The Ramayan
A page from a mediæval, Persian manuscript of The Ramayan
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The Authorised Ramayan
A page from a mediæval, Persian manuscript of The Ramayan
The Authorised Ramayana
At the root of the censorship issue is a refusal to accept that our gods might be fallible
Nilofer Kaul
In Satyajit Ray’s Samapti, Amulya, the well brought-up city-educated man, visits his prospective bride who sits delicately next to the tanpura. By conventional standards, she is most suitable. Suddenly, from behind her, framed by the window, emerges a wild, untamed Mrinmoyee (Aparna Sen) who unleashes chaos with her mocking laughter. Amulya, till now reluctant to get married, returns home, smitten by the charms of this capricious, uncivilised woman. The scene may be read allegorically – Mrinmoyee represents the repressed; her behaviour is inappropriate both because of the overt aggression and the barely concealed sexuality.
The scene seems to say: there is little we can do with the repressed, because it returns, as indeed, it must. The mother realises this and so gives in to this rather wayward marriage. But the forces of Hindutva do not, as they clamp down on A K Ramanujan’s Three Hundred Ramayanas. Much has been written on this. I don’t want to either mock or condemn the ban, but i do want to understand the anxieties that underlie the obvious irrationality of such censoring. What does Valmiki get which is so right, that others seem to have missed? From the rich repertoire of tellings that Ramanujan brings together, i have picked four instances of ‘wrongness’.
In Kampan’s Ramayana, Indra is punished for having adulterous sex with Ahalya. His body will be covered with vaginas – for that is what he violated. Ahalya is turned to stone, she will never feel anything, for she has indulged in an excess of pleasure. This episode is missing from Valmiki. Why? When we reject this, perhaps we do not want to admit adultery existed, at least not in the realm of our gods, because when you say it is in our sacred epic, it feels as if you are attacking our parents. For after all, gods are mostly imagined as our idealised parents, upholding a fragile fiction. This is what i understand to be at the heart of this censorship panic. It echoes what every child feels – yes, unfortunately people do have sex, but not my parents.
In the Kannada folk tradition, Ravana appears as the father of Sita (as also in some Southeast Asian and Jain tellings). Ramanujan reads this as a recurrent figure in myths, i.e., the incestuous father who pursues his daughter. Interestingly, this demonic version of Ravana also becomes a source of anxiety. Must being the object of desire taint the object? Or is it a cross that all raped and abused women must bear? By being the object of her father’s desire, does Sita also get defiled? Or do we seek to find purity in our family tree which is denied by the lurking incestuous desire?
Interestingly, the Jains represent evolved versions of Ravana and Rama. Given their distaste for aggression, there is a denial of flesh and violence. And yet, we who follow Valmiki’s Ramayana are not enamoured by the purging of violence. The narrative exudes greyness – there is no clear demarcation of good and evil; our bloodthirsty instincts are simply not met! So after all, such a narrative seems to say, my parents are not that much better than the enemy!
In several Rama tales, in Sanskrit and other languages, Sita and Rama are not reconciled. There is a brief reunion followed by separation. Sita returns to the forest with her sons and finally vanishes from the earth into a fissure. This one has all the disadvantages of a tragedy. The reasons for rejecting this are all too obvious. We want our parents to have emerged omnipotent. We also love happy endings, happy families, reconciliation and restoration of order. At least for our families. Never mind if the enemy ends up in flames, or loses her nose. By depriving us of a happy ending, these alternative Rama stories fail to console us.
I have looked very briefly at just a few anxieties linked to some of the existing tales. There must be a good deal more, no doubt. But Valmiki’s Ramayana seems to have struck the right balance in that it keeps good and evil far apart, it doles out a happy ending, it steers clear of insinuating that our parents were mortal and fallible.
In all fairness, one must admit, these childlike wishes to hear, believe and propagate only what is ‘good’ about our parents (and by extension ourselves), is not limited to the Hindutva forces, but is evident in other dominant religions as well. Christianity offers a sanitised mythology, shorn of the body except as a medium for self-flagellation. The Virgin Mother is the obvious embodiment of the childhood fantasy that my father is an absent god and my mother immaculate. The hold of this powerful wish can be seen in the way Christianity wiped out traces of so many ‘strange gods’ of pagan mythology and made the Greek pantheon sound aberrant and monstrous.
Islamic insistence on maintaining a distance between the sacred and the profane is also not discontinuous with this strand of sanitised religions. So is this ‘sanitising’ an inevitable movement, an ineluctable step towards ‘civilising’? To return from where i started, the ‘uncivilised’ Mrinmoyee in Ray’s film must be brought into the fold of civilisation, through the taming of her instincts. Indeed, how precarious must we feel with the dark stranger that resides within us?
The writer is a psychoanalyst.
Ayodhya
Swami Swaroopananda, Ayodhya Means Free Of All Conflicts , April 5, 2017: The Times of India
A page from a mediæval, Persian manuscript of The Ramayan
The Ramayana, a fascinating and enthralling epic, is not just a story that has been passed through generations; it has hidden treasures of deep mystical knowledge.
King Dasharatha lived in the kingdom of Ayodhya. Ayodhya is made up of the letters `a-yudh'. `Yudh' means battle or conflict. In our lives, conflicts seem to be all-pervading: disputes in the family; wars in the world; and incessant discord within in our own minds. King Dasharatha had his `ratha' under his mastery .
Our body is a ratha (chariot) with 10 sense organs five of perception and five of action. A person who has mastery over this ratha lives in peace and harmony .
The king had three beautiful and virtuous wives Kaushalya, Sumitra and Kaikeyi. These represent different virtues within us. Kaushalya, means well-being or prosperity . Sumitra signifies friendship and Kaikeyi is one who has both compassion and passion.When the queen showered kindness, she was a wonderful person but, later, overcome with selfish obsession, she became the conniving Kaikeyi.
With such a ruler, wedded to the welfare of his people, the kingdom enjoys peace and prosperity . Similarly, when our mind becomes a Dasharatha a master of the 10 senses and the intellect develops goodwill and kindness with the goal of helping others, our heart will be free from all conflicts Ayodhya.
The birth of the Lord takes place in such an integrated personality that is dedicated to the service of the world. The word Rama means one who delights everybody; what truly delights us is happiness and this happiness is Rama. It is the Supreme Lord, the Infinite Reality that is revelling in everyone's heart; this Rama is the Atma within all and manifests in the heart.
Why does the Lord take avatar? He can easily use anyone as an instrument to vanquish evil. He takes avatar to establish righteousness, when the good are being tyrannised by the wicked; when the Ravanas and Kumbhakarans of the world oppress the virtuous. This is in the macrocosm, but the Supreme also manifests in our hearts.
How do we experience the Infinite, All-pervading Lord within ourselves?
The key element is devotion. The Atma, the Atmarama, is present within us; it is that because of which we see, hear, smell and taste; it is because of which we are alive. Yet, we do not know Him; we remain unaware of His presence. When the mind, like King Dasharatha, is full of devotion, a certain dispassion develops. The king is wedded to Kaushalya one who represents a brilliant and bright intellect free from all selfishness and negativities. When the mind and intellect are focussed on the Lord and we call out to Him by His name Sri Rama He reveals Himself. The Antakaran is the inner equipment, the inner city, the inner space where Rama is experienced as a mass of inexplicable, unlimited happiness and bliss.
Rama is accompanied by his three brothers. Bharata indicates one who is full of love and ready to sacrifice.Lakshmana is a life of dedicated service, and the silent brother, Shatrughana, destroys our greatest enemy the ego.When Rama enters, love and sacrifice, service and dispassion, selflessness and humility , will also emerge. Our heart, Ayodhya, becomes full of peace and joy .
Lakshman Rekha: what it symbolises
Madan Mohan Mathur, The Symbolism In Lakshmana Rekha, September 27, 2017: The Times of India
Acrucial episode in the Ramayana is Ravana's abduction of Sita when she crosses the Lakshmana Rekha, the line drawn by Lakshmana with his arrow, around their cottage in the Dandakaranya forest, before he set out to look for his brother and Sita's spouse, Rama. He draws the line to ensure her safety , and tells her that she should not step outside of it in case any stranger comes there. And if a stranger tries to cross the line and enter the cottage or its precincts, he would be immediately burnt to ashes.
Once Lakshmana leaves, Ravana disguises himself as a sanyasi and appears before the cottage, begging for alms. Since it is obligatory to feed a sadhu who comes to one's door, Sita asks him to come in. Ravana, however, refuses, saying it is not proper for him to enter when she is alone in the house and requests her to come out and give the food to him. The moment she does that, Ravana assumes his real form and forcibly carries Sita away to Lanka.This kidnapping of Sita by Ravana leads to the epic war between Rama and Ravana, with Rama emerging triumphant.
Curiously , there is no specific mention of Lakshmana Rekha either in the original Sanskrit Ramayana by Valmiki or the later Ramcharitra Manas in Hindi, by Tulsidas. The relevant verse of Ramcharitra Manas states that while going into the forest in search of Rama, Lakshmana leaves Sita “in the care of the gods of the forest and environment“. In the Aranya Kanda, there is no mention of Lakshmana drawing a line to protect Sita. Only later, in Lanka Kanda, we find an oblique reference, when Mandodari ridicules Ravana on his boisterous claims of valour by hinting that he could not cross even a small line drawn by Rama's younger brother! Perhaps the episode of Lakshmana Rekha was a later interpolation used as a theatrical device to make the story more interesting for public performances of Ramlila.
Whatever may be the case, undeniably , over the centuries, Lakshmana Rekha has be come a universally accepted idiom to denote the ethical limits of any action, travers ing which may lead to drastic consequences. Even today , the term is being used while referring to violation of traditional conventions or rules. In Parliament, former Speaker Somnath Chatterjee is reported to have said “Constitution is very clear on the roles of the Judiciary and Legislature. Both should not cross the Lakshmana Rekha!“ So, whether it existed in the original Ramayana or not, Lakshmana Rekha has now become part of popular parlance.
In present times, public actions and conduct are governed by the Constitution and the laws enacted by our law-making bodies. And even in our personal relationships and daily activities, we follow some rules, conventions and codes of conduct which we have come to accept as the norm, as they contribute to an orderly life at home and in the community and society .
Ultimately , in the personal sphere, it is for each one of us to draw our own Lakshmana Rekha based on personal and collective wisdom, in keeping with the times, and decide whether we want to remain safe and secure within the line drawn by our own moral conscience or act out of bounds, facing whatever consequences lie in store for us.
Sabhari (Shabari) moksh
The one chapter devoted to Sabhari moksha in the Valmiki Ramayana might not contribute to the plot of the story, but it brings out the efficacy of the sacred mantra, the Rama Nama, said Sri Sankararama Dikshitar in a discourse. Rama Nama is a universal mantra that has no restrictions, regulations or reservations and all can chant it to gain untold benefits.
In the case of Sabhari, the very deity who is invoked in the mantra comes to grace her, validating her faith in the mantra and in her guru’s words. Rama and Lakshmana enter the idyllic ashram of Sage Matanga and are filled with a rare sense of peace and tranquility. As soon as Sabhari sees them she welcomes them with folded palms and is speechless in their presence.
Rama, known to be a ‘poorva bhashi,’ and very well aware of Sabhari’s saintly habits and realised state, begins the conversation by asking her about those matters close to her heart, her penance, faith, service to her guru, etc. The exchange between them does not touch on worldly matters.
Sabhari intuitively realises that the purpose of her life has gained fulfilment on seeing Rama, who she knows to be the Supreme Lord incarnate and not just the prince of Ayodhya who in search of Sita. She is grateful that His kataksha has blessed and purified her. She is overwhelmed that despite her birth and lack of learning, it is her simple faith and a life of penance that has conferred the jnana that liberates. She takes them around the ashram that reflects the austere life of the sage and his disciples even in their absence. She offers them the best of fruits she had carefully and painstakingly hand picked for Rama.
Rama accepts her hospitality. She then enters the fire in Rama’s presence, attains a divine form and proceeds to reach the highest goal from which there is no return.
See also
The Ramayan
