What Kind of Man Sends Away His Queen? Only a God Can

Rama had every power, every skill, every weapon known to man and god alike. With a single arrow, he could have turned Lanka into ashes — yet, he paused.

Why?

Because Dharma is not an impulse.
Dharma is not revenge.
Dharma is the art of restraint.

Even when Ravana roared like a thousand thunders, intoxicated by ego, swaying under the weight of stolen virtue, Rama saw him not just as a villain, but as a being with karma, with destiny, and with lessons still unfinished. The Lord did not rush to strike — he offered counsel, chance, and even retreat.

Such is the magnificence of Rama — a warrior who first chose dialogue before destruction.

And when the inevitable war thundered forth, Rama fought not as one seeking glory, but as a protector of the world’s moral backbone.

Victory came. Ravana fell.

And what did Rama do?

He sent Lakshmana to learn from the dying Ravana, not to mock him, but to absorb the wisdom of a fallen titan. For even in downfall, Ravana was a reservoir of rare knowledge. Only Rama could bow in respect even before a defeated enemy.

But the deepest wound lay not on the battlefield. It lay in the palace.

The whispers of the people, soft as they were, became thorns. Doubts about Sita — his beloved, his companion through fire and forest — reached his ears like poison dripped into nectar.

And Rama? Did he doubt her? Never.
Did he suffer? Immeasurably.
But he chose his dharma over his heart, his people over his peace.

He sent her away.

That moment — more than any war — was his greatest trial.

No cries, no protests, no rebellion — only the silent shedding of tears that only kings of supreme Dharma can know. That is not detachment. That is not cruelty. That is sacrifice carved out of steel and soaked in bloodless pain.

Rama was not just a king.

 He was the king of the soul — a ruler of ideals,
where victory tasted bitter and love had to be sacrificed for the world to assert righteousness.

Such is Rama. Such is Ramatva.

Not the slayer of Ravana — but the slayer of pride.
Not the exile of Sita — but the exile of selfish love.
Not the king of Ayodhya — but the eternal sovereign of Dharma’s throne.

Ramaswamy Sastry and Vighnesh Ghanapaathi