The Ramcharitmanas 2

by Tulsidas

  Hanuman leaps across the ocean, locates Sita and gives her Ram’s ring. He lays waste the ashok grove in which Sita is being held, and allows himself to be captured. On Ravan’s orders, his tail is set on fire, but Hanuman escapes and, after setting the city of Lanka ablaze, returns to Ram. Meanwhile, Ravan’s brother, Vibhishan, who is a devotee of Vishnu and opposed to Ravan’s abduction of Sita, also joins Ram’s forces. The monkeys build a bridge across the ocean to Lanka, and after a long and bloody battle, Ram kills Ravan. Vibhishan is crowned king of Lanka, and Sita is rescued.

  The kidnapped Sita proves to be a shadow replica of herself—Ram, as Vishnu, had foreseen her abduction, and at his behest, the real Sita had stepped into fire, leaving behind a shadow image of herself. It was this shadow Sita that Ravan had kidnapped, while the real Sita had remained hidden, safe from dishonour till Ravan had been killed and the purpose of the gods achieved. Ram now orders Lakshman to light a great fire, and demands that Sita step into it as a test of her chastity. The shadow Sita steps into the fire and is destroyed, and the real Sita steps out, unharmed. The period of his exile almost over, Ram returns to Ayodhya with Sita and Lakshman. There, he is crowned king amidst much joy and celebration, and so begins his long reign, during which pain or unhappiness were unknown, and all beings lived in harmony and joy.

  The influence of Valmiki’s epic upon Tulsi cannot be denied: in the initial verses of the Ramcharitmanas, Tulsi salutes Valmiki as the author of the Ramayana,7 thus acknowledging him as one of the important sources for his own poem. Tulsi’s epic, however, differs from Valmiki’s in one very important particular: Valmiki’s Ramayana was a secular text, whilst Tulsi’s Ramcharitmanas is, without question, a devotional text. Tulsi’s Ram is unequivocally divine. He is also Tulsi’s chosen god, in whose worship the poet is totally, completely and blissfully immersed—as he tells us in the invocatory verses of the first book, he composed this story of Ram for ‘his own delight and satisfaction’.8

  Tulsi’s telling of the Ram story in the Ramcharitmanas is very close to the version contained in the Sanskrit text known as the Adhyatma-ramayana (or ‘spiritual’ Ramayana). Composed sometime between 1450 and 1550, the Adhyatma-ramayana identifies Ram not only as an incarnation of Vishnu, but also as the personification of brahm, the ultimate Absolute of the Upanishads and the Advaita school of philosophy. It also emphasizes bhakti rather than knowledge, and recommends meditation on Ram’s name as a means to salvation. It is only through intense devotion to Ram, says the Adhyatma-ramayana, that knowledge of the non-dual Self can arise in the individual soul. This is reflected in Tulsi’s own, more skilful, amalgamation of the dualism of Vaishnav bhakti with Advaita monism in the Ramcharitmanas, particularly in the sections where Tulsi explains the reasons for Ram’s actions and their significance. Tulsi’s Ram, as the avatar of Vishnu, also has the attributes of the Supreme God—he is all-knowing and all-seeing, so that his actions are predetermined by him to suit his purpose and all that he does or causes to happen in his incarnate form is merely his lila, his divine play or pastime.

  Tulsi’s replacement of the kidnapping of Sita by the abduction of a ‘shadow’ or illusory Sita whilst the real Sita remains concealed in the abode of Agni, the fire god, is a major deviation from Valmiki and in keeping with the demands of bhakti. The idea of an illusory Sita arose as early as the eighth century and was further developed in the Adhyatma-ramayana where it became an integral part of the plot. Along with Ram’s transformation from earthly prince to avatar of Vishnu, Sita acquired the status and attributes of Shri, Vishnu’s divine consort. As the incarnation of the goddess upon earth, it became unacceptable that she be kidnapped and imprisoned by Ravan and defiled by his touch. Tulsi’s substitution of the real Sita with a shadow replica of herself solved this problem and kept safe the purity and chastity of the goddess. In addition to protecting the sacred person of the goddess, it also justified Ram’s demand that Sita prove her chastity after her long imprisonment in Lanka by stepping into the sacred fire. Sita’s trial by fire thus becomes a device for the return of the real Sita rather than an unwarranted and unjust test of her purity as in Valmiki’s epic.9 Tulsi’s poem ends on a ‘happily-ever-after’ note, with Ram ruling gloriously in Ayodhya, his beloved Sita by his side. Valmiki’s epic does not stop there, but continues in the last book to describe Ram and Sita’s later years, in particular the aspersions cast on Sita’s chastity by the people of Ayodhya, and her consequent banishment by Ram to the forest. Though Tulsi does refer to this in passing in the first book—Ram, he says, has great affection for the people of Ayodhya, ‘for although they maligned Sita, he freed them from all their sins and sorrows’10—his device of the shadow Sita precludes the need for him to include this in his version of the story.

  Tulsi pays homage to the great and eminent poets who preceded him, as well as to the vernacular poets who told of the deeds of Ram in the spoken tongue.11 The influence upon him of texts other than Valmiki’s is evident in passages such as his delightful descriptions of Ram’s childhood, which were probably inspired by the Bhagavata Purana and contemporary bhakti poetry in praise of Krishna, both of which celebrate the child Krishna. Tulsi’s charming description of Sita’s first meeting with Ram12—in a garden, where Ram has gone with Lakshman to gather flowers for his morning worship and Sita with her handmaidens to offer worship at a temple of the goddess Parvati—was possibly inspired by the fourteenth-century Sanskrit drama, Prasannaraghava, by Jaidev.13

  In the Ramcharitmanas, Tulsi successfully brings together the many contrasting ideologies of his time—joyous, unrestrained Vaishnav bhakti and austere Advaita meditation, the worship of Vishnu and the worship of Shiv, the worship of the abstract, nirgun (‘without attributes’) Absolute and the adoration of the sagun (‘with attributes’) Incarnate endowed with form and beauty. Tulsi’s Ram is the Supreme Being personified, and Sita is his Shakti, or primal energy. From Ram and Sita spring all the other gods, including Shiv and Parvati (whom Tulsi elsewhere calls ‘the father and mother of the Universe’), and even Lakshmi and Vishnu. For Tulsi, Ram is the Supreme God, yet throughout the poem, Tulsi’s Ram declares that without the worship of Shiv, no one can attain to his bhakti. Yet, the name of Ram is the high mantra chanted by Shiv, who declares it necessary for salvation even in his own holy city of Banaras. Tulsi takes every opportunity to describe the beauty of Ram’s incarnate form in loving detail—his body dark as a rain-laden cloud, his radiant face and lotus eyes, the tilak upon his forehead—but reminds us at once that he is the all-pervading Spirit of the Universe, unborn, uncreated, without flaw, without form. Tulsi prostrates himself at the lotus-feet of the incarnate Ram and adores the name of Ram as borne by his chosen god. This integration of different ideologies in the Manas is one of Tulsi’s most significant achievements.

  Tulsi has been criticized in modern times for his apparent support of the caste system, his reverence for Brahmins and his characterization of women as inherently inferior to men. However, here too he brings together opposing views. While paying homage to Brahmins as ‘gods upon earth’, he upholds the tribal woman Shabari, who waited in the forest for Ram, as the epitome of devotion and virtue.14 So, while the social order must be upheld, within bhakti, the boundaries of caste, class and gender disappear. Tulsi’s institution of the Ram Lila may be seen as an attempt at a degree of social integration, albeit within the Hindu framework—for everyone, regardless of caste, class and religion, was invited to take part in these performances, whether as actors or audience. This inclusivity remains, by and large, a feature of the Ram Lila even today.

  Structure

  The titles and line counts of the seven books of the Ramcharitmanas are as follows:

  1. Balkand (Childhood) 4200 lines

  2. Ayodhyakand (Ayodhya) 3300 lines

  3. Aranyakand (The Forest) 750 lines

  4. Kishkindhakand (Kishkindha) 400 lines

  5. Sundarkand (The Beautiful) 750 lines

  6. Lankakand (Lanka) 1700 lines
>
  7. Uttarkand (Epilogue) 1800 lines

  Each book begins with a mangalacharan, the traditional worship or salutation at the commencement of a written work, in which Tulsi calls upon various gods to bless his endeavour. In order to underline the sacred nature of what was to come, Tulsi chose to write these invocatory passages in Sanskrit.

  Tulsi presents his story through a series of interwoven conversations between four narrator–listener pairs, whom he introduces at the beginning of his poem:15

  Shiv, and his wife, the goddess Parvati—the story arose in Shiv’s heart and he revealed it to Parvati

  Kak Bhushundi, a sage in a crow’s body, and Garud, king of the birds and Vishnu’s divine steed—Shiv gave the same story to Bhushundi, who related it to Garud

  The sages Jagbalik and Bharadvaj—Jagbalik obtained the tale from Bhushundi and recited it to Bharadvaj

  And finally, Tulsidas and his audience—Tulsi heard the story from his guru and set it down in common speech for his audience

  The narrative moves deftly, often unexpectedly, from one narrator to another and back again. The conversation between Bhushundi and Garud is contained mainly in, and takes up most of, the seventh book. Tulsi indicates the narrator–listener pairs sometimes directly, explicitly naming either the speaker or the listener (‘Then said Mahesh [Shiv] with a smile . . .’),16 or by frequent interjections that identify the listener (‘O king of the birds’ or ‘O muni’) and so, by extension, the speaker (Bhushundi in the first instance, and Jagbalik in the second). A fifth narrator is implied—just as Tulsi is relating the story to his listeners, in the same way, they too may tell this story to others.

  The title of Tulsi’s work deserves some attention.17 The name ‘Ram’ needs little explanation. Not only is it the name of the hero of the epic, but it is also the name of Tulsi’s chosen god, who is none other than the personification of the Supreme Spirit of the Universe. The word charit (from the root char, ‘to move’) means ‘going, moving’ and becomes by extension, ‘movement or deeds’. Thus Ram+charit means ‘the movements or doings of Ram’. The word manas is derived from the root word man, usually translated into English as ‘heart’ or ‘mind’, and means ‘belonging to, or born from, the heart or mind’. ‘Manas’ is also the name of a lake in the Himalayas; lying at the foot of Mount Kailash, the abode of Shiv, the Manas lake, or Manasarovar, is considered to be sacred by many faiths and is used as a metaphor for the mind in its highest state of pure bliss. In the early sections of the first book, Tulsi tells us that this work arose in the mind of Shiv, who kept it within his heart, till, finding an auspicious moment, he revealed it to his wife, the goddess Parvati. And that is why, having seen this sacred story of the doings of Ram within his mind, Shiv called it ‘Ramcharitmanas’. Inspiration, by the grace of Shiv, then gladdened his own mind, says Tulsi, and he composed his great work, making it as pleasing to the heart as his wit allowed.18

  Tulsi also compares his epic, the Manas, to the holy Manas lake—it is the reservoir that contains within it the sacred story of the doings of Ram. Its four narrators are the four ghats that surround it, and the seven books seven staircases that lead down to the clear waters of Ram’s fame.19 He introduces the imagery of the lake in Stanza 36 of the first book and builds it up over the next seven stanzas. He describes the clusters of waterlilies and many-coloured lotuses that grow upon the lake—these are the poetic metres he has used in his poem, and their fragrance the elegant language. Swans of wisdom and detachment float upon the tranquil surface of the lake, while the fish that are wordplay and allusion shimmer beneath its clear waters. The songs in praise of Ram are rare and wonderful water birds, while lustful and evil men are storks and crows that dare not come near the lake. The pleasure derived from this tale, says Tulsi, is a garden watered by the heart with tears of love, and the bliss that wells up in his heart and pours out in a flood of love and joy is the Sarju, Ayodhya’s sacred river. This stream of love flows into the glittering Ganga of devotion to Ram, and is joined by the majestic Sone, the great river that is the splendour of Ram and Lakshman in battle. Together, these three streams flow into the ocean that is Ram himself. Tulsi reaffirms the imagery of the Manas lake through his entire work. He calls each of the seven books a ‘sopan’ or ‘descent’ into the lake, and reintroduces the imagery of the lake in the seventh book, in the conversation between Bhushundi and Garud.20

  Tulsi wrote for an audience which was familiar not only with the story of Ram, but also knew the dozens of ‘backstories’ that weave in and out of the main narrative, or to which Tulsi refers, either directly or obliquely. I am aware that many of those who read my translation will not have the same familiarity with these tales, and so I have attempted, in footnotes, endnotes and a glossary, to give as much background information as I could. Also, the Hindu gods all have more than one name, and Tulsi refers to them by these different names, with which, once again, his audience would have been familiar. Each distinct name or epithet for a god or goddess refers to a quality, characteristic or action of that deity. So, for instance the god of love, Kamdev, or ‘lord of passion’, may also be referred to as Hridayniket, ‘one whose abode is the heart’, Manmath, ‘he who churns the heart’, or Manobhav, ‘mind-born’. Similarly, the god Shiv (‘the auspicious, the fortunate’), the Destroyer, the great and powerful third deity in the Hindu triad, is, as the lord of all creation, also called Akhileshvar, and as the Destroyer, he is also called Har. While I am aware that these different names for the same deity may be confusing to modern readers, reducing the gods to a single name would, I felt, take away from the meaning and atmosphere of Tulsi’s poem. So, for the most part I have kept the names as Tulsi has used them; to make it easier, I have given the most familiar name of the deity as a footnote at the first occurrence of another name for the same god or goddess (for instance, ‘Hridayniket’ has been footnoted as ‘Kamdev’; ‘Har’ has been footnoted as ‘Shiv’). I have also included the various names with their meanings under the glossary entry for the relevant god or goddess (so all of the names of Kamdev used in the text are given under the entry ‘Kamdev’ in the glossary).

  Tulsi may have composed his poem in the ‘common tongue’, but his control of language, his mastery of rhythm and his deliberate and skilful use of literary devices throughout display a literary virtuosity that is nothing short of genius. He composed his poem mainly in two alternating metres, the chaupai and the doha. A chaupai is a quatrain consisting of four parts or ‘feet’; each quarter verse is made up of sixteen matras or ‘instants’, which is the time required to pronounce a short vowel (a long vowel is twice the length of a short vowel, and thus is equal to two matras). A doha is a couplet, each line of which consists of two unequal parts, usually of thirteen and eleven matras respectively, separated by a caesura; the rhyme occurs at the end of the lines. Thus the doha, though a couplet, may also be thought of as consisting of four, even if unequal, parts. Sometimes Tulsi uses the sortha instead of, or along with, the doha. Also consisting of two lines, a sortha is a mirror image of the doha, with its half-lines transposed so its lines are divided into eleven- and thirteen-matra segments separated by a caesura; the rhyme falls at the caesura in the middle of the line. I have rendered each metre in four lines in English translation: each quarter part of a chaupai translates into a single line of verse in English as does each part of a doha or sortha; the lines of the doha and sortha are usually shorter than those of the chaupai.

  Tulsi uses the measured and regular chaupai metre in which to tell his story and take it forward. Each series of four to eight chaupais is followed by a doha or dohas (or sometimes a sortha or doha/sortha mix). Many oral performances of the epic take the doha/sortha as a unit of closure. I have followed the same approach, and for the sake of easy reference, taken each chaupai set along with its concluding dohas/sorthas to represent a stanza—though the term ‘stanza’ has no equivalent in medieval Hindi poetry and Tulsi’s text shows no such divisions. I have numbered only the concluding co
uplets, and matched this numbering to my source text, the popular and widely available Gita Press edition of the Ramcharitmanas with a commentary by Hanuman Prasad Poddar. A stanza could just as well be defined as beginning with a doha and some commentators prefer this approach.

  A fourth metre that occurs with some frequency in the Ramcharitmanas is the chhand.

  The most musical of the metres used by Tulsi, a chhand consists of four equal lines of twenty-six to thirty matras, with the rhyme at the end of each line. Tulsi uses the chhand to highlight moments of intense emotion, or to further describe and thus emphasize critical scenes or events. The chhand’s flowing lyrical nature makes it particularly well suited for such use. Chhands are usually inserted between chaupais and their concluding dohas/sorthas, and so appear within ‘stanzas’ as defined above.

  Other metres used by Tulsi include the hymns of praise or stutis spoken by various characters, and the invocatory Sanskrit shlokas of the mangalacharan at the beginning of each book.

  It is impossible to reproduce the beat and rhyme schemes of these metres in English, and I have not attempted to do so. However, I have attempted to give the reader some idea, at least visually, of the structure of the poem. Therefore, the dohas/sorthas are indented; chhands, stutis and shlokas are in italics; and the chaupais form the main body of the text.

  Other works

  Tulsidas has left behind a considerable body of work. However, of the twenty-two works popularly attributed to him, only twelve, including the Ramcharitmanas, can be ascribed to him with certainty. The story of Ram is a recurring theme in Tulsi’s writings and his works have come to occupy almost a canonical status in the Ram tradition in northern India. The Gitavali is his second-longest work; it presents incidents from the life of Ram in 328 songs. The Vinay Patrika, considered Tulsi’s second-most important work after the Ramcharitmanas, consists of some 280 songs, in the form of a personal petition to Ram asking for deliverance from the age of Kali. Both these works are in the western-Hindi Brajbhasha, and were composed in the middle years of the poet’s life. A major work of Tulsi’s later years is the Kavitavali. Also in Braj, it tells the Ram story in some 325 verses. Other, lesser, works include two poems on mythological weddings: the Parvati-mangal, a description of the marriage of Shiv and Parvati, composed in 1586, and the Janaki-mangal on the marriage of Ram with Sita, which is undated; both these poems are in Avadhi. Another minor work is the Barvai-ramayan, an abridged rendition of the Ram story in sixty-nine stanzas in the barvai metre; this is also in Avadhi. A large collection of verses in the doha and sortha metres, called Dohavali, is also ascribed to Tulsidas.