Sita: An Illustrated Retelling of the Ramayana

by Devdutt Pattanaik

  The golden deer marks the end of happiness. The next time Ram and Sita meet is after the war, when issues of fidelity and social propriety strain their relationship.

  The motif of the two-headed deer is commonly seen in miniature cloth paintings from Odisha. It is also found in the Ramayana of the Bhils who live in Gujarat.

  The idea of Sita wanting Ram to capture or hunt a deer is not acceptable to many storytellers and so in the Bhil Ramayana (Ram-Sita-ni-varta) we are told that the two-headed golden deer destroys Sita’s garden, upsetting Sita, and Ram is so angry that he decides to pursue and hunt the deer.

  The deer is Maricha, a shape-shifting rakshasa, an innocent victim of the war between Ram and Ravana. He represents the common servant who is sacrificed in the fight of the masters.

  Sita uses all her wits to force the obedient Lakshman to disobey. Frightened, she accuses him of an emotion that is most foul. Since Sita has been positioned as the epitome of female virtue that she would even articulate such a thought is unacceptable to many.

  The custom of a widowed sister-in-law becoming the wife of the younger brother-in-law is common in many communities across India, especially in the north-west and the Gangetic plains. It remains an ambiguous relationship, one of caretaker and child when the husband is alive and one of dependant and support when the husband is dead. The sexual tension between the two is alluded to in many folk songs. This idea becomes explicit later in the narrative when Sugriva takes Tara as his wife after Vali is killed, and Vibhishana takes Mandodari after Ravana is killed.

  In the Valmiki Ramayana, there is no mention of the Lakshman-rekha. It is first mentioned in the Telugu and Bengali Ramayana s written over a thousand years after the Valmiki Ramayana was composed. Many early Sanskrit plays that describe Sita’s abduction do not mention this line.

  In Buddha Reddy’s Telugu Ranganatha Ramayana, Lakshman draws seven lines across the ground in front of Sita’s hut, not one, and these lines spit fire each time Ravana tries to cross them.

  Feeding the Hermit

  Shortly after Lakshman left, a rishi with his body smeared with ash came to Sita’s hut with a bowl in his hand. ‘Are you the bride of that unfortunate scion of the famous Raghu clan, Ram?’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ said Sita.

  ‘The noble Raghu clan, famous for its hospitality?’ he reconfirmed.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you will surely take care of me. I have not eaten for several days and have found neither an edible berry nor a root or a shoot in this wretched forest. I beg you to feed me any morsel that you may have left in the house.’

  ‘Come in,’ said Sita.

  ‘I cannot,’ said the rishi. ‘I see no man beside you. They must have gone to the forest or the river. You are alone in the house. It would be inappropriate to come in. Someone may accuse you of being a Renuka or an Ahilya. No, it is better that you come and feed me.’ The rishi spread the hide of a blackbuck on the ground and sat at a distance from the hut, ready to receive his meal.

  Sita collected the fruits and berries from within and was about to step out when she remembered the line drawn around the hut. She was suddenly confronted with a dilemma. As long as she stayed inside the line, she was safe. Outside she was vulnerable.

  But if the rishi was not fed he would go around the forest maligning the reputation of the Raghu clan because of her, the eldest daughter-in-law. ‘They call themselves noble but refuse to leave their house to feed hungry sages. When you meet a member of the Raghu clan, remember Sita, and do not expect any hospitality,’ he would say. What was more important, herself or the reputation of the Raghu clan, she wondered. She had to risk vulnerability.

  So Sita crossed the line drawn by Lakshman, to feed the rishi.

  Ravana looked at her and smiled, ‘Inside the line you were someone’s wife. Outside you are just a woman for the taking.’

  Sita screamed. He grabbed her arm, tossed her over his shoulder and summoned his chariot. It had the power of flight!

  Though the Valmiki Ramayana leaves no doubt that Ravana grabbed Sita physically, in many regional versions, written over a thousand years later, Ravana does not touch Sita. In Kamban’s Ramayana, he picks up the ground under Sita and carries her along with the hut to Lanka. These versions suggest that in medieval times, the concept of contamination and pollution through touch had gained more prominence in Indian society.

  That Ravana is in love with Sita is a common theme, especially in South Indian retellings. Ram is the restrained, civilized, faithful beloved who follows the rules, while Ravana is the unrestrained, passionate lover who cannot handle rejection.

  In Shaktibhadra’s ninth-century Sanskrit play Ascharya-chudamani, Ram and Sita are given gifts by sages: Ram a ring and Sita a hairpin. These ornaments are special. As long as the two wear them, no demon can touch them and they can reveal demons who use magic disguises. In the play, Ravana approaches Sita not in the form of a hermit but in the form of Ram on a chariot with Lakshman as his charioteer, and tells Sita that they have to rush to Ayodhya which has been invaded by enemy forces. Sita believes him and steps on to his chariot. Ravana does not touch Sita fearing the hairpin, but when Sita touches Ravana, Ravana is forced to reveal his true form. Likewise, Surpanakha meets Ram in the form of Sita. She cannot touch him as he wears the special ring, but when he touches her, she sheds her disguise and reveals her demonic form.

  The story goes that the playwright Shaktibhadra presented his play based on the life of Ram to the great Vedanta scholar Shankara. Shankara had taken the vow of silence and so did not say anything on reading the work. Assuming this to mean displeasure, Shaktibhadra burnt his text in disappointment. When Shankara finally broke his vow of silence and praised the work, Shaktibhadra revealed what he had done. Miraculously, by the grace of Shankara, Shaktibhadra was able to recite the entire play from memory.

  Ravana’s chariot, or rather Kubera’s chariot, is called Pushpak Vimana. It is a vimana, or chariot that has the power of flight, leading one to believe that ancient Indians knew aeronautics. In fact, long essays have been written of how this ancient airplane would have been fuelled. It is seen as proof of India’s great technological achievement in ancient times.

  In Sinhalese, Ravana’s chariot is called Dandu Monara, which means flying peacock. In Sri Lanka, Weragantota, about 10 km from Mahiyangana, is identified as Ravana’s airport.

  The Wings of Jatayu

  Sita did not know who this strange rishi was. Was he a rishi at all?

  ‘Know this, pretty one, I am Ravana, king of Lanka, brother of the woman your husband mutilated, leader of the men your husband killed. You are the penalty of his crimes. When he returns to the hut, you will not be there and there will be no footprints for him to follow. He will search around the forest for years in futility like a lovesick fool and then, realizing that you have been taken by some beast or bird, he will come to terms with your loss and find comfort in another woman, probably my sister, who seems so infatuated by him despite the way he has treated her.’

  Sita refused to look at her abductor. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her wail and whimper in fear. She looked below – a carpet of trees, they were indeed flying. Sita wondered if he was taking her to Amravati, the city of the gods.

  Reading her mind, Ravana said, ‘I am taking you to the most wonderful place on earth, to Lanka, the city of gold, located in the middle of the sea, far from all human habitation.’

  Sita felt a mixture of fear and sorrow. Not for herself but for Ram and Lakshman. Her absence would make them anxious, fill them with guilt and shame. They were warriors, after all, proud men who would feel they had failed in their duty. And she wondered who would feed them when they returned from the hunt, who would provide them water to quench their thirst and make ready a bed of grass for them to rest on. Sita felt miserable about the situation Dashratha’s sons would find themselves in, rather than her own. She would manage; would they?

  She wondered how Ram would know
where she was being taken. She was clearly being taken south. She pulled off her armlets and anklets, the chains around her neck and her earrings, and began dropping them below, hoping they would create a trail for Ram to follow. She removed everything except her hairpin. She remembered her mother’s words, ‘As long as you are a married woman and matriarch of a household, your hair must be tied up. Untie it only for your husband in the privacy of your bed, never when you step out of it.’

  Suddenly a bird appeared before the chariot. It was the old vulture called Jatayu who often kept watch over their hut. He spread his wings and blocked the path of the flying chariot and challenged Ravana to a duel. Ravana pulled out his crescent-shaped sword and prepared for battle. Jatayu struck Ravana with his wings, biting into his arms with his sharp beak, tearing his flesh with his sharp talons. But Ravana was agile and Jatayu old. Ravana swung the sword in an arc and slashed off one of the bird’s wings, causing Jatayu to tumble down to earth from the sky.

  Sita is abducted in the final year of exile.

  The place from where Sita is abducted has been identified as Panchavati, near Nashik in Maharashtra on the banks of the river Godavari. The name of the city of Nashik near Panchavati is derived from ‘nasika’ which means nose in Sanskrit and Prakrit, alluding to the cut nose of Surpanakha.

  Sita is shown here not as helpless but as alert and resourceful. Realizing she cannot escape, she thinks of a way to let her husband know her whereabouts.

  The hairpin or chudamani is a jewel worn by women to adorn their hair and keep it up. Symbolically, untied hair is a sign of freedom and wildness. Tied hair is the symbol of bondage as well as culture. In the Mahabharata, the untied hair of Draupadi indicates the end of civilized conduct.

  Jatayu befriends Ram and Sita when they arrive in Panchavati and promises to watch over their hut. He is the first friendly creature that we encounter in the Ramayana. In some versions, he goes on a pilgrimage and returns just as Ravana is abducting Sita.

  Jatayu is a vulture, but is often visualized as an eagle.

  In many performances, Jatayu and Ravana are presented as being equally matched. Finally the two decide to reveal each other’s strengths. Jatayu reveals his strength is locked in his wings. Ravana lies and says it is locked in his toe, not his navel. So during the fight, Jatayu tries to peck Ravana’s toe in vain, giving Ravana an opportunity to slice off Jatayu’s wings.

  Jatayu plays a crucial role in the story as he points Ram to the direction in which Sita is taken. As Ravana travels on a flying chariot, there are no footprints to follow.

  The spot where Ram finds Jatayu is identified as Nashik in Maharashtra, as well as Lepakshi (from pakshi or bird, in Sanskrit) in Andhra Pradesh.

  Across the Sea to Lanka!

  Soon they were over the sea. Sita saw fishes and sea snakes pursuing the shadow of the Pushpak. Then, amidst the waves, she saw Ravana’s shadow on the gleaming ocean. She realized he had ten heads and twenty arms. He kept talking to her, but she did not hear a word. She felt numb. She heard nothing but the drone of the flying chariot as it tore through the clouds on its way to Lanka.

  Hidden by mists and clouds, Lanka was indeed a jewel, a golden citadel with tall towers and red fluttering flags atop a green mountain, ringed by a beach of silver sand and around it the vast blue sea.

  A horde of cheering men and women gathered to receive their triumphant king and his trophy. They shouted and sang as he carried Sita over his shoulders to his palace gates. There stood Mandodari, his chief queen.

  ‘Stop,’ she said. ‘Do not bring a woman into this house against her will. All the women, even those married to other men, who stay here come here of their own free will. This is a house of joy. Do not bring in a weeping woman. She brings bad luck.’

  ‘She will come around eventually,’ said Ravana, trying to get in. But Mandodari stretched out her arm and blocked his path.

  ‘Is the great Ravana not capable of charming her, seducing her, enticing her to enter of her own free will? Is that why he wants to drag her in while she whimpers in protest?’

  Ravana knew his wife had cornered him. ‘I will keep her in the garden outside this palace until she willingly comes inside. Then she will get the bed that you occupy now, Mandodari, and you will serve her as a slave.’

  ‘Challenge accepted,’ said Mandodari with a smile.

  Only Sita understood what Mandodari had done; she had protected her own station in the palace while ensuring another woman’s freedom.

  The Ramayana narrated by shadow puppeteers of Odisha is called Ravanachhaya, or the shadow of Ravana, because according to one story it was inspired by Sita who saw Ravana’s shadow cast on the sea when she was being taken to Lanka. Sailors, it is popularly believed, invented shadow puppetry using lamps behind the sail to create the shadows for their stories. These stories entertained them on their long journey up and down the Indian coast and to and from Suvarnabhumi, the golden land, as South-East Asia was called.

  Many scholars have challenged the identification of the island nation of Sri Lanka with the island of Lanka. One reason is that the island nation has traditionally been known as Sinhala, the country of lions (referring most probably to heroic men, as lions are not native to the island), and the name Lanka is traced to around the twelfth century. Another reason is that details of Lanka in the Valmiki Ramayana suggest an area in the Deccan. Still others believe that the southern island is a metaphor, like ‘going south’ in modern language, referring to something negative. But tourist guides in Sri Lanka do take people to sites associated with the Ramayana like the place where Sita was held captive and where Ravana parked Pushpak, his flying chariot.

  A document called Lankavatara Sutra (circa fourth century CE) refers to a conversation in Lanka between the Buddha and Mahamati (the learned one) who scholars have identified as Ravana, indicating the popularity of the character and the story of Ram across all denominations of India. This text plays an important role in the development of Tibetan, Chinese and Japanese Mahayana Buddhism and speaks about the role of consciousness in constructing the mental world that we assume to be real.

  The Garden of Ashoka Trees

  Ravana carried Sita into the garden next to his palace and dropped her under a tree. ‘Here she will stay,’ said Ravana to the women of his palace. ‘Take care of her needs. Let not jealousy get the better of you. I will ensure you have no reason to complain. I will satisfy all of you and she will satisfy me.’ The women laughed when he said so, for Ravana always kept his promises.

  Dressed in red, bereft of jewels except the hairpin binding her hair, Sita turned her face towards the tree, hugging it, as if expecting it to turn into Ram who would fight and liberate her from this prison. No fate is worse than that where one is deprived of one’s freedom.

  The garden she had been put in was full of Ashoka trees, short trees with mango-like leaves and bright bunches of red-orange flowers. Sita had seen this plant in her father’s house and in Ayodhya. They were dedicated to Kama, the god of love. When the winter was waning, women were asked to embrace this tree. The gardeners believed it made the trees burst into bloom faster thereby heralding spring. What a cruel place to be held hostage, worse than any cage, for it reminded her of her Ram, of the possibilities of love denied first by Kaikeyi’s cruelty and now by Ravana’s rage.

  Sita found herself surrounded by the women of Ravana’s household: his wife, Mandodari; his mother, Kaikesi; his sister, Surpanakha; his sister-in-law Sarama, wife of his brother Vibhishana; his niece Trijata, Vibhishana’s daughter; and his daughter-in-law Sulochana, Indrajit’s wife. They had been instructed to take care of her needs.

  They brought her food and water, clothes and dolls. But Sita was not interested. She was anxious about Ram and Lakshman. Who was feeding them? Who was taking care of them? She felt miserable at the thought of their anguish. They would surely be scouring the forest frantically. Would they have found Jatayu with his broken wing? Would they have found the jewels she had cast on
the way? Would they find her, rescue her?

  Women were posted to watch over Sita. Some spoke to her kindly. Some spoke to her rudely. Some tried to encourage her to submit to Ravana. Some warned her of the dire consequences if she annoyed Ravana. ‘Do you think you are better than us? That he is not good enough for you?’

  Sita did not reply to these taunts. She just looked at the blades of grass around her, and placed one blade to her left and another to her right. ‘This is my Ram,’ she said looking at the grass on the right. ‘And that is my Lakshman,’ she said looking at the grass on the left. She was convinced they would protect her.

  ‘He has no army. How will he defeat Ravana who has an army of a thousand rakshasas?’

  Sita did not reply. She knew that her Ram was king even without his kingdom. He would create armies out of nothingness if that was required to rescue her.

  When Surpanakha came to the garden to gloat over Sita and to curse her, Mandodari shouted at her, ‘Wasn’t your brother supposed to simply kill her so that her husband would seek comfort in your arms? Why then has she been brought here? Do you realize, silly girl, in avenging your mutilation, this brother of yours has paved the way for his own satisfaction.’

  ‘Ravana loves me,’ said Surpanakha.

  ‘Ravana loves no one but himself,’ said Mandodari. ‘Let us not pretend otherwise. We are his pets.’

  The idea of a brother as protector of the sister’s honour, which is equated with family honour, is found in many cultures. In the Hebrew Bible, a Canaanite prince seduces Dinah, daughter of Jacob. Later, he asks his father to formalize the union and even agrees to get circumcised in keeping with the custom of his bride’s household. However, Dinah’s brothers view the seduction and marriage as rape. During the wedding party, they massacre the groom and all his male relatives.