Every year, one witnesses new versions and new creative enterprises based on the Ramayana, especially around Ramnavmi. The pull of the Ramayana over centuries and across continents is intriguing. One is easily beguiled by the simplicity of the story of Rama, the god and his life. Once the story has been narrated to you, other layers beneath unfold rather seamlessly and urge you to rethink about the epic. The unsurpassed ode to Rama for me is my all-time favourite of Tyagaraja —Lavanya Rama, the beautiful and the benign. I had heard this for the first time a few decades back at the Tyagaraja musical spearheaded by veteran Kasturi. It has always been a favourite ever since. This Ramnavmi, as every year, the beautiful, ever-cherished god and his life, was remembered, celebrated, safeguarded, transmitted through generations through music, song, dance, colouring books, Ramlila ceremonies, stories recounted to children, calendars and everything else.
Alexis Martin and Daniel Briere’s play meant for audiences in Quebec entitled La Marche de Rama reopened some old and some new pages in my interpretation of the Ramayana. The directors sought to demystify the timeless epic to the audiences of Quebec and thus was born this neo-contemporary version that rode both the traditional and the new wave.
The play begins with a bold Sita who insists on following Rama into the forest. A strong recall of Arunachala Kavi’s Eppadi manam Tunindado. She argues, persists and rightfully accompanies him. What happens when the Ramayana is retold by artistes who have not grown up on the epic, for whom it does not form part of the everyday ethos? The result is evidently intercultural, objective, spelling out an otherness that can be altogether refreshing through its prism.
The Ramayana’s women are powerfully captivating and have always set me thinking. As a child, I would wonder what made Surpanakha an important character in the epic. Watching Surpanakha represented through a mask in the filmed play that I watched, made me rethink the demoness as a wilful woman who tried to live her desire and made her best attempts to succeed, unlike the ugly, ridiculed wretch that she is often understood as. Interestingly, the play skillfully juxtaposed the traditional and the contemporary. The war scene was represented through the metaphor of a cricket match that showcased the tussle and the crusade againt evil left to the audience's interpretation.
That an epic should be retold again and again and still remain invigorating, speaks for the richness of the narrative and the possiblities of newfangled interpretation that it offers against a contemporary backdrop. We struggle, we wage wars to safeguard dignity, to vanquish evil, to attain our goals, to perform our duties, to fulfil our dreams, yielding to temptation, recovering from mistakes and so on. Every character in the Ramayana is doing just that in his or her own way making it relevant for all posterity. The infinite blue of Rama represented visually by a puppet in the play set out the blue as a colour of serenity and beauty against the backdrop of everything else. The Blue Rama marks the point where Rama, the god, resurfaces. Infinite in beauty, grace and benevolence and defined by action as the multifarious prefixes in his name indicate — Kodandarama, Kalyanarama and Sitarama.
Speaking of Lavanya Rama, I myself haven’t heard the rendition too often in recent times. In the abundance of the digital world, there is too much, too soon. The tide being strong, much can get washed away or remain at the shore, to be gleaned by keen ear and watchful eye. To end, I hold close also another Rama song, among the innumerable compositions that this god has inspired — Mamava Pattabhirama, the imperishable gem in Manirangu by Muthuswami Dikshitar. Or even one of the earliest songs of my repertoire — Janaki Ramana.
Dr. Vasumathi Badrinathan is an eminent Carnatic vocalist based in Mumbai. She can be contacted on vasu@vasumathi.net
