One story, many tales

One story, many tales
For the Baiga tribes in Chhattisgarh, it is not Ram but Lakshman who is the hero in the Ramayana.

Imran Khan, who edited Kiski Kahani: An anthology of personal journeys with the Ramayana, writes, “We at the CCDS (Centre for Communication and Development Studies, Pune), came to the Ramayana with alove for it... we have re-created this story in art, cinema, literature, poetry, dance, theatre… how does one come to own a text that has never been owned. How does one enforce a single understanding of a narrative when there is none?”

There are several interesting and well-researched articles in the book. Avni Doshi’s ‘Ramayana in Contemporary Indian Art’ talks about, among other artists, the work of Nalini Malani, who was in the news two weeks ago because she was awarded yet another prestigious prize, the St Moritz Art Masters’ Lifetime Achievement Award. It may come as a surprise that Malani draws parallels between Sita and the Greek Medea. Avni Doshi says, “Both the stories of Sita and Medea refer to women who emerge or draw power from the earth. In the case of Sita, the earth is quite literally her mother-…Medea pulls from the earth and nature for her powers. Both are exiled from their homes, and subsequently betrayed by their husbands. Both are mothers who face some kind of abandonment.”

In ‘Bheetar Lagi’, Smriti Wadhwa tells us about a community of musicians called Manganiyars, who live in a village called Bhaiya - about 100 km from Jaisalmer. They sing stories from the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, Kabiar’s poetry and the bhajans of Tulsidas and Mirabai, among others. They converted to Islam some 400 years ago. “We have always lived here,” said Niyaz Khan, one of the men Wadhwa interviewed, “and we have always worshipped the Hindu gods and the Muslim ones.” Did the community feel threatened when the Babri Masjid was demolished? “...It never affected us. These things happen in the cities, where there is constant tension between the Hindus and the Muslims. It just doesn’t happen here. We know each other, we live together, we are constantly in touch with each other…”

“For the women of rural Bengal,” says Moushumi Basu in ‘Songs from Bengal’, “Sita is not just the epitome of virtue who passes the agnipariksha or Rama’s tests of fire effortlessly, but also someone whose sufferings they can relate to…But here comes the paradox. Sita may be the ideal woman through whom ancient values are validated, she may be the one who inspires women to put up with injustice silently. But, says Lokkhi Haaldaar…they wouldn’t wish her fate on their daughters. ‘We seldom name our female child Sita, since her life was not a happy one.’ “

Moushumi Basu has also written on Adivasi Ramayanas. For the Baiga tribes in Chhattisgarh, it is not Ram but Lakshman who is the hero of their story. “Lakshman is portrayed as a saint who played the kikri (a musical instrument played by the bards of Baiga) every night. His music attracted Indrakamani, daughter of Lord Indra. One night, hearing Lakshman play Indrakamani descends to earth as an eagle. But by then she finds Lakshman fast asleep and her repeated attempts to wake him prove futile. Slighted, she decides to teach him a lesson. She tears her clothes and scatters her bangles and rings, leaving them all next to Lakshman.”

The women of the village are each made to try on the bangles and rings. Surprisingly, they fit only Sita. Ram becomes very suspicious of Lakshman, and puts him (not Sita) through the test of fire twice. However, “the incident makes Lakshman so grief-stricken that he calls upon Mother Earth to give him shelter. She opens her bosom for him, and he disappears.”

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