First Story: Dasaratha's Sons

As the group staggered along the bumpy and dusty path, the notion of hunger began to set in. "When are we to eat?' belted a large man in decorative clothing. He had obviously not missed very many meals.

"That depends on what you are having?" calmly replied the peasant in jestful tone. The sky was growing darker as sun set, and the moon began to glimmer, casting its silver shadow over the pilgrims. The day's travels had been long and arduous, the notion of rest was embraced by all, and not just those desperate for a break. The air grew cooler in the absence of the sun. Soon everything was engulfed by the light of the fire, burning in the night.

"Tomorrow is yet another long day of travel, so lets all eat and get a good night's rest before continuing on our way," informed the stoic guide.

"But sir, I ran out of food last night. I have gold and jewels, but it is not like those will fill my stomach out here. Surely there is someone to share their dinner here. Does no one have a single grain to rice to spare?" inquired a pilgrim.

Many fellow pilgrims were stunned by this lowly farmer's sacrifice, but finally one simple farmer responded. "My fellow pilgrim, do not fear, you shall not go hungry. Take this rice and may it free you of your hunger."

In shock at the man's generosity, he took the bowl and started to devour his first meal of the day. "You know it was this very rice that my great-great-grandfather used when Dasaratha was so depressed by the fact of not having any successor to his rule," said the man. It was these words and a hint of a story to be that mesmerized the audience, and drew them around the fire.

As the audience was captivated by their guide, he continued the story. It had been a long and troublesome season. The rains were plentiful, but the heat was nearly unbearable. The stalks were golden in color and blowing restlessly in the wind. Despite the challenges of the year, it seemed as if the harvest would be bountiful and healthy. Then out of nowhere came the roar of the royal processional. It was not often that the sounds of royalty were heard this far from the gates of Ayodhya. "What business could the king possibly have out here, since there is nothing but rice for miles?" thought the old farmer. As the he was distracted in contemplation, the royal procession only grew nearer.

"Your harvest looks wonderful and golden, my loyal subject," Dasaratha commented.

"Yes, my lord, the gods have been generous to me this year. It must be a sign of approval, for my wife is soon to give birth to our first child," the farmer replied quietly.

"Ah, children! What a wonderful blessing. Perhaps then in the light of your good fortune you will be willing to part with some of your golden rice. You see, I am without a child to succeed me in both name and destiny. I am told that if I sacrifice to the gods and feed my wives your rice, I will be blessed by children. Please. Sir you will be granted all your worldly wishes if you would just share some of your bounty," the King pleaded with the farmer.

Struck by the honesty of truth the King's voice, the farmer could do little but bow to his wishes. Into his small hut As the farmer was distracted in contemplation, the royal procession with a satchel of rice. "Here, take this rice, and may your life be as enriched by children as mine has been," he said as he offered up what would have easily been a month's worth of rice.

Struck by the farmer's generosity, Dasaratha reached into his chariot and emerged with a small fortune in gold and jewels. "Here, take this and make for your family the life they deserve," said the King somewhat tearfully. In awe of his new found wealth the farmer dropped to his knees and began to pray in the name of Dasaratha's kind spirit.

Dasaratha, now in possession of the rice he needed, left to return for Ayodhya, where his wives ate the rice and gave birth to his four sons.

The pilgrims still captivated by the fire were perplexed by the end. With times as tough as they were, it was nothing short of a miricle to find someone as willing to share as the loely farmer.

Author's Note: For the purpose of this story I spent a fair amount of time further building a visual idea the world in which the pilgrims live. I also used a good deal of dialogue to try and make the characters more interesting and easy to relate to. I chose to elaborate on the circumstances surrounding the birth of Dasaratha's sons. We all know he fed his wives rice which made them fertile with his four sons, but what we did not know how he came into possession of the rice, or where the rice came from. That is the purpose of my story. Told from the point of view of a generous farmer, we gain a new level of insight into the circumstances surrounding the birth of Rama and his brothers. In the end we see the pilgrim farmer's generosity goes back several generations.

Bibliography: Buck, William (1976). Ramayana: King Rama's Way. Narayan, R. K. (1972) The Ramayana: A Shortened Modern Prose Version of the Indian Epic.

Dasartha's Sons. Web Source: Spiritual Resource Network