hesitation, foreshadowing the tragic consequences of her insistence (which later leads to her abduction by Ravan). The repetition of "Hark" (an archaic word for listen) emphasizes Sita’s frantic urgency, while the exclamations heighten her desperation.
The lines flow swiftly with enjambment, mirroring Sita’s breathless panic. Sita metaphorically compares Lakshman’s hesitation to being spellbound, exaggerating his stillness as unnatural (a hyperbole to guilt-trip him).
Stanza 2
"Is this a time for thought, — oh gird
Thy bright sword on, and take thy bow!
He heeds not, hears not any word,
Evil hangs over us, I know!
Swift in decision, prompt in deed,
Brave unto rashness, can this be,
The man to whom all looked at need?
Is it my brother that I see!”
In this stanza, Sita’s desperation escalates as she urges Lakshman to act immediately, convinced that Ram is in mortal danger. She implores him to arm himself and rush to Ram’s aid, bewildered by his uncharacteristic hesitation. Her tone shifts from commanding ("Oh gird thy bright sword on!") to accusatory, questioning whether this indecisive man is truly the same brave brother revered for his courage and swift action (rhetorical question). The lines capture the clash between duty and emotion, as Lakshman’s loyalty to Ram’s orders (to guard Sita) paralyzes him, while Sita interprets his stillness as cowardice or neglect.
Sita contrasts Lakshman’s past heroism with his present hesitation, using paradox ("brave unto rashness") to emphasize her dismay. The alliteration ("swift," "decision"; "prompt," "deed") and iambic meter create a galloping rhythm, mirroring the urgency Sita demands.
Stanza 3
"Oh no, and I must run alone,
For further here I cannot stay;
Art thou transformed to blind dumb stone!
Wherefore this impious, strange delay!
That cry, — that cry, — it seems to ring
Still in my ears, — I cannot bear
Suspense; if help we fail to bring
His death at least we both can share"
In this climactic stanza, Sita reaches the peak of her despair, resolving to abandon Lakshman and seek Ram alone. Her words oscillate between frantic action and bitter accusation, as she condemns Lakshman’s stillness as a betrayal ("Art thou transformed to blind dumb stone!"). Sita dehumanizes Lakshman, comparing him to an unfeeling stone, emphasizing her fury and disbelief. The repeated cry of Ram torments her, and in a final, dramatic declaration, she claims she would rather die with Ram than endure helpless suspense.
The repetition (That cry, that cry) mimics her obsessive fixation on Ram’s (false) distress, heightening tension.
Stanza 4
"Oh calm thyself, Videhan Queen,
No cause is there for any fear,
Hast thou his prowess never seen?
Wipe off for shame that dastard tear!
What being of demonian birth
Could ever brave his mighty arm?
Is there a creature on earth
That dares to work our hero harm?”
In this stanza, Lakshman attempts to pacify Sita, addressing her as the "Videhan Queen". Lakshman uses Sita’s regal title to elevate her status while subtly reminding her to act with dignity. He reassures her that Ram’s unparalleled strength makes fear irrational, urging her to "wipe off for shame that dastard tear." His words blend logic and rebuke, reminding Sita of Ram’s invincibility against demons and mocking the idea that any earthly or supernatural foe could harm him. However, his stoic confidence contrasts with Sita’s emotional turmoil, deepening the tension between duty and despair.
Stanza 5
"The lion and the grisly bear
Cower when they see his royal look,
Sun-staring eagles of the air
His glance of anger cannot brook,
Pythons and cobras at his tread
To their most secret coverts glide,
Bowed to the dust each serpent head
Erect before in hooded pride.”
In this vivid stanza, Lakshman extols Ram’s supreme power, using hyperbolic natural imagery to argue that even the fiercest creatures cower before him. Lions, bears, eagles, and venomous serpents—all symbols of untamed strength—are depicted as submitting to Ram’s mere gaze or tread. The stanza serves as a rhetorical flourish to calm Sita, asserting that Ram’s divine prowess renders her fears absurd. Yet, beneath Lakshman’s boastful tone lies dramatic irony: the audience knows Ram is in peril (from Maricha’s deception), making Lakshman’s confidence tragically misplaced. Animal imagery and Symbolism have been used. Lion, bear, eagles, pythons, cobras: These apex predators symbolize primal fear, underscoring Ram’s dominance over even the wildest forces. The cobra’s erect posture, bowed by Ram’s tread, mirrors defeated arrogance, reinforcing his godlike authority. Eagles, mythically associated with the sun, are personified as unable to endure Ram’s wrath.
Stanza 6
"Rakshasas, Danavs, demons, ghosts,
Acknowledge in their hearts his might,
And slink to their remotest coasts,
In terror at his very sight.
Evil to him! Oh fear it not,
Whatever foes against him rise!
Banish for aye the foolish thought,
And be thyself, — bold, great, and wise.”
In this stanza, Lakshman intensifies his argument, asserting that even the most formidable supernatural beings—Rakshasas (demons), Danavs (giants), and ghosts—flee from Ram’s might. "Evil to him! Oh fear it not" is an example of Antithesis. The juxtaposition of "evil" and "fear not" highlights Lakshman’s absolutism—Ram is immune to harm. His rhetoric aims to shame Sita’s fear as irrational, urging her to "banish the foolish thought" and embody her royal courage. The stanza juxtaposes mythic hyperbole (Ram’s invincibility) with psychological appeal (Sita’s identity crisis), revealing Lakshman’s attempt to restore her confidence while reinforcing patriarchal ideals of stoicism.
Stanza 7
"He call for help! Canst thou believe
He like a child would shriek for aid
Or pray for respite or reprieve —
Not of such metal is he made!
Delusive was that piercing cry, —
Some trick of magic by the foe;
He has a work, — he cannot die,
Beseech me not from hence to go.”
In this pivotal stanza, Lakshman dismantles Sita’s fears with ruthless logic, arguing that Ram—embodying divine heroism—would never "shriek for aid like a child." He dismisses the cry as a demonic trick ("some trick of magic by the foe"), asserting Ram’s immortality ("he cannot die") and his own duty to stay ("Beseech me not from hence to go"). The stanza crackles with dramatic irony: Lakshman’s reasoning is sound (the cry is Maricha’s illusion), yet his rigid adherence to duty blinds him to Sita’s emotional breaking point, hastening the tragedy. This stanza condemns Lakshman’s virtue as his flaw—his loyalty, though noble, lacks empathy.
Stanza 8
“For here beside thee, as a guard
'Twas he commanded me to stay,
And dangers with my life to ward
If they should come across thy way.
Send me not hence, for in this wood
Bands scattered of the giants lurk,
Who on their wrongs and vengeance brood,
And wait the hour their will to work.”
In this stanza, Lakshman firmly reiterates his duty as Ram’s appointed guardian of Sita. He emphasizes that Ram explicitly commanded him to stay by her side, even at the cost of his own life, to protect her from lurking dangers in the forest. Lakshman’s willingness to die for Sita underscores his devotion, making Sita’s later accusations more painful. Lakshman warns of the "bands scattered of the giants" (Rakshasas) who seek vengeance, implying that leaving Sita unguarded would invite disaster. His plea—"Send me not hence"—reveals his torn loyalty: he is bound by Ram’s orders yet agonized by Sita’s distress. This stanza tightens the tragic knot, showing how Lakshman’s virtues (loyalty, foresight) collide with human flaws (distrust, haste).
Stanza 9
"Oh shame! and canst thou make my weal
A plea for lingering! Now I know
What thou art, Lakshman! And I feel
Far better were an open foe.
Art thou a coward? I have seen
Thy bearing in the battle-fray
Where flew the death-fraught arrows keen,
Else had I judged thee so today.”
In this explosive stanza, Sita’s fear erupts into outright accusation. Convinced that Lakshman’s refusal to leave is cowardice, she declares she now sees his true nature—"A plea for lingering!"—interpreting his caution as a weak excuse. She contrasts his past battlefield bravery ("Thy bearing in the battle-fray") with his current inaction, threatening to brand him a coward. The stanza crackles with betrayal and gendered scorn, as Sita weaponizes Lakshman’s warrior identity against him, pushing him toward the fatal decision to abandon his post. Sita’s accusations force Lakshman’s hand, sealing her fate.
Stanza 10
“ "But then thy leader stood beside!
Dazzles the cloud when shines the sun,
Reft of his radiance, see it glide
A shapeless mass of vapours dun;
So of thy courage, — or if not,
The matter is far darker dyed,
What makes thee loth to leave this spot?
Is there a motive thou wouldst hide?”
In this stanza, Sita sharpens her accusations, using a metaphor of the sun and cloud to dismantle Lakshman’s courage. She argues that his bravery was merely a reflection of Ram’s presence ("thy leader stood beside"), comparing him to a cloud that loses its brilliance without the sun. Now, in the absence of Ram, he appears "a shapeless mass of vapours dun"—weak and directionless. Her rhetoric escalates to outright suspicion: she implies Lakshman has a hidden motive for staying, darkly insinuating dishonor. This marks the climax of their conflict, where Sita’s fear curdles into public shaming, forcing Lakshman’s hand. Sita twists Lakshman’s duty into something sinister, implying lust or treachery—a lethal charge in epic tradition. Her insinuation plays on stereotypes of male treachery, weaponizing societal fears to control him.
Stanza 11
"He perishes — well, let him die!
His wife henceforth shall be mine own!
Can that thought deep imbedded lie
Within thy heart's most secret zone!
Search well and see! one brother takes
His kingdom, — one would take his wife!
A fair partition! — But it makes
Me shudder, and abhor my life.”
In this climactic stanza, Sita’s fear spirals into a horrific accusation: she suggests Lakshman wants Ram to die so he can claim her as his wife, paralleling Bharat’s alleged theft of Ram’s throne. Her words—"A fair partition!"—drip with sarcasm, painting Lakshman as a traitor driven by lust and ambition. She equates Lakshman’s imagined crime with Bharat’s (false) usurpation, amplifying the insult. The stanza peaks with Sita’s visceral self-disgust ("shudder, and abhor my life"), revealing her shattered trust. This is the breaking point: her unjust charge forces Lakshman to leave, triggering the tragedy of her abduction. Sita’s extreme claim twists Lakshman’s loyalty into villainy, leveraging epic taboos (brotherly betrayal) to wound him.
Stanza 12
"Art thou in secret league with those
Who from his hope the kingdom rent?
A spy from his ignoble foes
To track him in his banishment?
And wouldst thou at his death rejoice?
I know thou wouldst, or sure ere now
When first thou heardst that well known voice
Thou shouldst have run to aid, I trow.”
In this stanza, Sita’s accusations reach their most venomous pitch. She openly brands Lakshman a traitor, suggesting he conspires with Ram’s enemies (like Kaikeyi or Bharata) to ensure Ram’s exile—and now, his death. Her rhetorical questions ("Art thou in secret league...?") frame Lakshman as a spy relishing Ram’s downfall, while her bitter certainty ("I know thou wouldst") leaves no room for his defense. The stanza exposes Sita’s psychological unraveling: her terror morphs into paranoia, weaponizing Lakshman’s loyalty against him.
Stanza 13
"Learn this, — whatever comes may come,
But I shall not survive my Love,
Of all my thoughts here is the sum!
Witness it gods in heaven above.
If fire can burn, or water drown,
I follow him: — choose what thou wilt
Truth with its everlasting crown,
Or falsehood, treachery, and guilt.”
In this climactic stanza, Sita declares her unwavering devotion to Ram, vowing to die rather than live without him. Her words blend defiance and despair as she calls upon the gods to witness her oath. Natural imagery of fire and water symbolize total annihilation, stressing her willingness to embrace any death for Ram. She presents Lakshman with a final, ultimatum-like choice: truth and honor (staying to protect her) or falsehood and guilt (abandoning her to her fate). The stanza captures Sita’s transformation from fear to resolve, though her demand ironically accelerates the tragedy—Lakshman’s departure to "save" Ram leaves her vulnerable to Ravan.
Stanza 14
"Remain here with a vain pretence
Of shielding me from wrong and shame,
Or go and die in his defence
And leave behind a noble name.
Choose what thou wilt, — I urge no more,
My pathway lies before me clear,
I did not know thy mind before,
I know thee now, — and have no fear.”
In this defiant stanza, Sita delivers her final ultimatum to Lakshman, stripping away any pretense of negotiation. She presents him with two stark choices: either stay falsely under the guise of protecting her ("vain pretence / Of shielding me from wrong and shame"), or leave honorably to defend Ram and "leave behind a noble name." These polarized terms manipulate Lakshman’s warrior ethos, appealing to his pride. Her tone is coldly resolved—she claims clarity ("My pathway lies before me clear") and declares she no longer fears Lakshman, having judged his character ("I know thee now"). This moment marks the point of no return: her rejection of Lakshman’s protection forces him to leave, directly enabling Ravan’s abduction.
Stanza 15
“She said and proudly from him turned, —
Was this the gentle Sita? No.
Flames from her eyes shot forth and burned,
The tears therein had ceased to flow.
"Hear me, O Queen, ere I depart,
No longer can I bear thy words,
They lacerate my inmost heart
And torture me, like poisoned swords.”
In this stanza, the poem turns into narrative form. This stanza captures the climactic rupture between Sita and Lakshman. Sita, once the epitome of gentleness, now turns away in fiery defiance ("Flames from her eyes shot forth"), her tears replaced with wrath. Lakshman, wounded to his core, declares he can no longer endure her "poisoned swords"—her accusations that have lacerated his loyalty. The moment is charged with tragic irony: Sita’s transformation into a figure of rage ("Was this the gentle Sita? No") forces Lakshman’s departure, which directly enables her abduction. The narrator’s interjection highlights Sita’s shocking transformation, underscoring the scene’s drama. The stanza juxtaposes Sita’s pride with Lakshman’s anguish, marking the point where words become irrevocable actions.
Stanza 16
"Have I deserved this at thine hand?
Of lifelong loyalty and truth
Is this the meed? I understand
Thy feelings, Sita, and in sooth
I blame thee not, — but thou mightst be
Less rash in judgement, Look! I go,
Little I care what comes to me
Wert thou but safe, — God keep thee so!”
In this emotionally charged stanza, Lakshman responds to Sita's harsh accusations with wounded dignity and tragic resignation. He questions whether his lifelong devotion ("Of lifelong loyalty and truth") warrants such cruel treatment, yet demonstrates remarkable restraint by acknowledging her distress ("I understand / Thy feelings"). His declaration, "Look! I go," marks the tragic turning point where duty compels him to leave, despite knowing the dangers. The final benediction ("God keep thee so!") is heavy with dramatic irony, as his departure directly enables Sita's abduction. The stanza masterfully captures the collision of dharma, emotion, and tragic inevitability.
Stanza 17
"In going hence I disregard
The plainest orders of my chief,
A deed for me, — a soldier, — hard
And deeply painful, but thy grief
And language, wild and wrong, allow
No other course. Mine be the crime,
And mine alone. — but oh, do thou
Think better of me from this time.”
In this pivotal stanza, Lakshman articulates the profound conflict between duty and compassion that defines his tragic position. He acknowledges that by departing to search for Ram, he violates his "plainest orders" to guard Sita—a grave breach of military discipline that wounds his identity as "a soldier." Yet he justifies his choice as necessary given Sita's "wild and wrong" distress, shouldering full responsibility ("Mine be the crime"). The final plea—"think better of me from this time"—reveals his aching need for redemption, even as he knowingly walks into a trap. This moment crystallizes the impossible choices faced by epic heroes when divine commands clash with human suffering.
Stanza 18
"Here with an arrow, lo, I trace
A magic circle ere I leave,
No evil thing within this space
May come to harm thee or to grieve.
Step not, for aught, across the line,
Whatever thou mayst see or hear,
So shalt thou balk the bad design
Of every enemy I fear.”
In this pivotal stanza, Lakshman attempts to protect Sita through a final act of devotion before his reluctant departure. He draws a protective magic circle (Lakshman Rekha) with his arrow—a boundary meant to shield her from evil forces in his absence. His instructions are emphatic: Sita must not cross this line, no matter what she sees or hears, as doing so would nullify its power. This moment is rich with dramatic irony, as the audience knows Sita will later be tricked into violating this boundary, leading to her abduction by Ravan. The stanza encapsulates Lakshman's desperate attempt to reconcile his duty to Ram with his protective instincts, even as fate conspires against them.
Stanza 19
"And now farewell! What thou hast said,
Though it has broken quite my heart,
So that I wish I were dead —
I would before, O Queen, we part,
Freely forgive, for well I know
That grief and fear have made thee wild,
We part as friends, — is it not so?"
And speaking thus he sadly smiled.”
In this heart-wrenching stanza, Lakshman bids farewell to Sita, transcending his shattered heart ("broken quite my heart") to offer unconditional forgiveness. Though her accusations have made him wish for death, he recognizes her words stem from terror ("grief and fear have made thee wild"). His tragic smile and insistence that they part as friends ("We part as friends") reveal his compassion. The moment epitomizes Lakshman’s heroic empathy, transforming personal anguish into a final act of protection through absolution.
Stanza 20
"And oh ye sylvan gods that dwell
Among these dim and sombre shades,
Whose voices in the breezes swell
And blend with noises of cascades,
Watch over Sita, whom alone
I leave, and keep her safe from harm,
Till we return unto our own,
I and my brother, arm in arm.”
In this incantatory stanza, Lakshman invokes the forest deities as he prepares to leave Sita, transforming his departure into a sacred pact with nature. His prayer—delivered to the "sylvan gods" of the "dim and sombre shades"—reveals his desperate faith in divine protection when human efforts falter. The imagery of breezes and cascades as the gods' voices merges Sita's safety with the wilderness itself, while his vision of returning "arm in arm" with Ram foreshadows their eventual reunion (post-war). This stanza signals Victorian Romanticism. Toru Dutt infuses Hindu nature worship with Wordsworthian reverence, exoticizing the Indian wilderness for her English audience. Yet the stanza thrums with dramatic irony: nature will not protect Sita, as Ravan's supernatural power (a boon from Brahma) overrides these minor deities. Lakshman's plea underscores his tragic limitation—he trusts the natural order, but the epic's villains operate beyond it.
Stanza 21
"For though ill omens round us rise
And frighten her dear heart, I feel
That he is safe. Beneath the skies
His equal is not, — and his heel
Shall tread all adversaries down,
Whoeve'r they may chance to be.
Farewell, O Sita! Blessings crown
And peace for ever rest with thee!”
In this penultimate farewell stanza, Lakshman attempts to reassure Sita (and himself) amidst looming dread. He acknowledges the "ill omens" frightening her but asserts unwavering faith in Rama’s invincibility ("Beneath the skies / His equal is not"). The declaration that Rama’s "heel / Shall tread all adversaries down" echoes cosmic victory prophecies, yet clashes with the audience’s knowledge of Sita’s imminent abduction. Lakshman’s blessing ("peace for ever rest with thee") rings with tragic irony, as his departure ensures the opposite. The stanza oscillates between heroic certainty and subconscious fear, revealing Lakshman’s inner conflict as he performs his duty against instinct. Iambic pentameter variance has been used. Lines like "And frighten her dear heart, I feel" break metric regularity, mirroring Lakshman’s suppressed anxiety.
Stanza 22
“ He said, and straight his weapons took
His bow and arrows pointed keen,
Kind, — nay, indulgent, — was his look,
No trace of anger, there was seen,
Only a sorrow dark, that seemed
To deepen his resolve to dare
All dangers. Hoarse the vulture screamed,
As out he strode with dauntless air.”
In this concluding stanza, the omniscient narrator captures Lakshman’s transformation from conflicted guardian to resolute warrior. As he gathers his weapons ("bow and arrows pointed keen"), his demeanor remains "kind, indulgent"—free of anger but shadowed by a "sorrow dark" that hardens his resolve. The hoarse scream of a vulture (a traditional omen of death) and Lakshman’s "dauntless air" create a fateful atmosphere, foreshadowing the coming tragedy. The stanza crystallizes Lakshman’s tragic heroism: his compassion and duty merge into a steely determination to face danger, even as his departure seals Sita’s doom.
Toru Dutt’s Lakshman reimagines a pivotal moment from the Ramayan through a Victorian lens, blending Hindu epic grandeur with psychological depth. The poem transforms Lakshman from a steadfast sidekick into a tragic hero torn between duty and empathy, his loyalty weaponized against him by Sita’s desperate accusations. Dutt’s innovation lies in her lyrical humanization of myth. Her Lakshman is not just a warrior but a brother, martyr, and reluctant rebel, his sorrow echoing the dissonance between tradition and modernity in 19th-century India. The poem’s tragic power stems from its unanswered question: Can duty coexist with compassion? The answer, here, is a resounding no—and that failure immortalizes Lakshman as a figure of heartbreaking nobility. Dutt’s work bridges Ramayan’s dharma and Victorian pathos, offering a universal lament for those crushed by the weight of "right action."
So this is it for today. We will continue to discuss the history of Indian English literature. Please stay connected with the Discourse. Thanks and Regards!
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