Sita: An Illustrated Retelling of the Ramayana

by Devdutt Pattanaik

  So Vishwamitra introduced the lineage of Ram. ‘In the beginning, Narayana slept a dreamless slumber and the world did not exist. When he awoke, a lotus rose from his navel and within it sat Brahma, who was so terrified of being alone in the world that from his mind he created sons. One of these sons was Daksha. Another was Manu. Shiva beheaded Daksha. Manu had a son called Ikshavaku and another called Ila. From Ikshavaku came the Suryavansis, the solar line of kings, and from Ila came the Chandravansis, the lunar line of kings. In the Ikshavaku line of kings was one Raghu, who performed many yagnas. From him comes the clan of Raghavas or the Raghu-kula. In this clan was one Sagara, whose sons dug a hole so deep, in search of their missing horse, that rainwater collected in it to create the ocean. In this clan was one Bhagiratha, who brought Ganga from the skies to flow on earth. In this clan was one Dilip, who to save a cow from a hungry lion offered his own flesh. In this clan there was one Harischandra who kept his word even if it meant losing all his fortune, his dignity, even his son. In this clan was one Aja, who loved his wife Indumati so much that he died the instant she passed away. From Aja came Dashratha and from Dashratha comes Ram.’

  ‘May I?’ Ram asked Janaka for his permission.

  Janaka nodded. He watched Ram invoke his ancestors, his parents, his teachers and seek their support. Only then did the eldest son of Dashratha reach out to hold the shaft of the bow. Slowly, he picked it up, looking surprised that it was not as heavy as everyone claimed it was. Janaka held his breath as Ram fixed the lower end of the shaft with his right toe and stretched the string with his right hand while bending the shaft with his left hand, determined to tie the loose end of the string to the free end of the shaft.

  Anticipation and anxiety filled the room. Sita was filled with dread. The rules were clear: she could only marry a man who could string Shiva’s bow. But her heart did not care for rules: it had given itself to him. In him she would find all satisfaction. But what if he did not succeed?

  Then something happened. Ram looked into Sita’s eyes; his concentration wavered, but for a moment. And in that moment, he put too much force on the shaft and it broke into two.

  The sound of the crack was like the clap of a thousand thunders. Everyone heard it: the devas in the sky and the nagas under the earth. Everyone was stunned. Had Ram succeeded or failed? All eyes turned to Janaka.

  And he said, ‘From today, Ram, you shall be known as Janaki-vallabha, the beloved of Janaka’s daughter Sita.’ The court erupted in cheer.

  In the ninth century (though some argue the twelfth century) Kamban, a temple musician and follower of the poet-saint Namalvar, wrote the Tamil Iramavataram. This was the first regional retelling of the Ramayana, ten thousand verses long, full of songs. It was first presented in the Srirangam temple and the tale goes that so pleased was the deity that Narasimha emerged from the pillar to growl in satisfaction. The king had commissioned two poets to write it, but by the time inspiration struck Kamban his deadline was only two weeks away. He wrote furiously, day and night, with the Goddess herself holding the light so he would put down the thoughts through the night, enabling him to present his work first. In his work, Kamban visualizes Ram and Sita meeting in a bower and falling in love long before the bow is broken. This idea of falling in love was a key motif in Sanskrit drama. Sita is not just the prize of a contest; she is in love before she is given in marriage.

  Shiva uses his bow Pinaka to shoot arrows that pin Brahma to the sky when he is about to chase his own daughter. It is also used to destroy three worlds, the Tripura, which is why Shiva is called Pinaki (bearer of the Pinaka) and Tripurantaka (destroyer of three worlds). The bow is a metaphor for a sharp mind that is able to shoot the arrow of yoga to align nature (prakriti), culture (sanskriti) and imagination (brahmanda).

  The lineage of Ram reveals his ancestors were known for their uprightness and integrity. Of significance is Aja, Dashratha’s father who died the moment his wife, Indumati, died. Such love of a husband for a wife is not common in the scriptures. Indumati dies when a sage’s garland falls around her neck from the sky. The flowers remind her that she was once an apsara, and is living on earth as a result of a curse. With that memory comes death. And her death breaks Aja’s heart. This story is described in Kalidasa’s Raghuvamsa.

  Ram is renowned as maryada purushottam, one who always follows the rules. That he breaks the bow he is meant to bend and string is not insignificant. It indicates a wavering of the mind, or perhaps a momentary loss of balance. That he breaks the bow of Shiva, who is associated with detachment, perhaps indicates a moment of attachment to Sita. This makes exile a necessity, for in the forest the prince shall learn about detachment before he is ready to be king.

  * Abbreviated family tree

  Parashurama’s Rage

  Hearing the sound of the bow breaking, Parashurama raised his axe and rushed into Mithila. His presence frightened everyone. ‘Who is this man who dares break the bow of Shiva when asked to bend it?’ Parashurama thundered.

  Janaka was about to get up and cajole the agitated warrior-priest but Vishwamitra grabbed his arm and stopped him. ‘Let the boy handle this,’ he whispered to the king.

  With not a trace of fear on his face, Ram said, ‘I did.’

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘Ram, son of Kaushalya, scion of the Raghu clan, prince of Ayodhya.’

  ‘He who liberated Ahilya, who was adulterous in deed. Do you know who I am?’

  ‘My namesake, Rama of the Bhrigu clan, also known as Rama of the axe, Parashurama, who beheaded his mother, Renuka, on his father’s instructions, for being adulterous in thought.’

  ‘When a warrior breaks a bow when asked to bend it, it indicates a mind that does not know when to stop, like my mother’s who could not control desire and like Kartavirya’s who could not control his greed,’ declared Parashurama.

  ‘What kind of a mind cannot overcome rage and keeps killing king after king, in clan after clan, generation after generation, in the hope that repeated punishment will create a perfect world?’ asked Ram.

  Parashurama had no answer. He had not expected such a sharp retort from this young man. The air was filled with tension. Those around dared not breathe. ‘Are you saying control is bad?’ asked Parashurama.

  ‘Control creates domesticated animals. The purpose of society is to inspire humanity, not tame them,’ said Ram.

  ‘What then will create culture? Why not live like rakshasas? Without rules, the strong will dominate the weak and no one will help the helpless,’ Parashurama shouted.

  ‘Rules cannot be used to compel people to care. It will only amplify fear. The whole purpose of sanskriti is to outgrow fear so that we do not feel the need to grab, control or dominate. Your mother was beheaded not because she desired another, but because your father felt inadequate. Your killing of Kartavirya only sowed the seeds of vengeance in his sons, just as their killing of Jamadagni sowed the seeds of vengeance in you. You call it justice, but how much punishment is adequate – when is it fine to forgive and move on? A society that does not make room for imperfection can never be a happy society.’

  These words uttered by Ram pleased Parashurama. Not every king on earth was like Kartavirya. There was still hope. He smiled. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief.

  Parashurama offered Ram his bow. ‘You broke Pinaka, which is Shiva’s bow. Let me see how well you handle Saranga, which is Vishnu’s bow.’

  Ram took the bow, bent the shaft, strung it, mounted an arrow on it and pulled the string back effortlessly. Parashurama was impressed. This bow had been with the Bhrigu clan for generations and none but he had been able to hold it, let alone wield it.

  ‘I have mounted an arrow on this bow. What should I strike? This arrow cannot go in vain,’ said Ram.

  ‘Strike my mind with it, for I had assumed I alone would solve the world’s problems by enforcing rules. Shatter the boundaries of my mind, help me appreciate that the rules have to be followed voluntarily to create a happy society.’


  Ram released the arrow and it struck Parashurama’s mind, shattering all limitations. Everyone had seen arrows strike physical targets. For the first time they saw an arrow strike a mental target.

  Parashurama was so pleased that he declared he would withdraw from the world. ‘The Krita yuga ended when Kartavirya tried to steal my father’s cow and broke our faith in kings. Now I see the Treta yuga has dawned with Ram who will reinforce humanity’s faith in kings. No more will I kill warriors, or frighten them into being good, because now there is one amongst them who will show how to be good. My task is done.’

  Parashurama hurled his axe into the sea and retired to Mount Mahendra, renouncing violence forever.

  The confrontation of Ram and Parashurama is handled differently in different retellings. It is a verbose argument in Bhavabhuti’s Mahavira-charita. In Ram-leela performances popular in the Gangetic plains, Sita gets from Parashurama the boon of being ‘akhanda soubhagyavati’, one who is always fortunate, a phrase meaning her husband will outlive her. That is why Parashurama cannot hurt Ram.

  In some traditions, there is a hierarchy between Vishnu’s avatars: Ram is greater than Parashurama and Krishna is greater than Ram. Krishna alone is called purnavatar, the complete form of Vishnu on earth.

  Every society goes through four phases, or yugas, according to Vedic thought. These are numbered in the reverse: Krita (4), Treta (3), Dvapara (2) and Kali (1) followed by pralaya (0) and then back to 4, 3, 2, 1. Every society begins idealistically and eventually collapses. Each yuga comes to an end with a different avatar: Parashurama in Krita, Ram in Treta, Krishna in Dvapara and Kalki in Kali.

  Parashurama is closely associated with the western coast of India, stretching from Gujarat to Kerala. It is said that when Parashurama threw his blood-soaked axe into the sea, the sea recoiled in horror and the western coast came into being.

  The colloquial term ‘Ram-bana’ stands for an arrow that never misses its target and refers to a sure cure for ailments or a guaranteed solution to a problem.

  Four Brides for Four Brothers

  Ram had impressed everyone: everyone hailed him as a worthy groom for Sita. And so, in the presence of Vishwamitra and Parashurama, Sita garlanded the eldest son of Dashratha. She would be his wife, and he would be her husband.

  Messengers were sent to Ayodhya and Dashratha came to Mithila with his guru, Vasishtha, and his other two sons. Janaka had a proposal: ‘You have three more sons and my family has three more daughters. Let the four brothers marry the four sisters and let your house be united with mine.’

  Dashratha accepted this proposal and a grand wedding was organized to mark the union of four couples. Lakshman married Urmila, Bharata married Mandavi, and Shatrughna married Shrutakirti.

  The brides and grooms were bathed in turmeric water. The boys were dressed in white, a reminder of the white seed contained in their body. The girls were dressed in red, a reminder of the red seed contained in their body.

  Together they would produce the next generation, enabling the dead ancestors to be reborn.

  Janaka gave his daughters to the sons of Dashratha, saying, ‘I give you Lakshmi, wealth, who will bring you pleasure and prosperity. Grant me Saraswati, wisdom. Let me learn the joy of letting go.’ This ritual came to be known as kanya-daan, the granting of the virgin bride. Unlike dakshina, where wealth is asked in exchange, and bhiksha, where power is asked in exchange, in daan only wisdom is sought in exchange.

  The four couples took seven steps together in front of their elders. This made them lifelong companions who would share seven things: a house, fire, water, income, children, pleasure and conversation. Placing their palms one below the other they made offerings of ghee and grain to the fire so that the smoke carried them up to the realm above the sky where the devas could feast to their satisfaction. Offerings were also made to the cow, the dog, the crow and the serpent, to the banana plant and the banyan tree, to the rocks and to water, a reminder that humanity does not live in isolation.

  The sons of Dashratha did as they were told without question. The daughters of Janaka smiled, for every ritual spoke to them: questions they had asked long ago had revealed to them the language of symbols.

  When it was time for them to leave, Janaka blessed his daughters, ‘May you take happiness wherever you go.’

  Sunaina said nothing. She just gave all the girls two dolls each, one male and one female, made of red sandalwood. These were symbols of domestic bliss to be kept in the most sacred corner of their courtyards.

  Finally, a fistful of rice was given to the four princesses of Videha. They threw it back over their heads. Sunaina burst out crying. No amount of wise words could stop the flow of her tears. That rice symbolized repayment of a daughter’s debt to her parents. Now she was free to start her life elsewhere. The umbilical cord had been cut.

  Sita, Urmila, Mandavi and Shrutakirti wanted to turn back, but they did not. They were Janaka’s daughters. They knew that there is wisdom in letting go and moving on.

  A huge caravan of horses, elephants, donkeys and bullocks left the city of Mithila, carrying the gifts from the home of the brides to the home of the grooms. There were fabrics, jewels and weapons. Craftsmen and their families also travelled alongside to carry skills from the land of Videha to the land of Kosala. Sita especially paid attention to the seeds of pulses and grains, vegetables and fruits, herbs and spices. These would be grown in her husband’s garden to remind her of home. For when a bride enters the husband’s house she brings with her not just the promise of a new generation but also new food, a new culture and with that new thoughts that enrich her husband’s household.

  Usually a king would give all his daughters to the crown prince. That the daughters are given to all the sons of Dashratha is a reminder of what the epic considers ideal: monogamy, something that is not prevalent in most stories.

  Marriage, since Vedic times, is not just the union of a man and a woman but an opportunity for two cultures to intermingle so that new customs and beliefs can enter an old household and revitalize it.

  Wedding rites in India have symbols that are rooted in agricultural practices that the modern mind may consider distasteful, ideas that describe the man as the farmer who plants the seed and the woman as the field who germinates the seed.

  In Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka man–woman dolls of red sandalwood are given to girls either during their first menstrual periods or during their marriage. These ‘king–queen’ dolls are displayed along with other dolls during Navaratri festivals and are indicators of domestic bliss.

  By making Janaka a character in the epic, Valmiki is clear he wants to question the mindless materialism of kings, herdsmen and farmers. The daughters of Janaka are expected to find happiness not through things but through thoughts.

  Mithila (the home of Sita) is south of Ayodhya (the home of Ram) and Ayodhya is south of Mathura (the home of Krishna). All three are in the Gangetic plains. Culturally, even today, these three areas have very distinct cultures. Mithila is associated with village arts and crafts; Avadh or Ayodhya was the centre of urban sophistication; Vraja or Braj was the centre of earthy devotion. Each has a different dialect: Maithili, Avadhi and Brajbhasha.

  Many scholars distinguish Ram the mortal hero from Ram who is God incarnate. They separate the sections written later, the Bala-kanda and the Uttara-kanda, chapters 1 and 7 respectively, from the original core of the narrative. However, the magic of the Ramayana comes from the efforts of a human struggling to realize his divine potential. Can we rise above aham and realize atma? Is aham essentially selfish and is atma essentially fair? Who is more affectionate, caring and fair – the mortal Ram or the divine Ram? It delves into the human question of trying to live a perfect life in an imperfect world where everyone’s notion varies.

  The Janaki mandir is located at Janakpur in Nepal where the seventeenth-century saint Surkishoredas found a gold image of the Goddess and preached Sita-upasana or worship of Sita. Here the wed
ding of Sita is enacted every year around November–December.

  Book Three: Exile

  ‘She followed her husband to ensure he never felt incomplete.’

  Crossing Over into Ayodhya

  Three queens stood at the gates of Ayodhya to greet the four women who would transform their sons into men. Conch shells were blown and tongues oscillated in ululation to attract positive energies and push away negative ones. Music filled the air: drums, pipes and cymbals. The city was decorated with leaves and flowers and lamps. Bright white patterns had been painted in front of every house to welcome the brides, who were seen by all as diminutive doubles of Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth.

  Like the goddess the brides were garlanded with lotus flowers. There were beaded strings around their necks, rings around their toes and bangles on their arms. In the parting of their hair was vermilion informing Indra that they were married women, unavailable to anyone but their husbands.

  Pots filled with rice were placed at the gates and the brides were asked to kick them in. They were made to walk on red dye and their footprints were collected on fine cotton muslin. They were made to dip their hands in red dye and their palm prints were emblazoned on the bodies of white cows. They were taken around the palace, the verandas outside where men resided and the courtyards where the women lived. They were taken to the cowshed, the horse stables, the elephant stables, the kitchen gardens and finally the kitchens. They were made to use the ladles and stir green vegetables that were being cooked over the fire. They were made to watch boiling milk overflow. They were shown lovebirds in a cage and asked to set them free, and watch them fly together as a pair towards the sky.