Sita: An Illustrated Retelling of the Ramayana

by Devdutt Pattanaik

  It is said that under the sea is a fire-breathing mare whose heat turns seawater into mist and prevents the sea from overflowing into land. This fire-breathing mare will be the mount of Kalki, the tenth incarnation of Vishnu.

  In Vedic times, Varuna was the god associated with ethics and morality. In Puranic times, he was the god of the sea and father of Lakshmi, goddess of wealth, associated with generosity. In art, he is visualized riding a fish or a whale or a dolphin, holding a noose or a net in his hand.

  Since Ram mounts his bow with an arrow, he is bound to release it somewhere. He releases it to the north and the land struck by it turns into the Thar desert of Rajasthan.

  In the 1990s, poster art showing Ram raising his bow against the sea became very popular. Such posters were used to transform Ram into a political icon who would rescue Sita (India) from rakshasas (anti-Hindu forces). The imagery showed Ram as being aggressive and muscular, like Greek heroes, in contrast to traditional imagery where Ram is poised, delicate and calm. Ram’s serenity was interpreted by Western art historians as sensuality and effeminacy, offending many Indians, who then reimagined Ram in this Western template.

  In folklore, the sea-god is so angry with Ram for raising a bow at him that the sea eventually consumes Dwarka, the city of Krishna, who is Ram reborn.

  The Valmiki Ramayana refers only to Nala, who is considered a form of Vishwakarma. Tulsidas’s Ramayana refers to Nala and Nila, the sons of Agni.

  Every major vanara is linked to a deva: Vali to Indra, Sugriva to Surya, Hanuman to Vayu, Nala to Vishwakarma, Nila to Agni.

  In Giridhar’s Gujarati Ramayana, written in the nineteenth century, a monkey called Nala keeps throwing into the sea the stone on which a sage washes his clothes. The sage has to pull it out every day. Fed up one day, he curses Nala that stones touched by him will always float in the sea, never sink. That is why the vanaras get Nala to touch the stones they hurl into the sea.

  Giridhar’s Ramayana rejects the idea that Ram’s name was written on the stones cast in the sea because then walking on those rocks would be like walking on Ram’s name, which would be rather disrespectful.

  In Krittivasa’s Ramayana, Hanuman gets angry with Nala because Nala uses his left hand to receive rocks from the monkeys. Ram pacifies Hanuman by informing him that that is what workers do: they take the rock with the left hand and place the rock using the right hand.

  The land from where the stones are taken is traditionally identified as parts of Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh known for their large rocks.

  That Hanuman carves the name of Ram on the stones makes him literate and so further raises his esteem in the eyes of the unlettered masses. Though a monkey, he speaks Sanskrit. Though a monkey, he can write. Though a monkey, he can help God.

  What script did Hanuman use to write the name Ram? Writing was probably not known in Valmiki’s time. His narration was in all probability oral. Kharoshti and Brahmi scripts came much later. Later the Sharada script, once popular in Kashmir, and Siddham script, still used in Tibet, became popular. From the twelfth century onwards, the use of the Devanagari script became widespread. Popular calendar art shows Hanuman writing in the Devanagari script.

  The Ram Setu is a stretch of limestone shoals connecting the island of Rameswaram to the island of Mannar in Sri Lanka. Hindus believe this to be the bridge built by the monkeys. Sri Lankan historians do not accept this claim. Today many seek to break this natural barrier to facilitate maritime activity. The plan has as many proponents as it has opponents: while some see it as a historical monument, others see it as a natural, ecologically sensitive site and still others as a sacred structure that must be protected at all costs.

  European cartographers named Ram Setu Adam’s Bridge.

  The Squirrel’s Contribution

  Many helped Ram build his bridge, monkeys mostly, but also elephants and deer and crows. One of those who helped was a squirrel. He would jump into the water and then roll on the sand so that the grains stuck to his fur. He would then run up the bridge and shake off the sand grains, thus contributing to the bridge-building effort.

  The monkeys found the squirrel’s enthusiasm rather annoying. He kept coming in their way, so they shoved him aside. Ram, however, picked him up and comforted him. As a sign of encouragement and appreciation, Ram ran his fingers on the squirrel’s back, thus creating its stripes.

  ‘You give the little pest too much value,’ chuckled Sugriva.

  ‘From your point of view, his contribution may not be much. But from his point of view, his contribution is immense. In your grand scheme of things, he may not matter. But in his grand scheme of things, he surely does. He is also Brahma, creator of his own brahmanda, like you and me. I see the world from his point of view and see how unconditional his love for me is. Unless we do this, how can our mind expand?’

  Sugriva realized then what it takes to be a Ram.

  The story of the squirrel’s stripes occurs in the Telugu Ranganatha Ramayana and the Odia Dandi Ramayana.

  Balaram Das wrote the Jagamohan [world-delighting] Ramayana, which also came to be known as the Dandi Ramayana because the song was sung on dandas (streets) – to the horror of priests who preferred Sanskrit but to the delight of the common man. Dandi is also the meter in which the Valmiki Ramayana was composed.

  The Head of Ram and the Body of Sita

  Ravana stormed into the Ashoka garden with two heads in his hand. He threw them in Sita’s direction. ‘There, I have killed your husband and brother-in-law,’ he said. ‘No one will save you now.’

  Sita wanted to cry, but tears would not flow from her eyes. She wanted to scream but no sound escaped her mouth. She did not feel the pain she knew she would feel if ever Ram left her. Instead, she felt his reassuring presence in her heart. No, Ram was not dead. Lakshman was not dead. This was a sorcerer’s trick. ‘You do not fool me with your magic, Ravana,’ she said.

  Sita did not smile, nor was her tone mocking. Nevertheless, Ravana felt like a fool.

  ‘He tried doing this to Ram too, you know, to demotivate him,’ said Trijata, when Ravana left. She then told Sita how the sorceress Benjkaya was dispatched to make Ram give up his search for Sita.

  As they were working on the bridge, the monkeys saw something floating in the waters, drifting from Lanka towards Jambudvipa. It was a body and they fished it out. It was a beautiful woman with no jewels on her body. Lakshman saw the feet and said in alarmed voice, ‘It is Sita. The rakshasa-king has killed her and dumped her body into the sea.’

  When news of this reached Ram, he could not believe it. Was Sita really dead? Had he failed to protect the daughter of Janaka? He felt a deep laceration in the innermost recesses of his being. He rushed to the beach to see the body and found Hanuman already preparing to cremate it. The corpse had been placed on logs of wood and he was about to light the flame. ‘No, she deserves all the rituals due to a royal princess and a royal wife,’ said Ram.

  Ignoring Ram, Hanuman set alight the pyre. A furious Ram ran to stop the flames from consuming his beloved, when suddenly he heard a blood-curdling scream and the ‘corpse’ suddenly came to life and leapt out of the pyre. It was Benjkaya, the sorceress.

  Ravana had underestimated the sharp gaze of Hanuman.

  The story of Benjkaya, sometimes identified as Vibhishana’s daughter, comes from the Thai Ramayana. An image of her jumping off the pyre which Hanuman lit is found on Bangkok’s Wat Po temple wall. This story is unique to South-East Asia.

  That Ravana uses sorcery to dishearten Ram and Sita is a repeated motif in the various retellings of the Ramayana.

  Stories related to sorcery and black magic increasingly appear in regional Ramayana s, especially those from Bengal, Assam and Odisha, and from South-East Asia. It indicates the rise of Tantric practices. Hanuman is seen as an antidote to these practices.

  The Arrival of Vibhishana

  To the great wonder of all the vanaras, a rakshasa came flying from the south. The monkeys growled and s
creeched in fear, determined to kill him, but Hanuman recognized him from Ravana’s court: he was the lone rakshasa who had fearlessly given sensible advice to Ravana. Hanuman got the monkeys to calm down and brought the rakshasa before Ram.

  ‘I am Vibhishana,’ said the rakshasa, introducing himself, ‘Ravana’s brother. I tried to make him see the senselessness of his actions. So he has kicked me out of his house. Let me fight on your side. He must be destroyed before his madness destroys Lanka.’

  Ram welcomed Vibhishana. ‘So there are good rakshasas in this world,’ said a beaming Lakshman.

  ‘Will you fight me if I do something wrong?’ Ram asked Lakshman.

  ‘You can do no wrong,’ said Lakshman.

  ‘I am sure the other brothers of Ravana feel Ravana can do no wrong. So who is better: the good rakshasa who sides with me or the loyal rakshasas who side with Ravana?’

  Ram’s words made both Lakshman and Vibhishana uncomfortable. What was better: to be right or to be loyal? Both have consequences.

  Vibhishana is a devotee of Ram even though he is a rakshasa, just as Prahalada is a devotee of Vishnu even though he is an asura. Thus being a rakshasa or an asura does not automatically make one a ‘demon’. In fact the English word ‘demon’ is full of a value judgement that is wrongly attributed to the words rakshasa and asura.

  In Puri, Odisha, it is said that Vibhishana comes every night to pray to Vishnu who is enshrined there as Jagannatha.

  On an island on the river Kaveri in Tamil Nadu is located Srirangam with its famous image of Ranganathaswami, the reclining Vishnu. The deity faces south, rather than the traditional east, so that Vibhishana can offer prayers facing him from Lanka.

  That Ravana worships Shiva and Vibhishana worships Vishnu has led to speculation that this is indicative of Shaiva and Vaishnava rivalry that was rife amongst priests in medieval times.

  Spies of Lanka

  As Vibhishana mingled with the monkeys, assisting them in any way he could, he noticed that amongst the monkeys were a few shape-shifting rakshasas: spies of Ravana. He recognized Shuka, Shardula and Sarana.

  Vibhishana pointed them out to the monkeys who grabbed them and showered them with kicks and punches until Ram stopped them.

  ‘Let them go. They are doing their duty. Let them go back and tell Ravana what they have seen. This army and its plans is no rumour; it is reality.’

  The spies ran back and told Ravana everything they had seen and heard. ‘They have no weapons. They have sharp nails and pointed fangs. And they fight with sticks and stones. But what they lack in tools they make up in confidence. They want to fight for Ram. He makes everyone around him want to follow him and do their best.’

  The information angered Ravana who kicked them aside, for the truth frightened him.

  Shuka said, ‘Our enemy treats us with dignity. Our master treats us with disdain.’

  Sarana retorted with a voice that conveyed experience, ‘Only because the message we carry benefits our enemy, not our master.’

  Valmiki was clearly familiar with the practice of engaging spies by kings of his time. Chandragupta Maurya had an entire department of spies, according to Kautilya’s treatise on administration, the Arthashastra.

  At one level, the rakshasas have supernatural powers to change shape. At another level, they have mundane needs like spies.

  The Golden Mermaid

  The women of Lanka dragged Sarama and Trijata out of their house and began thrashing them. They were angry at Vibhishana’s betrayal and, since he could not be punished, his wife and daughter became the victims of rakshasa wrath. They would have been killed had Mandodari not granted them refuge.

  Sarama could not bear to look upon Sita, the cause of all this trouble. But Trijata reasoned with her mother, ‘Why do you blame her? Why do you not blame Ravana?’

  ‘Because he is family,’ said Sarama.

  Sarama and Trijata sat on the northern beach and saw the bridge steadily making its way towards Lanka. They were joined by Lankini who said, ‘The days of Lanka are numbered.’

  ‘I agree,’ said a creature who rose from the dark sea waters, gleaming like gold. It was Suvarna-matsya, the golden mermaid, queen of the sea, who adored Ravana and would do anything he said. She had a story to tell.

  ‘Ravana ordered me to destroy that bridge. I ordered all the fish and serpents and monsters of the sea to drag away the rocks to the bottom of the sea. The monkeys were helpless but none dared enter the water, none but a monkey called Hanuman. I wanted to lash him with my tail, sting him with my venomous scales, but when I saw him, I just froze. He was the most beautiful and serene creature I have ever seen in my life: silver and gold, with large eyes, wide nostrils and an upraised tail, the body of a warrior and the aura of a sage. We fought. No, we wrestled. I just wanted to feel his toughness. But he withdrew, sensing my desire. He said he would serve only Ram, no other. Why, I asked. And he said, because he liberated me by having no expectations of me. And I realized how trapped we are by expectations: those that others have of us and those we have of others. I expected something from Ravana, Ravana expected something from me. I expected something from Hanuman, but he expected nothing from me. I suddenly felt this great urge to be liberated. I wanted to break free from everything. I stopped fighting. I decided I would let the bridge be built, encourage all sea creatures to help in building the bridge, and risk Ravana’s wrath.’

  Trijata told the women on the beach, ‘Sita keeps saying something she heard during the Upanishad long ago: I am the creator of my world and so are you. We can widen our world by breaking free from the maze of expectations. We can shrink our world by entrapping ourselves with expectations.’

  ‘If I was just a fish,’ said the golden mermaid, ‘I would have no expectations of the sea. I would have been resigned to fend for myself. But since I am only half a fish, I expect the sea to provide for me and get frustrated when that does not happen. My human side keeps berating the sea, cajoling the sea and seeking control over the sea.’

  Sarama observed, ‘Ravana expects his brothers to behave in a particular way. When they don’t, he rejects them. Vibhishana also expects Ravana to behave in a particular way. When he does not, he rejects Ravana. This Ram, does he have expectations of his father, mother, brother and wife? Does he reject them if they do not behave as he wants them to?’

  Trijata replied, ‘If Sita is any indicator, then I think not.’

  The story of the golden mermaid is unique to South-East Asia and finds no reference in Indian retellings. In most versions she is Ravana’s daughter.

  This story is amongst the few surviving pieces of Cambodia’s Ramayana dance heritage.

  In India, there is a close link between Hanuman’s celibacy and his great strength. But this is not so in South-East Asia, where Hanuman is a noble rake who has numerous amorous encounters.

  The idea of Hanuman being a romantic rake is also reflected in Jain retellings where he is a form of the love-god Kama.

  The South-East Asian Hanuman is like a guardian knight who helps Prince Ram find Sita. The relationship of deity and devotee so critical in Indian retellings is missing.

  In the Vinaya Patrika of Tulsidas written in Avadhi in the sixteenth century, Hanuman is described as being ‘manmatha-manthana’ (he who churns desires in the mind) as well as ‘urdhava-retas’ (he who through meditation draws his semen upwards towards the mind rather than towards the womb). Thus he is at once sexual and celibate; all erotic energies are transformed into wisdom in his being. This is why Hanuman was much adored by Tantric yogis, sadhus, sanyasis and vairagis, who gave up worldly life and smeared themselves with ash and became ascetics.

  The story is significant as in the Adbhut Ramayana we are informed of Hanuman’s son born as a result of a sea creature, probably the golden mermaid, drinking the sweat of Hanuman as he passed over the sea (according to Indian retellings) or while he fought the golden mermaid (according to South-East Asian retellings).

  Hanuman’s Tail


  The bridge was finally complete, in just five days, and the monkey army marched across it carrying Ram and Lakshman on their shoulders. It was a spectacular sight. The sky was covered with celestial beings who could not believe their eyes. Ram had done the impossible: raised an army of monkeys and got them to create a bridge of sticks and stones across the sea. Birds showered flowers on the marching armies. Fishes cheered them along the way.

  But just when the army was about to reach the shores of Lanka, an explosion was heard. Rocks from either side of the bridge were cast asunder. Ravana had hurled two missiles with his mighty bow, breaking the two ends of the bridge, entrapping the monkeys in the middle of the sea. Suddenly there were sea monsters circling around, ready to devour Ram and his army. It seemed like all was over.

  Once again, Hanuman came to the rescue. He expanded his size, jumped to the shores of Lanka and stretched his tail across to the broken end of the bridge, making a bridge to the shore of Lanka. Ram and his monkey army walked over his tail and crossed over, thanking him for his quick thinking.

  As Ram was about to place his foot on the island, Vibhishana noticed a rakshasa approaching the army; he was blindfolded. ‘That is Bhasmalochan,’ he informed Ram. ‘If he removes his blindfold, all that he will see will burst into flames and be reduced to ashes.’

  Ram immediately shot an arrow that transformed into a mirror. That was the first thing Bhasmalochan saw when he removed his blindfold. He who was sent to set aflame Ram’s army saw his own reflection and was himself reduced to ashes.

  The story of Hanuman making a bridge of himself seems influenced by the Jataka tale of the Bodhisattva (Buddha in a previous life) as a leader of a troop of monkeys enabling them to escape across a chasm by stretching himself across it. In the process, his back is broken and he dies.