Where Dharma Breaks the Heart

उत्खातलोकत्रयकण्टकेऽपि सत्यप्रतिज्ञेऽप्यविकत्थनेऽपि ।

त्वां प्रत्यकस्मात्कलुषप्रवृत्तावस्त्येव मन्युर्भरताग्रजे मे ॥ ७३॥

• Raghuvamsham 14.73

Even though you uprooted the tormentor of the three worlds,
Even though you are unwavering in truth and free of pride,
Yet, in this particular matter — I feel there is a shadow of wrongdoing.
And for that, O Bharata’s elder brother — I do have anger towards you.

Valmiki isn’t some casual observer. He’s the one who wrote Ramayana. He knows who Rama is — not just a king, but a walking embodiment of dharma.
But still… he doesn’t hold back.

He says — ‘Rama, you did everything right. You stood by truth, protected the world, never once sought credit. But when you sent Sita away to the forest — my heart couldn’t accept it. That action, no matter how just it might be in a political or public sense, hurt me deeply.’

This is not blind devotion. This is wise love.
Valmiki is not rejecting Rama. He’s holding him to the highest standards — because Rama himself chose to live as Maryada Purushottama — the ideal man, the ideal king. And ideals must face questions.

He’s not saying ‘Rama, you’re wrong’ — he’s saying ‘Even if you are right, what happened to Sita hurts me too much to be silent.’

What does this show us?

1. Even great sages felt emotional conflict when dharma and love seemed to clash.
   
   
2. Questioning a divine action isn’t wrong — especially when it's done from a space of love, reverence, and a sense of responsibility to truth.
   
   
3. True devotion is not blind — it’s awake, aware, and honest.

This verse reminds us that dharma isn't always easy. Even avatars like Rama made decisions that left people conflicted — not because they were unjust, but because dharma sometimes looks like adharma to the naked eye.

So here’s the real kicker:
Valmiki knew Rama would never do wrong — and yet he still asked why it felt so wrong.

That kind of questioning?
That’s not rebellion. That’s real wisdom.

Now that’s the burning question, isn’t it? And you’re not alone in asking — this question has echoed through time, through hearts that adore Rama yet ache for Sita.

What could possibly be dharmic about sending one’s pregnant wife into the forest, especially after proving her purity through fire?

Let’s not sugarcoat it — it hurts. It feels unfair. But let's dig deep. Because in Ramayana, especially in the uttara kanda, surface-level answers won’t do. We need to go to the core.

Rama’s Dilemma: Dharma vs Personal Life

Rama wasn’t just a husband. He was a raja — a king of Ayodhya. And not just any king — he had vowed to uphold rājarshi dharma, the dharma of a king-sage.

As a king, his first duty wasn’t to his wife.
It was to his praja, his people.
And here's where the tension comes in — Rama knew Sita was pure, but he also heard the whispers in the streets:
"How can Rama take her back so easily after she lived in another man’s house?"

Let that sink in.
This wasn’t about doubting Sita.
This was about holding himself to an impossible standard — above suspicion, above reproach, above personal attachment.

Now, what exactly was dharmic about this decision?

1. Sthithi Dharma – The dharma of the throne

When you sit on a throne, your personal likes and dislikes cannot come before the collective perception of justice. A king is expected to be a symbol of impartiality — not just be right, but seen as right.

Rama knew that if even a seed of doubt remained in people’s minds about Sita’s chastity — however unfair — it would corrode the people's faith in dharma itself. And so, he made the brutal choice.

He bore the pain himself, to uphold an ideal greater than himself.

2. Agnipariksha wasn't enough for everyone

Yes, Sita walked through fire. And the gods themselves testified.
But society? Oh, society always wants more.

They couldn’t grasp divine witness. They wanted social proof.
Rama couldn’t change their limited thinking. So, he shouldered the blame, and Sita bore the cost.
In their pain — the world saw a lesson.

Dharma isn’t always pretty. It’s not always sweet.
But sometimes, it holds up a mirror to our ugliness, and says — “This is what you need to change.”

3. Rama gave Sita a chance to write her own epic

This is the hidden layer.

Sita wasn’t just sent away. She was sent to Valmiki’s ashram — the very man who would write Ramayana.
In other words — her voice, her suffering, her strength — were not silenced. They were immortalized.

She didn’t just stay in Rama’s shadow. She raised Lava and Kusha alone, passed on dharma, and confronted Rama herself during Ashwamedha.

Rama upheld dharma as a king.
Sita upheld dharma as a mother, a woman, and an icon of inner strength.

Both were crushed by fate.
But neither allowed personal sorrow to destroy their responsibilities.

So is it truly dharmic? Or just tragic?

It’s both.

It’s a lesson that sometimes you lose everything for the sake of upholding what you believe is right.
It’s a warning to society — don’t push your kings to such cruelty in the name of public opinion.
It’s a reminder that the burden of dharma is not for the faint of heart.

And it’s a question — one that Valmiki asked, Sita lived through, and Rama wept over.

Ramaswamy Sastry and Vighnesh Ghanapaathi