Rama is such an unremittingly virtuous hero – so good and brave and wise and kind – that he might at first strike some readers of Valmiki’s Ramayana as a bit of a bore. But don’t let that drive you away from The Ramayana. The rewards of reading this epic of classical India are many and considerable.
Not much is known about Valmiki, or even about the circumstances under which The Ramayana was composed; the best that scholars can do is estimate that this epic poem was composed sometime between the 5th century B.C. and the 1st century B.C. But with all of that uncertainty acknowledged, what can be said with certainty is that The Ramayana tells a great story. There are plenty of good reasons why this poem still plays a leading role in the life of India and other nations of South Asia today.
The first thing to know about Rama, the hero of The Ramayana, is that he is an avatar of the god Vishnu – a god in human form. His status is important because it is his task to kill the demon-king Ravana; and Ravana was granted, by the creator god Brahma, invulnerability against attacks by gods, spirits, rakshasas (demons), or wild beasts. Despising human beings, Ravana did not deign to ask Brahma for invulnerability from them. Thus it is that Rama, as a human being, will fulfill divine will and destroy Ravana.
From childhood, it is clear that Rama is a young man of special abilities, one who is destined for great things. Told that, before he can marry the princess Sita, he must string a bow that no man has ever been able even to bend, Rama, like King Arthur lifting the sword Excalibur from the stone, publicly demonstrates that he possesses special powers and enjoys divine favour: “Rama casually grasped the bow in the middle. Watched by thousands of people, righteous Rama lifted the celestial bow with ease. He strung the bow and drew it to its fullest extent and fitted an arrow into it. Then, Rama snapped the bow in half. It broke with a huge sound like a thunder-clap and the earth shook as if all the mountains had collapsed” (p. 81).
Rama enjoys the special esteem of his father, the aging king Dasharatha, who intends to bestow his kingdom upon Rama: “I have paid my dues to the rshis (seer-sages), the gods, the ancestors, and the brahmins. I have no duties left to perform except to anoint you my heir” (p. 106). But then things get complicated. Besotted by his lust for his youngest and most beautiful wife, Kaikeyi, Dasharatha once gave Kaikeyi a boon, an unbreakable promise that he would fulfill whatever she demanded. Now, on the eve of Rama’s coronation, Kaikeyi cashes in on Dasharatha’s promise: she wants her own son Bharata placed on the throne, and Rama sent into exile.
Bound by his dharma, his set of duties and assigned life roles as a king, the sorrowing Dasharatha has no choice but to honour his promise, fulfill the boon he gave to Kaikeyi, and send Rama into exile. Rama’s wife Sita, a princess accustomed to a life of wealth and luxury, chooses to accompany Rama into his years of exile; so does Rama’s loyal brother Lakshmana, who has clearly never seen a Game of Thrones episode in his whole life. Kaikeyi’s devious plans are set at naught when her son Bharata makes clear that he does not want the throne his mother schemed to secure for him. He will hold it only as a steward, a caretaker, until Rama is able to return from his unjust exile. Amid the lamentations of the people of the city of Ayodhya, who are stricken with grief at Rama’s departure, the sage Bharadvaja assures Bharata that all will end well: “Do not censure Kaikeyi, Bharata, for Rama’s exile will have happy consequences!” (p. 200)
Once they are out in the wilderness, Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana plan to live simply until their term of exile is over. But fate takes a hand when a rakshasi (she-demon) named Shurphanaka sees Rama and is overcome by lust for him. Offended by the hideous creature’s grotesque blandishments, Rama and Lakshmana cut off her nose and ears. The mutilated Shurphanaka goes to her brother Ravana to complain; Ravana then uses his wiles and magic to abduct Sita while Rama and Lakshmana are away, and takes the unfortunate princess away to his demon lair, the city of Lanka.
It is here that the otherwise too-good-for-his-own-good Rama takes on a refreshingly human quality. His anguish at losing the woman he loves is real and relatable:
Rama looked all over the settlement. Without Sita, the trees there seemed to weep, the birds and animals appeared downcast. It was as if the forest deities had abandoned the area....Rama called out to Sita again and again. "She has been abducted! She is dead! She has been eaten! Or perhaps the poor frightened thing went and hid in the forest!"....But though he searched high and low, Rama could not find his beloved in the forest. His eyes red from weeping, he seemed like a madman as he ran from tree to tree, from the mountains to the river, weeping more and more as he plunged deeper and deeper into an ocean of grief. (pp. 292-93)
With no real idea where in the world Sita might be, Rama and Lakshmana nonetheless set forth in hopes of finding her. As in other great epics of the world, the heroes encounter mystical creatures who, in one way or another, guide them along their path. The vulture-king Jatayu, mortally wounded when he tried to protect Sita from being abducted by Ravana, lives long enough to tell Rama, “Do not grieve for Sita!...It won’t be long before you kill this rakshasa in battle and enjoy the pleasures of Sita’s company once again” (p. 297).
And when the rakshasa Kabandha is defeated in battle by Rama and Lakshmana, the dying Kabandha, restored to the human form that he once enjoyed, tells the brothers how they can invade Ravana’s well-guarded lair and save Sita: they must seek out the monkey-king Sugriva, who has been supplanted by his brother Vali, and help Sugriva regain his throne. Once they have done so, Kabandha tells them, the grateful Sugriva “will search the rivers, the mountains and the deep caves with his monkeys and he will find your wife” (p. 301).
Rama and Lakshmana help Sugriva to regain the throne of his kingdom of Kishkindha; and the grateful monkey-king keeps his end of the bargain, sending his monkey armies to the ends of the Earth in search of Sita. Of all Sugriva’s forces, the only one who can reach Lanka is the monkey-god Hanuman, who assures his fellow monkeys that “I know I shall see Sita….I can leap over ten thousand yojanas [about 90,000 miles] and after turning Lanka upside down, I shall return!” (p. 400).
Hanuman, as good as his word, makes his way across the ocean to Lanka, consoles Sita with the reassurance that Rama is on his way to her, and destroys much of Lanka while he is at it. And Sita needs consolation: Ravana, who is evidently quite a ladies’ man even though he is a demon with ten heads (!), is outraged that Sita will not give herself to him, and has declared that he will execute her if she does not gratify his lust for her.
The monkey army launches its own attempt to rescue Sita, but Ravana’s rakshasa army fights back, and much blood is shed on all sides, to the point that Hanuman, touring the battlefield with the reformed demon Vibhishana, “saw the earth covered with tails, arms, torsos, legs, fingers and scattered limbs. Blood flowed from the bodies of fallen monkeys” (p. 585). Recall that Ravana, with his boon from Brahma, cannot be killed by beasts – or by gods, spirits, or demons. Only a human being – only Rama – can kill him; and thus the stage is set for that final confrontation.
I read The Ramayana while traveling in Nepal, where one of the first masterpieces in the history of the country’s literature was a translation of The Ramayana into the Nepali language. At Kathmandu’s Pashupatinath temple complex, where cremations are still carried out along the banks of the Bagmati River, I saw a wall mural that depicted a scene from The Ramayana. Rama, surrounded in a blue glow, looks grief-stricken but resolute; Lakshmana, smaller but otherwise looking much like his divine brother, appears ready to help; Sita is enveloped in a cloudy glow, emphasizing that the real Sita is still missing; and Sugriva the monkey-king bows before them, promising his help.
As I reviewed the details of this wall mural, my sense of the importance of The Ramayana in the life of South Asia was reinforced. Anyone who enjoys classical epic narrative, or who wants to understand more about the Hindu culture of the Indian subcontinent, should read The Ramayana.