Today is all about Sri Rama and so it seems apt to retell a few things about him.
Valmiki, in the root Ramayana, lists the 16 good qualities that Sage Narada seeks in an ideal man. Lord Brahma tells him that Rama is that person. At that stage it is only hearsay and unreal to us. As the story proceeds, it is by Rama’s reactions in deed and word that we obtain impressions of his Rama-ness. A glimpse of what Rama is like as a person comes from the citizens of Ayodhya. When Dasharatha asks his subjects what they feel about Rama becoming the crown prince, there is a roar of approval.
The people say of Rama, “He speaks lovingly to everyone and his words have never been false. He respects elders and wise people. He is genuinely interested in the welfare of others. When out riding, he stops and talks to the man on the street. He readily forgives and forgets a wrong but remembers even the smallest nice thing that anybody ever did for him. He is well-read and well-mannered. He is a ‘drapi’, meaning he is angry only when rightfully required and in the right proportion”.
And what did Rama look like? We learn that Rama has dark curls on his forehead and a glossy dark-brown complexion. Hanuman describes Rama to Sita as having ‘coppery eyes’, broad shoulders and mighty arms.
It is when the big tests come that we get to gauge Rama’s nature in greater depth. For one, his lack of greed when he promptly and gracefully accepts being exiled. Secondly, his forgiving nature, when he meets Kaikeyi at Chitrakoot.
Thirdly, his democratic gift of making friends with people of all classes. He hugs Guha the boatman and Hanuman. Be it the people of Ayodhya, great sages in the forest, humble folk, a motley crew of vanaras, a person of superior intellect like Hanuman or an asura prince like Vibhishana, Ram attracts affection and support just by being himself—open and friendly.
Fourthly, Rama loves deeply and does not deny his pain. Moved by the beauty of Lake Pampa, he laments aloud for lost Sita. During the long, weary wait through the monsoon before the search for Sita can resume, he is openly homesick for Ayodhya. From Rama, we learn that it is not at all unmanly to feel and express pain.
In sum, a picture emerges of a person who feels things deeply but tries to do his best despite setback after setback while keeping his dignity and without losing his values. That is his real Rama-ness as derived from Valmiki.
Eons later, Tulsidas, the Kashi-based 16th-century author of the Ramcharitmanas, wrote his ‘people’s Ramayana’ in Avadhi, the everyday dialect of his region, to simplify matters for the common folk. Tulsi, as noted by Ramayana scholars, observed that the public was prone to be easily impressed and misled by all kinds of ascetics and their doctrines. He disapproved of yogis who grew long nails, wore strange, frightening ornaments, and dressed for the fairground.
He is noted as saying in another work, the Vinaya Patrika, ‘Bahumat muni bahu panth puranani, jahan-tahan jhagaro so’ (The seers profess many opinions, there are many old stories about many paths to salvation, and there are quarrels all over the place).
He submitted that real religion was much less complicated, that it was a direct connection between a soul and god, whom he was personally taught by his guru to see as Rama. Therefore, Tulsidas’s spiritual advisory for people living in this particular Kaliyuga was brief and straightforward: “Kalyug jog na jagya na gnana / Ek aadhar Ram gun gaana (In Kaliyuga, neither austerity, nor sacrifice nor deep knowledge is required / Singing in praise of Rama is the only path to salvation)’.
The public could not resist the triple impact of the simplicity of Tulsi’s case, the emotional appeal of Valmiki’s original story that Tulsi retold with his own twists like the Lakshman Rekha incident and Tulsi’s poetry, which seemed uncomplicated but was in fact profoundly musical and meaningful. The history of religion in North India changed forever with Ramcharitmanas.
I discovered from American Ramayana scholar, Paula Richman, that there are reportedly 300 traditional versions of the Ramayana. Sita’s fate upset so many people in the past that there are two kinds of Ramayanas. Sita is either banished or there’s a mangalam ending. Indeed, it seems there are more Ramayanas that favour a happy ending. Moreover, there is this scholarly theory that Valmiki’s Uttara Kandam (featuring the banishment) was a prakshipta or interpolation added later.
Richman shares an interesting story about Lakshmana’s wife, Urmila. In the modern Malayalam play ‘Kanchana Sita’ by Sreekantan Nair, made into a film by G. Aravindan, Urmila whiles away her separation by studying. So, when Rama banishes Sita, she has a big debate with him. He justifies the banishment as “the will of the people” and not his own dharma as a husband. “But then”, says Urmila, “What about your own banishment? That was against the will of the people.”
Bhavabhuti of Vidarbha in the 8th century had them meet and forgive each other while Kuvempu’s 20th century Kannada story stunningly envisions both Rama and Sita entering the fire and emerging unscathed.
In the East, the Shakta Ramayanas have Sita going out to combat and vanquish a 100-headed cousin of Ravana who suddenly shows up after the battle, when Rama is too exhausted to fight.
The Tamil Ramayana by Kamban in the 12th century and the Malayalam Ramayana by Thunchath Ezhuthachan in the 16th century tend to be lyrical, say scholars, while Kerala and Karnataka, because of Kathakali and Yakshagana, rejoice in superbly gifted Ramayana actors.
Most regions have formats in which the complexities of the epic have been repeatedly raised. To count them all, classical, regional and folk, is a long task. Today, we welcome Ram Lalla in Ayodhya as an enduring embodiment of Indian history and culture.
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