Dashratha’s refusal to let his sons go into the forest reveals his fears, and his attachment to his sons, especially Ram, his son by Kaushalya. Such preferential treatment for one child is assumed to be normal, even natural, but is it the best use of human potential?
The Killing of Tadaka
On the way to the hermitage, Vishwamitra taught Ram and Lakshman the many spells he knew to turn arrows into missiles by telescoping into them the power of animals, planets and elements. Ram learned how to set a tree aflame by shooting an arrow, how to bore a hole in the ground and cause water to spring forth and how to summon the wind. He learned how to make arrows fly like a hawk, pounce like a tiger and pound like an elephant.
When they eventually reached Siddha-ashrama, Vishwamitra was pleasantly surprised to find Kushadhvaja there along with the four princesses of Videha. ‘We do not have sons but Janaka felt his daughters needed to witness a yagna performed in the forest.’
Lakshman looked at the four princesses of Videha, but the girls were more interested in the yagna, as was Ram. He realized he had never had a sister. Only brothers surrounded him. He wondered what it would be like to have a sister to play with.
Vishwamitra’s sons, once princes, were dressed in clothes of bark. They had strings of beads made of seeds around their neck and arms. Their wives, anointed with sandal paste, wore garlands of flowers and assisted them to prepare for the ceremony. The whole precinct was full of clay bricks and pots, wooden spoons and wicker baskets and mats of bamboo and the skin of deer. Seven types of fruits, seven types of leaves and seven types of flowers had been collected. ‘We must bow to Shakti, ask her permission, before we light the fire that will eventually turn the forest into a field,’ said Vishwamitra.
‘Why do you address the forest as a goddess?’ asked Sita.
Knowing that the daughters of Janaka were well versed in the Upanishads, Vishwamitra saw that he would have to give a considered answer. So he framed his answer carefully. ‘Because I see the mind as a man,’ he said. ‘This mind of ours seeks to control nature as man tries to control woman. The mind assumes ownership of nature as a man assumes ownership over his wife.’
‘So my mind is male and the nature around me is female?’ said Sita.
‘Did you hear what she said?’ Vishwamitra overheard the younger prince of Ayodhya ask his elder brother. Vishwamitra waited with bated breath to hear Ram’s reply.
‘That is a figure of speech,’ said Ram to Lakshman. ‘The rishis have found it easy to explain the mind using the male body and nature using the female body. Do not take it literally.’
Vishwamitra was pleased with Ram’s response. Sita was impressed too, he could see. There was reason to be: a prince with the mind of a sage is not common to find, especially one so young and handsome and brave.
Vishwamitra, with his wife by his side, drilled the fire-stick and lit the fire in the altar. The princes and princesses watched the ceremony with fascination. Vishwamitra declared himself the yajaman, and sang hymns invoking the gods. His sons sang hymns in praise of Indra, the sky-god; Surya, the sun-god; Chandra, the moon-god; Vayu, the wind-god; Varuna, the water-god; and Agni, the fire-god. These powers that exist above the earth had to be invoked so that collectively they would help domesticate the forest and unknot the mind.
As the chants filled the air and the fire blazed brilliantly, Sita looked up and saw Ram. A glance was exchanged, both hearts missed a beat, and she looked away.
Then came the angry sounds that drowned the songs of Vishwamitra and his sons, first from a distance, then louder and louder, until it seemed they encircled the entire hermitage.
Sita, well versed in many languages due to her interaction with many rishis, fathomed the words of the rakshasas: ‘We will behead Vishwamitra as Shiva beheaded Brahma. We will destroy Vishwamitra’s yagna as Shiva destroyed Daksha’s yagna. We will not let sanskriti destroy prakriti.’
‘You understand what they say, don’t you, Janaka’s daughter,’ said Vishwamitra. ‘Sanskriti is culture, where everyone acts with affection. Prakriti is nature, a place where all actions are propelled by fear of starvation and fear of attack. Though Brahma and Daksha conducted yagnas, they were not creating sanskriti. Brahma feared the untamed and used the yagna to control nature. Daksha used the yagna to make everyone do his own bidding. That is why Shiva attacked them. The point of the yagna is to outgrow fear, not indulge it. I conduct this yagna to transform kings into Vishnu, who uplifts with affection rather than subjugates with rules.’
‘The rakshasas don’t know that,’ said Sita as the chanting of the rakshasas was replaced by the clamour of weapons.
‘They will not until we connect with them. For now, we are strangers. We are threats. There is no room for conversation. We must not resent their hostility.’
As they spoke, sticks were hurled into the precincts, followed by stones and bones. But before they touched the ground, arrows shot by Ram and Lakshman diverted or shattered them. Vishwamitra said, ‘Now is the time to use the mantras I taught you.’ So Ram and Lakshman shot a series of arrows creating a fence around the hermitage and a roof over the yagna-shala. The sticks, stones and bones hurled against them simply bounced back. Everyone felt safe.
Then a blood-curdling yell was heard from beyond the trees. A woman’s voice. ‘That’s Tadaka, matriarch of this herd of rakshasas, stronger than all the others put together,’ Vishwamitra said. ‘Use the mantras that will turn your arrows into missiles imbued with the power of the sun, the moon, wind, water and fire. Shoot her dead, for she alone can force her way into the hermitage and destroy the yagna-shala.’
‘But that is a woman. The scriptures tell us not to hurt women,’ argued Lakshman.
‘Villains have no gender. Shoot!’ shouted Vishwamitra.
Sita watched Ram chant a hymn softly, mount the arrow to his bow, pull the bowstring and with a calm expression shoot the arrow in the direction of Tadaka’s voice. The arrow struck Tadaka just as she was emerging from the trees. She was tall and strong and fierce-looking. But she fell silent as the arrow ripped its way through her heart. And then like a giant tree she fell down with a tremendous thud.
Behind Tadaka were two men: Subahu and Marichi, both tall and fierce with hair like flames. Subahu ran to strike Ram, but another arrow brought him to the ground. Marichi turned around and fled.
No more sticks, stones or bones were hurled thereafter. The yelling and screaming stopped, and was replaced by an eerie silence. The rakshasas had withdrawn.
Vishwamitra spoke, ‘They see us as the new dominant beast who has marked this territory. They will return to reclaim the territory when we grow weaker or they grow stronger.’
‘If you wish, we will guard this compound forever,’ said Lakshman.
‘Then this space will never have sanskriti,’ said Ram, frowning as his mind was flooded with thoughts. Vishwamitra was pleased to see this. He asked his sons and Dashratha’s sons to gather wood to cremate Tadaka. ‘Let us facilitate her journey across the Vaitarni. Who knows how she will be reborn? Hopefully as a friend, not a foe.’
‘But why should we disturb the jungle way? Why don’t we just leave them alone?’ asked Shrutakirti, the younger of Kushadhvaja’s daughters, as she watched the funeral rites of Tadaka being conducted.
‘The forest belongs to no one. Without human intervention, it will stay a jungle, a place of fear, of hostility not hospitality, where might is right and only the fit survive. Without tapasya and yagna there will be no civilization,’ said Vishwamitra.
‘But we just killed Tadaka,’ said Urmila.
‘To light a fire, wood must burn. To feed the cow, the grass must be cut. Until the rakshasas learn to trust us, we will be seen as threats and rivals. Until then there will be violence. They will be hurt. We will also be hurt. What matters is our intention. Eventually relationships will be introduced and affection will prevail.’
‘They fear we will destroy their way of life. Will we? Can we?’ said Mandavi.
‘Indeed we can, if we stay animals and find pleasure in domination, and believe there is nothing to learn from them. That is adharma. Dharma is about exchange, about giving and receiving. It is about outgrowing animal instincts, outgrowing fear, discovering the ability to feed others, comfort others, enable others to find meaning.’
It did not escape Vishwamitra’s notice that Janaka’s daughters asked questions like Gargi of the Upanishad; Dashratha’s sons preferred obeying commands. Different seeds nurtured in different fields by different farmers produce very different crops indeed.
In Bhavabhuti’s Sanskrit play Mahavira-charita, or the tale of the great hero, dated to the eighth century CE, Sita is present during Vishwamitra’s yagna. She comes along with her sister Urmila and her uncle, Kushadhvaja.
The suggestion of romance between Ram and Sita before their marriage is suggested in the Ramayana s of Bhavabhuti, Kamban and even Tulsidas. This is in keeping with the shringara rasa or romantic mood found in Sanskrit kavyas.
In Kalamkari fabric paintings of the Ramayana, Ram is shown facing the other way when he shoots Tadaka because, the artists say, the only woman Ram will see, other than his mothers, is Sita.
In the Ramayana many women are killed or mutilated on the grounds of them being demons: Tadaka is the first amongst them and Surpanakha is the most well known. But there are others such as Ayomukhi, Simhika, Surasa, Lankini and even Mandodari, the wife of Ravana, and Chandrasena, the wife of Mahiravana. It is difficult to digest that these are simply metaphors for wild, untamed nature. There is clearly an acceptance of male violence against women.
Tadaka and her rakshasa hordes are often visualized as troublemakers, with the rishis assuming the right to conduct a yagna in their forests. Vishwamitra’s yagna can be equated with the burning of the Khandava forest by the Pandavas to build their city of Indraprastha. A yagna may be a metaphor for clearing forests, creating fields for human settlements. It is easy to read this as the incursion of Vedic Aryan tribes from the Gangetic plains into the dense southern forests. The action of the rishis can easily be equated with proselytizing efforts of missionaries and evangelists. European colonizers popularized such interpretations to justify the colonization of India, putting the rulers, landowners and priestly communities of India on the defensive.
The Liberation of Ahilya
When the yagna drew to a close, Vishwamitra said, ‘Let us go downstream to the hermitage of Gautama. We are needed there.’
Everyone followed Vishwamitra along a narrow, rocky path lined with flower-bearing trees until they came to a rock in the middle of a dilapidated, neglected hermitage. Vishwamitra then proceeded to tell its tale.
Ahilya, a beautiful princess with many suitors, was given in marriage to the sage Gautama, much older than her. Gautama spent all day conducting yagnas or performing tapasya while Ahilya took care of his needs. She longed for his friendship and companionship but he was too distracted to pay her any attention.
Then one morning, Gautama behaved very differently. Instead of going to the mountains to meditate after bathing in the river, he returned home and spent the afternoon with Ahilya, being extremely attentive, caring and gentle, giving in to all her demands.
But as evening drew close, Ahilya saw another sage who looked just like her husband approaching the house; the only difference was that the one outside looked stern and the one in her arms was extremely generous. It dawned on her that the loving man in her arms was not Gautama: he was an impostor. He turned out to be Indra, who had taken the form of her husband to exploit her loneliness. Her real husband stood outside.
Gautama was unforgiving. He cursed Indra that he would lose his manhood and that his body would be covered with sores. Then he cursed his wife that she would turn into stone, unable to move or eat. Animals would urinate on her. Travellers would walk over her.
‘If you, heir of the Raghu clan, prince of Ayodhya, touch her without judgement, she will be liberated from her curse,’ said Vishwamitra.
‘But isn’t adultery the worst of crimes, for it marks the end of trust? Renuka was beheaded for just thinking about another man; this is far worse,’ said Lakshman.
‘How much punishment is fair punishment? Who decides what is enough? A king needs to intervene, balance his ruthlessness with compassion.’
Ram immediately touched the rock that was Ahilya. It moved. He stepped away and she materialized, letting out a sigh, and then a wail, for she had been relieved of the burden of shame.
Gautama appeared from the shadows, looking confused, happy to have his wife back, yet unable to forget his humiliation.
‘Let go of your self-pity and your rage, noble sage. Let the knots of your mind unbind until aham gives way to atma. Only then will you be able to restore your hermitage and bring back joy to your world,’ said Ram with the demeanour of a king.
Gautama stretched out his hand. Ahilya, once beautiful, now gaunt, paused for a moment, and then accepted it. Vishwamitra poured water over their joined hands so that the two could start life afresh.
A curious Mandavi wondered why fidelity is so important in marriage. The rakshasa women, she had heard, did not restrict themselves to their husbands and the rakshasa men did not restrict themselves to their wives. In nature, all kinds of unions existed: swans were faithful to each other, the male monkey had a harem of females that he jealously guarded, the queen bee had many lovers. Why then was fidelity so important to the rishis?
‘It is a measure of how satisfied we are with the offerings of the spouse. The dissatisfied seek satisfaction elsewhere,’ said Vishwamitra.
‘I shall always strive to find all my satisfaction in a single wife,’ declared Ram.
‘What if your wife does not find satisfaction in you?’ asked Vishwamitra, eager to hear the response of the prince. But it was a princess who responded.
‘If she is wise, she will accommodate the inadequacy. If he is wise, he will strive to grow,’ said Sita, still looking at Ahilya and the hesitant tenderness of Gautama.
Kushadhvaja noticed the smile that appeared on Ram’s face. So he went up to Vishwamitra with a proposal. ‘Come with us to Mithila. Bring the princes of Ayodhya with you. I would like Ram to try his luck with the bow of Shiva. Who knows, he may just return home with a wife.’
Ahilya’s relationship with Indra is alluded to in hymns found in the ritual texts known as the Brahmanas, composed at least 500 years before Valmiki’s Ramayana.
In some retellings of the Ramayana as in the Brahma Purana, Indra tricks Ahilya. In others, like the Kathasaritsagar, she recognizes Indra but enjoys his company. In other words, she is an innocent victim in some tales and a consenting partner in others.
In the Valmiki Ramayana, Indra is castrated and Ahilya made invisible, forced to subsist on air. In the Brahmavaivarta Purana, Indra’s body is covered with a hundred vulvas, which turn into a thousand eyes when he worships the sun. In the Brahma Purana, Ahilya is cursed to be a dried-up stream. In the Padma Purana, she is stripped of her beauty, and becomes just skin and bones. In the Skanda Purana and Brahmanda Purana, she is turned into stone.
In the Valmiki Ramayana, Ahilya is merely invisible and is liberated when Ram acknowledges her presence and touches her feet. But in regional Ramayana s, written a thousand years later, she is a stone that is liberated after Ram steps on her.
Ahilya is also known as Ahalya. Hala means plough and so Ahalya means ‘one who is not ploughed’, meaning she is either a version or an allegory of a field that is yet to be ploughed.
The amount of discussion on female infidelity is not matched by discussion on male infidelity indicating that women are seen as properties whose boundaries must not be violated; men are not seen so. Traditionally, a holy woman is one who is chaste and attached to one husband while a holy man is one who is celibate and attached to no woman. She is called sati and he is called sant.
European scholars often equated Indra of Hindu mythology with Zeus of Greek mythology. Both are leaders of the
gods, both rule the sky, wield the thunderbolt and are known for their love of women. This cosmetic similarity falls apart, however, when we delve deeper. Zeus rapes many nymphs and princesses, often by taking various deceptive forms such as a goose or a ray of sunlight or even the likeness of husbands, and the women end up giving birth to great heroes such as Perseus and Hercules. Scholars see this as the spread of the male sky-cult and the subjugation of female earth-cults. Indra’s roving eye, however, has a different purpose. He is associated with fertility and is an enemy of the monastic order of hermits. A balance between hermits and householders is achieved through Shiva, the hermit who becomes a householder, and Vishnu, the householder who thinks like a hermit.
In later regional retellings, especially South Indian ones and those from South-East Asia, Ahilya has three children. Doubting their paternity, Gautama turns them into monkeys. The girl is Anjana, mother of Hanuman, and the boys are Vali and Sugriva. Anjana is Gautama’s daughter. Vali and Sugriva are sons of Indra and Surya. In some versions, Ahilya curses her daughter for revealing her secret, while Gautama curses the boys for keeping quiet.
The Bow of Shiva
Shiva, the supreme tapasvi, had destroyed hunger. So he sat atop a mountain of stone covered with snow, where no vegetation grew. This was Mount Kailas, located under the Pole Star.
Nature, taking the form of Shakti, said to him, ‘Hunger distinguishes creatures alive from creatures that are not alive. If you have no hunger, you should be called shava, corpse.’
‘A plant grows towards the source of food. An animal runs towards food. A human can outgrow the need for food through tapasya. That is the distinguishing feature of humanity,’ said Shiva.
‘A human can also sense another’s hunger and produce food through yagna to satisfy another’s hunger. That is also the distinguishing feature of humanity,’ said Shakti. ‘When tapasya is done without yagna, solitude thrives, no relationships are established and society collapses. You become the destroyer.’
Sita: An Illustrated Retelling of the Ramayana Page 5
