Epic Life: In the memory of Rama

In his famous ‘foreword’ to Kanthapura, an early Indian English novel, Raja Rao writes: “There is no village in India, however mean, that has not a rich sthala-purana, or legendary history, of its own. Some god or god-like hero has passed by the village — Rama might have rested under this papal-tree, Sita might have dried her clothes, after her bath, on this yellow stone…In this way the past mingles with the present, and the gods mingle with men to make the repertory of your grandmother always bright.” In Kanthapura, Rao narrates the story of a fictional South Indian village deeply rooted in Hindu myths and tradition. My recent visit to Rameswaram in Tamil Nadu 10 days back made me feel that I had suddenly arrived in one such village.

Rameswaram, as the name suggests, lives in and out of the legends associated with Rama, Sita, Lakshman and Hanuman. The people of the village (now a developing small town) seem to relive the great epic day-in and day-out; and every nook and corner of the place is steeped in epical legends. The central temple has two lingams of Lord Shiva, one of sand and the other of stone. The local legend has it that when Rama, after having killed Ravana and rescuing Sita, landed in India, he met a group of sages in the forests of Rameswaram. The sages told him that killing human beings (brahma-hatya) was an abominable sin and Rama must expiate by offering puja to Lord Shiva. Rama immediately sent Hanuman to Kailash to bring a Shiva-lingam. However, Hanuman was delayed, and Rama ordered Sita to build a lingam of sand. When Hanuman arrived, he was infuriated to see that the lingam was already set up. Rama asked him to destroy the lingam and replace by the one he had brought from Kailash. Hanuman could not break the sand lingam in spite of all his strength; Rama, in order to appease him, said that his lingam would be worshipped before the one Sita had consecrated. Since then, the temple has two lingams; and the rituals are followed as instructed by Rama some millions of years ago. A look around the place would reveal several kundas or wells, named after the legendary gods and goddesses, and a bath in the wells is still considered holy. The sea is unnaturally quiet, and the water a perfect blue. At a point from the coast, called Dhanushkoti, Sri Lanka can be seen on a very bright sunny day. It is also the point from which the famous bridge that Rama had built to reach Lanka is supposed to start.

The place has a primordial look, somewhat spoilt by greedy pandas and priests who are always hankering after money. This lust for wealth is perhaps the most manifest indication of modernization which has crept into this legendary village on the beach. It’s so ironical that a place like Rameswaram in a Dravidian-dominated place has such a deep-rooted myth associated with an Aryan hero. Rameswaram by the virtue of its geographical location stands as a living example of cultural and political hegemony of a foreign race that infiltrated an old civilization and almost wiped out its indigenousness by interpellating the people in its own myths and legends. Ramayana was definitely a powerful cultural tool that was necessary for consolidating Aryan rule. Today, after so many years, it’s really spine-chilling to think how politically charged the Ramayana was. What outstanding political vision had gone into its making! So much so that it has replaced all other realities to become a reality itself.