Blogs

There is an interesting story about Wendy Doniger, one of the most famous Indologists of our time. In 2003, during one of her lectures in London, a man offended by Doniger’s statement that Sita accused Lakshma of having sexual designs on her, threw an egg at her. The man who had poor aim would have heard the Ramayana from his grandmother’s lap, or an Amar Chitra Katha, or Ramanand Sagar’s Ramayana, like most Indians did.

Had he read Valmiki, he would have understood that Doniger was actually right. The scene was Rama’s chase of the golden deer. Sita desired for the deer. Rama, before pursuing the deer, asked his brother Lakshmana to watch over Sita and leave under no circumstance. When Rama, much far away from Sita and Lakshmana shoots the deer, it takes the form of a Rakshasa and screams for aid in Rama’s voice. Sita mistakes the voice for Rama and asks Lakshamana to aid her husband, which he declines. Distressed and angry, Sita does accuse poor Lakshmana of those things, and it worked - Lakshmana goes after Rama.

Mythological literature

Mythological literature is not always set in stone contrary to popular imagination. It evolves throughout the ages taking in social norms and dramatic interpolations. Even the most devout re-tellers add a bit of their views to epics. The strictest of texts get their meanings changed as scribes inadvertently miss letters or diacritics, or as time progresses words themselves change meaning rendering the text differing in intent.

However most of us take the version that we heard in our childhood and assume it to be the same as it was millennia ago, conveniently disregarding that the version at best was only old as we are. There are many reasons why mythological literature evolves whether organically, or through deliberate actions.

One such reason is bowdlerisation i.e. adapting a work to suit the tastes of a modern society, or to be palatable to children. Ancient works are often dated when it comes to ethics. What was considered a norm in the ancient world can be casteist, racist or sexist to the modern reader. While Odysseus is a favourite character in Greek mythology famed for his cleverness, a main character in both of Homer’s epics and the architect of the Trojan horse, not many know that he is also a child-killer. He had to throw Priam’s newborn over the city walls - a deed which was necessary and logical in the ancient world but horrifying to the modern audience.

The Arabian Nights (or Alif Laila wa Laila) had many explicit incidents as well as sexist and anti-semitic content. There is a section in K M Ganguli’s English translation of the Mahabharata, where the poor translator, shocked by the explicit content, translated the offending verses into Latin instead of English. All three works mentioned here have been adapted well into comic books, cartoons and Grandma’s stories. It wouldn’t have been made possible without the necessary censorship.

Another reason is changing religious and social norms leading to reinterpretation of popular characters. In the most popular rendition of the Ramayana, the Ramcharitamanas, Tulsidas has his protagonist Rama walk into the ashram, where Ahalya had been turned to stone due to a curse. Ahalya was tricked by Indra under the guise of her husband Gautama to have a liaison. The incident found out by Gautama was the reason for the curse. She was turned to stone and was doomed to remain so, until Rama came to the Ashram. Once turned back to human Ahalya falls at her saviour’s feet. This is the most famous version of the story popularised by Ramlilas, TV serials and Comic books.

A peek into the forerunner, Valmiki’s Ramayana shows us this was not always the case. In the supposedly original version, Ahalya is not actually turned to stone but rather cursed to ‘remain invisible and unheard bound to the Ashram eating dust’ until Rama sets foot in the place. Ahalya wasn’t tricked by Indra. Instead she sees through Indra’s disguise but is flattered and becomes a willing participant. Furthermore when the curse is lifted, Rama is the one who touches the now purified Ahalya’s feet for her blessings.

One can only imagine Tulsidas’s mind. The fact that a pious wife of a sage willingly took part in sin, might have not been pleasing in 16th century Awadh. She had to be tricked by Indra. Also, Rama touching a mortal woman’s feet didn’t make sense. Ahalya seeks blessings from Lord Rama. Tulsidas’s Rama is more divine than Valmiki’s. Such anxieties to enforce moralities on gods and men are visible throughout different epics.

It’s not just censorship or socio-religious anxieties alone that shape literature, it could be purely artistic influence. Poetic licence can elevate scenes for dramatic effect. Characters can devolve to archetypes. Decades old derivative literature can overshadow millenia-old epics. Even the way we visualise those characters are subject to a lot of influences.

The romantic story of Sakuntala and Dushyanta where a pregnant Sakuntala is forgotten by her lover, the upright king Dushyanta due to Durvasa’s curse is of Kalidasa’s making. In the original source, there is no Durvasa. Sakuntala, when she approached Dushyanta, was ridiculed by him. Her former lover pretended to not know her at all. Only a heraldic voice from the heavens (an asariri) saves her reputation in the front of the court. Then the honourable Dushyanta turns the table - he was only denying that he knew Sakuntala so that the asariri is forced to vouch for her! Kudos to Kalidasa for making an eternal love story out of this hot mess.

Storytellers often reduce characters to certain archetypes. Bhima, a strong warrior is sometimes portrayed as the ‘dumb muscle’ archetype, despite that he is a character who is well informed about Dharma. 

Storytellers often reduce characters to certain archetypes. Bhima, a strong warrior is sometimes portrayed as the ‘dumb muscle’ archetype, despite that he is a character who is well informed about Dharma. Karna who is a jealous warrior who often runs away in battle and boasts a lot, is the primary instigator of the Vastraakshepa (the disrobing of Draupadi) - even Duryodhana was silent. But he gets pushed into the ‘underdog’ archetype. Suddenly his faults are overlooked and his sacrifices are blown up. Books like Shivaji Sawant’s Mrityunjaya are also culpable for this. 

The way we visualise gods are similarly formed. Raja Ravi Varma’s paintings of gods and kings were immortalised in popular imagination due to the printing press. The gaudy golden crowns and silks made their way into calendar art, comic books, and movies. The TV serial Asuras often had horned helmets blatantly inspired from Wagner opera Vikings. Of course real vikings never wore horned helmets, but popular culture trumps history.

Like the paths of rivers being determined by the terrain they flow on, the way mythology evolves is seemingly defined by a complicated landscape. Ramayana has spread across much of the world, with hundreds of versions in scores of languages and cultures. In Thailand the epic is revered so much that the capital of one of its provinces is Ayodhya (“Ayutthaya”) and its kings are named after Rama (the current one being Rama X). Ramakein is the Thai national epic. Even in India it takes local flavours. The location of Pampa might be in modern day Hampi, but to a Malayali it could be the Pampa river beside Sabarimala. To a Gujarati it could be the Pampa sarovar in Dang district.

However, contrary to what many purists would say, this is not (always) a bad thing. Mythologies change because they are alive and popular. Rather than being confined to indecipherable stone codices, they are celebrated and retold throughout the generations. Every rendition teaches us something new, or offers a fresh perspective.

Even devotees of epics like the Ramayana consider each version valid. Every poet like Tulsidas was divinely inspired. Who are we to argue otherwise?