Finding Radha

by Namita Gokhale

  21

  SITA AND RADHA: FROM HUMAN TO DIVINE

  MANDAKRANTA BOSE

  SITA AND RADHA were born mortals but were later elevated into the list of goddesses. Both are seen as incarnations of Lakshmi, while their partners, Sita’s husband, Rama, and Radha’s divine lover, Krishna, are regarded as avatars or incarnations of Vishnu, as emphasized in epic and Puranic texts. Given the background of both Sita and Radha as women whose lives revolved exclusively around their male partners, they are understandably held up as role models for Indian women. For most devout Hindus Sita remains the epitome of Indian womanhood as a totally voiceless, selfless, submissive and devoted wife. This may not entirely agree with the original version of her legend, as her portrayal by adikavi (First Poet) Valmiki in his Ramayana shows, but that is the image in which she is revered by the vast majority of Hindus and the reason for her apotheosis. In light of the ideological pressures of a patriarchal society the adoration of Sita is not hard to understand. On the contrary, Radha’s deification is most puzzling, as her conduct as a married woman taking a lover violates every norm of the social order. However, in the bhakti mode of defining the relationship between the deity and humankind, the highest human joy—and duty—is to give oneself to one’s god, social obligations notwithstanding. That is, of course, what Radha does, transgressing against marital and family duties in the face of social censure. She is thus transformed from an erring wife into a role model of devotion and submission. These models call for a closer look because of their abiding influence on women’s lives from medieval to modern times.

  SITA

  Sita is perhaps the most popular heroine of Hindu mythology. As Rama’s ever-devoted wife she sets the pattern for wifely behaviour by remaining uncomplainingly loyal to her husband despite suffering injustice at his hand. In fact, in the original story by Valmiki she is not quite so meek, as several recent studies have demonstrated,1 but it is by meek dependency that later tellers of the Ramayana came to define her, excising her self-asserting dignity from her legend. It is useful to note that the name Sita predates the character in the Ramayana. A goddess of that name appears in Vedic literature as a fertility figure, which is consistent with the meaning of the term sita, or furrow.2 She is also attached to various gods during this early period. But Sita as a fully developed character blossoms in the epic Ramayana and forever remains the faithful and devoted wife of Rama. Although in the Valmiki Ramayana she is recognized as an incarnation of Lakhsmi,3 the emphasis is on her human identity, not a goddess on earth. Her deification was a late development that occurred through regional versions of the Ramayana. Interestingly, though Sita was turned into a devi, her countless devotees do not think of her as an embodiment of power,4 but rather as a submissive and docile wife.5 In today’s India, especially in northern India, Tulsidas’s Ramcharitmanas has become the most influential Rama story, and public perception of the narrative and its characters is now dominated by the TV version produced by Ramanand Sagar in 1987 following Tulsidas, further reinforcing the submissive role of Sita.6 In this north Indian version, Sita blames her fate on herself, saying that she must have done something wrong in either this or her previous life which brings her suffering. She never blames Rama but herself. In this version, Sita has a secondary role as a devotee who acts as an intermediary between Rama the god and his followers. In this role, although she is a goddess, she does not hold as high a position as Rama does and remains in a subordinate position in relation to God Rama.

  It is worth pointing out that contrary to popular belief, Sita is a woman of great strength in the original source. It is possible to view her tragedy as a series of sacrifices she makes for the common good. It is her own decision to accompany Rama into exile in the forest (Valmiki Ramayana, ii.26) right at the beginning of the story. The decision to go through the fire-ordeal Rama requires after her rescue as proof of her chastity is again her own, voicing an impassioned protest at her humiliation (Valmiki Ramayana, vi.117–119). Finally, at the end of the story, after her final banishment, as it is told in the Valmiki Ramayana, it is she who decides to end her life by turning away from Rama to seek sanctuary with her mother, Goddess Earth. Throughout her life Sita never accepts injustice without protest, even registering her scorn for what she calls Rama’s praakrit (ignoble) conduct in doubting her chastity and advising her to attach herself to another male.7 Against this original representation of Sita as a powerful personality, she has come to comfort the hearts of devout Hindus as the voiceless and submissive wife and the epitome of Indian womanhood and remains so.8 This ideal was constructed by post-Valmiki authors, whose manipulation of the story advances a particular view of women’s place in society. Such is the potency of that ideal that it has traditionally succeeded in securing women’s willing consent to subjugation.

  RADHA

  In contrast to Sita, Radha is a surprising nominee for apotheosis. She has not the faintest claim to divinity at the beginning of her legend, for she is no more than a human heroine in an adulterous relationship (she is parakiya, married to another man) with a man half her age, who is socially related to her. Her deification despite this otherwise censurable situation paradoxically elevates her to divinity because the object of her love is the god Krishna. This transmutes her offence into the highest virtue, that of desiring union with the Godhead. Interpreted not socially but metaphysically, her yearning for Krishna makes her a symbol of humanity’s total, unconditional and selfless surrender to the ultimate Godhead.

  The Radha–Krishna love story began as a human romance but in the Puranic era that story developed into an allegory of the human–divine relationship. The Vayu, Matsya and Varaha Puranas mention Radha but it is in the Devi Bhagavata, Brahma Vaivarta and Padma Purana that she is described at length. These texts reveal Radha as the complement to Krishna and therefore a divine being. Early legends accord her little importance beyond counting her merely as one of the gopis, or cow-girls, but the later Puranas, such as the Brahma Vaivarta Purana, acknowledge her as an aspect of Devi, more specifically as Krishna’s shakti. Her elevation is complete when at one point she is identified with Lakshmi.

  Radha’s deification has been problematic for some devotees who find it difficult to come to terms with an unsanctioned relationship. The Vallabha sampradaya, for instance, portrays her as Krishna’s wife in order to justify their relationship. Vaishnavas, on their part, think of Krishna as the only male in the cosmos because he is the Creator. As a result of this belief, Vaishnavas, both male and female, see themselves as Radha in relation to Krishna. An example of this transforming devotion was Shri Chaitanyadeva, the 15th-century spiritual leader of the Vaishnavas, who aspired to union with Krishna as Radha. Today, most devotees accept Radha and Krishna as transcendental lovers and not as a married couple.9 On the social plane Vaishnavas understand Radha’s love as the ultimate type of selfless attachment because she sacrifices her reputation by rejecting social norms. On the metaphysical register, Vaishnavas, particularly those of the Bengali tradition, take her love as a potent metaphor of the human yearning for the divine.

  Because Radha’s love is at once intense and illicit, it has been a magnet for poets and artists. Her pining for Krishna appears in early writings by Hala (early Common Era), Bhatta Narayana (prior to 8th century AD), Vakpati (7th–8th century), Anandavardhana (mid 9th century), Abhinavagupta (10th century), Rajashekhara (9th–10th century), Kshemendra (11th century) and Hemachandra (11th–12th century).10 But perhaps the most brilliant celebration of the Radha–Krishna theme appears in the 12th-century poet Jayadeva’s Gita Govinda. This long poem in several parts portrays the culmination of their love in the romantic idiom of love poetry but views it allegorically as the human soul’s spiritual union with the ultimate being. Jayadeva identifies her with Shri (i.2; i.23) and Lakshmi (xi.22), and Krishna as an incarnation of Vishnu. Jayadeva’s Radha is tormented by viraha, or love-in-separation. Her world-forsaking urge to be with him compels her to follow him as an abhisarika (a woman wh
o goes to meet her lover, ignoring social censure), travelling along hazardous forest paths at night, oblivious to reproaches by her husband’s family. Vidyapati and Chandidas (both from around the 14th to 15th centuries) commemorate Radha’s illicit love as the apex of romantic passion, exalting her unflinching resolve to stand up against the entire world. That despite this revolutionary character of her love Radha is passionately adored suggests the feminization of spirituality, which centralizes the female as the locus of mystic energy. This might seem like another strand in the spread of goddess worship under tantrism, except that here the perception of female divinity occurs not through occultism but by idealizing the man–woman relationship as allegorical truth.

  How may one compare Radha with Sita? How could two such different women be adored as goddesses? Most of those who know the Ramayana regard Sita as the perfect example of the uncomplaining wife whose sole purpose in life is to follow her husband’s every wish and to put his interests above her own. Clearly, Sita places her allegiance to duty above personal interest.11 Undoubtedly, her love for Rama is a deep, emotional feeling but that is not an issue in the foreground of her fame. Her society and ours regard her love as her duty, and approve the fact that in fulfilling that duty she plays the role of wife exactly as expected by society. She is praised for her sustained tyaga, that is, renunciation of personal benefit and comfort for duty’s sake.

  A degree of irony enters into our comparison when we talk about renunciation: Radha too is a renunciate, but in quite the opposite sense. While Sita renounces her personal interests in favour of social and familial duties, it is precisely those duties that Radha renounces in pursuit of her personal choice. Radha throws aside exactly the bonds that Sita accepts and receives no blame for what would be an unthinkable transgression in any other woman, including Sita. Sita bows to a life of suffering entirely because she puts public good above the private. Yet, both are equally selfless, equally ready to sacrifice all in the service of a higher goal, except that Sita’s goal is determined by social expectations and Radha’s by their rejection.

  Sita and Radha are very different characters and follow very different paths in forging links with their divine partners. But to their devotees they tower above common mortals by virtue of the force of their resolve, which demands the adoration due to the goddess persona characterized in Hindu thought by an inalienable ownership of primal energy. Under that condition, the deification of neither human heroine should be surprising. What is undoubtedly surprising is that both Sita and Radha are worshipped with their male consorts and never alone, no matter that they are goddesses. There is no temple that I know of dedicated to either of them where they are worshipped in their own right. Female dependency holds as true for goddesses as for ordinary women.

  22

  SONGS OF RADHA

  i. VIDYA

  ‘If early dates for Vidya are correct—around the seventh century—then this would be one of the first moments Radha steps from shadowy origins into poetry,’ says Andrew Schelling.

  And What of Those Arbors*

  And what of those

  arbors of vines

  that grow where the river

  drops away from Kalinda Mountain?

  They conspired in the love

  games of herding girls

  and watched over the veiled

  affairs of Radha.

  Now that the days

  are gone when I cut their

  tendrils, and laid them

  down for couches of love,

  I wonder if they’ve

  grown brittle and if

  their splendid blue flowers

  have dried up.

  ii. ANDAL

  Mid-8th-century mystic Andal was the only woman among the twelve alvars of south India. During her brief life of sixteen years she composed passionate songs to Narayana/Krishna: ‘Thiruppavai’ (The Path to Krishna) and ‘Nacciyar Thirumoli’ (The Sacred Songs of the Lady). Andal is regarded as an emanation of goddess Bhu Devi.

  Nacciyar Thirumoli*

  (Kannan, My Lord, My Love [Kannan Ennum, verse 8])

  Anguish floods my body and will sweep

  it away unlike the land he rescued by yanking

  the mountain from earth’s bosom to hold

  as umbrella over devotees. Yet for me, no glance.

  If I see that thief who’s savaged me I’ll savage

  my breasts. Uproot their round mounds from

  my body’s earth, uproot my love to throw at him.

  If he won’t caress me, what use is this howling tenderness?

  iii. IN PRAISE OF KRISHNA: TRANSLATION OF GITA GOVINDA OF JAYADEVA

  The Gita Govinda, composed by Jayadeva in the 12th century in Odisha, is an evocative description of the love of Krishna and Radha set against the pastoral background of Vrindavana and the play of seasons. This lyrical poem is organized as twelve sargas, or cantos, and offers twenty-four songs rendered in various ragas. The poetic form is the ashtapadi, or couplets grouped into eights.

  Canto 1*

  Delightful Krishna

  ‘The sky is dark with clouds

  Tamala trees darken the forest

  The night frightens him!

  Radha you take him home!’

  They leave at Nanda’s order

  passing through the trees in the forest

  and the love-play of Radha and Krishna

  triumphs on the bank of the river Yamuna.

  Jayadeva, whose heart is adorned

  by the grace of Saraswati, Goddess of Learning

  and who is deeply devoted to Lakshmi,

  Goddess of Prosperity,

  Composed this long poem

  of the passionate love-play of Sri Krishna.

  If your mind is delighted

  by contemplation of Hari’s glories

  if you enquire into the art of love

  listen then, to this series

  of sweet, tender and lyrical

  verses by Jayadeva.

  Umapatidhara makes his words blossom.

  Sarana is renowned for his subtle flowing sounds,

  Acharya Govardhana is indeed peerless

  in the dexterous handling of erotic emotions.

  Dhyoi the sovereign poet

  holds his listeners spellbound with his cadences.

  But Jayadeva alone excels

  in the art of pure and perfect composition.

  Canto II

  Careless Krishna

  Hari was making love to any maiden

  without distinction, in the woodland.

  Radha’s pride was shattered.

  Thinking herself to be humiliated

  she, with broken pride and jealousy

  hides in her bower

  with its swarm of humming bees.

  She sat depressed

  and told her friend the secret.

  Song 5

  (To the Raga Gurjari and Tala Yati)

  The nectar of his lips

  flows through the notes

  of his melodious flute.

  When glancing sideways

  his crown sways

  and his earrings dangle

  on his cheeks.

  My heart recalls Hari

  here in his love dance

  playing seductively, laughing, mocking me.

  The curls of his forehead are encircled

  by a coronet of peacock plumes,

  each of half-moon eyes.

  The gems of his dress

  make his cloud-dark body glitter

  with the colours of the rainbow.

  He is eager to kiss

  the gopis of shapely hips.

  His lips are red;

  he smiles enchantingly

  like blooming bandhujiva flowers.

  His tendril-tender arms still thrill

  with the embrace of a thousand gopis

  The ornaments on his arms, ankles and breast

  glisten, removing the surrounding darkness.

  T
he sandal spot on his forehead

  is a moon in a mass of rain-clouds.

  His heart is a door

  that is firm and cruel

  in crushing the swelling breasts.

  His dolphin-shaped jewelled earrings

  adorn his beautiful cheeks.

  The sages, men, the gods, and the demons

  show allegiance to Hari,

  majestic in yellow garments.

  He, who allays the fear of sin

  Of the aeon of kali,

  made love to me

  beneath the blooming kadamba tree

  pleasing me in earnest

  with quivering looks

  as of bodiless Love embodied.

  Sri Jayadeva sings

  of the exquisite, charming beauty

  of the slayer of the demon Madhu.

  Surely this shall induce recollections

  of the feet of Hari

  in the mind of the blessed devotee.

  Sakhi, Krishna is sporting

  With other gopis now, deserting me.

  Yet I desire him.

  I forgive his guilt.

  I feel no anger, not even accidentally.

  Instead, I contemplate on his majestic grace.

  Seeing only the good in him

  I am blissful thinking of him.

  My mind seems not under my control.

  Tell me, sakhi, what can I do?

  Song 6