Rama felt it was time to end her visit. Even a moment of
jesting with an asura is likely to lead to incalculable evil
consequences. So he said, "Do nothing that will bring on
retribution and suffering. Please be gone before my brother
Lakshmana notices you. He will be angry. Please go away
quickly before he comes."
"All the gods in heaven, Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva, Indra
and the god of love, Manmatha himself, seek me and pray
for my favors and attention. I'm unattainable and rare, as
they all know. When this is the case, how can you talk so
contemptuously to me, and go on desiring and trusting this
treacherous sorceress at your side? Explain your
inconsiderate and thoughtless attitude."Rama felt that any further conversation with her would
prove useless. Obstinate and unmoving, she built her edifice
of falsehoods higher and higher; so he turned and, holding
Sita close to him, walked back calmly and gracefully into his
ashram.
When the door was shut in her face, Soorpanaka felt so
distraught that she almost swooned. Recovering, she
reflected, "He has spurned me in no uncertain terms and
turned his back on me; he is completely infatuated with that
woman." Finding that there was nothing more for her to do
there, she withdrew to her own lair beyond the woods and
went to bed. She was shriveling in the heat of passion. As it
had once been for Sita, the same love-sickness proved a
great torment to this monstrous woman too. Everything
irritated her and aggravated her agony. When the moonlight
flooded the earth, she roared at the moon and wished she
could set the serpent Rahu to swallow it; when the cool
breeze touched her, she howled imprecations at it, and rose
as if determined to destroy the god of love himself, whose
shafts were piercing her heart. Unable to stand the pain
inflicted by her present surroundings, she entered a
mountain cave infested with deadly serpents and shut herself
in it. There she was the victim of hallucinations. Rama in his
full form seemed to stand before her again and again, and
she fancied she embraced him and fondled his broad
shoulders and chest. When the illusion passed, she cried,
"Why do you torment me in this way? Why do you refuse to unite with me, and quench the fire that's burning me?" After
the turmoil of the night, sheer exhaustion found her calmer
when morning came. She decided on her strategy. "If I
cannot attain him, I will not live any more. But I'll make one
more attempt. He does not care for me because of the spell
cast by that woman. If I remove her from his side and put her
away, he will then naturally take to me." This gave her a fresh
energy.
Daylight in some measure lessened the pangs of love,
and she came out of her cave. She went along to Panchvati
and prowled around, looking for a chance. She saw Rama
come out of his hut and proceed towards the banks of the
Godavari for his morning bath and prayers. "Now is the
time," she said to herself. "If I miss it, I'll lose him for ever. It's
a matter of life and death for me. After all, when he finds her
gone, he'll begin to accept me." Though the sight of Rama
had sent a tremor through her body, she restrained herself
from falling at his feet and confessing her love. She watched
him go, and presently Sita emerged from the hut to gather
flowers. "This chance is not to be missed," Soorpanaka told
herself. Every decision seemed to her a valuable step in her
pursuit of Rama. She began to stalk behind Sita cunningly
like an animal following its prey. She would pounce and grab
and put her away, and when Rama came back, he'd find her
in Sita's place. Excellent plan as far as the idea went, but
she did not reckon there could be another outcome to it. In
her concentration on the beloved image of Rama, and on the movements of Sita, she failed to notice that she was being
watched. Lakshmana had posted himself, as normally he
did, on an eminence shaded with trees, and was watching in
all directions. When he saw Soorpanaka near the hut, he
became alert; when he found her stalking Sita, he sprang
down on her. She had just laid hands on Sita, when she
found herself grabbed, held down by her hair, and kicked in
the stomach.
"Oh! a woman!" Lakshmana muttered, and decided to
spare her life. Instead of taking out his arrow, he pulled out
his sword and chopped off her nose, ears, and breasts.
When his anger subsided, he let go her hair.
When Rama returned home from the river, she was
mutilated and bloody and screaming her life out. Lamenting
to the skies, she called upon her powerful brothers, reciting
their valour in all the worlds; repeating again and again how
impossible that the sister of such eminent personages
should have to suffer this mutilation and humiliation in the
hands of two ordinary human beings, dressed as ascetics
but carrying arms and attacking people treacherously. To
think that human creatures, which served as food for her
poor relations, should have dared to do this to Ravana's
sister! …
Rama did not ask, "What has happened?" but "Who are
you in such a bloody state? Where do you come from?"
She replied, "Don't you know me? Why do you pretend?We met last evening and you were so attentive to me! Ah!"
she cried, her infatuation reviving.
Rama understood. "You are the same one, are you?" he
asked. He made no other comment.
She replied, amidst her agony, "You don't find me
beautiful? No wonder! If one's nose and ears and breasts
are lopped off, will not one's beauty suffer?"
Rama turned to Lakshmana and asked, "What did she
do?"
Lakshmana answered, "With fire in her eyes, she was
about to fall on Janaki, and I prevented it."
Soorpanaka now explained, "Naturally, it's just and right
that I hate anyone who has deprived me of my beloved's
company." In her mind she had treated Rama as her own
property. "Would it not inflame a woman's heart to see her
beloved taken away?"
Rama said simply, "Go away before your tongue utters
worse words, which may bring you more harm. Go back to
your own people."