FOLK ALLURE
40
The lure of the lore
Ramayana,
then, now, and forever By Rathna Kumar “The music in my heart I bore Long after it was heard no more” So said Wordsworth of the song of the Solitary Reaper. But the same words bring to my mind a totally different song, a song that has been ingrained into my earliest memory – of a rich, deep voice lovingly cooing into my infant ears – Rama Laali Meghasyaama Laali (Sleep little Rama, sleep, O Dark hued One) Taamarasa Nayana Dasaradha Tanaya, Laali (O lotus eyed one, Son of Dasaradha, go to sleep) This was the lullaby my mother sang to me and my four siblings, and the song that I have sung to my own two sons, and which I now sing to my two little granddaughters. Strange, how things happen! From my infancy until now, the name of Ram has been heard almost every day in my house, first in an old and traditional lullaby, and now, through the Vishnu Sahasranamam, in which there is a line extolling the greatness of the very name of Rama Sri Rama Rama Ramethi Rame Raame Manorame Sahasra Nama Tat Tulyam Ram Nama Varaanane Translated, these words mean – “One
utterance of the name of Rama is equivalent to the entire Vishnu Sahasranama, only when uttered in that proper consciousness”. I listen to the Vishnu Sahasranamam every morning, but was struck anew by the full force of the meaning of these words as well as the universal appeal of Rama, on a recent visit with my husband to Angkor Wat, Bali and Yogyakarta. In Angkor Wat we saw an entire wall with a most extraordinary mural depicting the whole Ramayana. In Bali we witnessed a very interesting and unusual rendition of the epic in what the locals call Kechak Ramayana, performed on a hilltop overlooking the Indian Ocean, with a Shiva Temple on the other side – a fabulous setting indeed! In Yogyakarta (or Jogjakarta) we once again saw an Indonesian version of the Ramayana, performed in an open air auditorium, set against the backdrop of the stunningly beautiful Prambanan (from the Samskrit word Parabrahman) temple. All the performers in the Balinese Ramayana were Hindu, but almost all of those in Yogyakarta were Muslim! The dancers had transcended the religious divide and presented a wonderful theatrical production that filled my heart with supreme happiness. As one with a keen interest in mythology, literature, Sanskrit slokas, art and architecture, as well as a classical dancer with a great love for world dance, the whole experience was indeed a
soul-stirring revelation. That a Hindu epic from India could have found a permanent home in other countries, through art and architecture, was both a wonder and a joyous discovery. It was thrilling to hear the names of Rama, Ravan, Jatayu and Hanuman being so perfectly pronounced by the Indonesian emcees. Of course Seetha became Shingta and Lanka turned into Alengka, but that was part of the charm of the Indonesian version. For those of us Indians used to listening to songs on Ram by Thyagaraja, Tulsidas, Kabir, Ramadas and Annamacharya, watching dancers moving in rhythm to Gamelan music and Javanese lyrics was a wonderful eyeopener, and I realized anew that a story can be both understood and enjoyed anywhere, in any language, as long as it is aesthetic and properly and authentically presented. One of the best animated versions ever made of the Ramayana is a collaborative effort between an Indian and Japanese company. I got my three-year old granddaughter Anjali this DVD, just to keep her occupied while I was busy doing other household chores, and she got hooked on it and watched it every single day, at least ten times, until she discovered the “Sampoorna Ramayanam”, produced and directed by the incomparable artist Bapu, which she now sees, of course, ten times a day! That a child should be so entranced by the story of Rama