Sita: An Illustrated Retelling of the Ramayana Read online

  Is Sita following Ram because it is her duty or because she loves Ram and cares for him? Is the decision based on social norms or emotion? This is not clarified in the epic. But while Ram tilts more towards rules, Sita balances him by tilting more towards emotions. He aligns; she understands.

  Unlike conventional narratives that portray Sita as a demure, obedient wife, the Sita of the Valmiki Ramayana has a mind of her own. In fact, she rebukes Ram for not being man enough and for being afraid of taking his wife along.

  In the Adhyatma Ramayana what finally makes Ram agree to Sita accompanying him to the forest is her argument that she has always accompanied him to the forest in all the earlier Ramayana s. This alludes to the many retellings of the epic, or to a prior life, when he was Ram before. Thus the narrative implies knowledge of the belief that the Ramayana is an eternal cyclic story, taking place again and again, both simultaneously and sequentially, in different ages and told through different poets, and we have access to just one of its many repetitions.

  In Vaishnava literature, when Vishnu descends on earth, he is accompanied by Adi Sesha, the many-hooded serpent on which Vishnu reclines, as well as his weapons which take human form. When he descends as Ram, Adi Sesha takes the form of Lakshman and his weapons, the disc and the mace, descend as his brothers, Bharata and Shatrughna.

  Clothes of Bark

  Everything was happening fast. At dusk, the palace was a place of celebration. By midnight, it had become a place of gloom. The servants went around the palace to tell musicians to stop playing music, the cooks to stop preparing food, the maids to stop stringing garlands, the attendants to stop lighting the lamps and the priests to stop chanting hymns. The chatter of excited entertainers preparing for the next day was replaced by worried whispers.

  Soon the word spread from the palace to the city like the tentacles of an octopus. The unimaginable had happened: Ram who was to be crowned king at dawn had been banished from the palace and asked to live as a hermit in the forest for fourteen years. The people of Ayodhya, who had stayed awake preparing for the next day, left all their chores and walked towards the palace wondering if what they had heard was true or if it was a cruel prank played by a mischief-maker.

  Meanwhile, Manthara organized clothes of bark for Ram, Lakshman and Sita. Ram replaced his rich royal robes very comfortably, for he had worn such clothes when he was a student at Vasishtha’s hermitage. Sita had seen these on the many ascetics who attended the Upanishad, but had never worn them herself. She looked unsure.

  ‘Let me help you,’ said Ram.

  ‘Stop,’ said Kaushalya looking at Sita. ‘Ram has been told to live like a hermit. Not you, my daughter-in-law. You embody the prosperity of the Raghu clan. Never ever should you be seen distressed or poor, stripped of jewels or colour. It will annoy the devas and bring misfortune to the household of your husband. Tell her, Kaikeyi. Or do you want your son’s kingdom to face the wrath of the Goddess?’

  Kaikeyi, heady with the unexpected and wonderful turn of events, decided to be gracious. ‘Yes. Ram needs to be a hermit. Sita, you need to continue to be the bride. You will embody the reputation of the Raghu clan even in the forest. Guard her well, Ram. Do not forget to carry your weapons. Never let Bharata doubt your loyalty.’

  Manthara chuckled, ‘Oh my, the girl will become a woman in the forest. Will the hermit stay a hermit then?’

  ‘I will cut your tongue out, vulgar witch,’ said Lakshman.

  ‘I am leaving now,’ said Ram curtly to Lakshman. ‘If you wish to follow, then follow me now. If you wish to stay and cut out tongues, then stay.’

  Ram walked out of Kaikeyi’s courtyard, dressed in bark, carrying nothing but his weapons: a sword, a spear, an axe, a bow and a quiver full of arrows. Sita followed him, dressed in red, laden with jewels meant for a queen who sits on the throne beside her husband, the king. Lakshman followed her, barely hiding his rage. The attendants who carried parasols and fly whisks meant for the crown prince stood aside, numb, not knowing what to do.

  Had they been going to war, no one would have cried. But this was unbearable, unacceptable even: children being sent to live in the forests while their parents continued to live in the palace. As they crossed the threshold, Dashratha could not contain himself. Royal composure gave way to a father’s wail. Kaushalya and Sumitra who tried to comfort him also began to cry. Watching them cry, the maids and servants began to cry as well, the warriors began to cry, the priests began to cry, the elders began to cry. It was like someone had died.

  Sodden strips of the fibrous inner bark of trees and plants such as the banyan and the banana are beaten into sheets to make cloth of bark.

  Ram mats his hair using the juice of the banyan tree.

  In miniature art, Ram is often shown wearing clothes made of leaves and he also wraps animal hide around his body. These were the clothes of mendicants.

  Not all versions agree on whether Sita followed Ram in royal robes or in clothes of bark. In Kamban’s Ramayana she wears bark.

  Departure

  When the people of Ayodhya heard the wailing from the inner chambers of the palace, they blocked the palace gates. They would not let Ram go. Whatever the palace politics, this was about their future too. They would not be silent witnesses.

  To avoid the commotion at the gates, it was decided that Ram, Lakshman and Sita would be taken out on the royal chariot, which would make it easier for them to cut through the crowd. Sumantra, the king’s charioteer, ordered the warriors to use whips and sticks to push the people away and make a path.

  But as the chariot rolled out, the crowds rushed forward, refusing to be intimidated. They threatened to throw themselves under the wheels and kill themselves. ‘We will kill Kaikeyi. We will kill Bharata. Revolt, Ram, we are with you. Do not submit to this injustice,’ they said.

  Ram finally stood up and said in a voice that was clear and soothing, ‘Know this, Ayodhya is not mine to give or Bharata’s to take; Ayodhya is the responsibility of the Raghu clan, not our property. It will be injustice if the kings of the Raghu clan do not keep their word, it will be injustice if the wishes of Kaikeyi are not fulfilled. My father promised to fulfil her wishes and he is obliged to fulfil them, as am I. Do not blame her for asking what is due to her. Yes, the event is unfortunate but it is but one event in our lives; we can call it a tragedy if we wish. Blaming helps no one; let us take responsibility for it. For nothing in life happens spontaneously: it is the result of past actions. This moment is as it is supposed to be. I am repaying the debt of the past and so are you. We cannot choose the circumstances of our life, but we can make our choices. I have chosen to be true to my clan. My wife has chosen to be true to her role as my wife. My brother has chosen to be true to his feelings. Allow us our choices. Come to terms with our decisions. You are angry not with the queen or her son, or the king, you are angry that life has not turned out the way you thought it would. In a moment, the world you so took for granted has collapsed. Expand your mind and understand that the pain comes from your assumptions and expectations. Choose love over hate, by accepting the fears and fragilities of humanity that lead to situations such as these. This moment is the outcome of some curse, or maybe it is a boon in waiting. Who knows? Varuna has a thousand eyes, Indra a hundred, you and I, only two.’

  After this there was no more agitation. The chariot rolled without resistance and the people stood quietly by.

  When the chariot crossed the city gates, the people felt emptiness in their hearts, and spontaneously began following the chariot. They would not stop the chariot but they could not stop their feet either. Before long the city was deserted, and a long stream of people made their way behind the chariot, with its fluttering royal flags, which made its way towards the frontiers of Kosala.

  Dashratha dragged himself out of Kaikeyi’s courtyard assisted by his wives. From the palace gate he watched the chariot carrying his sons roll out. He stood on his toes and strained his neck, watching the chariot until it disappeared o