From lamplit parchments across the Indian subcontinent, to sculptured temples in Thailand and Cambodia and shadow puppets dancing on translucent screens in Indonesia, the great Sanskrit epic Ramayana is known through Asia and diaspora populations: “Prince Rama, wrongly exiled from his kingdom, must rescue his kidnapped wife Sita from a demon king. On his journey Rama befriends forest folk and animals; together, they overcome demonic forces and save Sita. Rama returns from exile to become an exemplar for all humanity.”
Why does this traditional tale resonate so strongly even today? What does the mythical world it creates reveal to us – and about us? A youth poised on the edge of greatness, suddenly Rama’s dysfunctional family dynamic forces him into the wilderness – where during his years of wandering, he must grow through his encounters with strangers, feel the agony of loss, and find his true self rescuing the one he loves. The Ramayana is written as a roman fleuve, a generational epic following Rama’s footsteps as he navigates unknown rivers and forests, almost a foreshadow of Huckleberry Finn drifting down a river meeting new people along the way, loved but not to be encountered again.
The story famously tells of Rama’s ability to find common ground with each person he met, from the simple boatman who ferried him across a river, to the enemy king he treated with justice. In The Exile we present a series of classical choreographies in Bharatanatyam and Kathak, each imagined as an individual reminiscence from the perspective of one key character in Rama’s story, so we see Rama through their eyes. In search of these tales, we delved through several literary versions of Ramayana, from Valmiki’s ancient and austere verses, to the elegant poetic devotions of Kamban, Ranganatha and Tulsidas, to fundamentalist dictum or authoritarian cudgel, and to popular folk songs and the many modern superhero-style retellings.
The legendary Rama became beloved not for his military might, not for magical powers, nor even his divinity, for he was originally written as human after all; but for his kindness, his open-hearted compassion. Like Pilgrim’s Progress, The Exile visualizes Rama as Everyman, and as Maryada Purushottam, the Ideal Man. Can we find that Rama in each of us? Ecumenical mystic Kabir wrote, “As the tiny sesame seed holds oil, as flint contains the fire, your divinity is within you, realize it if you can.” When colonization placed barriers to pilgrimage in India, Thyagaraja sang that there was no need to look for Rama’s Ayodhya on earth, for it was found only in one’s heart. But this brings a more difficult question: there was no whisper of dogma, nor of territorial ownership in Rama of legend. Purandara Dasa, father of poets, sings “Why call Rama’s name, if we will not walk his path?” As humans traverse the earth, now we all walk the path of the Exile, finding home everywhere.
The life that cherishes strangers each day
Never falls upon ruin.
~ Thirukural 9:83 (Thiruvalluvar, 1st century BCE; transl. TH Pruiksma)
The Exile is a plea for humanism, in place of stricture; for kinship in place of intolerance; and for kindness in the bustling storms and the howling lonely places of this earth. That the metaphorical heart of Rama could be an oasis of calm, in a world that holds few such havens
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