The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia [1 ed.] 103259912X, 9781032599120

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The Multivalence

of an Epic

Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in

South India and Southeast Asia

Edited by

Parul Pandya Dhar

First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 selection and editorial matter, Parul Pandya Dhar; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Parul Pandya Dhar to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Print edition not for sale in South Asia (India, Sri Lanka, Nepal, Bangladesh, Pakistan or Bhutan) ISBN: 9781032599120 (hbk)) ISBN: 9781032599137 (pbk) ISBN: 9781003456797 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003456797 Typeset in Cambria by Manipal Universal Press - 576104

To the memory of

Professor S Settar 1935-2020

In honour of

Professor D S Achuta Rao

1917-1965

D S Achuta Rao graduated in 1938 with BA (Hons) from Maharaja’s College in Mysore University. He completed his MA in History from Mysore University in 1939. His research titled, “Hyder Ali: His Religious Disposition,” was published in the April 1939 issue of the Quarterly Journal of the Mythic Society even before he was awarded the MA degree. He taught in different prestigious colleges of Mysore University during 1940-49 and joined the Maharaja’s College in 1949, where he taught the undergraduate and postgraduate students until his untimely demise in 1965. He published over 15 research papers, mainly on Karnataka History.

He was actively involved in the Centenary Celebrations of Maharaja’s College. As the Secretary of the Exhibition Committee, he conceptualized an exhibition that was highly commended. He was commissioned to write the “History of the Maharaja’s College History Society” in its diamond jubilee year. He was committed to the cause of the nation and when India became a Republic in 1950, he raised contributions from faculty members and students to erect an ‘Ashoka Stambha’ in front of the Maharaja’s College. When the Mysore Government launched the “Kannada Encyclopaedia Project” in 1962, he was selected to write a model article. His article on “Raja Ram Mohan Roy” for this purpose was circulated as a template to contributors to emulate. He was a popular teacher who left a lasting impression on many of his students, inspiring them to pursue teaching and research in History. v

Professor D S Achuta Rao Endowment

To perpetuate the academic and research values D S Achuta Rao stood for, by supporting activities which institutionalize his spirit of learning. The Endowment was initiated in 2002 with a contribution by his family. It has given research grants, funded publications, sponsored seminars and set up endowments for perpetual activities in History at the Maharaja’s College and the Manasa Gangotri, Mysore University. A. Research Grant: The first grant resulted in research presented in a keynote address, “Footprints of Artisans in History,” by Prof S Settar, who presided over the 64th session of the Indian History Congress at Mysore. B. DSA History Series: It is a publication initiative of the endowment with Manipal Universal Press of Manipal Academy of Higher Education (MAHE). The following titles have been published: 1. Administrative and Social History of Mysore under the Wodeyars, 1600-1800 CE, by D S Achuta Rao, 2017. 2. Mysore History before 1800 CE, by D S Achuta Rao, 2017. 3. The Princely States and the Making of Modern India, edited by K Sadashiva and D A Prasanna, 2017. 4. Ancient India: Identities, Boundaries and Cultural Practices, edited by Hemanth Kadambi and D A Prasanna, 2019. 5. Early Buddhist Artisans and their Architectural Vocabulary, by S Settar, 2020. 6. Mysore History before 1800 CE, D S Achuta Rao, Kannada translation by S Narendra Prasad, 2020. 7. The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia, edited by Parul Pandya Dhar, 2021. C. DSA Memorial History Conference: During the birth centenary year, the endowment organized meetings of History scholars. 1. Power, Resistance, and Sovereignty in Princely South India was organized with Mysore University, Department of Studies in History. The keynote address was delivered by Prof David Washbrook from Trinity College, Cambridge University. The two-day conference attracted scholars from leading Asian, European, and American Universities. vii

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

2. DSA’s Research in Mysore History was organized by Maharaja’s College, Mysore University, on review of two books. This conference in Kannada attracted a large number of history scholars. 3. Connecting Cultures: Ramayana Retellings in South India and Southeast Asia was convened by Prof S Settar of the National Institute of Advanced Studies and Prof Parul Pandya Dhar of the University of Delhi. Covering literary, visual, and performing art traditions, the conference attracted many scholars from Cambodia, Canada, India, Indonesia, Malaysia, France, Singapore, Thailand, UK, and USA. 4. Ancient India: Identities, Boundaries and Cultural Practices was organized by Manipal Centre for Humanities, MAHE. Prof Upinder Singh, Delhi University, was the keynote speaker. On the occasion, MAHE named the History Department as D S Achuta Rao Department of History. D. Performance History: The endowment recognizes the importance of promoting and preserving visual and performance histories. Scholars have researched, performed, and documented the following: 1. Wodeyar Rajya Vaibhava in Dance Forms - Lakshmi Gopalaswamy, renowned Bharatanatyam exponent, performed, recreating the Wodeyar rule. 2. Ramanubhava, Experience the Adikavya through different Indian Dance Forms - Madhu Nataraj and Natya STEM Dance Kampni have created this vocabulary. 3. Jagadoddharaka, inspired by Udupi Krishna, was performed by renowned Bharatanatyam exponents, Satyanarayana Raju and Lakshmi Gopalaswamy. E. DSA Endowment Lecture Series: Maharaja’s College, Mysore University, initiated the inaugural lecture by Dr S K Aruni, Regional Director, Indian Council of Historical Research, on Karnataka Forts, Construction and Techniques, a Historical Perspective. F. Celebrating Shadakshari Settar, with Bangalore International Centre, a review of S Settar’s last research work, Early Buddhist Artisans and their Architectural Vocabulary, was done by eminent scholars. The book was released by Prof Roddam Narasimha, former Director of the National Institute of Advanced Studies at Bangalore. G. DSA History Channel: In order to reach the scholarly deliberations to a wider audience, the DSA Endowment has created the DSA History Channel on YouTube, which hosts over 150 edited videos of the talks and performances. In the five years since its launch, over 1,80,500 visitors from all over the world have viewed the Channel. With the encouragement that the Endowment has received from historians, it hopes to sustain the programs into the foreseeable future. viii

Prologue

When the idea of hosting an international conference in the centenary year of Prof D S Achuta Rao was proposed, I was not quite sure what I was going to do because I am now advanced in age and out of touch with the present generation of scholars. I know some of them and some sub-fields but the progress in research in the fields of history and art history has been so swift that I was not able to keep pace and I relied on Dr Parul Pandya Dhar, who teaches at the University of Delhi, is in touch with several scholars, and has been working for several years in the field of South and Southeast Asian art and history. So, we decided that it should be an overarching theme, a sensible and practical one, to establish two important things: pluralism and inclusiveness. We then thought of the multivalence of the Rāmāyaṇa tradition that traverses a long span of time and geographical locations. The first generation of travellers and migrants, whether they were traders, merchants, artisans, religious leaders, or ordinary people, propagated the Rāmāyaṇa, its ideas and content, across the Indian Ocean in various parts of Southeast Asia. This epic has since then effectively bridged and continues to connect South India with Southeast Asia. With sustained efforts, Dr Dhar was able to invite scholars whose research is historically grounded, erudite, and focussed on the plurality, diversity, and interconnectedness of the Rāmāyaṇa tradition. It is significant that Professor Achuta Rao’s centenary celebration became the context for such an occasion, and I could not have paid a better tribute to my teacher of almost 60 years ago. Since several questions have been raised about early references to the Rāmāyaṇa and the nature of its further development, I would like to make a few statements in the context of my area of scholarly engagement—Karnataka—which may be controversial because our knowledge yet is not thorough. But whatever remarks that I may make here will provide provocation to take the research further. I have been working on the first millennium inscriptions of Karnataka for some time now, so I looked at my own work and I found that one of the earliest references to Rāmabhadra in Karnataka appears in the Maḍikerī inscription of Gaṅga Avinīta, dated in the 5th/6th century CE. Here, the king as Rāmabhadra appeals to all future kings to maintain the bridge (setu) of dharma and to maintain it in perpetuity without ever violating it. This appeal ix

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

is repeated often in later records, more so under the Rāṣṭrakūṭas, between 870 and 995 CE, in the name of Rāmadeva, Rāmacandra, and Rāma. Here, he appears as the protector and promoter of noble grants to religious institutions of diverse sectarian affiliations. But before that, there is an inscription which is a controversial one in Karnataka. This is the Tagarthi inscription, which is dated to the 4th century CE. It is controversial because if this early date is accepted, the antiquity of the Kannaḍa language is pushed back to the middle of the 4th century CE. I am in favour of this date because we have some other examples also, but I will not go into those complexities here. In this controversial inscription, Rāmadeva Gowda of Agera caste is referred to as a hero. That means, if the early date is accepted, then in the 4th century itself the name Rāma was popular in Karnataka. That possibility is interesting.

Rāma appears as an epic hero in the sculptural narratives and literary works from about the 7th century in Karnataka. The earliest Kannaḍa text on poetics, the Kavirājamārga composed under the Rāṣṭrakūṭas of Malkhed (c. 850 CE), refers to him, Sītā, Anuva (Hanumān), and Rāvaṇa. In a poem, Rāma observes a vow until he annihilates Rāvaṇa and recovers Sītā (III.190). Reference to Anuva (Hanumān) occurs in four verses (II.38, 40, 89, and 91). In these verses, Rāma is named once and then indicated about twice as arasa or narapati, that is, as king. His queen is called Janakātmaje, Jānakī, and only once as Sītādevī. Lakṣmaṇa is referred to by the same name, while Hanumān is called Anuva or Anilatanaya, and the ruler of Laṅkā is called Daśavadana; the name Rāvaṇa appears to occur only once, just as the name Sītā rarely occurs. These are the earliest references as far as Kannaḍa literature is concerned. In these poems, the personalities of Rāghava and Janaka’s daughter are captured.

A record issued by a Calukyan ruler in 692-94 CE was composed by sandhivigrahi-Rāma, a few decades after the sculptural narratives at Bādāmi were also first attempted. The other interesting aspect is that for the first time, Rāmāyaṇa characters are identified with their names on the Calukyan monuments at Paṭṭadakal in the 8th century. During the time of the Hoysaḷas and the Vijayanagara rulers in Karnataka, the Rāmāyaṇa is portrayed frequently in art, particularly as temple sculptures. In the temples of the Vijayanagara times, as you see at Hampi, in the Viṭṭhala and Hazara Rama temples, the Rāmāyaṇa is prolific and is presented in panels. The continuous bands of the Hoysaḷa temples’ Rāmāyaṇa narratives are not noticed there. Select themes are presented on the walls but there is a sequential continuity of the epic. This is as far as the Rāmāyaṇa narratives are concerned. Much more research is required as to the precise beginnings of the deification of Rāma as a cult deity. The Kodaṇḍa-Rāma concept is interesting, for even in the sculptural narratives, one almost always finds him with the bow, but the shift from a hero to an avatāra to a cultic deification of Rāma is gradual. x

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

The Rāmāyaṇa is an integral part of the cultural imagination of the South and Southeast Asian people. While the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa is accepted as the earliest available detailed record of this epic, there are numerous tellings across South India and Southeast Asia, not to forget its resonance in the Buddhist Daśaratha Jātaka and the significant reworkings of the Jaina Rāmāyaṇas. These Rāmāyaṇas have crossed many a boundary—temporal, regional, and sectarian—and have been localized in different cultural contexts far beyond India, be it the Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin of Indonesia, the Rāmakīen of Thailand, the Reamker of Cambodia, the Malay Hikāyat Seri Rāma of Islamic affiliation, and several others. Rāmāyaṇa sculptures and paintings adorn the walls of temples and palaces across Southeast Asia and the epic continues to be performed in the dance and theatre traditions of South and Southeast Asia to this day.

South India and Southeast Asia have been connected through maritime routes for at least the past two millennia and a half but there has hardly ever been an exclusive focus on the close relationships of southern Indian Rāmāyaṇas with those that prevail in different parts of Southeast Asia. An investigation into these specific inter-relationships and the deep histories of cultural diversity, inclusiveness, and pluralism that the many Rāmāyaṇas convey is a promising direction of research. S Settar*

15 September 2017

*At the time of his sad demise on 28 February 2020, Professor S Settar, renowned historian, public intellectual, and prolific writer was Professor Emeritus at the National Institute of Advanced Studies, Bengaluru.

xi

Acknowledgements

It is with pleasure and gratitude that I recall the people and institutions that have made this book possible. This endeavour has been generously supported by the D S Achuta Rao Endowment as part of their DSA History Series. Under the discerning leadership of Mr D A Prasanna, the endowment has been promoting academic excellence in historical research and also supporting visual and performing art practices. The editorial team members of the Manipal Universal Press, especially Prof Neeta Inamdar, Mr N Arvind, and Ms Poonam Vernekar have been most cooperative and efficient. Ms Surabhi Gurukar of Apostrophe Design deserves all praise for designing an elegant book cover. It is difficult to thank the Rāmāyaṇa scholars whose contributions make the substance of this book. I hope that they will find their efforts suitably rewarded in the final shape that this book has taken. Warm thanks are due to those who went out of their way to help and shared their expertise at various stages. At the REVA University Bengaluru, Chancellor Dr Shyamaraju, Vice Chancellor Dr S Y Kulkarni, Prof Payel Dutta Chowdhury, and other faculty members were gracious with their time and hospitality. Poet, playwright, and scholar, Prof H S Shivaprakash, was generous with his erudition on the subject. Ms Madhu Nataraj, a renowned artiste, won our hearts by sharing her talent and knowledge about Rāmāyaṇa traditions in the performing arts. In early 2017, Prof S Settar, the moving spirit behind this project, invited me to plan a volume focussing on the plurality and inclusiveness of the Rāmāyaṇa traditions. We could scarcely have imagined then that he would not be with us to see its publication and it is only befitting that this book, which was planned to mark the centenary year of his teacher, Prof Achuta Rao, is now dedicated to the memory of Prof Settar even as it honours his teacher.

This book has been a little over four years in the making, a span of time when my parents, Jyoti Pandya and Arun Pandya, left this world. Their contributions reflect here in ways that are difficult to recount. Sanjay Dhar and Urvi Dhar, my husband and daughter, engaged with my work at every step. Friends and fellow historians, Suchandra Ghosh at the University of Hyderabad, Anshu Malhotra at the University of California, Santa Barbara, and Mahesh Rangarajan at the Ashoka University, Sonipat, offered useful advice. The support and camaraderie of my colleagues in the Department of History, xiii

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Delhi University, cannot be missed: it is a pleasure to thank Raziuddin Aquil, Yasser Arafath, Aparna Balachandran, Seema Bawa, Anirudh Deshpande, Amar Farooqui, Charu Gupta, Bhairabi Sahu, and Vipul Singh, even as brevity demands that others to whom I owe gratitude remain unnamed. Finally, affectionate acknowledgements are due to Ajeya Vajpayee and Nishant Singh, research scholars in the Department of History, University of Delhi, for their help in checking the last set of page-proofs. A note on conventions

It was a challenge to arrive at an overarching system for transliterations in this volume. Terms and names from a host of languages—Javanese, Kannada, Khmer, Malay, Malayalam, Sanskrit, Tamil, Thai, and Vietnamese—spanning ancient to contemporary timeframes have been employed in the various chapters. The contributors recorded different preferences in their spellings, transliterations, and the usage (or not) of diacritical marks. We have thus ensured uniformity within a chapter but have not forced standardization across all chapters as this would have meant privileging one or the other regional, temporal, or stylistic choice. Parul Pandya Dhar

xiv

Professor D S Achuta Rao

Contents

Professor D S Achuta Rao Endowment

v

vii

Prologue

ix

Acknowledgements Introduction

Exploring the Epic’s Multivalence: Rāmāyaṇas in Visual, Literary, and Performance Cultures Parul Pandya Dhar

xiii

1

I. Visual Cultures: Sculptures, Paintings, and Inscriptions 1. The Rāmāyaṇa Retold by Sculptors and Scribes in pre-Vijayanagara Karnataka Parul Pandya Dhar

20

3. Looking for Rāma: Traces of the Rāmāyaṇa in Temples of the Pallava Dynasty Valérie Gillet

65

2. Stone, Wood, Paint: Rāma-Story Representations throughout Southeast Asia John Brockington

49

4. Rāmāyaṇa Retold in Khmer sculpture with Special Reference to the Yuddhakāṇḍa, c. 10th-12th centuries Rachel Loizeau

85

5. Rāmāyaṇa Bronzes and Sculptures from the Cōḻa to Vijayanagara Times Sharada Srinivasan

103

7. The Rāmāyaṇa Paintings of the Māliruñcōlai Temple: Nationalism under the Spell of Regionalism RKK Rajarajan

135

6. Mighty Messenger: Adaptation and Localization of Hanumān and the Rāmāyaṇa in Southeast Asia Gauri Parimoo Krishnan

123

8. Expressions of the Rāmāyaṇa Epic in Malaysian Arts Cheryl Thiruchelvam

158

xv

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

II. Literary Cultures: Texts, Recitation, and Associated Imagery 9. The Discourse on Governance and Ethics as a Leitmotif in the Old Javanese Rāmāyaṇa or Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin Malini Saran

176

11. From Kanauj to Laos: Development of the ‘Floating Maiden’ Episode in the Southeast Asian Rāma Tradition Mary Brockington

204

10. Thai Rāmakīen: Its Close Links with South India Chirapat Prapandvidya

193

12. Making of a Language and the Making of a Bhakti Text: The Story of the Composition of Tunćat Ezhuttaććan’s Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu A J Thomas

217

14. Mabasan Rāmāyaṇa, a Continuous Retelling of the Rāmāyaṇa in Bali Thomas M Hunter

247

15. Representations of Rāvaṇa in a Kathakalī Piece and a Mythological Drama Paula Richman

268

13. Kumaran Asan’s ‘Cintāviṣṭayāya Sītā’, Sītā, Deep in Thought, a Translation Sudha Gopalakrishnan

232

III. Performance Cultures: Theatre, Puppetry, and Folk Practices

16. The Rāmāyaṇa of the Malay Shadow Play, Wayang Kulit Kelantan, and its Possible Parallels and Connections with the Epic Versions in Northern Southeast Asia Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof

290

18. The Making of Rāmāyaṇa in the Yakṣagāna of Coastal Karnataka Purushottama Bilimale

316

17. From Palace to Streets: Many Rāmāyaṇas from the Bylanes Krishna Murthy Hanuru

303

19. Reamker Performance in Khmer Society Sirang Leng

328

The Contributors

Index

339 346

xvi

Introduction

Exploring the Epic’s Multivalence: Rāmāyaṇas

in Visual, Literary, and Performance Cultures Parul Pandya Dhar

I. Perspectives This volume explores the journey of the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia at multiple levels. It does not dwell upon issues of origins and antiquity or pretend to present a comprehensive account of all the Rāmāyaṇas that have inhabited the cultural, social, and political worlds of Southern Asia. The research presented here offers indepth investigations of chosen moments in the development of the Rāmāyaṇa tradition together with broader trends that help in understanding the epic’s multivalence from ancient to modern times, in different mediums of expression, and in varied sociocultural, political, and religious contexts. A related emphasis is on the way boundaries of medium and genre have been crossed in artistic expressions of the Rāmāyaṇa tradition and how such crossings have shaped the creation of new Rāmāyaṇas. The volume engages with the inherent plurality, diversity, and adaptability of the epic in changing contexts and with shifting norms, tastes, traditions, and ideologies. The epic’s localization is examined in varied situations–from classical to folk, temples and palaces to theatres and by-lanes in cities and villages, and from ancient to contemporary times as these Rāmāyaṇas have manifested in the visual, literary, and performance cultures of South India and Southeast Asia.

The organization of the three parts of this volume is guided by the relative dominance of the medium in which the Rāmāyaṇa traditions have been recounted. Within each part, a broad chronological sequence is attempted to the extent possible. The intermedial and intertextual qualities of this epic entail that the three sections overlap and illuminate each other. Yet each medium of artistic expression—visual, literary, and performance—has its specific elements, techniques, narrative structures, and operative principles that inform its formal, stylistic, compositional, and emotive qualities. These in turn are received by their reader-audience in different ways. In academic writings too, each of these require specialized understandings and interpretive methods. This rationale has determined the configuration of the three interrelated parts, which 1

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

are brought together in a single volume to enable an understanding of their deeply intertwined histories and relationships. It is ultimately the collective expertise of the contributors to this volume that has facilitated such an approach. The term “retelling” as a special communicative quality of the epic tradition has not been limited here to verbal, prose, and poetic renditions but is employed across all artistic expressions. The painter, for example, pictures the story as received, recollected, and reimagined in the mind’s eye and tells it in the language and narrative structures specific to the art of painting; its translation in the visual medium is also a retelling.

South Indian and Southeast Asian Rāmāyaṇa traditions are placed in deliberate juxtaposition and not in separate sections. Historians investigating cultural, political, and socio-economic processes that have linked premodern India and Southeast Asia have, for some decades now, proposed the theory of cultural convergence, which observes analogous developments and parallelisms between the two regions on either side of the eastern Indian Ocean.1 Historical research has demonstrated that chronological developments in regional political formations and cultural expressions in early medieval South India and East India are in many ways comparable to those observed in different parts of Southeast Asia. The parallel historical processes observed from about the middle of the first millennium in South India and Southeast Asia further promoted the transference, adaptation, localization, and assimilation of Indic cultural elements in Southeast Asia.2 Investigating epic encounters within and between these two larger zones of contact through the prism of cultural convergence is a rewarding direction of inquiry that has received little attention thus far. Readers will find in the organization of this book a potential resource to explore epic connections in this light.

The Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa is accepted by scholars as the earliest complete Rāmāyaṇa. It draws from earlier oral and other dispersed traditions with a core that antedates later additions to it. The larger consensus for its date ranges from about the 7th century BCE for its earliest parts to the 3rd century CE for later accretions, including all the seven kāṇḍas or books, of which the first (Bālakāṇḍa) and the last (Uttarakāṇḍa) are the latest additions.3 The Buddhist Daśaratha jātaka also reveals a shared core of characters, elements, and motifs.4 The many classical and vernacular Rāmāyaṇas across South and Southeast Asia include not only Hindu Rāmāyaṇa traditions but also the Jaina Rāmāyaṇas5 beginning with the 3rd/4th-century Paumacariu of Vimalasūri and those of Islamic affiliation such as the Malay Hikāyat Seri Rāma and Hikāyat Mahārāja Wana among others,6 in addition to several nāṭakas (dramas) and kāvyas (poems).7 Only a cross-section of this staggering variety finds representation in this volume but what does present itself here is sufficient to meaningfully take forward, 2

Exploring the Epic’s Multivalence: Rāmāyaṇas in Visual, Literary, and Performance Cultures

conceptually and empirically, the influential and enriching scholarship on the many Rāmāyaṇas8 and the varied Asian Rāmāyaṇas.9

II. Visual cultures: Sculptures, paintings, and inscriptions

In the different parts of South India and Southeast Asia, the nature of evidence is such that sculpted and painted narrations are often the earliest available expressions of the Rāmāyaṇa tradition. Associated early stone epigraphs and copper-plate inscriptions are also known, and it is for this reason that relevant inscriptions in their material contexts have been discussed alongside sculptures and paintings. The presence of mythological epic characters and themes in the political imagination of different kingdoms is in evidence from an early period in these inscriptions.

The opening chapter by Parul Pandya Dhar, ‘The Rāmāyaṇa retold by sculptors and scribes in pre-Vijayanagara Karnataka,’ discusses references to Rāma, Rāvaṇa, and the Rāmāyaṇa in inscriptions from pre-14th century Karnataka. The author next examines Rāmāyaṇa sculptures from early Western Calukya and Hoysaḷa periods to interpret shifts in the epic’s thematic emphasis and narrative strategies. Beginning with the 5th century and gradually increasing in number and variety, dynastic eulogies compare kings to Rāma. His status as an avatāra (incarnation) or deity is nascent in a few inscriptions; his iconography, however, remains that of an epic hero except for a rare, almost iconic (but not cultic) portrayal at Paṭṭadakal. Rāvaṇa appears as a formidable adversary and gains in positive estimation in epigraphs from the early decades of the second millennium; in the visual realm, his powerful presence is already in evidence from the 7th century. The Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa grows gradually distant and localizing tendencies that are nascent in the 7th century become assertive by the turn of the millennium four centuries later, influenced by Vaiṣṇava and Vīraśaiva movements, the Jaina Rāmāyaṇas, and popular beliefs. At certain moments, as in 8th-century Paṭṭadakal, the epic becomes more urgently central to political imagination. Rāmāyaṇa imagery appears on temples of varied sectarian affiliations reflecting its assimilation in the larger socio-cultural and moral universe. Rāmāyaṇa sculptures, particularly of themes drawn from its later parts, are usually located on the southern surfaces of temples, suggesting a sense of the epic’s mythical geography. Performance vocabulary drawn from now-lost traditions appears to have inspired the sculptors. In ‘Stone, wood, paint: Rāma story representations throughout Southeast Asia,’ John Brockington emphasizes the importance of visual evidence in understanding the Rāma story in Southeast Asia because visual and inscriptional sources predate available texts and fill important gaps. Except for the Javanese Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin (c. late 9th century) and the Uttarakāṇḍa (c. 1000 CE), no Rāmāyaṇa text from the region is earlier than 3

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

the 13th century. The earliest evidence comes from the late 6th-century Veal Kantel inscription from Cambodia which mentions that the Rāmāyaṇa was donated by a brāhman named Somaśarman to a Śaiva temple for daily recitation. Rāma is described as an avatāra in a mid 7th-century Trà-kiẹ̆ u inscription from erstwhile Campā in Vietnam, which also mentions the dedication of a temple to Vālmīki. The temples of the Phnom Da group in southern Cambodia have yielded a 7th-century sculpture that has been identified as Rāma with a bow. Almost continuous visual evidence is found hereafter from Angkor-period Cambodia and from Java, whereas in CampāVietnam, Rāmāyaṇa sculptures are not found after the 10th century. In Myanmar and Thailand, visual imagery is found from the 11th century; in Laos, surviving visuals are extremely late. In J Brockington’s analysis, a possible route for the spread of the epic is from Bengal to Myanmar and the eastern seaboard of Thailand. Understanding the choice of themes and their textual correlations in Southeast Asia in greater detail are important directions for future research that would enrich current understandings.

Valérie Gillet in her contribution, ‘Looking for Rāma: Traces of the Rāmāyaṇa in temples of the Pallava dynasty,’ questions the dearth of Rāmāyaṇa imagery on Pallava-period temples, other than depictions of Rāvaṇa in a Śaiva context. This situation contrasts with the epic’s considerable presence on temples of the early Western Deccan. The period of Cōḻa rule following the Pallavas also accords significant space to the Rāmāyaṇa in its visual repertoire. It is in this context that Gillet assesses allusions to Rāma and the Rāmāyaṇa in Pallava art and epigraphy. Drawing from Emmanuel Francis’s research which discusses Rāma’s presence in the royal discourse of the Pallavas, the author examines afresh the epic hero’s presence in Pallava royal iconography. The author draws attention to a 7th/8th-century inscription on the Ādivarāha cave-temple as evidence that Rāma was included among the incarnations of Viṣṇu in the Pallava cultural sphere. She refers to the further presence of Rāma and the Rāmāyaṇa in Pallava epigraphy from the 7th to 9th centuries. In the visual domain, she identifies four portrayals of Rāvaṇa relating to the Uttarakāṇḍa of the Rāmāyaṇa on the 8thcentury Pallava royal temple-complex of the Kailāsanātha at Kāñcīpuram, which are employed to project Śiva’s superiority over Viṣṇu and Rāma. A detailed iconographic identification and analysis lead Gillet to propose that Rāma is portrayed in panels representing Viṣṇu in battle on the Kailāsanātha and Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temples in Kāñcīpuram, which have thus far not been satisfactorily interpreted and which fit well with the dynasty’s royal discourse. Rachel Loizeau’s discussion of ‘Rāmāyaṇa in Khmer sculpture with special reference to the Yuddhakāṇḍa, 10th-12th centuries,’ offers a close reading of Rāmāyaṇa sculptures in Angkorian Cambodia. In contrast with the few inscriptions and an absence of 4

Exploring the Epic’s Multivalence: Rāmāyaṇas in Visual, Literary, and Performance Cultures

Rāmāyaṇa texts, corresponding sculptural representations are numerous during the period. Located on temple pediments and lintels of Hindu and Buddhist monuments, they appear as non-linear and unordered narratives. Selective assimilations of subthemes of the Rāma story deemed suitable for adaptation to local contexts are the norm. Loizeau’s analysis suggests that from the 11th century, the Yuddhakāṇḍa was the most popular part of the epic portrayed on Khmer temples. New motifs with localizing tendencies are in evidence: Sītā’s abduction by Virādha is favoured in place of the usual scene of abduction by Rāvaṇa and the nāgapāśa (serpent-noose) episode resulting from Indrajit’s intervention, which is not encountered in India, is portrayed. Some similarities with earlier representations of the epic in Central Java are observed by the author on Khmer temples of the Angkor Wat period. In general, episodes exalting chivalry and valour are preferred. Loizeau interprets the numerous depictions of the epic battle from the Yuddhakāṇḍa and other scenes of combat on temples such as the Angkor Wat as serving, perhaps, an apotropaic function. The selective adaptation and assimilation of the Rāmāyaṇa in specific Khmer socio-political and cultural contexts is a potentially rich direction of research.

Moving from narrative to iconic forms, Sharada Srinivasan focuses on ‘Rāmāyaṇa bronzes and sculptures from the Cōḻa to Vijayanagara times.’ The author observes that Rāma as an incarnation of Viṣṇu is given great respect in the 7th- to 9th-century hymns of the Āḻvār saint-poets such as Nammāḻvār. The Cōḻa period sees the Rāmāyaṇa characters of Rāma, Sītā, Lakṣmaṇa, and Hanumān cast in bronze, which become important icons for processional worship in the form of utsava-mūrtis or processional icons. Srinivasan debates the issue of the lack of inscribed Pallava metal images that had earlier brought into question the existence of a “Pallava school of bronzes” as distinct from the Cōḻaperiod bronzes. The technical finger-printing studies undertaken by her support the existence of Pallava bronze icons. Srinivasan investigates some key bronze icons of Rāmāyaṇa characters belonging to the Cōḻa period. She suggests that the supporting evidence from archaeometallurgical fingerprinting of Cōḻa-period bronzes is distinct from Vijayanagar-period bronzes. The portability of the bronzes and the possibilities of melting and recasting introduce complexities in scientific chronological analysis, and stylistic and iconographic features considered alongside scientific-technical analysis appears to be the best way forward. Gauri Parimoo Krishnan focusses on the portrayal of Hanumān in her chapter, ‘Mighty messenger: Adaptation and localization of Hanumān and the Rāmāyaṇa in Southeast Asia.’ Setting her writing against the backdrop of the larger historiography of localization of the Rāmāyaṇa in Southeast Asia, the author directs her attention to transformations in the character of Hanumān in Southeast Asia, notably in Javanese, 5

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Khmer, and Siamese portrayals. She inquires why Hanumān is given more prominence at the 14th-century Candi Panataran in East Java as compared to the 9th-century Candi Prambanan in Central Java and the 12th-century Angkor Wat in Cambodia. Krishnan observes that at Candi Panataran, Angkor Wat, Phimai, and later Siamese monuments, Hanumān assumes a half human-half ape form and is rendered as a Wayang puppet or a Khon mask dancer, while in the Candi Prambanan reliefs he is represented quite differently. The mutual influence of the visual and performative arts has shaped a novel identity for Hanumān in the varied regions of Southeast Asia. Hanumān’s innate character also undergoes a sea change in the various Southeast Asian tellings where, among other traits, his portrayal as an intelligent being, an artful lover, and a playful magician whose main goal is to serve Rāma comes through effectively. RKK Rajarajan contextualizes some Nāyaka-period (16th-17th century) Rāmāyaṇa temple paintings in his chapter, ‘The Rāmāyaṇa paintings of the Māliruñcōlai temple: Nationalism under the spell of regionalism.’ The author observes that Māliruñcōlai or Aḻakarkōyil is a celebrated haloed space which finds mention in the earliest stratum of Tamil literature. It is a holy land in the hymns of the woman mystic Āṇṭāl who considers the Lord Aḻakar or Saundararāja to be her bridegroom, Māliruñcōlai-maṇāḷar. Rajarajan contextualizes the Māliruñcōlai temple paintings in the light of Tamil Āḻvār hymns (c. 7th-9th century CE) and the Irāmāvatāram of Kampaṉ (c. 12th century). The Rāmāyaṇa paintings in the Tirukōkaraṇam temple belonging to the Nāyaka period are examined for comparative study. The author investigates the processes that led to the regionalization of the Rāmāyaṇa epic in the Tamil region and the way that the Nāyaka rulers moderated the themes, channelizing the core ideas towards the national mainstream. According to Rajarajan, the project of popularizing Rāma of the Rāmāyaṇa was carried forth by the Nāyakas, who brought the idea of “Rāmarājya” from their homeland, Vijayanagara.

The final chapter of the section on visual cultures is by Cheryl Thiruchelvam, who writes on contemporary ‘Expressions of the Rāmāyaṇa epic in Malaysian arts.’ The author observes various elements and attributes of the Rāmāyaṇa that continue to prevail in present-day Malaysia, which include the wayang kulit or shadow-puppet tradition and the Hikāyat Seri Rāma of Islamic affiliation, and related oral traditions. The wayang kulit tradition was established as a symbol of cultural heritage in Malaysia and depicted the localized versions of the Rāmāyaṇa in its early days. Thiruchelvam discusses the transformation of the wayang kulit tradition in contemporary Malaysia, where it is creating a new wave in the local art scene. It has evolved from its traditional leather-puppet forms to the canvas as visual art, painting and sculpture, has even been digitized as electronic art, combined with modern stories and characters into “fusion 6

Exploring the Epic’s Multivalence: Rāmāyaṇas in Visual, Literary, and Performance Cultures

wayang kulit,” and finally developed as a new technique of storytelling. The author examines the various modern trajectories of the wayang kulit tradition whose roots lie in the Rāmāyaṇa, the enduring impact of the epic in Malaysia, and the substantial transformations and negotiations it has undergone by locating these within the sociopolitical and religious contexts of contemporary Malaysia and by examining specific works of art produced by Malaysian contemporary artists.

III. Literary cultures: Texts, recitation, and associated imagery

This part of the volume engages with Rāmāyaṇa texts, their content, narrative accent, recitation, and associated imagery, commencing with Malini Saran’s chapter on ‘The discourse on governance and ethics as a leitmotif in the Old Javanese Rāmāyaṇa or Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin.’ The earliest available Rāmāyaṇa text from Southeast Asia is the 9th-century Old Javanese Rāmāyaṇa or Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin, which is known to have followed a 7th-century Indian retelling of the Rāmāyaṇa, known as the Rāvaṇavadha or Bhaṭṭikāvya and composed by the poet Bhatti as a compendium of Sanskrit grammar and rhetoric. Saran interprets the Javanese text to clarify the discourse on governance and ethics embedded in its narrative. Her research demonstrates that the author of the Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin also drew from other ancient Indian texts to construct a unique ideal of governance. Rāma’s extended discourse to Bharata on the code of noble conduct is a uniquely Javanese interpretation of the puruṣārthas (four goals of human life) in ancient Indian thought. Also, as Saran explains, Rāma’s articulation of the aṣṭabrata10 to Vibhīṣaṇa, although of Indic origin, transforms into a Javanese text on kingship by the 14th century and has had great impact on the later Islamic courts of Java. Governance and ethics are recurring motifs in the Javanese telling and manifest in exchanges between Rāvaṇa and his minister, grandfather, and brothers also. A close reading of this Javanese text suggests that it was written for recitation and for the art of wayang kulit, thus fusing boundaries between the textual and the performative. Chirapat Prapandvidya writes on the ‘Thai Rāmakīen: Its close links with South India.’ He begins with the Rāmakīen’s connections with the earlier tradition of the Rāmāyaṇa in Cambodia and then elaborates on later Thai tellings. The Thai Rāmāyaṇa is first suggested in an inscription of 1292 CE through mention of a Rāma cave and the name of Rāma Khamhaeng, the third king of Sukhodaya. The second Thai kingdom was Ayutthayā or Ayodhyā (1350-1767 CE), which connected with Rāma’s story by its name and by the coronation name of its first king, Rāmāthibodi (Sanskrit, Rāmādhipati), a name adopted by several later kings. With the destruction of Ayutthayā by the Burmese army in 1767 CE, no Rāmāyaṇa text from an earlier period has survived. The re-composed Thai Rāmakīen (Sanskrit, ‘Rāmakīrti’) is attributed to the first king of the Chakri dynasty, King Phra Buddha Yodfa Chulalok or King Rama I, who assumed the 7

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

names of both Buddha and Rama, and ruled from 1782-1809 CE during the Bangkok period. Prapandvidya’s close reading of this text reveals South Indian elements in the Thai Rāmakīen, which in his analysis is likely to have been composed from a Rāmāyaṇa story retold by a narrator from South India. It digresses from the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa in its interpolations and in partial or complete changes in the names of characters and places, among other qualities. However, the carvings of the Khmer temples of Phimai, Phnom Rung, and Sa Kamphaeng Yai (c. 11th-13th centuries CE) in Thailand clearly suggest that the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa was known as well. In her contribution, ‘From Kanauj to Laos: Development of the “floating maiden” episode in the Southeast Asian Rāma tradition,’ Mary Brockington proposes and explores the motif of “illusion” or “counterfeit” in the Rāma story through an enigmatic female character, Benjakai, a rākṣasī known in Thailand as Nang Loi, floating maiden, also called Srijati. In doing so, the author also highlights Hanumān’s liaison with the “floating maiden,” the former being a transformed and colourful character in certain Southeast Asian Rāmāyaṇas. In some tellings, Benjakai’s role is to make a vain attempt to counterfeit a dead Sītā to deceive Rāma. But, as M Brockington explains, in the Thai narrative, Benjakai lives on in a romantic liaison with Hanumān. With the objective of locating the beginnings of this narrative, the author examines material found in manuscripts of the Southern recension of the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, locates analogues in the Old Javanese Rāmāyaṇa and the Hikāyat Seri Rāma, correlates a 14th-century East Javanese sculpture and a Mon oral telling, and concludes by tracing an incident from an early 10th-century drama, the Bālarāmāyaṇa, by the Sanskrit poet Rājaśekhara, which may have inspired the creative development of the “floating maiden” episode in the Thai Rāmāyaṇa. A complex web of sharing and innovation of narrative elements and motifs among intra-Southeast Asian and between Indian and Southeast Asian Rāmāyaṇas plays out in her analysis of the “floating maiden” episode. A J Thomas’s contribution, ‘Making of a language and the making of a bhakti text: The story of the composition of Tunćat Ezhuttaććan’s Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu,’ translates excerpts and interprets this text and the circumstances of its authorship. Ezhuttaććan’s Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu (c. 16th/17th century) is essentially in the genre of a Malayalam bhakti text and has not been translated completely in verse into English. As Thomas explains, ‘Kiḷippāṭṭu’ is a narratological technique promoted by Ezhuttaććan in which narration takes place in a parrot’s voice. The historical context of the composition can be traced back to the rising power of the Zamorin of Calicut in the 13th-14th centuries that caused centuries of entrenched social exclusion and injustice, with the common folk having no access to the scriptures or Sanskrit language. Ezhuttaććan led a revolutionary devotional movement by rendering the scriptures 8

Exploring the Epic’s Multivalence: Rāmāyaṇas in Visual, Literary, and Performance Cultures

in Malayalam and enriching the language by introducing new Malayalam words. Through the composition of the Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu in which Rāma figures as the supreme deity, Ezhuttaććan sparked the latent sentiment of bhakti or inclusive personal devotion in Kerala society and led it to its pinnacle. The importance of this text may be assessed from the fact that there exists a tradition of its reading as a month-long ritual in Kerala that has survived through the centuries. The author presents material made available through the oral tradition of Ezhuttaććan’s family as communicated in the author’s Malayalam biography by his 14th-generation grandnephew, C Radhakrishnan. Given the lack of historical details about Ezhuttaććan, the rendering of this oral history of the poet’s family opens new avenues to approach Ezhuttaććan and his treatment of the epic as a bhakti text. Translation, itself an act of retelling, marks Sudha Gopalakrishnan’s reading of an important Malayalam poetic text by Kumaran Asan (1873–1924), who alongside Vallathol Narayana Menon and Ulloor S Parameswara Iyer forms a triad of influential Malayalam poets. In her contribution, ‘Kumaran Asan’s ‘Cintāviṣṭayāya Sītā,’ Sītā, deep in thought, a translation,’ Gopalakrishnan translates and thereby recreates in English, Kumaran Asan’s interpretation of Sītā’s reflection and introspection about her life. The poem unfolds at a significant juncture in Sītā’s life when her two sons and Vālmīki, who have been her solace in exile, are with Rāma in Ayodhyā. In the meditative serenity of the twilight hour, as she meets herself in the solitude of Vālmīki’s āśrama (hermitage), Kumaran Asan’s Sītā is detached, disarmingly honest, and filled with grace and dignity, allowing her unfettered mind to explore and “embrace truths about herself and Rāma.” The poet redefines Sītā’s agency as he constructs her thoughts about Rāma’s sense of justice and his royal obligations that led to her exile. The poem matures gently with Sītā’s assimilation of her life as she subjects past events to scrutiny. The agony of her exile from the city contrasts with the warm comfort that she found in the foresthermitage and leads her to consider the forest as a happier place. Her self-realization manifests in a qualitative transformation of her love for Rāma. In the finale, Asan’s Sītā emerges from exile and meets Rāma in his royal assembly. In that final moment of awareness, she gives up her life. As the author informs, for this retelling, Kumaran Asan had met with severe criticism. Thomas Hunter’s evocation of the ‘Mabasan Rāmāyaṇa, a continuous retelling of the Rāmāyaṇa in Bali’ highlights the deep connection between text and recitation, and the continuous process of retelling that recitation entails. He discusses the Balinese art of reading and interpreting the Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa to an audience, conducted in practice sessions of Sekaha Bebasan or informal community groups, in settings such as life-cycle rituals which are integral to the community. According to Hunter, the cultural 9

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

reawakening of the 1990s resulted in an exponential growth in the number of Sekaha Bebasan groups with training programs for young people in the art of inscribing palmleaf manuscripts and the incorporation of mabasan performances. The author draws upon his field research and documentation of the subject spanning over three decades, more recently with the Udayana University in Denpasar, which has resulted in a collated series of mabasan readings and texts of high quality. He locates the Balinese mabasan sessions based on the Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa as being part of a larger engagement with the Indian commentarial tradition of vyākhyā, seen also in the translation techniques developed by religious and literary experts of first-millennium Java.

IV. Performance cultures: Theatre, puppetry, and folk practices

Paula Richman places the epic antagonist Rāvaṇa centre-stage in her contribution, ‘Representations of Rāvaṇa in a Kathakalī piece and a mythological drama.’ Drawing attention to two modern theatrical productions—Rāvaṇodbhavam (the origins of Rāvaṇa) performed in Kathakalī and composed in an 18th-century mix of Sanskrit and Malayalam, and Ilaṅkēswaraṉ (king of Laṅkā), a mid 20th-century Tamil mythological drama—the author interprets Rāvaṇa’s portrayals in both genres as being quite different from his earlier representations which were formulated in terms of the epic’s hero, Rāma. In the earlier representations, Rāvaṇa was either an anti-hero in opposition to Rāma or, as in the more devotional tellings, he was a recipient of Rāma’s grace. Richman analyzes the specific motivations, circumstances, and strategies that were responsible for changes in Rāvaṇa’s characterization in these early modern and modern theatrical compositions, where Rāma is either absent or is present only briefly. In the process, she demonstrates how a familiar epic narrative adapts and changes its tenor when viewed from the perspective of the antagonist. The author concludes that Rāvaṇa appears in a more sympathetic light in both the plays that had emerged in times of social and political anxieties, when the status quo had become less acceptable, and at a time when the rule of Rāvaṇa may have offered alternative possibilities and political visions.

Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof’s contribution discusses ‘The Rāmāyaṇa of the Malay shadow play, Wayang Kulit Kelantan, and its possible parallels and connections with versions of the epic in northern Southeast Asia.’ Yousof’s research indicates that the repertoire of the Wayang Kulit Kelantan, a shadow play active in the north-eastern state of Kelantan on the Malay peninsula, is based on a localized oral version of the Rāmāyaṇa, known as Hikāyat Mahārāja Wana (story of Rāvaṇa). In this case, elements of the performance are often secularized and Rāvaṇa is projected in a more sympathetic light. The secondary stories are derived from different sources, including the Javanese Panji romance, or have been improvised by the puppeteers themselves over several decades. The 10

Exploring the Epic’s Multivalence: Rāmāyaṇas in Visual, Literary, and Performance Cultures

author suggests that variant versions of the Rāmāyaṇa reached Southeast Asia from different parts of India through circuitous routes, with subsequent adaptations taking place in response to local beliefs and practices. This diversity can be seen in the way episodes and characters from the Rāmāyaṇa are reworked and transformed in the local traditional theatre genres. Gods, sages, protagonists, and even lesser figures have undergone substantial alterations in their characters. The near-total elimination of Hindu gods in the Malaysian shadow play and echoes of popular Islam in the Malay versions of the epic as seen, for example, in the encounter between Adam, who is sent by Allah, and Rāvaṇa in Laṅkā are only a few striking accents on the larger canvas of localization of the epic to make it relevant in changing socio-religious and political milieus.

Krishna Murthy Hanuru’s ‘From palace to streets: Many Rāmāyaṇas from the bylane’ focusses on folk versions of the epic rendered in the Kannaḍa vernacular. The author traces relationships between vernacular and Sanskritic epic traditions and surveys the history of the vernacular epics to understand how the characters of the epic were transformed to suit the ideals of the folk world. Hanuru next discusses the role of different folk performatives that popularized this epic through recitations and performances. The author interprets songs based on the Rāmāyaṇa tradition that are remarkably distinct from Vālmīki’s version to understand folk modes of adaptation. In his reading, processes of idealization and demonization of epic characters are at work in the folk traditions. While Sītā is usually idealized for her chastity and Rāma for his moral rectitude, several folk performances also tend to contradict these widely held views, and in many parts of Karnataka, it is Hanumān’s character that is idealized. Hanuru surveys folk versions of the epic to offer insights into the evolution of folk epic performances in their complex relationships with classical traditions and the beliefs and aspirations of the common folk.

In ‘The making of Rāmāyaṇa in the Yakṣagānas of coastal Karnataka,’ Purushottama Bilimale discusses the creative processes and prompt improvisations by the composers, musicians, actors, and spectators who are integral to the staging of a Yakṣagāna epic performance. The author recounts four levels of creative interventions in the making of a Yakṣagāna Rāmāyaṇa: First, a prasaṅga or a particular “episode-text” is selected and tailored to suit the needs of a specific performance, which includes aspects of presentation and reception. Second, a “musical text,” which includes lyrical compositions based on the chosen episodes in various metres and rhythmic cycles (tālas) is selected by the Bhāgavata. The third level brings in the “verbal and visual texts,” which includes expressions through voice, body, and colour that extend and improvise upon a composed episode-text. Each performance of a Rāmāyaṇa episode 11

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

in Yakṣagāna is thus unique and the same episode is viewed and relished several times by the same audience. The fourth level introduces the reception of the performance and is termed as the “audience-text.” As the author explains, through the experience of a performance, the audience also participates and creates or reinterprets the Rāmāyaṇa during and after its enactment. The inter-relationships between these four levels are non-linear and complex and Bilimale elaborates upon the processes whereby a Yakṣagāna Rāmāyaṇa is continuously “re-created, re-defined, re-coded, communicated, and re-appropriated.”

Sirang Leng explores ‘Reamker performance in Khmer society,’ against the backdrop of the Rāmāyaṇa tradition in ancient Cambodia as observed in sculptures and inscriptions since the late 6th/7th century CE. From this early period, Leng evokes the Veal Kantel inscription, which records the recitation of the Rāmāyaṇa in a pre-Angkorian temple, and the significant presence of a 7th-century Rāma sculpture with a bow found among other Vaiṣṇava sculptures from the sacred mountain of Phnom Da in the lower Mekong delta region.11 Rāmāyaṇa imagery is also carved on many Angkor-period temples of Cambodia. The author next focusses on the contemporary Reamker performance which bears a deep imprint in present-day Cambodian society. It pervades the beliefs of people from diverse social strata, who have adapted the 16th/17th-century Reamker story to their own requirements. Leng discusses varieties of Reamker performances, from the all-female Royal Ballet to the Khmer shadow theatre, and the all-male Lakhaon Khaol or mask theatre, the latter being performed in royal precincts on special occasions and in the countryside as an offering to local spirits. Of special interest is the innovative episodic treatment of the epic by local village communities, for example, the episode of Rāvaṇa’s brother Kumbhakarṇa blocking the waters and Rāma tricking them to its release. The villagers believe that such an enactment bestows upon them the desired rainfall. Interestingly, as Leng’s study informs us, the most respected and popular characters in contemporary Reamker performances are Rāvaṇa and Hanumān, whom villagers address as Lok Ta Tosakmuk and Lok Ta Kamheng.

V. Interpretive frames

The characteristic interplay of continuity and change in the development of the Rāmāyaṇa epic is rooted in elements that are “intrinsic” to its narrative structure as a mahākāvya (great poem) and in its consequent adaptability to “extrinsic” sociopolitical, cultural, and religious contexts that have shaped its reception, translation, and transcreation over time. In operation, the intrinsic and extrinsic elements, or the inner and outer worlds of the poem, interrelate and overlap in complex ways. Yet this conceptual frame enables clarity and refinement in interpreting the epic’s multivalence. It is in the structure of the mahākāvya itself, in its early development from a core plot 12

Exploring the Epic’s Multivalence: Rāmāyaṇas in Visual, Literary, and Performance Cultures

or theme, which likely had its origins in oral traditions, and in its accretions over time that its sub-plots or sub-themes lend themselves to independent expression even when they cohere as meaningful parts of the whole. This internal structure of the epic enables both selective adaptations of its parts as well as more complete tellings in different contexts. At times, the epic is translated in its entirety and even its basic narrative structure, progression, and the inter-relationships between its elements are retained in newer settings. At other times, alternate- or counter-narratives are created, altering relationships among its characters, modifying character traits, or shifting the balance between the protagonist, antagonist, and marginal characters.12 Categories of “intrinsic and extrinsic,” “change and continuity,” and “parts and whole” offer useful perspectives to unravel the epic’s multivalence. As it flows and adapts, its unique identity as the Rāmāyaṇa sustains even as it merges in a stream of continuous change. This assimilative power, its pluralism, is also its soul and strength.

The concepts of “cultural convergence” and “localization,” well-known in the historiography of pre-modern connections between India and Southeast Asia, offer another useful analytical framework. The theory of cultural convergence discussed in the first part of this Introduction has been used by historians to demonstrate that early medieval South India and Southeast Asia experienced analogous processes of political formations and socio-cultural developments and that this cultural convergence promoted interactions between the two regions.13 This argument also presents a convincing historical rationale for analogous developments of the Rāmāyaṇa tradition across the two broad cultural zones on either side of the eastern Indian Ocean. Visual evidence of the Rāmāyaṇa and its characters begins to appear from about the late 6th/ early 7th-century CE in parts of southern India; Vālmīki and his epic composition are known in the region’s epigraphic records from about the same time.14 From Southeast Asia, a 7th-century sculpture-in-the-round of Rāma with his bow represented as an avatāra of Viṣṇu, from Phnom Da in southern Cambodia, is well-known but epic narratives commence somewhat later. The late 6th/7th-century CE timeframe in Southeast Asia has also yielded inscriptions alluding to the Rāmāyaṇa and to Vālmīki, from Cambodia and erstwhile Campā in present-day Vietnam.15 Southern India also has a related corpus of inscriptions, from about the 5th century CE.16 Fragmentary references to the Rāma story appear in the later Caṅkam (Sangam) literature, while the Rāmāyaṇa gains a greater presence in the Āḻvār hymns of the Vaiṣṇava saint-poets, notably Kulacēkara Āḻvār’s Perumāḷ Tirumoḻi, which includes an abridged retelling of Rāma’s story and is known as the Kulacēkara-Rāmāyaṇa or “mini-Rāmāyaṇa.”17 This is followed by Rāmāyaṇa references in regional texts such as the Kavirājamārga, the rational transformations of the Jaina Rāmāyaṇas, Kampaṉ’s masterpiece in Tamil, the Irāmavatāram, and a host of other southern Indian epic traditions.18 Rāmāyaṇa texts 13

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

from Southeast Asia, with the exception of the Javanese Rāmāyaṇas, are mostly after the 16th century, including the Reamker of Cambodia and the Thai Rāmakīen.

While the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa is known in parts of South India and Southeast Asia from an early period, localization processes are also in evidence from about the 7th/8thcentury timeframe in both regions. Already, it is the 7th-century Rāvaṇavadha or Bhaṭṭikāvya, composed by the poet Bhaṭṭi in the region of Valabhī in western India, which becomes the direct inspiration for the 9th-century Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin in Central Java. But despite clear congruences, the composer of the Javanese Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin also alters and interpolates motifs and passages, and derives from Indic texts outside of the epic genre in an eclectic manner to meet the requirements of the Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin as an instrument to convey Javanese ethics and ideals of governance.19 In South India, Kampaṉ’s Irāmavatāram draws from the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa but its motives, characters, and related internal structure are configured towards making it a greater devotional poem in a distinctly Tamil milieu.20 With time, processes of assimilation across the many sub-regions of South India and Southeast Asia reveal diverse priorities, motivations, proclivities, and selective adaptations. The characterization of Rāma shifts from that of a divine-hero and avatāra to a cult deity in some contexts, while in other situations his role may be attenuated and the perspective of a sub-plot may shift variously to the epic antagonist Rāvaṇa,21 to Sītā,22 to Hanumān, or to a novel or marginal character.23

The epic moves across the spectrum, addressing concerns that belong to the realm of the mytho-religious, aesthetic, political, or social. In changing religious contexts— Hindu, Jaina, Buddhist, and Islamic—the Rāmāyaṇa has been received and selectively assimilated to address different communities of beliefs and ideologies. Even within Hinduism, varied mainstream and reformatory or bhakti epic traditions have emerged and prospered.24 Such “localizations” of the “parts and whole” of the epic in response to varied “extrinsic” contexts are deeply complex and one observes a range of creative interpretations through processes that we may only begin to categorize—selective assimilation, interpolation, inversion, eclecticism, and other modes of adaptation. The journeys are non-linear and circuitous, with intra- and inter-regional connections within and across South India and Southeast Asia. Categories of mārgī and deśī, śāstrīya and laukika, or nātyadharmī and lokadharmī (stylized and commonplace, or classical and folk) are of significance for interpreting the multivalence of the epic.25 The selective transference and creative translation of narrative motifs and elements, the flux in character portrayals, and the omissions, additions, and elaborations in the spread of the epic transpire not only across regions and over time but are also mutually influential among the mārgī and deśī modes of expression 14

Exploring the Epic’s Multivalence: Rāmāyaṇas in Visual, Literary, and Performance Cultures

within a given location-time nexus.26 This vertical integration is most palpable in the performance cultures. Epic performance practices concurrently make use of the āṅgika, vācika, āhārya, and sāttvika categories of abhinaya for expressive communication with the rasika or engaged audience.27 The rasika is not a passive presence but an active participant in the performance. Performance as flux or spontaneous creation born of artistic intuition and creativity, and its reception by the rasika, is of essence: the composers, actors, and audience together recreate a narrative or its sub-plot.28 Epic performance traditions—classical/stylized and folk/popular—bear the ancient in its innate flux as inherited wisdom and recreate its contemporary presences.29 In visual and literary cultures the process is analogous but its creative moments can be experienced or interpreted by the reader-spectator only after the author-composerartist has created the work of art.30 These interpretive frames could be extended. For, there are many more Rāmāyaṇas, new tellings continue to be created, and the ways of perceiving are many as well. To privilege any monolithic or exclusive reading is antithetical to its very essence.

Endnotes

1 For a detailed understanding of the theory of cultural convergence in the historiography of premodern connections between India and Southeast Asia, see Kulke (2014). 2 For processes of ‘Indianization’ and localization and the agency of local cultures in the assimilation of Indic cultural elements in Southeast Asia, see, Mabbett (1977) and Wolters (1999). 3 According to Robert Goldman in The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki, vol. I: 22-23: “it seems reasonable to accept for the composition of the oldest parts of the surviving epic a date no later than the middle of the 6th century BC. In the matter of determining the earliest date... we feel that it is extremely unlikely that the archetype of the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa can be much earlier than the beginning of the 7th century BC.” The entire set of volumes provides a particularly useful annotated translation of the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. A comprehensive, critical edition of The Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa was prepared under the general editorship of G H Bhatt and U P Shah between 196075. See also, Brockington and Brockington, “Development and spread of the Rāma narrative (pre-modern),” as part of the Oxford Research Archive, an extensive and significant database of pre-modern Rāmāyaṇa texts and an emerging visual archive as well, at URL . 4 The Dasaratha-jātaka... , includes the original Pāli text with a translation and notes by V Fausböll (1871). 5 For a comprehensive overview of the Jaina Rāmāyaṇas, see Kulkarni (2001). 6 For the Malay Hikāyat Seri Rāma (the story of Rāma) and Hikāyat Mahārāja (Ra)Wana (the story of Rāvaṇa) in Islamic contexts, see, Singaravelu (1968) and chapter 16 by Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof in this volume. Singaravelu (1968) offers an early comparative overview of the Sanskrit, Tamil, Thai, and Malay versions. 7 See, Brockington and Brockington, URL for an exhaustive bibliography (last accessed 2/12/2020). 8 A K Ramanujan’s seminal essay on “Three Hundred Rāmāyaṇas... ,” and Paula Richman’s edited volume, Many Rāmāyaṇas... , which was inspired by and includes Ramanujan’s seminal essay, are among the most influential writings about the diversity of Rāmāyaṇa traditions. See, Ramanujan (1999) and Richman ed. (1999), especially the Introduction by Paula Richman.

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The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

9 The proceedings of two early and important conferences on the Rāmāyaṇa tradition in Asia have been published by Sahitya Akademi Delhi. See, Raghavan ed. (1989 [1980]) and Srinivasa Iyengar ed. (2003 [1983]). 10 The aṣṭabrata is a concept drawn from ancient Indian texts outside of the epic tradition and localized in the Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin. In its Javanese formulation, as Malini Saran explains in chapter 9 of this volume, “eight other deities are incorporated into the body of the king —Indra, Sūrya, Candra, Yama, Kuwera, Varuṇa, Bāyu and Agni—spelling out the character and duty performed by each.” 11 For a reassessment of the date of the Rāma sculpture from Phnom Da and its attribution to the 7th century, see Dowling (1999). 12 A K Ramanujan, in his seminal article on the “Three Hundred Rāmāyaṇas... ,” has proposed Peircean terms of iconic, indexical, and symbolic as a useful interpretive lens through which to understand the processes of translation of the epic. See, Ramanujan (1999). 13 See, endnote 1. 14 This is the case most notably on some late 6th-8th-century Calukya temples in the Western Deccan but also sporadically elsewhere in peninsular India as in the cave and structural temples of the Eastern Deccan in the Pallava territories. See, chapter 1 by Parul Pandya Dhar and chapter 3 by Valérie Gillet in this volume. For Rāmāyaṇa bronzes from southern India, see, chapter 5 by Sharada Srinivasan in this volume. 15 See, chapter 2 by John Brockington, chapter 4 by Rachel Loizeau, and chapter 19 by Sirang Leng in this volume. 16 See, chapter 1 by Parul Pandya Dhar in this volume. 17 Kulacēkaraṉ, an 8th/9th-century Tamil Vaiṣṇava poet (Āḻvār), stands out for his devotion to Rāma. See, Anandikichenin (2014: 249-250). See also, chapter 7 by RKK Rajarajan in this volume. 18 The Jaina Rāmāyaṇas and the Telugu Rāmāyaṇas remain unrepresented in this volume despite the editor’s best efforts. The interested reader may like to refer to Kulkarni (2001) and Narayana Rao (2016: 210-300 and 450-477) for the Jaina and Telugu Rāmāyaṇa traditions, respectively. For the Thai Rāmakīen and its connections with South India, see, chapter 10 by Chirapat Prapandvidya in this volume. An important early source for Rāma-legends and Rāma-reliefs in Indonesia is to be found in the writings of Wilhelm Stutterheim. See, for example, Stutterheim (1989). 19 See, chapter 9 by Malini Saran in this volume. 20 To quote David Shulman, “Kampaṉ has not so much adapted a Sanskrit classic into Tamil as created a new classic of his own, in which one finds a perspective characteristic of Tamil devotional religion in its most mature stage. It is, in fact, the poet’s success in capturing a religious attitude basic to his culture which, to my mind, best explains the immense popularity of his work.” (Shuman 1978: 135). 21 See, chapter 15 by Paula Richman and chapter 16 by Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof in this volume. 22 See, chapter 13 by Sudha Gopalakrishnan in this volume. 23 See, chapter 6 by Gauri Parimoo-Krishnan and chapter 11 by Mary Brockington in this volume. 24 See, chapter 12 by A J Thomas in this volume. 25 Mārgī is generally understood as being “of the path” or stylized, with a grammar, canon, and sophisticated structure; Deśī is interpreted as being of the region or of the people. 26 See, chapter 16 by Purushottama Bilimale, chapter 17 by Krishnamurthy Hanuru, and chapter 19 by Sirang Leng in this volume for the reception and innovation of episodes from the epic in folk and village performance cultures. 27 The Nāṭyaśāstra attributed to Bharata Muni speaks of abhinaya (communicative expression) in nāṭya (theatre) to be of four types: āṅgika (with physical limbs), vācika (verbal), āhārya (embellishments such as costumes, make-up, and props), and sāttvika (natural states/inner emotions). See, The Nāṭyaśāstra... , 78.

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Exploring the Epic’s Multivalence: Rāmāyaṇas in Visual, Literary, and Performance Cultures

28 Purushottama Bilimale’s elaborations on this theme in the context of Yakṣagānas of coastal Karnataka are of relevance here. See, chapter 19 by him in this volume. 29 These processes best reflect in chapter 14 by Thomas Hunter, chapter 15 by Paula Richman, and chapter 16 by Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof in this volume. 30 For creative adaptations of the epic in contemporary Malay visual practices, see chapter 8 by Cheryl Thiruchelvam in this volume.

Bibliography

Anandikichenin, Suganya. 2014. “On the Non-Vālmīkian Sources of Kulacēkara Āḻvār’s ‘MiniRāmāyaṇa’,” in The Archaeology of Bhakti: Mathurā and Maturai, Back and Forth, ed. E Francis and C Schmid, 249-288. Paris: IFP-EFEO. Brockington, John, and Mary Brockington. Oxford Research Archive: “Development and spread of the Rāma narrative (pre-modern),” URL (last accessed 2/12/2020). Dowling, Nancy H. 1999. “A New Date for the Phnom Da Images and its Implications for Early Cambodia,” in Asian Perspectives, vol. 38 (1): 51-61. Kulkarni, V M. 2001. “Origin of the Story of Rāma in Jain Literature,” in Studies in Jaina Literature: The Collected Papers Contributed by Prof V M Kulkarni, 27–54. Ahmedabad: Śreṣṭhī Kastūrbhāi Lālbhāi Smārak Nidhi. Kulke, Hermann. 2014. “The Concept of Cultural Convergence Revisited: Reflections on India’s Early Influence in Southeast Asia,” in Asian Encounters: Exploring Connected Histories, ed. Upinder Singh and Parul Pandya Dhar, 1-19. New Delhi: OUP. Mabbett, Ian. 1977. “The ‘Indianization’ of Southeast Asia: Reflections on the Historical Sources,” in Journal of Southeast Asian Studies (8): 143-161. Narayana Rao, Velcheru. 2016. Text and Tradition in South India. Ranikhet: Permanent Black. Raghavan, V. ed. 1989 [1980]. The Ramayana Tradition in Asia (Papers presented at the international seminar on the Ramayana tradition in Asia). Delhi: Sahitya Akademi. Ramanujan, A K. 1991. “Three Hundred Rāmāyaṇas: Five Examples and Three Thoughts on Translation,” in Paula Richman, ed. (1991: 22-49). Richman, Paula, ed. 1991. Many Rāmāyaṇas: The Diversity of a Narrative Tradition in South Asia. Berkeley: University of California Press. Shulman, David. 1978. “The Cliché as Ritual and Instrument: Iconic Puns in Kampaṉ’s Irāmavatāram,” in Numen XV, fasc. 2: 135-155. Singaravelu, S. 1968. “A Comparative Study of the Sanskrit, Tamil, Thai and Malay Versions of the Story of Rama with Special Reference to the Process of Acculturation in the Southeast Asian Versions,” reprint from Journal of the Siam Society, vol. 56 (2). http://www.siamese-heritage. org/jsspdf/1961/JSS_056_2b_Singaravelu_SanskritTamilThaiAndMalayStoryOfRama.pdf (last accessed 2/12/2020). Srinivasa Iyengar, K R. ed., 2003 [1983]. Asian Variations in Ramayana (Papers Presented at the International Seminar on Variations in Ramayana in Asia: Their Cultural, Social, and Anthropological Significance). Delhi: Sahitya Akademi. Stutterheim, Wilhelm. 1989. Rama-legends and Rama-reliefs in Indonesia. New Delhi: Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts and Abhinav Publications. The Dasaratha-Jātaka, being the Buddhist story of King Rāma (the original Pāli text with a translation and notes by V Fausböll, 1871. London: Trübner & Co. and Kopenhagen: Hagerup. The Nāṭyaśāstra. English translation with notes by Adya Rangacharya, 1966. Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal. The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki: An Epic of Ancient India, general editor, Robert P Goldman, 2007-2010: vol. I: Bālakāṇḍa, tr. Robert P Goldman; vols. II and III: Ayodhyākāṇḍa and Araṇyakāṇḍa, tr. Sheldon Pollock; vol. IV: Kiṣkindhākāṇḍa, tr. Rosalind Lefeber; vol. V: Sundarakāṇḍa, tr. Robert

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P Goldman and Sally J Sutherland Goldman; vol. VI, parts 1 & 2: Yuddhakāṇḍa, tr. Robert P Goldman, Sally J Sutherland Goldman, and B A van Nooten. Delhi: Motilal Banarasidass, reprint. The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki: An Epic of Ancient India, vol. VII: Uttarakāṇḍa, with an Introduction, translation and annotation by Robert P Goldman and Sally J Sutherland Goldman, 2016. Princeton: Princeton University Press. The Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, critical edition, 7 vols., general editors, G H Bhatt and U P Shah, 1960–75. Baroda: Oriental Institute. Wolters, O W. 1999 [1982]. History, Culture and Region in Southeast Asian Perspectives. Southeast Asian Program Publications No. 26. Ithaca: Cornell University.

18

Visual Cultures

Sculptures, Paintings, and Inscriptions

Figs. 7.3 & 19.1

19

1. The Rāmāyaṇa Retold by Sculptors and

Scribes in pre-Vijayanagara Karnataka Parul Pandya Dhar

The earliest known Rāmāyaṇa sculptures from the Deccan and South India are found on a petite, early 7th-century temple at Bādāmi in northern Karnataka. Known today as the ‘Upper Śivālaya,’ it was originally a Vaiṣṇava temple.1 It is closely followed by temples at Aihoḷe and Paṭṭadakal (mid-7th to mid-8th century CE) bearing epic narratives. Belonging to the time of the early Calukyas, these lithic renditions of the epic are about two centuries later than the ones in terracotta and stone from the period of Gupta dominance in northern India.2 While the Rāmāyaṇa sculptures on Calukya temples reveal compositional and thematic continuities with their north Indian antecedents, they already register certain localized or new elements in their earliest phase. This suggests the presence of a Rāmāyaṇa tradition in Karnataka from an even earlier period. In the absence of visual or literary affirmation for this prior to the 7th century in Karnataka, a few inscriptional notices from the 5th and 6th centuries belonging to the early Kadamba and Western Gaṅga dynasties assume significance. These epigraphs offer the earliest allusions to Rāma and the Rāmāyaṇa, which played a role in the political imagination of the ruling dynasties. From the 7th century onwards, there is increasing evidence in art, literature, and epigraphy that points to the spread of regional Rāmāyaṇa tellings, including the Jaina Rāmāyaṇas, in early medieval Karnataka (Kulkarni 2001).

This chapter focusses on Rāmāyaṇa representations in the art and epigraphy of Karnataka. In the first part, I discuss select inscriptions from ancient and early medieval Karnataka to analyze references to the Rāmāyaṇa, especially to two of its principal characters, Rāma and Rāvaṇa. Next, visual renderings of the epic on stone temples are interpreted with a focus on two important stages in the development of the Rāma story in Karnataka: The first phase looks at the earliest visual representations carved on the early Calukya temples and the second phase considers temples from the period of the Hoysaḷas of Dorasamudra, who ruled large parts of Karnataka from the 11th century until the rise of the Vijayanagara empire in the 14th century. Almost four centuries apart, both phases mark a qualitative and quantitative highpoint in the carving of the Rāmāyaṇa on Karnataka temples. I have chosen sites that best represent the prolific creativity of the Calukya and Hoysaḷa sculptors in carving the Rāmāyaṇa, 20

The Rāmāyaṇa Retold by Sculptors and Scribes in pre-Vijayanagara Karnataka

as all available representations from Karnataka between the 7th and 14th centuries cannot be accommodated within the confines of an essay. The effort has been to engage closely with visual details of epic imagery, analyze inter-relationships between visual and epigraphic imaginations of the epic, and assess significant developments in content, thematic emphasis, and representational techniques in the Rāmāyaṇa traditions of Karnataka in a span of nine centuries, a sufficiently long period of time.

Rāma, Rāvaṇa, and kingship ideals in Karṇāṭa inscriptions

The early Kadambas of Banavāsī had preceded the Calukyas in ancient Karnataka and, together with dynasties like the Western Gaṅgas, remained powerful until their defeat at the hands of the early Western Calukyas. The 5th-century Tāḷagunda inscription of Śāntivarman describes Mayūraśarman’s establishment of Kadamba power and mentions the early Kadamba kings, Bhagīratha, Raghu, and Kāku(t)stha, whose names are inspired by the Ikṣvāku lineage to which Rāma, the hero of the Rāmāyaṇa, belonged (Gai 1996: 24-25 & 64-68).3 The comparison with Rāma is even more direct in the 6th-century Dāvaṇagere plates of Ravivarman (EI, 33: 87-92; Gai 1996: 100-102), which mention four preceding Kadamba kings—Raghu, Kākustha, Śāntivarman, and Mṛgeśavarman in the dynastic praśasti (eulogy) portion. Using the poetic figures of yamaka and upamā simultaneously,4 it compares the Kadamba king Kākustha to Kāku(t) stha or Rāma himself: kīrtyā digantaravyāpī raghurāsīt narādhipaḥ/ kākusthatulya kākustho yaviyānstasya bhūpatiḥ. Interestingly, the purpose of this inscription was to record a grant for the maintenance of worship in a siddhāyatana (abode of the siddhas) and for the benefit of the saṅgha. Some early Kadamba records, in fact, begin their genealogical descriptions with king Kākustha(varman).5 In the imprecatory verse of the 5th/6th-century Maḍikēri (Mercara) copper-plate inscription of the Western Gaṅga king Avinīta,6 whose mother was a Kadamba princess, the king is referred to as Rāmabhadra (later, Rāmacandra) who urges future kings to always protect the dharma-setu (bridge of dharma).7 This is the earliest such exhortation, an allusion to the Rāma story, which is frequently repeated in inscriptions of medieval Karṇāṭa dynasties.8 Avinīta’s son, Gaṅga Durvinīta was an ambitious ruler who had allied himself with the early Western Calukyas to wrest the throne from his stepbrother, who in turn was backed by the powerful Pallavas. This battle is recorded in an 11th-century stone epigraph from the Pañcabasti in Huṃca, which was then under the control of the Śāntaras; it speaks of Gaṅga Durvinīta as having become formidable in this world after he defeated Kāduveṭṭi of Kāñcī (the Pallava king), who was celebrated as Rāvaṇa on earth: vasudhege rāvaṇa pratimān emba negartteya kāduveṭṭiyaṃ.9 While Durvinīta is compared indirectly with Rāma, the likeness drawn between a powerful Pallava monarch and Rāvaṇa reflects a positive 21

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

estimation of the king of Laṅkā as a formidable enemy. In another epigraphic record dated to 1125 CE, Rāvaṇa’s Laṅkā is metaphorically translocated to the island of Goa. This inscription mentions the later Kadamba king Ṣaṣtadeva II (Caṭṭayadeva) as the ‘lord of the western ocean’ (paścim-ambho-nidhi-pati) who, having ‘built a bridge with lines of ships reaching as far as Laṅkā, claimed tribute’ among asuras, and caused the exaltation of Kadamba dominion, which was known to many as ‘a religious estate for the establishment of Rāma’ (Rāma-pratiṣṭh-āgrahāra).10 Rāma-worship is suggested here; also, the (enemy) Śilāhāra ruler of Konkan in coastal Karnataka, who was defeated by the later Kadamba king, is implicitly referred to as Rāvaṇa, the king of ‘Laṅkā’.

Further north, in the land of the early Western Calukyas, comparisons are drawn between the king and Rāma in a 6th-century record. The Mahākūṭa pillar inscription of Calukya Maṅgaleśa (595/6 CE) includes excerpts from the Raghuvaṃśa and Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, employed as metaphors (rūpaka) and similes (upamā) in the dynastic eulogy of Calukya kings. Maṅgaleśa, in this case, is invincible as Rāma, rāmivāparājitaḥ (Padigar 2010: 12-14). This inscription is also significant because it offers clear evidence of familiarity with Vālmīki’s Rāmāyaṇa and Kālidāsa’s Raghuvaṃśa among the literati of Calukya courts.11 Rāma, though, is not the exclusive god with whom kings are compared. In the same inscription, Maṅgaleśa is also compared to Mahendra (Indra) and legendary figures like Yudhiṣṭhira, Māndhātṛ, and Bṛhaspati. Although the ambitious Calukya ruler Pulakeśī II’s own inscriptions do not compare him to Rāma, in the Sanjān plates of Buddhavarasa, his skills in archery are likened to Rāma-deva and king Daśaratha, his father (Konow 1917-18).12 The usage of the term, Rāma-deva, registers Rāma’s status as divine-hero. In the Nausārī plates of Śṛyāśraya Śilāditya, Rāma and Yudhiṣṭhira are the upamāna or standard of comparison for Pulakeśī II (rāma-yudhiṣṭhir-opmānaḥ, Hultzsch 1905-06). Calukya Vijayāditya (696-733 CE) has been likened to Raghu and Mahābhārata heroes in the mid-8th century Paṭṭadakal pillar inscription of Calukya Kīrttivarma II (Padigar 2010: 234-236). Rāma as a standard of comparison in these early epigraphs is part of a garland of motifs that also include other legendary heroes and gods to underscore kingship ideals: as upholders of dharma, protectors of their people, saviours of the earth, destroyers of demons, and conquerors of enemies. In early Karnataka inscriptions, only Rāma appears as a role-model from among the Rāmāyaṇa characters; in inscriptions from the dawn of the second millennium his courage (niśśaṃka-Rāma),13 righteousness, purity (śuddhāṃ rāmasya vṛttiṃ), skill as an archer (cāpe daśaratha tanayo), and other heroic qualities continue to appear (Ramesh 1984: 126, v.4 and 158, v.4).14 While such evocations to Rāma increased over the next centuries, references to Rāvaṇa (and Hanuman, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa) also started gaining currency (Barnett 1915-16, A). Rāvaṇa figures in the epigraphs 22

The Rāmāyaṇa Retold by Sculptors and Scribes in pre-Vijayanagara Karnataka

as a powerful enemy-king in opposition to a ‘Rāma-like’ king. More interestingly, Rāvaṇa also begins to appear in a sympathetic and positive light. In a late Kadamba inscription (1095 CE) of the period of Dayasiṃha-mahārāja, for example, the king’s courage is compared to the ten-headed Rāvaṇa (sāhasa-daśānana) as part of a long list of virtues and accomplishments compared with a host of mythical heroes and gods.15

During the time of the Hoysaḷas, kings were increasingly compared with Rāma. The adjective niśśaṃka was often employed to describe a king as Rāma in valour (niśśaṃkaRāma). It was also a part of formulaic eulogies of Hoysaḷa kings, where one encounters the epithet, niśśaṃka-pratāpa-cakravarti (powerful and valorous universal monarch).16 An oft-repeated comparison in dynastic eulogies of the Hoysaḷas is of the king as chaladaṅka-Rāma, or ‘resolute-Rāma’, in the sense of being unshakeable in character or determined (to win), not giving up until the purpose is accomplished.17 In a telling reference, Hoysaḷa Vīra Ballāla (Ballāla II) has been described as chaladaṅka-Rāma, who cuts off the enemy-king, Daśāsura (Rāvaṇa)... in a battle (Elliot 1837: 25, note 1). But Rāvaṇa is also represented for his nobler qualities, as in a mid-13th-century inscription from Iṭikaḷdurgga in Karnataka in a distinctly Śaiva context that speaks of “self-contained heroes who step over the seven oceans and leap over mountain chains... pure warriors, destroyers of enemies... (who) worship with their heads cut off (and) play on their arms as the vīṇā, like Rāvaṇas of Kaliyuga.”18

Sculptures, c. 7th–8th centuries

Upper Śivālaya, Bādāmi: Built during the rule of the early Western Calukyas, the Upper Śivālaya bears Vaiṣṇava iconography on its walls. Standing elegantly atop the picturesque northern rock hill of Bādāmi, it offers the visitor a bird’s eye view of the sprawling town below. Relief carvings organized in the clockwise order of circumambulation (pradakṣiṇa) along the southern side of the temple’s base mouldings (adhiṣṭhāna) mark the beginnings of the Rāmāyaṇa in stone in the Deccan (Fig. 1.1).19

Fig. 1.1: Rāmāyaṇa narratives on the adhiṣṭhāna of Upper Śivālaya, Bādāmi, c. early 7th century. Photograph courtesy: Parul Pandya Dhar. 23

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

The narrative commences with a youthful, royal figure resplendent in a crown and wearing the sacred thread (yajñopavīta), flanked by two female flywhisk bearers, seated regally, and surrounded by four weapon-bearing men (Fig. 1.2A). Given the context of the panel’s relative location, this could be Daśaratha but since the king is supposed to have advanced in age by this time, it is also likely that it portrays a youthful Rāma

Fig. 1.2: Enthroned royal figure (A); Rāma, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa exiled (B); Rāvaṇa’s court (C). Upper Śivālaya, Bādāmi. Photograph courtesy: Parul Pandya Dhar.

being declared as the prince regent, as described in the Ayodhyākāṇḍa (TRV, II, 3.19). However, as some of the panels on this temple were reassembled during restoration, one cannot be certain that this was the original sequence. The appearance of the attendants, the weapons they hold, and the seat on which the figure sits are akin to the scene of Rāvaṇa’s court in the same series (Fig. 1.2C). This suggests that the seated royal figure may be an advisor (or brahma-rākṣasa?) in Rāvaṇa’s court, or possibly his brother Vibhīṣaṇa. We next encounter an effaced panel depicting the journey of the exiled Rāma, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa to the forest, which figures at the end of the Ayodhyākāṇḍa (TRV, II, 111.20) (Fig. 1.2B). This theme is particularly appropriate, for it marks the southward journey of Rāma—from Ayodhyā across the Ganges and 24

The Rāmāyaṇa Retold by Sculptors and Scribes in pre-Vijayanagara Karnataka

towards the banks of the Godāvarī river, where Rāma lived with Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa in Pañcavaṭī on the advice of sage Agastya (TRV, III: 106-115). Bādāmi is also known in popular lore as the place where Agastya devoured the demon Vātāpi and the lake between the two rock cliffs at Bādāmi is called the ‘Agastya-tīrtha’.

Moving to the Araṇyakāṇḍa (forest book), Śūrpaṇakhā is visualized as an attractive woman who proposes to Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa one after another and is defaced by the latter.20 The story continues with a majestic Rāvaṇa seated amidst his courtiers, to whom a humiliated, furious, and lamenting Śūrpaṇakhā appeals (Fig. 1.2C). To the best of my knowledge, this is the earliest elaborate example of Rāvaṇa in court in Indian art. He is next shown mounting the Puṣpaka-vimāna (Fig. 1.1; Dhar 2019: fig. 3). The scene then shifts to the Daṇḍakāraṇya (Daṇḍaka forest) and includes a portrayal of Rāvaṇa in consultation with his uncle, Mārīca, rare at this early date (Fig. 1.1; Dhar 2019: fig. 4). Rāvaṇa is in the foreground, seated at a level lower than Mārīca, with a sword held across his chest and a mace in one of his many arms. Mārīca advises Rāvaṇa in vain and is forced by the latter to transform magically into a golden deer and aid in Sītā’s abduction (TRV, III: 155-167; BK: 78-83). Rāma’s hunt of the golden deer (Mārīca) on Sītā’s persuasion has Rāma in the heroic stance of an archer, with one of his legs bent and the other fully stretched (ālīḍha), the arrow having pierced the illusory deer (Fig. 1.3). The Rāvaṇa-Jaṭāyu (vulture-friend of Daśaratha) duel follows next, with the narrative being ever more discontinuous beyond this. Panels portraying the piercing of seven trees in a row by Rāma as described in the Kiṣkindhākāṇḍa (TRV, IV: 12.3), a vānara scaling a wall (Sundarakāṇḍa), Kumbhakarṇa being awakened by the sound of dance and music and being trampled upon by elephants (Yuddhakāṇḍa, TRV, VI: 48.21-47; Fig. 1.4) and effaced panels of the final epic battle are noticed.21 As at the Gupta-period Viṣṇu temple in Deogarh, the panels are located on the recessed band of the base mouldings with similarities to their northern counterparts but also with significant differences, introducing new compositional and thematic interventions.

Fig. 1.3: Rāma hunts the golden deer. Upper Śivālaya, Bādāmi. Photograph courtesy: Parul Pandya Dhar. 25

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Durga Temple, Aihoḷe: Episodes from the Rāmāyaṇa are carved on the base mouldings (adhiṣṭhāna) of the porch (mukhacatuṣkī) of the late 7th-century Durga temple at Aihoḷe. The northern side bears episodes from the later part of the Ayodhyākāṇḍa while the southern side is carved with themes from the Sundarakāṇḍa. This relative placement of episodes is of special interest as it initiates a tradition in early medieval Karnataka where Rāmāyaṇa episodes generally, and the more southerly scenes in its mythical geography especially, are carved on the southern side of a monument.

On the northern side of the Durga temple’s base, the onward journey of Rāma, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa is depicted from the time of their exile, them resting in Śṛṅgaverapura and crossing the Ganges in Guha’s boat (Padigar 2015:24). Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa are always shown with their bows, bereft of royal attire, and with their hair in austere topknots (Figs. 1.5 and 1.6). The southern side harbours events that transpired during Hanumān’s visit to Laṅkā (TRV, V: 2.1-10.25 and 46.1-49.36). At the Durga Temple, Sītā is missing; Rāvaṇa and Hanumān dominate the narrative. The visual focus of the narrative register rests on Rāvaṇa, who in a seated position occupies the entire height of the narrative register which is otherwise divided into two parts vertically (except in the case of a standing Indrajit). The artist has imaginatively conjured visions of the luxurious interiors of the ten-crowned king’s palace, Indrajit’s capture of Hanuman, and the latter’s encounter with Rāvaṇa (Dhar 2019: figs. 6-9).22 At the Hosa Makuṭeśvaranātha temple in Mahākūṭa (c. late 7th century), portrayals of Rāvaṇa as an ardent demon-devotee are better-preserved as compared to a few, barely identifiable Rāmāyaṇa scenes.23

Fig. 1.4: Awakening of Kumbhakarṇa. Upper Śivālaya, Bādāmi. Photograph courtesy: Parul Pandya Dhar. 26

The Rāmāyaṇa Retold by Sculptors and Scribes in pre-Vijayanagara Karnataka

Fig. 1.5: Rāma, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa in exile. Durga temple, Aihoḷe, c. late 7th century. Photograph courtesy: Parul Pandya Dhar.

Fig. 1.6: Rāma, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa crossing the river in Guha’s boat. Durga temple, Aihoḷe. Photograph courtesy: Parul Pandya Dhar. 27

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Virūpākṣa, Paṭṭadakal: From the third decade of the 8th century to the end of early Calukya power in the Deccan three decades later, Paṭṭadakal was an important ritual and royal centre. Rāmāyaṇa narratives are carved on the Virūpākṣa (c. 740 CE), Mallikārjuna (c. 740 CE), and Pāpanātha (c. 720-750 CE), all three being royal temples.24 The architectural context of the epic scenes now shifts from the recesses of the base mouldings to the outer wall surfaces and the pillars in the interior of the temple’s hall, giving them far greater visibility.25

Episodes from the Rāmāyaṇa are located within wall-niches (bhitti-koṣṭhas) on the south-western outer wall of the Virūpākṣa’s maṇḍapa. A near life-size composition of Rāma, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa from the Araṇyakāṇḍa is especially significant (Fig. 1.7). A distant Mārīca as the alluring golden deer in the upper right corner is indexical of the impending catastrophe that will soon disturb their peace. This tableau-like scene captures a poignant moment in the epic: a besotted Sītā persuades Rāma to leave their cottage to bring her the golden deer and Rāma reluctantly prepares to depart, leaving her in Lakṣmaṇa’s care. This moment in the Rāma-story as carved on the Virūpākṣa temple moves away from the usual visual narratives to an almost iconic depiction of Rāma flanked by Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa. Such a visualization, although not quite in the character of a cult-icon yet, presages a later development in Indian art—the portrayal of a deified Rāma with his bow (kodaṇḍa-Rāma) in the company of Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa. Sītā’s backward tilt of the head suggests her yearning for the deer that she conveys to Rāma who, like his wife, stands in the thrice-deflected stance (tribhaṅga); both seem to look in the general direction of her infatuation—the golden deer. Lakṣmaṇa in profile stands in a manner that prefigures his imminent responsibility of guarding Sītā once Rāma sets out for the deer. The sculpture’s emotional appeal is captivating even in its effaced state. Above, Śūrpaṇakhā’s encounter with Lakṣmaṇa, which had preceded the golden deer episode, provides narrative continuity to the central composition in the wall-niche. This visual arrangement, which links distinct episodes from the epic and encourages the viewer to contemplate upon their inter-relationships, is a remarkable achievement of the Paṭṭadakal artists. It is also carried forward on the walls of the Pāpanātha temple in the vicinity.

A charged portrayal of the Rāvaṇa-Jaṭāyu duel against the backdrop of Sītā’s abduction appears to derive its inspiration from performance art (Fig. 1.8). The vulture Jaṭāyu gives the abductor Rāvaṇa a fierce fight to obstruct him from taking Rāma’s wife to Laṅkā. Rāvaṇa’s right foot is in Jaṭāyu’s clutches, with his leg slightly bent as it carries the weight of his animated body. His torso is turned towards Jaṭāyu and his right hand pulls out the sword to attack even as his left leg bends upwards, almost reaching his chest. The artist brings the charged visages of Rāvaṇa and Jaṭāyu extremely close, their 28

The Rāmāyaṇa Retold by Sculptors and Scribes in pre-Vijayanagara Karnataka

Fig. 1.7: Rāma, Sītā, Lakṣmaṇa, and the golden deer; Śūrpaṇakhā and Lakṣmaṇa (above). Virūpākṣa temple, Paṭṭadakal, c. 740 CE. Photograph courtesy: Parul Pandya Dhar.

Fig. 1.8: Rāvaṇa-Jaṭāyu duel and Rāvaṇa abducting Sītā; Sītā peeping from her cottage (above), Virūpākṣa temple, Paṭṭadakal. Photograph courtesy: Parul Pandya Dhar.

combative glances locked fiercely as though each is directly challenging the adversary: Rāvaṇa’s arrogant defiance to destroy any hurdle in his way is countered by Jaṭāyu’s vehement determination to stop the abduction. The dynamism of the moment, so effectively captured by the artist, is reminiscent of nāṭya (theatre) and nṛtya (dance). Just above, is a cameo of Rāvaṇa whisking away a helpless Sītā in his magical chariot before he was obstructed by Jaṭāyu. In the lower part is a panel reminding the viewer of the valiant efforts made by Jaṭāyu to stop Rāvaṇa before the wise bird succumbed to the might of the king of Laṅkā. It appears to capture the vulture-king’s moment of triumph when he had successfully though briefly managed to injure and delay the demon-king. Above the niche, Sītā’s visage peeps out of the half-opened door of her cottage, carved here as a single-storeyed Drāviḍa vimāna, leading the viewer’s mind to the complex cause-effect relationships of the unfolding encounter in the central niche. The third wall-niche panel brings the story forward to the Kiṣkindhākāṇḍa. Identified thus far as a wrestling match between the sibling monkey-kings, Vāli and Sugrīva, it has 29

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

been recently reinterpreted by Shrinivas Padigar (2021).26 The central panel is occupied by the brothers in combat, with a wealth of detail surrounding it that elaborates upon the episode creatively (Fig. 1.9). Just above the heads of the simian brothers, a figure peeps through the foliage (Fig. 1.9A); another figure with his bow strung and ready to aim an arrow appears nearby (Fig. 1.9D). This is Rāma, who deceptively killed the

Fig. 1.9: Vāli-vadha, Virūpākṣa temple, Paṭṭadakal. Photograph courtesy: Shrinivas Padigar; Composite image: Parul Pandya Dhar.

mighty Vāli with his arrow to restore justice to Sugrīva. The young, noble face donning a jaṭā (top hair-knot) and peeping through the foliage is also Rāma (who appears twice in continuous narrative mode) before he fixed his spot to take aim.27 On the pillars flanking the lower portion of the central panel are two seated figures (Fig. 1.9B). The one to the viewers’ right is Aṅgada, based on the name inscribed just above him.28 Beneath the central panel, one notices a fatally injured Vāli looking up at Rāma, and the lament of Tārā (Fig. 1.9C). The image on the viewers’ left, corresponding to Aṅgada, is damaged but 30

The Rāmāyaṇa Retold by Sculptors and Scribes in pre-Vijayanagara Karnataka

it is likely to have been either Sugrīva’s wife Rumā or Vāli’s wife Tārā (Padigar 2021). This composition narrates the entire episode in a single panel, giving it an iconic focus while also framing other significant narrative details on the periphery of the central composition, reminding the viewer of the order in which the episode unfolded.

In the interior of the temple’s big hall (mahā-maṇḍapa) the massive, square pillars are populated with stories from the epics and purāṇas, organized at eye-level in horizontal registers that tell a story from the right-to-left and back. One such pillar bears a detailed representation of Śūrpaṇakhā’s infatuation with Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, her mutilation by Lakṣmaṇa, Rāma-Lakṣmaṇa’s destruction of Khara-Dūṣaṇa’s army, Śūrpaṇakhā’s lament to Rāvaṇa, Rāvaṇa meeting Mārīca, Mārīca’s transformation into a golden deer, Rāma’s deer hunt, Rāvaṇa arriving at Sītā’s cottage, Sītā’s abduction, and the RāvaṇaJaṭāyu duel (Fig. 1.10). Inscribed labels in early Kannaḍa, along the upper margins of each of the four horizontal registers, identify the epic characters: Khara-Dūṣaṇan, Suppaṇagi, Lakkaṇa, Rāma, Sītē,..., Rāvaṇan, and Ponmaṛi (deer) (IA, 10: 168, no. CX; Padigar 2010: 273-274). Word and image reaffirm each other in a well-coordinated collaboration. It is likely that those visiting the temple would have experienced the epic and participated as rasikas in its performed and localized tellings. The names of the characters also suggest local adaptations.

Fig. 1.10: Inscribed Rāmāyaṇa panels: Maṇḍapa pillar, Virūpākṣa, Paṭṭadakal. Photograph courtesy: Parul Pandya Dhar. 31

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Sītā’s abduction and the Rāvaṇa-Jaṭāyu duel is the theme of the lowermost register (Fig. 1.10). Moving from the viewers’ right to left, Sītā is at first guarded by Lakṣmaṇa and then left unguarded, when Rāvaṇa approaches her in the guise of a mendicant holding a parasol over his head. Next, Sītā is abducted; Rāvaṇa physically holds her and places her on his chariot,29 which is in broad agreement with the description in the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa (TRV, III: 47.15-19). The Rāvaṇa-Jaṭāyu duel follows; between this and the next pair of ‘man and bird’ is an intriguing representation of a Drāviḍian ekatala vimāna (single-storeyed temple). The identity of the ‘man and bird’ at the viewers’ far left can only be partially established by the identity labels on its upper margin. The man seated cross-legged in a gesture of appeal is Rāvaṇa as per the inscribed label but the inscribed name of the bird with its wings spread out is unclear; however, it is clearly not Jaṭāyu (IA, 10: 168, no. CX; Padigar 2010: 273-274).30 If the label-identities are for a moment overlooked for this pair, one may consider this to be Jaṭāyu reporting Rāvaṇa’s abduction of Sītā to Rāma before he dies. But the vulture appears too powerful, unharmed, and in control and one must then favour the idea that the cross-legged man in a suppliant gesture represents Rāvaṇa when he was momentarily overpowered by Jaṭāyu before he fatally wounded the elderly vultureking and left with Sītā to Laṅkā. The vimāna in between is indexical of the unyoked chariot (ratha) (see, at Bādāmi, for comparison). But it also simultaneously symbolizes the sacredness of the place where Jaṭāyu found release at the hands of Rāma. Such an interpretation finds credence in a set of inscriptions, importantly the one dated to 962 CE at the Jaṭiṅga-Rāmeśvara hill in the Chitradurga district of Karnataka (EC, 11: 94, no. Mk 27), which records the rebuilding in stone of a brick temple to mark the place where Jaṭāyu fought Rāvaṇa to rescue Sītā and attained release at the hands of Rāma.

Pāpanātha, Paṭṭadakal: The carving of epic narratives on temple walls receives greater elaboration on the Pāpanātha temple (Annigeri 1961; Wechsler 1994). Its southern side is adorned with key episodes from the Rāmāyaṇa, while the northern side bears Mahābhārata imagery. Both the series commence at the western end of the temple and culminate at its eastern porch (Wechsler 1994). The Rāmāyaṇa thus progresses in an anticlockwise direction, akin to the relative placement of the three wall-niches at the Virūpākṣa. Again, as at the Virūpākṣa, epic characters have been identified by inscribed labels (Padigar 2010: 279-285). Like Rāma, but looming larger than him, Rāvaṇa as the adversary demon-king has a prominent presence and appears repeatedly (Dhar 2019). The Rāmāyaṇa here begins with Brahmā granting a boon to Rāvaṇa and moves forward to Daśaratha’s yajña (sacrifice) for the birth of sons. The long narrative registers traverse important milestones in the story from the Bālakāṇḍa to the Yuddhakāṇḍa, culminating in two coronation scenes on a pillar at the eastern porch (Dhar 2019: fig.18). A M Annigeri (1961: 46) had earlier precisely identified 32

The Rāmāyaṇa Retold by Sculptors and Scribes in pre-Vijayanagara Karnataka

these as the coronations of Vibhīṣaṇa (top) and Rāma (bottom); however, Wechsler (1994: 36-37) later mistakenly identified the upper panel as Sugrīva’s coronation.

The long, ordered sequence of episodes at the Pāpanātha offered the sculptors further possibilities for experimentation. On this temple, which has several features of Nāgara affiliation, wall niches framed by pillarettes are crowned with pyramidal udgama-pediments so that the chosen narrative focus is framed within a miniaturized temple-like space (Figs. 1.11 and 1.12). These ‘framed’ episodes alternate with smaller tableaus carved on intervening wall spaces, often beneath latticed windows (jālakas). The shifting levels and planes are used effectively to convey a change of location or a twist in the tale, but the full-bodied, almost life-size treatment in high relief seen on the Virūpākṣa’s wall-niches is absent here. In Fig. 1.11, the scene is divided in two: below, the Ayodhyā princes train to become expert archers even as royal household members are seated in the panel above. The preceding wall space harbours an event leading up to the birth of the princes, with one of Daśaratha’s queens being offered the pāyasa (sweetened porridge) specially prepared by gods for the birth of sons. Following the central scene of training in archery, the intervening wall space bears two episodes divided horizontally into levels: below, the breaking of Śiva’s bow by Rāma and above, Rāma, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa with Viśvāmitra. The details in Fig. 1.12 include episodes after the defeat of Khara-Dūśaṇa by Rāma, with the three main wall niches bearing Śūrpaṇakhā’s lament to Rāvaṇa, the golden deer episode, and the Rāvaṇa-Jaṭāyu duel. In the interspaces, the first scene depicts the demon army of Khara-Dūśaṇa; the second effaced scene is most likely the meeting between Rāvaṇa and Mārīca; the third one portrays Rāvaṇa disguised as a mendicant in his ploy to kidnap Sītā; and the fourth one, in a clever horizontal division of levels, portrays Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa with the vānaras on Ṛṣyamūka hill above, and the combat between Vali and Sugriva in Kiṣkindhā below. Wechsler has interpreted the unprecedented proliferation of epic imagery on the Pāpanātha temple’s walls, including the coronation scenes of the front porch, as a metaphor for royal legitimation visualized for its last patron-king, Calukya KīrttivarmaII.31 She, however, overlooked a significant inscription on a pillar of the temple’s front porch. This inscription says that “Vibhīṣaṇa will reign as long as he recites the name of Rāma” (Padigar 2010: 279-280). The Rāmāyaṇa extols Vibhīṣaṇa’s loyalty to Rāma, which led to his eventual coronation as the king of Laṅkā. Seen together with the representation of the two coronation scenes, Wechsler’s thesis of royal legitimation through the projection of epic sculptures gains in strength. It is possible to read in this word-image duet a political message of loyalty and its reward: Vibhīṣaṇa’s loyalty to the Rāma-like Calukya king would be rewarded, whereas those who opposed, however 33

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

powerful (like Rāvaṇa), would meet a bitter end. If Kīrttivarma II, or those acting on his behalf, played an important role in the patronage accorded to the Pāpanātha during the twilight years of Calukya rule, then such a political equivalence is difficult to ignore. But the qualitative and quantitative importance of the Rāmāyaṇa sculptures at the Virūpākṣa and Pāpanātha temples at Paṭṭadakal cannot be explained solely or even dominantly by the political legitimation argument. The socio-cultural motivations of a people who, at many levels, elite and popular, drew sustenance from the moral and aesthetic universe of the epics were an important factor in the carving and performance of epic narratives in temple spaces. There can be little doubt that in the 8th century, Paṭṭadakal witnessed the elaboration of Rāmāyaṇa sculptures in an unprecedented manner.

Fig. 1.11: Bālakāṇḍa narratives, Pāpanātha temple, Paṭṭadakal, c. mid-8th century. Photograph courtesy: Parul Pandya Dhar. 34

The Rāmāyaṇa Retold by Sculptors and Scribes in pre-Vijayanagara Karnataka

In style, theme, and composition, the long, expansive registers of the Rāmāyaṇa carved on a southern wall of the lower storey at the world-renowned Kailāsa at Ellorā in Maharashtra (Markel 2000: 59-71) are inspired by the epics carved on the Paṭṭadakal pillars. During the subsequent centuries in the Karṇāṭa region, the tradition of carving Rāmāyaṇa sculptures on temple surfaces continued, but not with the same assertation and visibility as witnessed at Paṭṭadakal and Ellorā, until a new zenith was reached in the 12th and 13th centuries on Hoysaḷa-period temples.

Sculptures, c. 12th-13th centuries

Bringing forward the artistic conventions of their predecessors, architects and sculptors of Hoysaḷa-period temples (c. 11th–14th centuries) evolved new and intricately detailed visual formulations of the Rāmāyaṇa (Settar 1992: 337-347). Of these, only a limited number of Rāmāyaṇa sculptures carved on the Hoysaḷeśvara (c. 1121-1150 CE) and associated temples at Haḷebīḍu and the Amṛteśvara at Amṛtapura (1196-1206 CE) are discussed here to interpret significant developments in the architectural setting, compositional formats, and thematic elaborations of the epic during the 12th and 13th centuries.

Fig. 1.12: Araṇya- and Kiṣkindhā-kāṇḍa narratives, Pāpanātha temple, Paṭṭadakal. Photograph courtesy: Parul Pandya Dhar.

Hoysaḷeśvara, Haḷebīdu: ‘Hoysaḷeśvara’ is the commonly used nomenclature for the twin temples of Hoysaḷeśvara (south) and Śāntaleśvara (north) at Haḷebīdu. Architecturally connected internally and externally, they were built during the time of Hoysaḷa Viṣṇuvardhana in the first half of the 12th century. Architectural historian 35

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

M A Dhaky aptly sums up the art historical significance of this monument-complex:

“Without antecedents or warning, not even broad indications of its evolution, a large building in this new sub-style suddenly appears at Haḷebīd, the famous Hoysaḷeśvara temple. Who the originator of this unprecedented trend was, and what his sources— paradigms, hereditary knowledge and skills, and technical texts and manuals of architecture—were... cannot now be determined... The fact remains that this new trend relished in over-abundant yet thoughtfully organized and harmonious ornateness of the kind, quality, nature, and scale earlier unknown in India or anywhere in the world.” (Dhaky 1996: 391).

At the Hoysaḷeśvara and other Hoysaḷa temples belonging to this sub-style, the expected set of adhiṣṭhāna or base mouldings have been completely replaced by a distinctive, tall base that rests on a jagatī (platform). In its new incarnation, the base is made up of tiered bands of the gajapīṭha, aśvapīṭha vasantapaṭṭikā, siṃhapīṭha, nakrapīṭha, narapīṭha and haṃsapīṭha (patterned bands of elephants, scrolls, lions, crocodiles, humans, and geese; (Fig. 1.13). This tiered elevation proceeds along a levelled plane on the exterior of the twin vimānas (main temples) and navaraṅgas (temple halls with nine bays). Such an arrangement enhances the intricately carved embellishments on its tiered bands and creates a dramatic impact of light and shadow, especially on the stellate planar surfaces of the vimānas’ elevation. The ornate rows of geese, elephants, lions, horses, and crocodiles are conceptually akin to 10th-11th -century temples in western and central India. But the narapīṭha, purposefully placed at the viewers’ eye level, is planned to portray mythical narratives in long-winding registers that are detailed with breathtaking finesse in high relief and without separating different episodes into panels. The viewer is greeted with a miniaturized universe of heroes, gods, kings, queens, demons, battles, armies, dancers, musicians, and ordinary folk—a visual encyclopaedia peopled with vignettes of early medieval society that is rendered with remarkable aesthetic sensibilities. As visitors encircle the temples’ exterior, they encounter the carved narratives and recall the moral and political universe of the epic; every now and then, their attention is caught by some jewel of unsurpassable detail and they lose themselves in the micro-themes of medieval life and society hidden within the sculpted mythical world.

Kirsti Evans (1997) undertook the first detailed art historical study of the epic and purāṇic narratives on Hoysaḷa temples. At the Hoysaḷeśvara, Mahābhārata and Bhāgavata Purāṇa episodes are more numerous in comparison with the Rāmāyaṇa. The epic battle between Rāma and Rāvaṇa appears in a disconnected manner on the north-western side of the southern or Hoysaḷeśvara vimāna, in between a detailed rendition of the purāṇic Prahlāda-Hiraṇyakaśipu story and the Mahābhārata battle (Evans 1997: 204). 36

The Rāmāyaṇa Retold by Sculptors and Scribes in pre-Vijayanagara Karnataka

Fig. 1.13: Scenes from the Kiṣkindhākāṇḍa, narapīṭha of the Hoysaḷeśvara, Haḷebīdu, c. first half of 12th century. Photograph courtesy: Parul Pandya Dhar.

A masterpiece in miniature, the final confrontation between Rāma and Rāvaṇa at the Hoysaḷeśvara positions the protagonist and antagonist in a dynamic yet balanced composition (Fig. 1.14). Rāma stands as a war-hero in control; his bow is strung in the attitude of striking from a quiver full of arrows even as he blocks those of the adversary. His horse-driven chariot (given by Indra), accompanied by an enthusiastic group of vānaras, is a little larger than Rāvaṇa’s, which is pulled by donkeys. Rāvaṇa’s many arms hold multiple arrows as he showers a volley on Rāma. Hanumān with an uprooted tree in hand appears to block Rāvaṇa’s volley of arrows even as he tramples on a demon and strangles another by using his long tail as a noose. One of Rāma’s arrows has pierced the donkey pulling Rāvaṇa’s chariot; a woman (Mandodarī?) is seen near Rāvaṇa’s chariot-wheel, holding a ‘leg’ of the chariot, attempting to dissuade Rāvaṇa from this fatal battle. These details prefigure those found in later texts such as the Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa and appear closer to performances of the epic that would likely have been staged in the vicinity of the temples. Some Rāmāyaṇa reliefs from the Kiṣkindhākāṇḍa present themselves on the southwestern part of the Śāntaleśvara’s navaraṅga (Evans 1997: 205-207). These include the piercing of the seven trees by Rāma and Vāli-vadha, as well as Rāma entrusting his ring to Hanumān, who would soon cross the ocean in search for Sītā (Fig. 1.13). The Hoysaḷa artists’ predilection for the ornate is evident yet again in the patterned organization of vānaras in a row. The imagery of trees rising from a serpent’s back 37

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Fig. 1.14: Rāma and Rāvaṇa in the epic battle, narapīṭha of the Hoysaḷeśvara, Haḷebīdu. Photograph courtesy: Parul Pandya Dhar.

and the serpent’s hood also being pierced by Rāma’s arrow is a later development in the narrative, which is seen from the late Calukya period in the visual arts of the region (Desai 2013: 259-260; Brockington 2020: 46).

Nagareśvara and Kedāreśvara, Haḷebīdu: While the qualitative excellence of the Hoysaḷeśvara complex remains unmatched, it is at the Kedāreśvara (c. 1200-1220 CE) and on the surviving base friezes of the ruined Nagareśvara temple complex (c. second half of 12th century) in Haḷebīdu, both belonging to the time of Hoysaḷa Ballāla II’s reign, that the Rāmāyaṇa sequence is detailed and continuous (Evans 1993: 221-239). As was the norm, Rāmāyaṇa episodes are found on the southern side and Mahābhārata scenes are located on the northern side. At the Nagareśvara, the Kiṣkindhā-, Sundara-, and Yuddha-kāṇḍas are well-represented. Episodes like Rāvaṇa’s yajña (sacrifice) before the final battle with Rāma and vānaras molesting women in Rāvaṇa’s harem are close in iconography and style to the same themes portrayed at the Amṛteśvara in Amṛtapura (Evans 1993: 91-92 & figs. 55-56), revealing local tellings that are further distanced from the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa.

The Kedāreśvara is a trikūṭa (triple-shrined) structure built in the first two decades of the 13th century, with Rāmāyaṇa sculptures commencing on its southern shrine’s adhiṣthāna and extending to the western shrine as well (Evans 1993: 236). Once again, the portrayals are mainly from the Kiṣkindhākāṇḍa, Sundarakāṇḍa and Yuddhakāṇḍa, although the abduction of Sītā, which is part of the Araṇyakāṇḍa, also finds a place. 38

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The Hoysaḷa artists have revelled in the portrayal of vānaras with visually arresting depictions of setu-bandhana (building the bridge; Fig. 1.15) and a novel visual portrayal of vānaras in Svayamprabhā’s cave, on their way to the ocean (also seen on a temple’s base from the Nagareśvara group). Amṛteśvara, Amṛtapura: The main temple (vimāna) and its attached closed hall (gūḍhamaṇḍapa) at Amṛtapura were built in c. 1196 CE and the larger hall (navaraṅga or raṅgamaṇḍapa)32 was added in c. 1206 CE (Dhaky 1996: 352). Rāmāyaṇa episodes, unlike those at Haḷebīdu, are placed on the exterior of the kakṣāsana (seat back) of this temple’s large hall; the episodes are detailed and in ordered succession; each is independently framed as a panel between pillarettes. The series commences with episodes from the Bālakāṇḍa on the south side of the navaraṅga and proceeds in the anticlockwise direction (as at the Pāpanātha-Paṭṭadakal) with scenes from the

Fig. 1.15: Setu-bandhana, Kedāreśvara, Haḷebīdu, c. early 13th century. Photograph courtesy: Parul Pandya Dhar.

Ayodhyā-, Araṇya-, Kiṣkindhā-, Sundara-, and Yuddha-kāṇḍas (Fig. 1.16), culminating on the eastern entrance of this hall (Evans 1993: 24-26; 37-104). The most detailed elaboration of the Rāmāyaṇa on Hoysaḷa temples is found here, although some episodes such as the vānaras in Svayamprabhā’s cave (seen at the Kedāreśvara and Nagareśvara, Haḷebīdu) are absent.

New visual themes and modes of representation are in evidence at the Amṛteśvara temple. In Fig. 1.17 from the Yuddhakāṇḍa, Sītā is seated under a fruit-laden tree inhabited with birds in the Aśokavana and being guarded by rākṣasīs; illusory, severed 39

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Fig. 1.16: Panels from the Yuddhakāṇḍa, kakṣāsana of the navaraṅga, Amṛteśvara, Amṛtapura, c. early 13th century. Photograph courtesy: Wikimedia Commons: Bkmanoj, CC BY-SA 4.0.

Fig. .1.17: Sītā in Aśokavana shown severed heads of Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, kakṣāsana of the navaraṅga, Amṛteśvara, Amṛtapura. Photograph courtesy: Sanjay Dhar. 40

The Rāmāyaṇa Retold by Sculptors and Scribes in pre-Vijayanagara Karnataka

heads of Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa are placed before her to convince her of Rāma’s death in the battle, weaken her will, and compel her to yield to Rāvaṇa. Not her will but the illusion is dispelled when a noble woman (Saramā?) dispels her worst fears. In many of the episodes, the visuals relate better with and, in a sense, prefigure the slightly later Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa, which suggests that a similar telling of the epic—recited, performed, or written—prevailed in the Karṇāṭa region by the 12th century.33 There is a decided shift in favour of greater deification of Rāma as an avatāra (incarnation) of Viṣṇu and in the release to be found in his grace. Rāvaṇa too is aware of his destiny and aspires towards release at the hands of Rāma.

Concluding Observations

The earliest traces of the Rāmāyaṇa and its principal characters appear in the 5th century CE in Karnataka with the inscriptions of the early Kadambas of Banavāsī, closely followed by those of the early Western Gaṅgas and the Calukyas of Bādāmi. In the political imagination of these dynasties, Rāma appears as a hero, divine-hero, and scion of the Ikṣvāku kings of the solar race, praised for his valour, invincibility, skill as an archer, and upholder of dharma, with whom the kings are compared and from whom they draw authority. But Rāma is not the only god-hero with whom Karṇāṭa kings are compared; he is part of a larger universe of epic and purāṇic heroes with whom the composers draw royal analogies. Rāma’s references increase in frequency and in the variety of metaphors and similes employed during the period of the later Kadambas, later Calukyas, and Hoysaḷas, notably as one who is valorous, undefeatable, steadfast, and resolute. There is also evidence of a nascent form of Rāma worship as a cult-deity but in a limited sense. This nascent tendency is, however, important as an early indication of a shift from the perception of Rāma as an epic-hero with a haloed lineage and as an avatāra to his status as a cult-deity, which reaches its ultimate efflorescence in the Vijayanagara period. In the early decades of the second millennium, Rāvaṇa appears in inscriptions as a metaphor for a formidable adversary-king who is, nevertheless, defeated by the valorous Karṇāṭa kings. During this period, there is a noticeable change in perception about Rāvaṇa, who appears to gain in positive estimation, especially in the context of his courage, sacrifice, and devotional fervour, at least in a few inscriptions. The earliest sculptural narratives of the Rāmāyaṇa in Karnataka are seen on the 7th-century Upper Śivālaya at Bādāmi and Durga temple at Aihoḷe, where influence from northern Gupta-period antecedents is in evidence alongside localized and novel interpretations that reveal a departure from northerly traditions. These early monuments bear Rāmāyaṇa sculptures in the recessed bands of the temples’ base mouldings. On the mid-8th century royal temples at Paṭṭadakal, especially at the 41

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Virūpākṣa and Pāpanātha, where artistic ferment is at its zenith, Rāmāyaṇa characters assume a greater, life-like visual presence on the outer walls and find elaboration in the temple interiors. The qualitative excellence of the sculptures and new experiments with iconography and narrative strategies that are seen at the Virūpākṣa suggest strong links with performance traditions. Word and image collaborate in intimate synchrony, with localized names of the epic characters inscribed close to their images. Such names suggest familiarity with regional adaptations of the epic. At the Pāpanātha, the importance of the Rāmāyaṇa is such that even the usual Śaiva pantheon and associated imagery that would normally be expected to inhabit the outer walls is almost completely given up in favour of visual elaborations of the epic. In fact, sufficient visual and inscriptional clues at Paṭṭadakal lend support to the argument that, from about the middle of the 8th century, the epic was increasingly central to the political imagination of the Calukyas. Also, Rāmāyaṇa imagery was not a preserve of Vaiṣṇava temples alone; most of the temples discussed in this chapter are of Śaiva affiliation,34 which speaks of the universal appeal of the epic and its undeniable assimilation in the social and moral universe of the people. On temples belonging to the period of the Hoysaḷas, Rāmāyaṇa and other epic-purāṇic narratives are set in highly imaginative and innovative architectural settings, enveloping the temples’ exteriors in long stretches at the eye-level on the narapīṭha of the temple’s base, or located in ordered panels on the exterior of the hall’s kakṣāsana. On some of the more ornately embellished temples, the intricately detailed, miniaturized world of the epic offers unique possibilities to interpret its perceptions at various levels—elite and popular.

In the relative configuration of imagery on the temple walls, the sculptors appear to have been guided by a strong sense of the epic’s mythical geography. The southern side usually bears Rāmāyaṇa sculptures; where both sides depict the Rāmāyaṇa, as at Aihoḷe, episodes from the Ayodhyā- and Araṇya-kāṇḍas are placed on the northern side whereas the Sundarakāṇḍa, which unfolds in Laṅkā, is carved on the southern side. At the Pāpanātha, the entire southern side is devoted to the Rāmāyaṇa’s visual elaboration. At the Hoysaḷeśvara-Haḷebīḍu, Rāmāyaṇa episodes are fewer and scattered but at the Amṛteśvara-Amṛtapura, the preference for carving the Rāmāyaṇa on the southern kakṣāsanas is assertively articulated.

Rāma’s iconography on these temples is primarily that of an epic hero, almost always portrayed with a bow (kodaṇḍa), which becomes his principal identity-attribute. This is true of the more iconic compositions where he is accompanied with Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa, and when he moves through the forest, rests in the cottage, hunts the golden deer, meets the vānaras and kills Vāli, or fights the epic battle. The static, formulaic cult-deity image is only suggested once at the Virūpākṣa and not yet in evidence assertively in 42

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the sculptural repertoire of the pre-Vijayanagara period, even though Rāma-worship and a nascent Rāma-cult is in evidence in the epigraphic records.

Even in the 7th century, long before inscriptions provide evidence at the dawn of the second millennium, Rāvaṇa’s presence and iconography receive prominence in the overall sculptural visualization of the epic. He is portrayed not just as a formidable adversary, but also in all his power and grandeur, presiding over his court and reigning supreme in the interiors of his mansion. That visual evidence for such representations precedes and overshadows epigraphic documentation is revealing. Such shifts in attitudes towards the epic’s antagonist were perhaps influenced first through oral and performed traditions, which found greater assimilation in visual imagery than in royal epigraphs. By the Hoysaḷa period, the visual repertoire extends appreciably with the inclusion of many new episodes and iconographies that are increasingly distant from the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, especially in the parts that portray the Kiṣkindhā- and Yuddha-kāṇḍas. These appear to be strongly influenced by changes noticed in those tellings where Rāma’s divine status is deeply registered and even Rāvaṇa is aware of his ultimate destiny of release at the hands of Rāma. In addition, the impact of the Jaina Rāmāyaṇa tradition, of Vīraśaivism,35 and the increasing influence of Vaiṣṇava devotional movements deserve to be further explored. In all these Rāmāyaṇas, written, recited, and performed tellings are recreated through the sculptor’s chisel and appear frozen in time in the environs of the temples. For the beholder, seeing becomes an act of reading and re-engaging with a familiar narrative that is scripted in stone.

Abbreviations: BK: Bhaṭṭi Kāvya; EC: Epigraphia Carnatica; EI: Epigraphia Indica; IA: The Indian Antiquary; KR: Kamba Rāmāyaṇaṃ; TRV: The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki.

Endnotes 1. This excludes a relief carving of Hanumān’s meeting with Sītā on a pillar of the Anantaśāyiguḍi in Uṇḍavallī in Āndhradeśa, whose date is debatable, most likely, from the early part of the 7th century. 2. The base mouldings of the Viṣṇu temple at Deogarh and Parvati temple at Nacanā Kuthārā had Rāmāyaṇa panels. Terracotta plaques of the Rāmāyaṇa, some inscribed with excerpts from the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, are presently housed in the Gurukul Museum at Jhajjar in Haryana. See, Brockington (2020: 39-41); Kala (1988: figs. 1, 9, 10,13) for Deogarh; and Williams (1982: 113-114 & pl. 165-170) for Nacanā Kuthārā. 3. Rāma is also known by the names Rāghava and Kākutstha, for being of the Ikṣvāku lineage of Raghu and Kakutstha. The Kadamba inscriptions, however, record the name as Kākustha instead of Kākutstha. 4. Usage of poetic figures by early medieval composers of royal eulogies was a common practice. Here, yamaka (rhyming by word repetitions that may carry different meanings) and upamā (simile) alaṃkāras have been employed. 43

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5. Gai (1996: 7): “The Dāvaṇagere plates (No. 6), the Hiresakuna grant (No. 10) and the Banavāsī inscription (No. 12) of Mṛgeśavarman, as well as the Halsī plates (No. 17) of Ravivarman commence the Kadamba genealogical account with Kākustha or Kākusthavarman.” 6. The date of Avinīta’s rule is much debated because of the absence of a clear era. See, EC, 1: 4-11; Moraes (1931: 58-59); Ramesh (1984: xxiv-xxxi); and Gai (1996: 8-14) for the varied interpretations. 7. See, “No. 1: Merkara plates of Avinīta Kongani, the year 388”, in EC, 1: 30-31, 52, & notes 5 & 7 on p. 31: sāmān[y]oyaṁ dharmma hētuṁ[sētuṁ] nripāṇāṁ kālē kālē pālanīyō bhavadbhih sarbbān ētāṁ bhāgina [bhāvina] pārttivēndrā bhūyō bhūyō yāchatē Rāmabhadrā [Rāmachandraḥ]// Tr. “Merit [dharma] is a common bridge for kings, this do ye support from age to age, kings, —thus does Rāmabhadrā [Rāmachandraḥ] beseech the kings who come after him.” B L Rice in his reading of this inscription has suggested the Śaka era, which would translate as 466 CE. He has further interpreted that Rāmabhadrā should generally be understood as Rāmachandraḥ and dharma-hetu (which is found in a Buddhist context) should be read as dharma-setu. Interestingly, the purpose of this inscription is to record the gift of a village by the king to a Jina temple. 8. See, the imprecatory verses in EC, 9: Hoskoṭe Tāluq no. 146 (1289 CE), Bangalore Tāluq no. 6 a (1253 CE), and Bangalore Tāluq no. 60 (1337 CE). 9. EC, 8: 250, Nagar Tāluq, No. 35. Tr. EC, 8: 135: “Seizing in the field of slaughter Kāduveṭṭi who was celebrated as a Rāvaṇa to the earth, he became formidable in the world.” 10. Barnett (1915-16), A: Laṁke-varaṁ talta bahitra-saṁtatigaḷīṁdaṁ sētuvaṁ kaṭṭi kappavan=ugr-āsura-ralli bēḍe palaruṁ Rāma-pratiṣṭh-āgrahārav=enal… 11. The same inscription also employs brief phrases from the Raghuvaṃśa I.6: yathāvidhihutāgni (-)nāṃ yathākāmārccitārthināṃ, and the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa (I.1.16-17): samudra iva gambhīraḥ, kṣamayā pṛthivisamaḥ, to describe Calukya kings. See Padigar (2010: 12-14); for the Raghuvaṃśa, see https://sanskritdocuments.org/sites/giirvaani/ giirvaani/rv/sargas/01_rv.htm, and for Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, see https://sanskritdocuments. org/mirrors/Rāmāyaṇa/valmiki.htm. 12. At the same time, Pulakeśī II is also likened to various legendary heroes and to Guhā (Kārttikeya), who killed enemies with his śakti (Buchanan 1985: 99). Also, Buchanan (1985: 93, note 170). 13. Barnett (1915-16: 320, line 3). The adjective niśśaṃka is employed in the inscriptions to describe Rāma’s courage as also that of the ruling kings. 14. These excerpts from inscribed verses belong to the ‘Haḷḷigere plates of Gaṅga Śivamāra (713 CE)’ and ‘Agaḷḷi grant of Gaṅga Śrīpuruṣa (748 CE)’ respectively. See also, ‘Maṇṇe plates of Gaṅga Mārasiṃha (798 CE)’: (tr.) He dallies at the battlefront (samaraśirasi rāmāyate) and behaves like Rāma in the case of other’s wives (Ramesh 1984: 202 & cf., p. 377). 15. EC, 5 (1): Manjarābād Tāluq no. 18; Dhar (2019: 358 & note 21). 16. See, EC, 9: Kanakanahaḷḷi Tāluq nos. 76 (1299 CE) & 87 (1218 CE). 17. See, for example, EC, 9: Bangalore Tāluq nos. 6 (1253 CE) & 117 (1339 CE), Magadi Tāluq nos. 15 (1315 CE) & 55 (1306 CE), Dod-Ballārpur Tāluq no. 52 (1306 CE), Devanahaḷḷi Tāluq no. 43 (1339 CE), 75 (1343 CE), 134 (1336 CE), 137 (1336 CE) & 161 (1294 CE); Kankanhaḷḷi Tāluq nos. 47 (1295 CE) & 76 (1299 CE), etc. I am grateful to Prof P Bilimale for clarifying the meaning and usage of the term. 18. EC, 10: Bāgepaḷḷi Tāluq no. 35; See, Dhar (2019: 358 & note 22). 19. See Dhar (2019). A few of the epic sculptures at Bādāmi, Aihoḷe, Mahākūṭa and Paṭṭadakal have been summarily identified by Carol R Bolon (1985: 122, 288, 359 & 432). A revised 44

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identification of the Rāmāyaṇa on early Calukya temples is offered by Taboji (2011: 24-63 & figs. 4.1-4.59).

20. Śūrpaṇakhā at first appears in the guise of a beautiful woman soliciting Lakṣmaṇa and Rāma’s attentions and only shows her true demonic form after her mutilation as per the BK and KR. Se e, BK: vv. 4.15-4.33; KR: 110-119. In the VR, she is described as an ugly creature when she appears before Rama and Lakṣmaṇa (TRV, III. 16-18). However, even on an early 6th-century panel from Deogarh, Śūrpaṇakhā appears as a beautiful woman; see Kala (1988: fig. 10).

21. At the late 7th century Mālegittī Śivālaya, minor depictions of the Rāmāyaṇa epic on the eave cornice surmounting the ground floor of the temple’s hall have been recorded by Buchanan (1985: 111). Among these is a portrayal of Śūrpaṇakhā complaining to Rāvaṇa on the northern side. 22. As these have been discussed at length by me in Dhar (2019), I have treated them summarily here.

23. The tall, recessed band of the vedī (mouldings above the base) of the Makuṭeśvaranātha’s vimāna on the northern and western faces feature epic scenes but most are effaced.

24. Vikramāditya II’s two queens, Lokamahādevī and Trailokyamahādevī, patronized the Virūpākṣa (Lokeśvara) and Mallikārjuna (Trailokyeśvara) temples respectively; and the Pāpanātha temple shows three stages of building activity from c. 720-750 CE, i.e., during the reigns of Vijayāditya, Vikramāditya II, and Kīrttivarma II. Its last phase appears to belong to the time of the last of the Calukya rulers, Kīrttivarma II. It is during this last phase that the entire sequence of Rāmāyaṇa visual narratives appear to have been executed, including those on the earlier parts of the temple’s exterior. See, Padigar (2010: 234-236). 25. On the eastern side of the Virūpākṣa temple’s southern porch is a remarkable sculpture of the Rāvaṇānugrahamūrti (Rāvaṇa’s arrogant attempt at shaking Kailāsa), depicted separately and showing Rāvaṇa as an ardent devotee of Śiva (Dhar 2019).

26. For a particularly useful discussion of the Vāli-vadha episode in Indian sculpture, see Desai (2013). 27. Padigar (2021) has identified him as Lakṣmaṇa.

28. Padigar (2021) reads it as Aṅgajan and rectifies it to Aṅgada in the context of the visual representation. 29. I had missed this important detail in Dhar (2019) and consequently misinterpreted the abduction scene portrayed on this pillar. The present reading is my revised analysis.

30. It has been tentatively read as Supāriśva (Supārśva) by epigraphists but that reading does not fit the narrative imagery.

31. Wechsler’s assertion of Kīrttivarma’s direct patronage to the Pāpanātha needs further qualification. There is no inscription that points to Kīrttivarma II’s direct patronage to the Pāpanātha temple. However, stylistic markers and the presence of artists’ signatures shared with the Virūpākṣa in the vicinity suggest that the final phase of the Pāpanātha temple was built during the reign of the last Calukya ruler Kīrttivarma II. See, Buchanan (1985: 330416) and Dhar (2019). 32. Evans (1993: 23) mistakenly addresses this added hall as the mukhamaṇḍapa.

33. The Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa relates with the Brahmāṇḍa Purāṇa and has been dated by scholars between the 13th to 15th centuries CE. This ‘philosophical Rāmāyaṇa’ is a retelling of the epic by Śiva to Umā. It is seen as an attempt to reconcile Śaṅkara’s Advaita Vedānta with a belief in the saving grace of Rāma. See, Rocher (1986: 158-159). 45

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

34. Except for the Upper Śivālaya, which was originally Vaiṣṇava, and the Durga temple at Aihoḷe, which was dedicated to Sūrya, all other temples discussed in this chapter are of Śaiva affiliation.

35. This is also revealed in the changing representations of the Rāvaṇānugraha (Śiva’s benediction upon Rāvaṇa) iconography on Hoysaḷa-period temples, where the emphasis shifts to Rāvaṇa’s nobler qualities: his ardent devotion to Śiva, his profound austerities, talents, and abilities (Dhar 2015).

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Epigraphia Carnatica, vol. 8, Part 2 (EC, 8), 1904. Inscriptions in the Shimoga District. Bangalore. Epigraphia Carnatica, vol. 9 (EC, 9), 1905. Inscriptions in the Bangalore District. Bangalore.

Epigraphia Carnatica, vol. 11 (EC, 11), 1903. Inscriptions of the Chitaldroog District. Bangalore. Epigraphia Indica, vol. 8 (EI, 8), 1905-06. Calcutta.

Epigraphia Indica, vol. 13 (EI, 13), 1915-16. Calcutta. Epigraphia Indica, vol. 14 (EI, 14), 1917-18. Calcutta. 46

The Rāmāyaṇa Retold by Sculptors and Scribes in pre-Vijayanagara Karnataka

Epigraphia Indica, vol. 33 (EI, 33), 1959-60. Calcutta.

Evans, Kirsti. 1997. Epic Narratives in the Hoysaḷa Temples. The Rāmāyaṇa, Mahābhārata and Bhāgavata Purāṇa in Haḷebīd, Belūr and Amṛtapura. Leiden, New York & Koln: Brill. Gai, G S. 1996. Inscriptions of the Early Kadambas. New Delhi: Indian Council of Historical Research & Pratibha Prakashan. Hultzsch, E. 1905-06. “Nausārī plates of Śṛyāśraya Śilāditya,” EI, 8: 229-233.

Kala, Jayantika. 1988. Epic Scenes in Indian Plastic Art. New Delhi: Abhinav Publications. Kamba Rāmāyaṇa (KR), tr. P S Sundaram, ed. N S Jagannathan, 2002. New Delhi. Konow, S. 1917-18. “Sanjān Plates of Buddhavarasa,” EI, 14: 144-152.

Kulkarni, V M. 2001. “Origin of the Story of Rāma in Jain Literature.” In Studies in Jaina Literature: The Collected Papers Contributed by Prof V M Kulkarni, 27–54. Ahmedabad: Śreṣṭhī Kastūrbhāi Lālbhāi Smārak Nidhi.

Markel, Stephen. 2000. “The ‘Rāmāyaṇa’ Cycle on the Kailāsanātha Temple at Ellora,” Ars Orientalis 30 (Supplement 1): 59-71.

Moraes, George M. 1931. The Kadamba Kula: A History of Ancient and Mediaeval Karnataka. Bombay: BX Furtado & Sons.

Padigar, Shrinivas V. ed. 2010. Inscriptions of the Calukyas of Bādāmi. Bangalore: Indian Council of Historical Research.

Padigar, Shrinivas V. 2015. Aihole (Heritage Series), ed. C G Betsurmath. Mysore: Department of Archaeology, Museums & Heritage. Padigar, Shrinivas V. 2021. “Message of Dharma and Adharma: Some Rāmāyaṇa Episodes on Pattadakal Temples.” In Ratnadīpaḥ: New Dimensions of Indian Art History and Theory (Essays in honour of Prof. Ratan Parimoo), ed. Gauri Parimoo Krishnan and R H Kulkarni, 55-60. Delhi: Agam Kala Prakashan. Raghuvaṃśam (Mahākavi Kālidāsa Viracita) (e-text), https://sanskritdocuments.org/sites/ giirvaani/giirvaani/rv/intro_rv.htm (accessed on 12/08/2018).

Ramesh, K V. 1984. Inscriptions of the Western Gaṅgas. New Delhi: Indian Council of Historical Research & Agam Prakashan. Rocher, Ludo. 1986. A History of Indian Literature, vol. 2, fasc. 3: The Purāṇas, ed. Jan Gonda. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz.

Settar, S. 1992. The Hoysaḷa Temples, vols. I & II. Dharwad and Bangalore: Karnatak University and Kala Yatra Publications.

Taboji, C B. 2011. Narrative Sculpture in Early Karnataka, PhD Thesis. Dharwad: Karnataka University.

The Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa by Maharshi Vedavyāsa, with the commentary of Ramavarmah, ed. Pandit Jibananda Vidyasagara, 1884. Calcutta: New Vālmīki Press. The Indian Antiquary, vol. 10 (IA, 10), 1881. Delhi: Swati Publications (1984 reprint).

The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki [TRV]: An Epic of Ancient India. vol. I: Bālakāṇḍa, trans. Robert P Goldman and Sally J Sutherland, 2007. Delhi: Motilal Banarasidass.

The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki [TRV]: An Epic of Ancient India. vol. II: Ayodhyākāṇḍa, trans. Sheldon Pollock, ed. Robert P Goldman, 2007. Delhi: Motilal Banarasidass. The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki [TRV]: An Epic of Ancient India. vol. III: Araṇyakāṇḍa, trans. Sheldon Pollock, ed. Robert P Goldman, 2007. Delhi: Motilal Banarasidass. 47

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The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki [TRV]: An Epic of Ancient India. vol. IV: Kiṣkindhākāṇḍa, trans. Rosalind Lefeber, ed. Robert P Goldman, 2007. Delhi: Motilal Banarasidass. The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki [TRV]: An Epic of Ancient India, vol. V: Sundarakāṇḍa, trans. Robert P Goldman and Sally J Sutherland Goldman, 2007. Delhi: Motilal Banarasidass. Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa (e-text in Sanskrit), https://sanskritdocuments.org/mirrors/Rāmāyaṇa/ valmiki.htm, accessed on 12/08/2018. Wechsler, Helen J. 1994. “Royal Legitimation: Rāmāyaṇa Reliefs on the Papanatha Temple at Pattadakal.” In MARG 45 (no. 3): 27-42. Mumbai: Marg Publications. Williams, Joanna G. 1982. The Art of Gupta India: Empire and Province. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

48

2. Stone, Wood, Paint: Rāma-Story

Representations throughout Southeast Asia John Brockington

The earliest evidence for the dissemination of the Rāma story in Southeast Asia comes from inscriptions and sculptures.1 With one significant exception (the Old Javanese texts, the Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin from the second half of the 9th or early 10th century and the Uttarakāṇḍa composed around 1000 CE), no verbal narratives in written form are earlier than the 13th century. So, in most areas evidence for the popularity of the Rāma story in visual form or from inscriptions precedes the earliest extant verbal text by centuries, even though visual representations presuppose a verbal text. Such evidence is widespread, but more is extant, or at least recorded, in some parts of the region than others, with Cambodia and northeast Thailand being richest in material. Although knowledge of the Rāma story in Southeast Asia is attested before the 10th century CE in Cambodia, in Campā within modern Vietnam and in Java, only in two regions – Cambodia and Java – is there anything approaching a continuous attestation in the visual record, while in Campā there is no evidence that I have found after the 10th century. Moreover, there seems to be a total lack of attestation in the area earlier inhabited by the Viet people, the more northern parts of modern Vietnam, and in Malaysia, where Islam became dominant early on. In Burma and in Thailand, there is limited evidence, with many temporal gaps, from the 11th century. However, in Laos, there appears to be no visual evidence before the 19th century, even though there are multiple verbal versions in Lao.2 From the 19th century onwards, the evidence becomes abundant everywhere, except again in Vietnam.

The oldest certain evidence comes from the late-6th-century Veal Kantel inscription in the area of modern Cambodia and the mid-7th-century Trà-kie ̣̆ u inscription in the area of modern south Vietnam.3 The Veal Kantel inscription (K. 359) from the reign of the first king of Chenla, Bhavavarman (580-98 CE), records that a brāhman Somaśarman, married to the king’s sister, donated copies of the Mahābhārata, the Rāmāyaṇa, and

a Purāṇa to a Śaiva temple for daily recitation.4 The Trà-kiẹ̆ u inscription (C. 173,

dated 657 CE) of king Prakāśadharman of Campā dedicating a temple to Vālmīki,

mentions both Vālmīki as the first poet and Rāma as an avatāra (incarnation) of Viṣṇu, revealing close acquaintance with the opening of the Bālakāṇḍa and even reproducing 49

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa 1.2.30c (Mus 1928; Goodall and Griffiths 2013: 434-37). Paul Mus suggested that Prakāśadharman was indebted to Khmer culture for his attachment to the Rāmāyaṇa (Mus 1928). There is also a roughly contemporary inscription about the erection of a statue of Vālmīki at Prasat Phnom Bayang (K. 851). To this epigraphic material can be added the evidence of a statue of a standing archer, which most probably represents Rāma, from the Phnom Da temple group (c. 7th century, in Angkor Borei district, southern Cambodia).

From Trà-kiẹ̆ u, the ancient Siṃhapura, capital of the minor state of Amarāvatī, also comes the Trà-kiẹ̆ u pedestal; this is the base of a liṅga and yoni with relief panels on each side which, according to Tran Ky Phuong, show scenes from the Rāma story (Tran 2000 and 2008); he argues for linking the pedestal and the inscription, and so dates the pedestal to between 657 and 687 CE.5 Tran identifies the four scenes as Rāma stringing the bow, messengers sent by Janaka to inform Daśaratha, preparations for the wedding, and apsarases (celestial nymphs) and gandharvas (celestial musicians) dancing and singing in celebration.6 From other Campā sites comes a less direct attestation of the Rāma story in the form of representations of Rāvaṇa shaking Kailāsa, for example on a tympanum at temple F1, Mỹ Sơn (Guy 2014: 72),7 and on the temple of Ky Thach Phu Nhan (Levin, 2008: 95 + fig 7.17). In contrast, the earliest extant text is the Old Javanese (OJ) Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin, composed probably in the second half of the 9th or early 10th century, and the only surviving kakawin from the Central Javanese period. However, another view of its dating is that the poem celebrates the victory of central Java’s Śaiva rulers, the Sañjaya dynasty of Matarām, over the Buddhist Śailendra dynasty, which ruled in the 8th and early 9th centuries (Robson 1980), or of factions within the dynasty which resulted from their amalgamation. The second view would give added relevance to the construction of the Prambanan or Loro Jonggrang temple complex in the middle of the 9th century, with its elaborate scheme of Rāma-narrative reliefs (though showing a different version of the narrative from the Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin) on what is overall a Śaiva temple. Its precise dating rests on the issue of whether an inscription (D 28 in the Nasional Museum, Jakarta) dated śaka 778 (= 856 CE) records, as seems very probable, its consecration by Rakai Pikatan to celebrate his victory over his enemy Bālaputra, after possibly a lengthy period of construction (Jordaan 1996: 23-25). The OJ part of this inscription is the first example of OJ poetry influenced by Sanskrit kāvya poetics, while Rakai Pikatan is referred to in the later parts of the Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin. The narrative panels begin on the central Caṇḍi Śiwa, continue on Caṇḍi Brahmā, and end with the first panel on Caṇḍi Wiṣṇu; they are carved on the inner face of the balustrade to the terrace 50

Stone, Wood, Paint: Rāma-Story Representations throughout Southeast Asia

surrounding each temple and show a full narrative up to Sītā’s reunion with Rāma and her sons (Levin 2000 and 2011). This Śaiva monument would then also be a response to Caṇḍi Borobudur, begun by the Buddhist Śailendras, though probably completed under Sañjaya patronage.8 The spectacular and carefully selected visual texts carved at great expense here, like those later at Angkor Vat, were a much-needed affirmation of the power of their royal patrons, and the legitimacy of their newly acquired position.

Also relevant in relation to royal patronage is an early-10th-century gold bowl of a type produced for royal distribution which forms part of the Wonoboyo hoard (found c. 5 km east of Prambanan); this is decorated with scenes in repoussé work centring on Sītā’s abduction (van der Molen 2003; Levin 2008: 96-98). Several Central Javanese inscriptions from the 9th and 10th centuries mention characters from the Rāma story, including the Mantyasih copperplate charter of king Balituṅ, dated 907, which mentions recitation of the Rāmāyaṇa.

In East Java, ruled by the Matarām dynasty, a relief from the Jalatunda (Jolotundo) temple on Mt Penanggungan founded in 977 (now in the Jakarta museum) has been claimed to show the returning Hanumān leading the vānaras (monkeys) back to report to Rāma, Lakṣmaṇa and Sugrīva, while the terrace of another temple has reliefs of Vibhīṣaṇa seeking refuge with Rāma, and the awakening of Kumbhakarṇa (Saran and Khanna 2004: 116-17 and 130). Subsequently, at Panataran in East Java, the main temple (dating from 1347, and thought to be the personal temple of Hayam Wuruk, king of Majapahit) bears sculptured reliefs on its terrace walls with 106 Rāmāyaṇa scenes running counter clockwise on the first terrace, in which Hanumān figures prominently, as elsewhere in East Java (Stutterheim 1925; Kinney 2003: 185-91; Saran and Khanna 2004: 126-30). A number of detached reliefs in both stone and terracotta from the Majapahit period that show Rāma-story scenes are preserved in various museums.9 Within ancient Campā, the latest sites known belong to the 10th century. At Khương Mỹ (Quảng Nam province, central Vietnam), the basement of the southern temple in a group of three has incomplete sandstone reliefs along its southern side, in the early classical phase of Cham art and with traces of Cham captions, of the Rāma story dated to the early 10th century (Levin 2008). The scenes shown are: the sighting of the golden deer, its pursuit by Rāma, the abduction of Sītā, the intervention by Jaṭāyus, and Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa searching for Sītā; only the upper half remains of a panel uniquely showing a ten-headed Rāvaṇa addressing Sītā in the aśokavana (Ashoka grove). Levin regards them as showing analogies to representations on early Cōḻa temples rather than to Java. On a temple at Thạch Hàn (Quáng Trị province), basreliefs on its basement show scenes from both Rāmāyaṇa and Mahābhārata. There is 51

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

also a group of four reliefs from Quảng Nam province, now in the Đà Nẵng (Tourane) museum, which show standing figures of Rāma, Lakṣmaṇa and Hanumān, a seated Sītā, a three-headed and eight-armed figure who is presumably Rāvaṇa,10 and a figure brandishing a club (Griffiths and others 2012: 237-39). Levin also notes sculptures of Rāvaṇa shaking Kailāsa from this period, for example from the temple of Ky Thach Phu Nan (Levin 2008: 95 + fig 7.17).

In the 10th and 11th centuries, the Khmer rulers of Kambuja show knowledge of the Rāma story: a Thnal Baray stele inscription of Yaśovarman (889-910 CE) refers to Pravarasena and his Setubandha (building of the bridge), the Pre Rūp stele inscription (K. 806) of Rājendravarman (944-968 CE) implicitly but unmistakably refers to many Sanskrit texts, including the Rāmāyaṇa and Kālidāsa’s Raghuvaṃśa. A stele (K. 598) dated 1006 CE at the ruined Prāsāt Trapāṅ Run describes the donor as an expounder of the Rāmāyaṇa and the Mahābhārata, and the Prāsāt Sankhaḥ inscription (K. 128) describes Sūryavarman I (1002-49 CE) as listening to recitations of the Mahābhārata, the Rāmāyaṇa, and the Purāṇas. Numerous temples in the Angkor area have Rāma story reliefs: Banteay Samre (mid9th century onwards), Bakong (9th century), Banteay Srei (967 CE but with later rebuilding), Vat Ek (early 11th century), Baphuon (mid-11th century), Thomannon (early 12th century), Angkor Vat (first half of 12th century), Chau Say Tevoda (mid12th century), Beng Melea (12th century), Preah Pithu (12th-13th century), Preah Khan (1191) and Ta Prohm (12th-13th century) (Roveda 2005:114-43).

Reliefs at Banteay Samre include the abduction of Sītā, Vālin wrestling with Dundubhi (Fig 2.1), Vālin and Sugrīva, and the death of Kabandha (illustrated at Krishnan ed. 2010: 51, 87), also Rāma carried into battle by a vānara. At Bakong, a relief of Rāma in the nāgapāśa (serpent-noose) is carved on the uppermost pediment of the north façade. At Banteay Srei there is a relief of Rāvaṇa shaking Kailāsa on the east gable of the southern ‘library’ (illustrated at Krishnan ed. 2010: 48), on the central shrine one of Vālin and Sugrīva in combat on the north façade (Fig 2.2), and one of Virādha seizing Sītā on the west façade. The meeting of Hanumān with Sītā is shown on the eastern entrance of the main sanctuary at Vat Ek (Roveda 2005: 129). At the Baphuon temple, we find the first major example of a broadly chronologically ordered narrative sequence, as opposed to the illustration of individual episodes (Loizeau 2010): the Rāma story is shown on the exterior and interior walls of the gopuras (gateways) at the second level in a progression from east to north (where the story ends with the battle between Rāma and Rāvaṇa) and many of the episodes are then not found at Angkor Vat. Rāmāyaṇa scenes at Thommanon are found on the maṇḍapa (hall) lintels and sanctuary pediments (Sunnary 1972). Some Rāma-related carvings are visible 52

Stone, Wood, Paint: Rāma-Story Representations throughout Southeast Asia

Fig. 2.1: Banteay Samre, pilaster base on central sanctuary (S face, S facing, W side): Vālin wrestling Dundubhi. Photograph courtesy: J L Brockington.

Fig. 2.2: Banteay Srei, lintel on N façade of central shrine: Vālin fighting Sugrīva, Rāma shooting, Tārā cradling the dying Vālin. Photograph courtesy: J L Brockington. 53

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

on a few lintels of the eastern gopura at the much-reconstructed Chau Say Tevoda, including the death of Vālin and installation of Sugrīva (Roveda 2005: 128-30). At Beng Mealea, reliefs show Rāma stringing the bow, Virādha seizing Sītā and being killed by Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, Rāvaṇa abducting Sītā, Sītā’s purification by fire, and Rāma enthroned (Roveda 2005). Reliefs on Temple Y of the Preah Pithu group include the fight between Vālin and Sugrīva, and the battle for Laṅkā (Roveda 2005: 451). The Sanskrit inscription on the Preah Khan stele (K. 908 of 1191) likens Jayavarman VII to Rāma and alludes to two episodes (Maxwell 2007), as well as reliefs being carved on the temple itself. At Ta Prohm, the episode of demon Dundubhi, and monkey-king Vālin fighting is found on the western gate 1 (illustrated at Krishnan ed. 2010: 130).

Angkor Vat was built by Sūryavarman II in the first half of the 12th century; it was perhaps intended to become his funerary monument and is dedicated to Viṣṇu. Either of these factors may account for its facing west, unlike earlier Śaiva temples. The main emphasis of its sculptural programme is on battle scenes, most notably in the 51-metre long panel in the north wing of the western gallery showing the battle for Laṅkā. Some episodes new to Khmer art are introduced, such as Vibhīṣaṇa’s defection, as well as familiar episodes such as Virādha seizing Sītā (illustrated at Krishnan ed. 2010: 53), Vālin and Sugrīva in combat, the death of Vālin (Fig 2.3), and Hanumān meeting Sītā, and slightly less familiar ones such as Aṅgada fighting Narāntaka and Nīla killing Prahasta. Jean Filliozat (1983: 201-2) cogently identifies the monkey at the right of the Churning of the Ocean frieze at Angkor Wat as Vālin. Elsewhere in Cambodia, reliefs showing Rāmāyaṇa scenes are also found, for example, at Prāsāt Khna Sen Keo (Kompong Thom province, 11th century), which show close similarities to those at the Baphuon (Loizeau 2010). So too, the Banteay Chhmar temple (Banteay Mean Chey province; late 12th to early 13th century), built in the reign of Jayavarman VII, has two internal pediments showing Rāmāyaṇa scenes – a seated Rāvaṇa flanked on the right by two small figures (but claimed to be Hevajra in Sharrock 2015) and Rāma decapitating Śambūka – as well as other reliefs showing Vālmīki receiving the Rāmāyaṇa from Brahmā and the hunter killing the krauñca bird, Rāma killing Rāvaṇa, and perhaps Rāma, Sītā and the golden deer (Green 2013). A detached lintel from Vat Baset (Battambang province; c. 1075-1125), now in the Musée Guimet in Paris, shows the combat between Vālin and Sugrīva.11 Other items no longer in situ include a sculpture in the round of Vālin and Sugrīva from Prāsāt Ceṅ, Koh Ker, Preah Vihear (second quarter of the 10th century, National Museum of Cambodia, Ka 1664; illustrated at Jessup 2006: 58 no. 33) and a military standard in monkey form, perhaps Hanumān, from Prāsāt Phnom Bayang, Takeo (late 12th or early 13th century, National Museum of Cambodia, Ga 5472; illustrated at Jessup 2006: 96 no. 71). 54

Stone, Wood, Paint: Rāma-Story Representations throughout Southeast Asia

Fig. 2.3: Angkor Vat, N facing pediment of SE lateral portal, 2nd enclosure: Death of Vālin. Photograph courtesy: J L Brockington.

Major temples in the Khmer style with sculptures of the Rāma story are also found within modern northeast Thailand, in particular at Phimai (Vimāya, late 11th to 12th century) and Phnom Rung (12th century) but also at Prāsāt Kamphaeng Yai and elsewhere. The Phimai sanctuary, a Vajrayāna Buddhist temple, has a number of such reliefs on its lintels and pediments, including the building of the causeway, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa in the nāgapāśa (Fig 2.4) and Rāma fighting Rāvaṇa (Varasarin 1986, Roveda 2005: 466-72); the reliefs do not form a narrative sequence and so it has been suggested that they have an apotropaic function (Ly 2009), a suggestion that would apply to several other sites too. The Phimai National Museum contains further Rāma story reliefs from the site itself and other nearby sites of the same period, including Prang Ku (Si Sa Ket Province).12 The Śaiva temple at Phnom Rung similarly has numerous scenes, including Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa fighting Virādha, the abduction of Sītā, Rāma killing Mārīca, the combat between Vālin and Sugrīva, Sītā being taken in a goose or haṃsa-drawn puṣpaka chariot along with the illusory severed heads of Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa to see Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa bound in the nāgapāśa (a motif not 55

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Fig. 2.4: Phimai sanctuary, lintel of W doorway of maṇḍapa: Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa in the nāgapāśa. Photograph courtesy: J L Brockington.

found in this form in the verbal texts), the death of Indrajit, and Kumbhakarṇa fighting vānaras (Fig 2.5; Roveda 2005: 473-78). The reliefs on a boundary stone (sema) at a 12th-century Buddhist monastery, Wat Ban Ma (Sakon Nakhon Province), have been claimed to show Rāmāyaṇa scenes (Suriyavudh Suksavasti 1991).13

Fig. 2.5: Phnom Rung, pediment of N doorway in E face of outer gallery: Kumbhakarṇa beset by vānaras. Photograph courtesy: J L Brockington. 56

Stone, Wood, Paint: Rāma-Story Representations throughout Southeast Asia

In Myanmar, archaeological evidence of Rāma’s representation is found as early as the 11th century: the Nat Hlaung Kyaung temple, thought to have been built by king Anawrahta (1044-77), preserves images of six avatāras in exterior niches, the last on the north wall being Rāma with his bow, and king Kyansittha (1084-1113) claimed in two Mōn inscriptions at Mya Kan, Bagān (Pagān), and near Thaton to have been born in the family of Rāma of Ayodhapur. Also, from Kyansittha’s reign is a figure of Rāma carried by Hanumān at the Abeyadana temple, close to Bagān (Thaw Kaung 2002: 137). The evidence of links with the Northeast of India (such as use of scripts derived from Northern Brāhmī in Rakhine, i.e. Arakan, and Śrī Kṣetra, and copying in murals of fabric patterns from Bengal) and of the presence in Bagān of Mōns (who may well have had links with the Mōn kingdoms of Haripuñjaya and Dvārāvatī) suggest that the Rāma story might have been first transmitted from either direction. Subsequently, in the reign of Bayinnaung, bronze images of Rāma, Lakṣmaṇa, Rāvaṇa, and Hanumān were brought back as loot from Thailand in 1564 (Aung Thwin 2003: 133).14 In Thailand, the Sukhothai kingdom was supplanted in 1378 by the kingdom of Ayutthayā, which was strongly influenced by Khmer culture and even more strongly by the Rāma story, as the names of its capital and several of its rulers clearly attest.15 Not only was Ayutthayā, founded around 1350, named after Daśaratha’s capital but Lopburi was identified with the vānara capital and at the same time linked with Lava (Lop). Physical evidence is limited for this period. However, the ordination hall, ubosot, of Wat Phra Non (in the Aranyik area north of Kamphang Phet), built in the 15th to 16th century, had eight boundary stones with decoration including Rāma-story scenes, later removed to the Kamphang Phet National Museum (Rooney 2008: 226).

After Ayutthayā was sacked by the Burmese in 1767, Bangkok (Krung Thep) became the capital of Thailand. The surviving Thai army started a 15-year war against the Burmese and their allies under the command of General Chakri, who subsequently, in 1782, deposed the then ruler, assumed the throne as the founder of the Chakri dynasty, later taking the dynastic name of Rāma I, and commissioned the Rāmakīen as part of efforts to remedy the wholesale destruction of records in the sack of Ayutthayā. The third ruler, Rāma III, had the Wat Phra Jetubhon temple in Bangkok restored; the temple predates the founding of the capital. The 152 marble bas-relief panels based on the Rāmakīen round the base of the ubosot are usually thought to date from this 1825 restoration, but it has also been suggested that they are older and brought from Ayutthayā (Cadet 1982: 34). However, their artistic style with Chinese-type clouds is against this (Ling Achirat Chaiyapotpanit, personal communication, 28th January 2013). Also from this period come an album of 63 paintings of scenes from the Rāmakīen, c. 1800-40 (Asian Art Museum, San Francisco, 2006.27.9) and a similar volume in the Thai royal collection in the Bangkok National Museum. 57

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

The tradition of visual representation has continued in various forms throughout Southeast Asia. Particularly intriguing are a group of trade textiles which, though produced in the workshops of the Coromandel coast, were intended for export to Indonesia, where they are mostly recorded in Sulawesi and Bali, and all show essentially the same battle scene of Rāma surrounded by the vānaras fighting Rāvaṇa surrounded by the rākṣasas. Their dating is uncertain, but some at least must have been produced before 1800, since they bear the stamp of the Dutch VOC (Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie), whose charter expired at the end of 1799 (Guy 1998: 115-17). Though similar in technique and style to South Indian kalāṃkari textiles, these cloths are known only from Indonesia.16 In Myanmar during the 19th century, a number of embroidered hangings (kalaga) of appliquéd and embroidered velvet, showing scenes from the Burmese Rāma story were produced and a number of them are preserved in various museums.17 Instances of sculpture or painting are more frequent. For example, in Laos, at Luang Prabang – though only there – several scenes were carved on the main roof support beam at Vat Mai built in 1796, murals were painted on the Vat Pa Ké temple in 1803, the walls of the main sim at Vat Xieng Thong (built in 1560) were later decorated with stencilled gold motifs on a black background, including Rāma-story episodes, and at Vat Xieng Muon (built 1851) sculptures on the north façade include Vālin preparing to fight the buffalo Torapī, while the funerary carriage hall (built in 1962) has carved teakwood panels showing Rāma, Sītā, Rāvaṇa, and Hanumān. In Myanmar, in the middle of the 19th century, the story of Rāma was depicted in a continuous series of 347 stone relief sculptures on the Maha Loka Marazein pagoda, Thakhuttanai, built in 1849 during the reign of King Bagan (1846-1853) of the Konbaung Dynasty. In Thailand, during the same period, murals based on the Rāmakīen were painted at Wat Phra Keo, Bangkok, and Wat Rajburana, Phitsanulok (Fig 2.6). Thai manuscript cabinets for storing Buddhist texts from the 18th and 19th centuries are frequently ornamented with Rāmāyaṇa scenes in gold on black lacquer and manuscripts of Buddhist texts occasionally have Rāma-story illustrations.18 Illustrated manuscripts of the Thai Rāmakīen, Burmese parabaiks (paper manuscripts) with scenes from the Rāma story, and illustrated leaves from Rāmāyana Kakawin manuscripts from Bali are known from at least the early 19th century (Guy 1982). The masks produced in the 19th century for use in the Thai khon dance drama are also significant, as are the nang yai shadow puppets. Similarly, numerous 20th century puppets and masks from Java and shadow-puppets from Malaysia can be found in museum and private collections.

Instances of painting and carving also continue into the 20th century: for example, murals painted in the 1920s at Wat Bho, Siem Reap, are based on the Thai Rāmakīen 58

Stone, Wood, Paint: Rāma-Story Representations throughout Southeast Asia

Fig. 2.6: Phitsanulok: mural in ubosot of Wat Rajburana: Hanumān carrying Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa. Photograph courtesy: J L Brockington.

(Giteau 1999, Gamonet and Nepote 2002); murals showing Rāmakerti scenes, painted between 1930 and 1940 by a team of students, cover the walls of the compound of the Royal Palace at Phnom Penh; and at the Vat Oup Moung monastery in Vientiane in 1938, a local artist painted a series of 33 episodes of the Rāma story (Sahai 1976: 75-81 and plates 1-33; Ratnam 1977). Similarly, there are long relief panels of Rāmastory scenes at Vat Kdol and Vat Damrei Sar, Battambang (Giteau 1975: plates 96-99), and relief panels similar to those on the Wat Phra Jetubhon temple, Bangkok, were carved at Wat Phanan Choeng, Ayutthaya (Fig 2.7). At Luang Prabang, local artists carved scenes in 1962 on wall panels and corbels at the Vat Xieng Thong monastery but followed the Khmer or Thai versions rather than the Lao (Giteau 1990; McGill 2016: 41). As this survey shows, the Rāma story became popular in Southeast Asia at an early date, with the inscriptional evidence going back at least to the 6th century. Representations in relief sculptures and friezes of the Rāmāyaṇa narrative follow from the 9th century, if not before, linked with the rise of the Khmer empire of Angkor. Nevertheless, the picture is fragmentary and skewed by the destruction of monuments in wars and population movements endemic to the region, and by religious factors. For example, very little survives before the modern times from Myanmar, even though one possible route for the spread of the Rāma story from India into Southeast Asia is by sea from 59

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Fig. 2.7: Ayutthaya, Wat Phanan Choeng: Relief of Vibhīṣaṇa (Piphek). Photograph courtesy: J L Brockington.

Bengal to Myanmar and the eastern seaboard of Thailand, and apparently nothing at all from Malaysia. The frequency of such representations is not only a demonstration of the degree of the Rāma story’s influence on the various local cultures, it is equally a valuable testimony to its evolution, since the scenes chosen for depiction can reveal which episodes were most favoured, either by the artists or by their patrons. In other words, they can reveal much about the reception of the story. Further comparison of such visual evidence with verbal sources, scarcely begun in this chapter, will significantly refine our knowledge of this evolution over time. Nor should its continuing impact be overlooked.

Endnotes

1. This chapter is developed from sections of our material deposited in the Oxford Research Archive as John and Mary Brockington: Development and spread of the Rāma narrative (pre-modern), with the URL . I am grateful to the organisers of the conference for encouraging me to present my paper in absentia and to Rachel Loizeau for kindly reading it on my behalf. All illustrations are my own photographs.

2. An exception more apparent than real is the 11th-13th-century Vat Phu temple complex (Champasak Province) in the southwestern tip of Laos, which is essentially an outlier of the Khmer empire and, though originating as a Śaiva temple (converted to Buddhist later) has some Rāmāyaṇa reliefs, including one of Rāvaṇa, Sītā and Hanumān. 60

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3. Possibly even earlier evidence can be found in the 5th-century yūpa inscriptions of king Mūlavarman from Kutei, East Kalimantan, Borneo, if one verse does indeed echo Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa (CE) 5.41.6 (Chhabra 1945: 14-15). The evidence is extended into the 8th century by the Canggal inscription of king Sañjaya from Central Java (dated śaka 654 = 732 CE), in which Sañjaya is compared to Raghu, one verse seems to echo Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa 4.39.28-30, and the Kuñjara (kuñjarakuñjadeśa) mentioned may be Agastya’s āśrama visited by the exiles (Chihara 1996: 132).

4. Similarly, in Java an early-10th-century copper-plate grant, the ‘Copper-plates of Sangsang’, refers to an individual reciting the Rāmāyaṇa. Also in Cambodia, other 11th-century inscriptions which mention the Rāmāyaṇa are one at Prāsāt Barmei (K. 744) of around 1078 and one erected by a paṇḍita of Jayavarman VI (Filliozat 1983: 194-96). 5. His view is rejected by Goodall and Griffiths (2013: 437) but accepted by John Guy, who makes the further point that it strongly suggests that written versions of the Rāma story were circulating in Southeast Asia as well as in Java (in Baptiste and Zéphir 2005:147). 6. The first scene corresponds to Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa (CE) 1.64.30, 66.1-27, the second to 1.67.1-19 and 68.1-7, the third to 1.72.1-6 and 17-23, and the fourth to 1.72.24-27.

7. Mỹ Sơn (Quảng Nam province, Central Vietnam, approximately 10 km from Trà Kiẹ̆u, Siṃhapura) is a cluster of abandoned, partly ruined Śaiva temples constructed between the 4th and the 14th centuries CE by the kings of Campā (Chiêm Thành in Vietnamese), religiously important for the ruling dynasties and a burial place for Cam royalty and national heroes.

8. It is interesting to note that a relief at Caṇḍi Boroboḍur of Siddhārtha winning his bride uses the motif of the hero shooting an arrow through 7 sāl trees which is taken from the Rāma tradition.

9. For example the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, has a tufa relief of Sītā’s abduction (67.1005; Fontein 1973; illustrated at McGill 2016: 126, no. 62) and a terracotta of Hanumān with a female (1977.750), formerly identified as Sītā but undoubtedly in fact Benjakai (Mary Brockington 2012). At the 15th-century terraced sanctuary of Caṇḍi Yudha (site LX) on Mt Penanggungan two long panels on the second terrace showed Rāmāyaṇa scenes (Kinney 2003: 285) but there are none on the Surawana temple. A few 14th-15th century reliefs at Trowulan, the Majapahit capital, also illustrate the Rāma story (Fontein 1973; Saran and Khanna 2004: 116-7).

10. This first piece (45,2) bears captions in Cām script reading ... (la)ṅk(ā)pura(madhya) vānarasena on the front face showing Rāma, Lakṣmaṇa and Hanumān and praha(raṇa) on the side face showing Hanumān hurling a man away (inscriptions C. 152 + 166; Griffiths and others 2012: 238); the piece showing Rāvaṇa (45,1) also had a now illegible caption (C. 157). Moreover, the reliefs at Khương Mỹ also bear captions in Cam, mostly illegible, but one mentions the names of Lakṣmaṇa and Śūrpaṇakhā (Griffiths and others 2012: 239). 11. Musée Guimet MG18218, 69 x 152 x 35 cm. (illustrated at Jessup and Zephir 1997: 250-51, no. 63 and McGill 2016: 70-71, no. 32). 12. We are very grateful to Dr Amara Srisuchat and her colleagues in the National Museum Service of Thailand for all their planning and assistance in our visits to Phimai and other historical sites in Thailand in February 2013.

13. To these may be added a bronze assigned to the 10th century of the flying Hanumān in the Koh Ker style (15.2 x 15 x 7 cm.; Cleveland Museum 1987.43).

14. More recently, in the middle of the 19th century the story of Rāma was depicted in a series of stone reliefs at the pagoda of Maha Loka Marazein (see below). 61

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15. These are the first king Ramathibodi (Rāmādhipati), the second Rāmesuan (Rāmeśvara) and the fifth Ramrachathirat (Rāmādhirāja).

16. Examples can be found in the British Museum (1995,1110,0.1) the Victoria and Albert Museum (IS.23-1996), the National Gallery of Australia (NGA 80.1636, NGA 91.631) and the National Gallery of Victoria (AS50-1985). 17. For example, Sackler Museum (Harvard) 1930.442, San Francisco Museum 1989.25.1 (illustrated at McGill 2016: 52-53, no. 16), Victoria and Albert Museum 05828(IS), IS.81952 and S.134-1964.

18. For instance, one example is dated 1857 (San Francisco Museum 1993.27; 8.3 x 35.5 cm., illustrated at McGill 2016: 44-45, no. 10) and a similar volume is in the Thai royal collection in the Bangkok National Museum.

Bibliography

Aung Thwin, U. 2003. “Myanmar Ramayana text and presentation.” In Texts and contexts in Southeast Asia: Proceedings of the Texts and Contexts in Southeast Asia Conference, 1214 December 2001, 2 vols, Pt 3: 132-60. Yangon: Universities Historical Research Centre.

Baptiste, Pierre, and Thierry Zéphir. 2005. Trésors d’art du Vietnam: la sculpture du Champa, VeXVe siècles. Paris: Musée Guimet.

Brockington, Mary. 2012. “The Ladies’ Monkey: Hanumān in Boston.” Journal Asiatique 300 (1): 199-214.

Cadet, J M. 1982. The Ramakien: the stone rubbings of the Thai epic, illustrated with the basreliefs of Wat Phra Jetubon, Bangkok. Tokyo: Kodansha International / Bangkok: Central Department Store. 1st edn 1971.

Chhabra, B Ch. 1945. “Three more Yūpa inscriptions of King Mūlavarman from Koetei (East Borneo).” Journal of the Greater India Society 12:14-17.

Filliozat, Jean. 1983. “The Rāmāyaṇa in South-East Asian Sanskrit epigraphy and iconography.” In Asian Variations in Ramayana, ed. K R Srinivasa Iyengar, 192-205. New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi.

Fontein, Jan. 1973. “The Abduction of Sita: Notes on a stone relief from Eastern Java.” Bulletin of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts 21: 21-35. Gamonet, Marie-Henryane et Jacques Nepote. 2002. “Introduction aux peintures du Ramayana de Vat Bo, la Chapelle des gouverneurs de Siem Reap”, Péninsule 45: 5-88. Giteau, Madeleine. 1975. Iconographie de Cambodge post-Angkorien. Paris: EFEO.

Giteau, Madeleine. 1990. “Note sur des sculptures sur bois de Luang Prabang représentant des scènes du Rāmāyaṇa.” Arts asiatiques 45: 67-75.

Giteau, Madeleine. 1999. “Les peintures du Rāmāyaṇa Cambodgien au monastère de Vat Bho (Siem Reap).” Indologica Taurinensia 25: 179-245.

Goodall, Dominic, and Arlo Griffiths. 2013. “Études du corpus des inscriptions du Campā. V. The short foundation inscriptions of Prakāśadharman-Vikrāntavarman, king of Campā.” IndoIranian Journal 56: 419-40.

Green, Phillip Scott Ellis. 2013. “Two internal pediment scenes from Banteay Chhmar.” Udaya 11: 99-139. 62

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Griffiths, Arlo, Amandine Lepoutre, William A. Southworth and Thành Phần. 2012. The inscriptions of Campā at the Museum of Cham Sculpture in Đà Nẵng. Hồ Chí Minh City: VNUHCM Publishing House.

Guy, John. 1982. Palm-leaf and Paper: Illustrated manuscripts of India and Southeast Asia. Melbourne: National Gallery of Victoria. Guy, John. 1998. Woven Cargoes: Indian textiles in the East. London: Thames & Hudson.

Guy, John, ed. 2014. Lost kingdoms: Hindu-Buddhist sculpture of early Southeast Asia. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art. Jessup, Helen Ibbitson, and Thierry Zéphir. 1997. Angkor et dix siècles d’art khmer. Paris: Réunion des Musées Nationaux.

Jessup, Helen Ibbitson. 2006. Masterpieces of the National Museum of Cambodia: an introduction to the collections. Norfolk, CT: Friends of Khmer Culture. Jordaan, Roy. 1996. In Praise of Prambanan. Leiden: KITLV Press.

Kinney, Ann R. 2003. Worshiping Siva and Buddha: the temple art of East Java. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press.

Krishnan, Gauri Parimoo, ed. 2010. Ramayana in focus: visual and performing arts of Asia. Singapore: Asian Civilisations Museum.

Levin, Cecelia. 2000. “The Ramayana, Ramakatha and Loro Jonggrang [Ramayana reliefs of the Shiva temple].” In Narrative sculpture and literary traditions in South and Southeast Asia, ed. Marijke J. Klokke, 59-72. Leiden: E.J. Brill.

Levin, Cecelia. 2008. “Recasting the sacred heroes: a new discovery of sculptural epic narration from ancient Champa.” In Interpreting Southeast Asia’s Past: Monument, Image and Text, ed. Elisabeth A. Bacus and others, II, 85-99. Singapore: NUS Press. Levin, Cecelia. 2011. “The Grand Finale: the Uttarakanda of the Loro Jonggrang temple complex.” In From Laṅkā Eastwards: the Rāmāyaṇa in the literature and visual arts of Indonesia, ed. Andrea Acri, Helen Creese and Arlo Griffiths, 149-77. Leiden: KITLV Press.

Loizeau, Rachel. 2010. “The Rama Legend at the Baphuon and Angkor Wat Temples.” Paper presented at the Asian Civilisations Museum, Singapore, “Rāmāyaṇa: Reinterpretations in Asia” conference, July 2010. Ly, Boreth. 2009. “Protecting the Protector of Phimai”, Journal of the Walters Art Museum 64/65: 35-48. Maxwell, Thomas S. 2007. “The Stele inscription of Preah Khan, Angkor: text with translation and commentary.” Udaya 8: 1-114.

McGill, Forrest, ed. 2016. The Rama Epic: hero, heroine, ally, foe. San Francisco: Asian Art Museum.

Mus, Paul. 1928. “L’inscription à Vālmīki de Prakāçadharma (Trà-kiệu).” BEFEO 28: 147-52.

Ratnam, Kamala. 1977. “The Ramayana in Laos (Vientiane version).” Studies in Indo-Asian Art and Culture 5: 183-204. Reprinted in The Ramayana Tradition in Asia, ed. V Raghavan, 256-81. New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi, 1980. Robson, S O. 1980. “The Rāmāyaṇa in early Java.” South East Asian Review 5.2: 5-17.

Rooney, Dawn F. 2008. Ancient Sukhothai: Thailand’s Cultural Heritage. Bangkok: River Books. 63

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Roveda, Vittorio. 2002. Sacred Angkor: The Carved Reliefs of Angkor Wat, photography by Jaro Poncar. Bangkok: River Books.

Roveda, Vittorio. 2005: Images of the gods: Khmer mythology in Cambodia, Thailand and Laos. Bangkok: River Books. Sahai, Sachchidanand. 1976. Rāmāyaṇa in Laos: a study in the Gvāy dvóraḥbī. New Delhi: D K Publishers. Re-issued with title Lao Rāmāyaṇa: Gvāy dvóraḥbī, rendering into English from ‘Lāv’ language: a comparative study. Delhi: B R PC, 2004.

Saran, Malini, and Vinod C Khanna. 2004. The Ramayana in Indonesia. New Delhi: Ravi Dayal.

Sharrock, Peter. 2015. “Smiling Hevajra or frowning Rāvaṇa in Banteay Chhmar’s ‘hall with dancers’?” Udaya 13: 97-107.

Stutterheim, W F. 1925. Rāma-Legenden und Rāma-Reliefs in Indonesien, 2 vols. München: Georg Müller. Eng. trans. Rāma-legends and Rāma-reliefs in Indonesia, trans. C D Paliwal and R P Jain. New Delhi: IGNCA and Abhinav. 1989.

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Suriyavudh Suksavasti, M R. 1991. “Sema with a scene from Ramayana: change of tradition and style in 12th century northeastern Thailand.” Muang Boran 17.1: 105-10. Thaw Kaung, U. 2002. “The Ramayana drama in Myanmar.” JSS 90.1-2: 137-48.

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Tran Ky Phuong, 2008. “The relationship between architecture and sculpture in the Cham sacred art of the seventh to the ninth centuries CE.” In Interpreting Southeast Asia’s Past: Monument, Image and Text, ed. Elisabeth A Bacus and others: 55-72. Singapore: NUS Press.

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3. Looking for Rāma: Traces of the Rāmāyaṇa in

Temples of the Pallava dynasty Valérie Gillet

“Finally, what makes the adaptation of the ancient motif particularly suggestive, complex, and powerful in the Rāmāyaṇa is the fact that this second-order being, this divine human or mortal god, is here coupled with a socio-political representation of everyday life in traditional India: Such intermediate beings, gods who walk the earth in the form of men, are kings.” Sheldon Pollock (1984: 522). It has often been argued that the Rāmāyaṇa did not play an important role in the epigraphy and the temples of the Pallava dynasty (6th to 9th centuries) in the Tamil country, differing in that regard from the monuments built under the patronage of their Caḷukya and Rāṣṭrakūṭa neighbours, where references to the epic abound.1 S Pollock (1993: 271) maintains that the Rāmāyaṇa is almost entirely absent from Pallava epigraphy, and C Sivaramamurti (1980: 638) and R Nagaswamy (1980: 413-414), amongst many others, observe that there is a paucity of depictions of episodes from the Rāmāyaṇa in Pallava temples, with the exception of images including the figure of Rāvaṇa. I too have failed to recognize any Rāmāyaṇa-related episodes in Pallava iconography apart from those featuring the demon, enemy of Rāma, this time placed in a Śaiva context (Gillet 2007). However, a recent study by E Francis (2017) focusing on the royal discourse of the Pallava dynasty shows that Rāma did in fact, appear rather often in the dynasty’s royal inscriptions. Further, while looking for Rāma, a recent reappraisal of the iconographic material of the two main royal temples of the dynasty, the Kailāsanātha and the Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temples in Kāñcīpuram, led me to develop a new hypothesis, namely that there may have been depictions of Rāma himself in Pallava royal iconography, mirroring the introduction of Rāma in Pallava epigraphy.2

Before going any further, I should briefly outline the Pallava cultural sphere. The first testimonies of the rule of the Pallava dynasty come from the south of the Andhra country, where we find Prakrit and Sanskrit inscriptions assigned to a period ranging from the 3rd to the 6th centuries. Their capital was Kāñcīpuram, in the north of the Tamil country. By the 6th century, we find their inscriptions in Toṇṭaimaṇṭalam, a 65

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region centred around their capital Kāñcīpuram, suggesting that they lost control over the Andhra territory and descended southward. They ruled mainly over Toṇṭaimaṇṭalam until their fall in the late 9th century. Sanskrit is the main language used in Pallava royal epigraphs, although in the 6th century they introduced Tamil in the technical part of their copper-plates, probably because they wanted to ensure that the local population understood where the boundaries of the donated land lay. The Mahābhārata, in particular, is a text which pervades the epigraphical corpus of the Pallavas and appears as a fundamental source for the establishment of their lineage and legitimacy. Indeed, there are no mythological references in early Pallava inscriptions, most of them located in the south of the Andhra country, and only a lineage of worldly kings is presented. But, dating from the 6th century, the Paḷḷaṅkōyil copper-plates (Subrahmaniam 1966: 1-32), the first bilingual copper-plates found in the Tamil country, represent the dynasty’s first use of a mythological lineage. It starts with Viṣṇu, then Brahmā, Aṅgiras, Bṛhaspati, Śamyu, Bharadvāja, Droṇa, Aśvatthāman, and the eponymous Pallava. The latter is an articulation between the mythological and historical dynasties. This lineage is established in the Mahābhārata, a text in which Droṇa and Aśvatthāman are central.3 E Francis (2017: 337, 403-408) explains the choice of Aṅgiras’ lineage primarily in terms of the status of Brāhmin-Kṣatriyas, to which the Pallavas laid claim. The Mahābhārata is, therefore, a text on which the Pallava dynasty constructs its identity, relating to the Brahmin-Kṣatriya status of Aṅgiras and his descendants, and to the Kaurava family, with Aśvatthāman being a partial incarnation of the god Śiva. References to other mythological episodes can be found in the corpus of Pallava inscriptions,4 and, according to the Kūram copper-plates (EI 17, no. 22), by the late 7th century provisions were made for the Mahābhārata to be recited in temples.

Consequently, the importance of the Mahābhārata in the Pallava cultural sphere cannot be called into question. But we shall see that characters and episodes of Rāma’s story do surface and may also play an important role in the material culture related to the Pallava dynasty. We do not know, however, which version of Rāma’s story was in circulation. Indeed, while it would be pointless at this stage to attempt to determine which version (or versions) may have been in circulation, it is nevertheless worth noting that the story of Rāma is narrated in Book III of the Mahābhārata. Therefore, when I refer to the Rāmāyaṇa in this chapter, I am not necessarily referring to the Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki as we know it today but, rather, to the story of Rāma in its essence, whether told in the Mahābhārata or in the Rāmāyaṇa. There has been a debate amongst scholars about the divinity of Rāma; was Rāma conceived of as a god, an incarnation of Viṣṇu, or as a man in the early source-text 66

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of the Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki? S Pollock (1984; 2007[1984]) argues in favour of the divine nature of Rāma, while others, such as L Gonzalez-Reimann (2002), display a certain reticence, suggesting that he may have been merely a hero, or perhaps even a super-human hero, but not yet a god. There is little chance of this debate reaching a resolution. What matters in terms of our present topic is that in the Pallava cultural sphere, in the Tamil country, Rāma was included among the ten avatāras (incarnations) of Viṣṇu. This is clear from an inscription engraved in the Ādivarāha cave-temple in Mahābalipuram, assigned on palaeographical grounds to the 7th or 8th century, which lists the ten avatāras of Viṣṇu, including the three Rāmas (Rāmacandra, Balarāma, and Paraśurāma).5 Rāma is an incarnation of Viṣṇu who descends to earth to save the world from the tyranny of the demons. But because of his double nature, divine as well as human, he also embodies the image of the perfect king (Pollock 1984; 1993). D C Sircar (1980: 325) observes that clear references are made to Rāma in the epigraphy from the time of the Sātavāhanas in the 2nd century CE. In a process adopted throughout India, the king is compared to a series of heroes, which includes Rāma. Following this tradition, the Pallava kings are also compared to Rāma.6 From perhaps the late 6th century, some of the birudas (titles) they bore referred to him, plainly associating the king with the divine hero: 1. Naihikāmutrika, “he who is neither from this world, nor from the other”, is a biruda of Mahendravarman I, used in the late 6th or early 7th century, found in the cave-temples of Trichy (SII 12, no. 8) and Pallāvaram (SII 12, no. 13). It is thought to refer to Rāma, for whom being neither a man nor a god is a significant characteristic (Francis 2017, 616); 2. Unnatarāma, “he who is a noble Rāma”, was a title borne by Narasiṃhavarman II Rājasiṃha in the first quarter of the 8th century, found in the Kailāsanātha temple in Kāñcīpuram (SII 1, no. 25) and in the Shore Temple in Mahābalipuram (EI 19, no. 18A);

3. Saṃgrāmarāma, “he who is Rāma in battle”, is a title borne by the same king found in the Kailāsanātha temple in Kāñcīpuram (SII 1, no. 25).

From the second half of the 8th century, direct comparisons were drawn in the copper-plates between the king and Rāma. In the Kacākūṭi (Kasakudi) copper-plates of Nandivarman II (SII 2, no. 73) dating from the second half of the 8th century, there are two references:

1. “by his conquest of Laṅkā, overshadowing the bright heroism of Rāma” (laṃkājayādharitarāmapar[ā]kramaśri[r]) is a description used for 67

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Narasiṃhavarman I, who reigned in the 7th century, and was the ancestor of the donor;

2. Nandivarman II, the donor, is said to be “Rāma for archery” (kārmmuke rāmo). Subsequently, 9th-century kings are also compared to Rāma:

1. Nandivarman III is said to be Rāma: “eṣa rāmaḥ” in his Vēlūrpāḷaiyam copperplates (SII 2, no. 98);

2. Nṛpatuṅgavarman, in his Bahūr copper-plates (EI 18, no. 2), is khyāto na kevalam bhūmāv amuṣminn api rāmavat, “renowned not only on Earth but also in the other world, like Rāma”.

3. In the late 9th century, the last Pallava king, Aparājita, is compared twice to Rāma in his Vēḷāñcēri copper-plates (Nagaswamy 1979): he is similar to Rāma in battle (raṇeṣu rāmapratimasya) and like Dāśarathi (Rāma), who destroyed Khara and Dūṣaṇa in Janasthāna, he destroyed hardship and corruption in his kingdom (dāśarathir iva janasthāna-vinihata-khara-dūṣaṇo). Rāma is, therefore, a figure who traverses Pallava epigraphy.7 Turning our attention to material depictions, we shall now explore the possibility that Rāmāyaṇa-related episodes were depicted in Pallava temples more frequently than has previously been acknowledged.8

The episode of the descent of Gaṅgā to the earth is a recurring theme in both Pallava epigraphy and iconography. It symbolizes the purity of the lineage, renders the country they rule sacred by symbolically bringing the holy river to the south, and presents the king, who is compared to Śiva who receives the water in his locks of hair, as the intermediary between the world of men and the celestial world, and as the one who controls water for the prosperity of the kingdom. But if this mythological episode appears in the Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki (Bālakāṇḍa 41-42), it also appears in the Mahābhārata (3.105-108), which we know was well-known and widely referred to in the Pallava cultural sphere. Thus, we cannot say that the descent of Gaṅgā is a theme drawn specifically from the Rāmāyaṇa.9 However, some carvings in the Kailāsanātha temple in Kāñcīpuram, one of the major South Indian royal complexes built at the beginning of the 8th century by the Pallava king Rājasiṃha, are clearly related to the Rāmāyaṇa. These depictions are centred on the figure of the demon Rāvaṇa. I have dealt with them elsewhere (Gillet 2007), but it may be useful to present them briefly here. There are four depictions of Rāvaṇa in different situations. They are all located on the inner side of the compound wall, made up of a succession of 58 individual niches, all containing elaborate sculptures. Circumambulating the complex, the first image we come to is located on the southern side of the compound wall, on the eastern wall of niche no. 20, housing Brahmā. It 68

Looking for Rāma: Traces of the Rāmāyaṇa in Temples of the Pallava dynasty

Fig. 3.1: Brahmā conferring a boon on Rāvaṇa. Kailāsanātha temple, Kāñcipuram. On the eastern wall of Niche no. 20 of the compound wall. Photograph courtesy: Valérie Gillet.

features a four-armed, three-headed figure standing in front of a similar four-armed, three-headed figure in a kneeling position (Fig. 3.1). The panel is covered with stucco, preventing us from seeing the original details of the sculpture. This scene, which probably represents Brahmā bestowing the boon conferring a state of near invincibility on Rāvaṇa, constitutes the basis upon which Rāma’s story is developed. The next depiction is located on the northern side of the compound wall, in niche no. 40, almost opposite the previous one, and following niche no. 39 which contains a seated Viṣṇu. It presents a three-headed Rāvaṇa sitting beneath Śiva and his consort 69

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Fig. 3.2: Rāvaṇa as devotee of Śiva. Kailāsanātha temple, Kāñcipuram. Niche no. 40 of the compound wall. Photograph courtesy: Valérie Gillet.

Fig. 3.3: Rāvaṇa lifting up the Mount Kailāsa. Kailāsanātha temple, Kāñcipuram. Niche no. 42 of the compound wall. Photograph courtesy: Valérie Gillet.

(Fig. 3.2). The demon has become a devotee of Śiva and, perhaps as a sign of profound veneration, offers to his lord a musical piece played on the tendons of his own arm (Gillet 2007: 35-36). In the following niche, niche no. 41, another devotional scene is represented. Although I have previously argued (Gillet 2007: 36) that it might feature Rāvaṇa, I now find this hypothesis doubtful: the devotee at the feet of Śiva has only one head, and Rāvaṇa’s identity in this temple seems to be associated with the fact that he is many-headed. However, the identity of the image in the following niche, niche no. 42, is unambiguous: it depicts the already well-known episode of Rāvaṇa lifting Mount Kailāsa on which Śiva is seated (Fig. 3.3). Narrated in the Uttarakāṇḍa 16, it is the starting point of Rāvaṇa’s extreme devotion to Śiva, which develops after the god defeats the demon simply by exerting pressure with his toe.10 The arrogant devotee is not only tamed by Śiva, but by another Śaiva devotee too: in niche no. 54 of the compound wall, Rāvaṇa is shown defeated by Vālin who is praising the liṅga (Fig. 3.4), mirroring the episode described in Chapter 34 of the Uttarakāṇḍa (Gillet 2007: 38-39). 70

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This succession of images, although not appearing in continuous order, shows that the Rāmāyaṇa played an important role in the Pallava cultural sphere. The focus is on the enemy of Rāma, Rāvaṇa, but this can be explained in terms of the Śaiva context in which the images find themselves. And it is not just any Śaiva context: it is a Śaiva devotion emerging in the early 8th century in a royal context, in which the usual pattern of the king being associated with Viṣṇu has been altered. The visual discourse found in the 8th century Śiva temples built by the Pallava king Rājasiṃha is carefully crafted to promote the association between the king and the god Śiva as well as the supremacy of Śiva over Viṣṇu. The idea of the superiority of Śiva is expressed through single images, such as the Liṅgodbhavamūrti, which was to become common in Pallava temples, as

Fig. 3.4: Rāvaṇa defeated by Vālin who worships the liṅga. Kailāsanātha temple, Kāñcipuram. Niche no. 54 of the compound wall. Photograph courtesy: Valérie Gillet. 71

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

well as depictions of Śiva killing Garuḍa,11 and through associations between specific images. For example, in the myth of Jalandharasaṃhāramūrti, one of the innovations of Pallava royal iconography, Śiva creates the disc to kill the demon Jalandhara (niche no. 17 of the compound wall of the Kailāsanātha temple); this disc is gifted to Viṣṇu after he offers his eye to Śiva out of devotion (niche no. 43 of the compound wall, just after the image of Rāvaṇa lifting up Mount Kailāsa). The disc is one of Viṣṇu’s distinctive attributes, along with the conch, and Śiva being its creator makes a significant display of his superiority.12 In my view, the focus on Rāvaṇa, so frequently represented in a subdued posture in the Kailāsanātha temple, contributes to the idea of establishing Śaiva superiority; Rāvaṇa is easily vanquished by Śiva and by his devotee Vālin, while Rāma, or in other words, Viṣṇu, struggles to overcome the demon.

A series of Vaiṣṇava avatāras are depicted in niche nos. 9, 10, 12 and 13 on the southern side of the compound wall of the Kailāsanātha temple. I believe that the introduction of Vaiṣṇava images in this Śiva temple reflects the intention of replacing the former association between Viṣṇu and the king with the association between Śiva and the king. The first image, in niche no. 9, depicts an eight-armed Viṣṇu holding a bow, riding his vehicle, the eagle, Garuḍa, and fighting a group of male figures (Fig. 3.5). One of them seems to be holding a mace. The image is partially covered with stucco and the original details are difficult to evaluate. I previously identified it with Viṣṇu engaged in battle, but it was difficult to ascertain which episode of Vaiṣṇava mythology it represents (Gillet 2010: 287). However, I now think, for reasons that I shall explain below, that it may be a depiction of Rāma. Niche no. 10 contains a representation of Narasiṃha fighting Hiraṇyakaśipu; niche no. 12 contains a depiction of Trivikrama, while niche no. 13 features an image of the churning of the ocean of milk. The latter is a unique composition, depicting Viṣṇu in human form, leaning on Garuḍa on one side and holding the churning stick on the other, while demons and gods churn the ocean with a snake (Gillet 2010: 296-298). Inserted among these Vaiṣṇava images in niche no. 11, there is a depiction of the birth of Skanda, the son of Śiva. But it is an image of Skanda fighting the king of the gods, Indra, in a scene which is absolutely unique in Indian art. I have dealt with this image elsewhere and suggested the hypothesis that this succession of avatāras of Viṣṇu amongst which an image of Skanda fighting Indra is inserted is a way to express the fact that Śiva is now the figure associated with kingship, taking over that role from Indra and Viṣṇu respectively, the deities usually linked to royalty (Gillet 2010: 289-296 and Gillet 2016: 60-62). Skanda represents the prince, the heir, the future king and, therefore, the future Śiva. A Skanda who overcomes Indra and symbolically becomes the king of the gods in his turn, is placed among depictions of Viṣṇu, suggesting that he is taking over his role too. 72

Looking for Rāma: Traces of the Rāmāyaṇa in Temples of the Pallava dynasty

Fig. 3.5: Viṣṇu, mounted on Garuḍa, engaged in battle. Possible depiction of Rāma. Kailāsanātha temple, Kāñcipuram. Niche no. 9 of the compound wall. Photograph courtesy: Valérie Gillet.

In this context, I believe that the first image in niche no. 9 may depict Rāma. The figure in the image has many hands and mounts Garuḍa, which is unusual for images of Rāma, but since Pallava images are often unusual, if not unique – for example, the neighbouring image of the churning of the ocean – this is probably not a valid argument against the identification of the image as being that of Rāma. His opponents do not seem to be many-headed and thus I believe that Rāvaṇa is not among them. Since we have seen that Pallava kings are compared to Rāma in the epigraphy, it would seem logical that Rāma appears among the avatāras of Viṣṇu depicted in this temple. Two other arguments may lend weight to this hypothesis. The first is that there are many depictions of Rāvaṇa in the temple and, hence, the presence of Rāma is only 73

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Plan: Floor plan of the Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple, Kāñcipuram (©EFEO), annotated by the author. 74

Looking for Rāma: Traces of the Rāmāyaṇa in Temples of the Pallava dynasty

to be expected. The second is that the figure holds a bow in one hand and Rāma is usually depicted as an archer. As C Schmid pointed out to me, figures holding a bow are ambiguous in the Cōḻa period, and it is sometimes almost impossible to differentiate a depiction of Śiva Tripurāntaka (destroyer of the three cities) from a depiction of Rāma. The most striking example of this fusion of iconographical features between the two is found in the early 11th century in the Bṛhadīśvara temple in Tanjore, where all the niches of the first floor are filled with similar depictions of an archer. In the context of a Śiva temple, this archer refers to Tripurāntaka and symbolically refers to the king who faces all the directions that he has conquered. But this image of a standing male figure holding a bow is a model which was already known to be that of Rāma from at least the 8th century, 13 and images of Tripurāntaka and Rāma, therefore, share the same features. As C Schmid suggests, this permeability between the two divine figures, embodiment of the ideal king, which culminates in the Bṛhadīśvara temple in Tanjore, may have been rooted in Pallava iconography (personal communication to the author). The fact that the image of Viṣṇu in niche no. 9 follows that of Śiva Tripurāntaka, a bow in hand, in niche no. 8, hints perhaps at the equivalence between two royal figures, one of Śiva and one of Viṣṇu, and would then strengthen the idea that the Vaiṣṇava image may indeed be a depiction of Rāma. There is a similar image in the nearby Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple, located a little over 2 kms to the east of the Kailāsanātha temple. This monument was built in the second half of the 8th century, almost fifty years after the Kailāsanātha, by another Pallava king, Nandivarman II. Once again, we find ourselves in a royal context. This temple is unique in many regards, amongst them, its architecture, its floor plan (Plan), its epigraphy, and its iconography, and it has puzzled generations of scholars. We have suggested that the temple should be understood as a Vaiṣṇava response to the Śaiva Kailāsanātha, to which it stands opposite, and this perspective has proven very fruitful in terms of understanding a number of the images (Francis et al., 2005: 597-601). I shall concentrate here exclusively on images which I think may be associated with the Rāmāyaṇa, all of them located on the first floor of the main shrine (see Plan).14 Let us start with the images located on the northern wall. The first one to potentially represent Rāma is an image which has not yet been clearly identified (Fig. 3.6). We have argued elsewhere that it could be a Vaiṣṇava response to the Śaiva Tripurāntakamūrti, well-known at the Kailāsanātha temple, and that it could be a form of Trivikrama (Francis et al., 2005: 601). For D Hudson (2009: 62-64), the image depicts Aṣṭabhūjasvāmin (eight-armed lord), without linking him to any mythological figure. It would indeed be plausible to consider him as a sort of primordial Viṣṇu, since the figure is followed by numerous depictions of avatāras, and the seven male figures looking at him on the 75

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Fig. 3.6: Viṣṇu. Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple. Western façade of the first floor. Photograph courtesy: Valérie Gillet.

Fig. 3.7: Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa. Vaikuṇṭhape-

rumāḷ temple. Northern façade of the first

floor. Photograph courtesy: Valérie Gillet.

Fig. 3.8: Viṣṇu, mounted on Garuḍa, engaged in battle. Possible depiction of Rāma. Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple. Southern façade of the first floor. Photograph courtesy: Valérie Gillet.

Fig. 3.9: Viṣṇu engaged in battle. Possible depiction of Rāma. Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple. Southern façade of the first floor. Photograph courtesy: Valérie Gillet.

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Looking for Rāma: Traces of the Rāmāyaṇa in Temples of the Pallava dynasty

adjacent panel may represent the gods requesting him to save the world. However, since the deity is holding a bow in one of his eight hands, imitating depictions of Śiva Tripurāntaka, the image could be of Rāma. While in the Kailāsanātha temple, it was difficult to enhance the figure of the king through the figure of Rāma due to his association with Viṣṇu, here, in the context of the Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple, the avatāra Rāma can be seen as an unambiguous symbol of the perfect king. But this figure remains difficult to identify with certainty; while it may be Rāma, this cannot, as yet, be confirmed, and other identifications are equally possible.

Another image on the northern wall presents fewer difficulties. Here, scholars are unanimous in identifying Rāma and his brother Lakṣmaṇa (Fig. 3.7). This representation of Rāma is closer to what later became the norm: a man with only two arms, holding a bow, and accompanied by his brother. Only a small depiction of Brahmā seated on a lotus located in the upper part of the panel reminds us of the king’s divine nature. The northern façade is adorned with randomly placed depictions of Kṛṣṇa killing the demon Keśin and serpent Kāliyā, Viṣṇu holding the churning stick and saving the elephant from the crocodile, and Narasiṃha killing demon-king Hiraṇyakaśipu (see Plan). The eastern façade, on the other hand, presents a continuous series of images of the story of Kṛṣṇa and his uncle Kaṃsa.15 D Hudson (2009: 130, 220-237) believes that the Kṛṣṇa series continues on the southern façade, with two panels featuring the god engaged in battle, which he identifies with Kṛṣṇa attacking Śalva and Dantavakra (allies of king Śiśupāla) (Fig. 3.8); and with Kṛṣṇa slaying Śiśupāla at Yudhiṣṭhira’s rājasūya (imperial sacrifice ritual) (Fig. 3.9). Although I find these precise identifications doubtful, I believe the idea that Viṣṇu is depicted under his Kṛṣṇa aspect makes sense due to the physical location of the panels immediately after the images from the story of Kṛṣṇa on the eastern façade. I shall, however, suggest another identification.

The panel in the south-east corner (Fig. 3.8) is similar to the one in niche no. 9 of the Kailāsanātha temple (Fig. 3.5). However, as far as I am aware, there are no depictions of Kṛṣṇa and no references to his story in this Śaiva temple. The place where this image (Fig. 3.5) is found suggests that it is one of the avatāras of Viṣṇu. I proposed above that this could be a depiction of Rāma himself. I believe that its location in the Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple (Fig. 3.8), although it does not of itself confirm this identification, at least makes the hypothesis plausible. To understand this argument, we need to read the temple’s southern façade, but in an anti-clockwise direction, starting from the south-western corner. After a depiction of Trivikrama, there is a series of images of Rāvaṇa.16 The first of these images depicts Brahmā giving the boon of near invulnerability to Rāvaṇa seated beneath him (Fig. 3.10). This theme is depicted in the neighbouring Śaiva temple 77

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(Fig. 3.1) but this particular image takes its cue from the already popular portrayal of Rāvaṇa lifting Mount Kailāsa, also found in the Kailāsanātha temple, in this instance, with Śiva replaced by Brahmā (Francis et al., 2005: 601). After this, there is a panel which is hard to identify (Fig. 3.11). I am of the opinion that it represents Rāvaṇa – the three-headed figure on the left side of the image – fighting Jaṭāyu – the figure on the right.17 It is very different from the depictions of this episode in the later Cōḻa-period temples, but two elements point towards this identification: the three-headed figure is easily identifiable as Rāvaṇa, depicted in the previous and following panels; and the face of his opponent, who is about to be vanquished, has a beak instead of a nose (Fig. 3.12), a feature usually characterizing Garuḍa (Fig. 3.13). However, the hairdress suggests that he is not Garuḍa, and he may therefore be identified with Jaṭāyu, another bird-figure in the Rāmāyaṇa killed by Rāvaṇa. This episode takes place while Rāvaṇa is kidnapping Sītā and this identification is validated by the following panel (Fig. 3.14), which depicts the three-headed Rāvaṇa under two women, one of whom is probably Sītā, whom he has abducted and taken to his palace at Laṅkā. Until now, I believed that the next image, a large reclining Viṣṇu, marked the end of the Rāmāyaṇa series. Consequently, I was unable to identify the three battle scenes on the eastern part of the southern façade (Figs. 3.8, 3.9, 3.15). But because of the

Fig. 3.10: Brahmā conferring a boon to Rāvaṇa. Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple. Western façade of the first floor. Photograph courtesy: Valérie Gillet.

Fig. 3.11: Rāvaṇa fighting Jaṭāyu. Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple. Southern façade of the first floor. Photograph courtesy: Valérie Gillet.

78

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Fig. 3.12: Detail of Jaṭāyu’s face. Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple. Southern façade of the first floor. Photograph courtesy: Valérie Gillet.

Fig. 3.13: Detail of Garuḍa’s face. Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple. Northern façade of the first floor. Photograph courtesy: Valérie Gillet. 79

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Fig. 3.14: Sītā in Rāvaṇa’s palace in Laṅkā. Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple. Southern façade of the first floor. Photograph courtesy: Valérie Gillet.

Fig. 3.15: Viṣṇu, mounted on Garuḍa, engaged

in battle. Possible depiction of Rāma.

Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple. Southern façade of

the first floor. Photograph courtesy:

Valérie Gillet.

resemblance between niche no. 9 of the Kailāsanātha temple which may depict Rāma (Fig. 3.5) and the last one of the southern façade in the Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ (Fig. 3.8), I now wonder whether these battle scenes, which feature Viṣṇu mounting Garuḍa18 and fighting with demons, might include Rāma. In her work on the miniature narrative reliefs of early Cōḻa-period temples, C Schmid (2003-2004; 2005a: 60, 65; 2005b: 633-634) argues that the reclining Viṣṇu symbolizes the process of incarnation, and in some temples, such as Tirubhuvanai, marks the beginning of the Rāmāyaṇa series. Although those temples were built after the Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ, the reclining Viṣṇu might express the same idea; this cosmogonical myth creates the world in which the avatāras are to operate. The reclining Viṣṇu does not mark here the beginning of the Rāmāyaṇa, which starts with the granting of the boon to Rāvaṇa earlier on the southern façade, but it may symbolize the god’s incarnation, although its place in the middle of the Rāmāyaṇa series is unexpected. Moreover, the southern façade would be suitable for Rāmāyaṇa-related scenes, since the enemy is the king of Laṅkā, which is situated in the south, and the location of these images in the temple would, in a symbolic manner, geographically correspond to the region in which the epic is set. It should be recalled that in the Kacākūṭi copper-plates, 80

Looking for Rāma: Traces of the Rāmāyaṇa in Temples of the Pallava dynasty

a Pallava king was compared to Rāma on the grounds that they had both conquered Laṅkā. The representation of the deity on the temple’s southern façade may, therefore, be an allegorical way of extolling the Pallava kings and their conquests of the island, and perhaps of the wild south in general.19

However, there are a few drawbacks to this interpretation. The presence of the reclining Viṣṇu in the middle of Rāmāyaṇa-related scenes, while Viṣṇu is supposed to have already descended to earth in the form of Rāma, is unexpected. Further, Rāvaṇa does not seem to be present among the opponents of the god, who all appear to have a single head, and the battle scenes are yet to be precisely identified. Moreover, the god is depicted in different forms, sometimes riding Garuḍa (Figs. 3.8, 3.15) and sometimes attacking his opponent while standing (Fig. 3.9), sometimes with six arms (Fig. 3.15), and sometimes with only four (Figs. 3.8, 3.9). If we are to accept that the figure represented in the three reliefs is indeed Rāma, I have not yet been able to account for these differences.

In conclusion, an analysis of royal Pallava epigraphy and the iconography of the temples of the Pallava dynasty reveals that the Rāmāyaṇa was an epic familiar in the cultural sphere – although we do not know which version was known – and used by the dynasty to portray the image of the exemplary king. Rāvaṇa was known to have been depicted on the walls of the Śaiva Kailāsanātha and the Vaiṣṇava Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temples in the 8th century, but as far as I am aware, no depictions of Rāma had previously been recognized. This chapter suggests that Rāma is depicted in a number of panels in the two temples, panels representing Viṣṇu in battle which have never been satisfactorily interpreted. This identification remains uncertain, mainly because of the absence of any characteristic elements associated with Rāma, other than the bow which is his main attribute. However, the use of Rāma to embody the image of the ideal king and the presence of his depictions in the temples would fit in perfectly with the Pallava dynasty’s elaborately crafted royal discourse.

Endnotes

1. See Dhar (2019); Also see chapter 1 by Parul Pandya Dhar in this volume.

2. This chapter originally included Pāṇḍyan material. However, an analysis of the Pāṇḍyan epigraphy and monuments shows that the Rāmāyaṇa does not feature in these corpuses, while frequent references are made to the Mahābhārata. It is possible that only one image of Rāvaṇa lifting Mount Kailāsa is depicted in Tirupparaṅkuṉṟam, but a single example was not enough to include the Pāṇḍyan kingdom in the present analysis.

3. Chapters 207 to 209 of Book III establish the genealogy of Aṅgiras down to Bharadvāja. See also E Francis (2017: 335-353). Droṇa being the son of Aṅgiras, and Aśvatthāman being the son of Droṇa, both belong to this lineage. 81

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4. See, for instance, the Kūram copper-plates (EI 17, no. 22), the foundation inscription of the Kailāsanātha temple (SII 1, no. 24), and the Utayēntiram and the Kacākūṭi copperplates (SII 2, no. 74 & SII 2, no. 73). Titles of the kings often refer to other heroes of the Mahābhārata, such as Arjuna and Bhīma. 5. See SII 12, no. 116; E Francis (2017: 538-539).

6. The following list of references to Rāma is based on E Francis (2017: 614, 684, 694696).

7. R Nagaswamy (1980: 414) mentions references to Rāma in inscriptions in Uttaramērūr and hints at the presence of this deity in the Pallava period. However, in the inscriptions of the Pallava period, I found only one epigraph in which the name of a donor refers to Rāma, namely Kuravaśiri Rāmadeva Bhaṭṭaṉ, a local figure and member of the assembly (āluṅgaṇa). This epigraph pertains to the reign of Kampavarman in the late 9th century (Mahalingam 1988, no. 206; SII 6, no. 370). The donor is obviously named after a divine Rāma, but there is no reference to the presence of the god himself in the temple. Some references to a Śrī Rāghavadeva and to a “Tiruvāyodhyā Perumāṉaṭikaḷ of our town” are made in Uttaramērūr but belong to the Cōḻa period. See Gros & Nagaswamy (1970: 84-85). 8. E Francis has pointed out to me the fact that two large images of an archer sculpted on stelae and displayed in the garden of the National Museum of New Delhi have been identified with Rāma and his son. There are said to come from Kāñcipuram. But the absence of characteristics other than the bow and the absence of context for these sculptures render any identification difficult. 9. Contra, for example, C Sivaramamurti (1980: 638).

10. This image appears frequently in Pallava temples: we can see it in the Ōlakkaṉeśvara temple in Mahābalipuram, in the Vīrattāṉeśvara temple in Tiruvatikai, and in the Mukteśvara and the Mātaṅgeśvara temples in Kāñcīpuram. See Gillet (2007: 32-34).

11. For the identification of the unique depictions of this myth in the Kailāsanātha temple, see Gillet (2010: 300-305).

12. For a more detailed analysis of the processes used to express the superiority of Śiva over Viṣṇu for the Jalandharasaṃhāramūrti, see Gillet (2010: 218-220), and, in general, over Vaiṣṇavism and Buddhism, see Gillet 2013. 13. See Fig. 3.7 found in the Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple of Kāñcīpuram as well as the bronzes of Rāma found in the Tamil country and assigned to the 10th century (Radhakrishnan 1979).

14. D Hudson (2009: 333-335) identifies a relief on the eastern side of the ground floor with a depiction of Hanumān worshipping Rāma in the Kiṃpuruṣas region. However, there is nothing in the panel which suggests a depiction of either Rāma or Hanumān (and Hanumān would be easily recognizable with his monkey face). I do not agree with D Hudson’s interpretation and I have, therefore, not included this specific depiction in the corpus of Rāmāyaṇa-related images. R Nagaswamy (1980: 414) mentions possible depictions of the three Rāmas in the Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple. He probably bases this identification on the epigraphical list of the avatāras in the Ādivarāha temple in Mahābalipuram that he describes in the same article. However, he does not locate the images he is speaking about, and we therefore do not know to which images he refers. He adds that these representations do not have any “distinguishing emblems”.

15. See Francis et al. (2005: 601), contra D Hudson (2009: 184-190) who identifies a scene depicting the rājasūya of Yudhiṣṭhira in the Kṛṣṇa series. 82

Looking for Rāma: Traces of the Rāmāyaṇa in Temples of the Pallava dynasty

16. D Hudson fails to recognize Rāvaṇa and Rāmāyaṇa-related depictions in the panels of the southern façade of this temple. Consequently, a number of his identifications are baseless (2009: 130, 193-209).

17. D Hudson (2009: 193-197) identifies this panel with “Indra producing some imposters at King Pṛthu’s horse sacrifice”. 18. The face of the divine vehicle is damaged, but I assume it is Garuḍa, on the basis that Viṣṇu is seen mounting him in other images of this temple. However, although in other regions (Bengal and Cambodia) and at later periods, depictions of Rāma mounting a monkey-faced figure, identified with Hanumān, are seen (P Banerjee 1986, vol. 2: figs. 203, 207).

19. C Schmid has drawn my attention to the presence of a small panel located on the roof of the gallery of the Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ temple depicting a figure discharging an arrow on a figure difficult to identify. She convincingly identifies him with Rāma. However, I have not included this image in the present chapter because I was not able to locate the panel myself, and because it seems to be placed amongst other narrative panels which I have not seen, and which may include other representations of Rāma. To include this material in this chapter would require further fieldwork. For now, we have to keep in mind that there were Rāmāyaṇa-related depictions in this temple other than the ones that I have dealt with here.

Bibliography

Banerjee, P. 1986. Rama in Indian Literature, Art and Thought, 2 vols. New Delhi: Sundeep Prakashan.

Dhar, Parul Pandya. 2019. “Characterizing Contrariety: Representing Rāvaṇa in the Early Western Deccan,” in Berliner Indologische Studien/ Berlin Indological Studies, vol. 24, 131-164, ed. Gerd J R Mevissen (Berlin: Weidler Buchverlag). Epigraphia Indica (EI). 1892–1978. 42 vols. New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India.

Francis, Emmanuel, Valérie Gillet, and Charlotte Schmid. 2007. “L’eau et le feu : chronique des études pallava.” Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient 92 (2005): 581– 611.

Francis, Emmanuel. 2017. Le discours royal dans l’Inde du Sud ancienne, Inscriptions et monuments pallava (IVe-IXe siècles), Tome II Mythes dynastiques et panégyriques. Louvain: Université catholique de Louvain-la-Neuve/Peeters (Publications de l’Institut Orientaliste de Louvain no. 65).

Gillet, Valérie. 2007. “Entre démon et dévot : la figure de Rāvaṇa dans les représentations pallava.” Arts Asiatiques 62: 29–45.

Gillet, Valérie. 2010. La création d’une iconographie śivaïte narrative: Incarnations du dieu dans les temples pallava construits. Pondicherry: École française d’Extrême-Orient/ Institut Français de Pondichéry (Collection Indologie no. 113).

Gillet, Valérie. 2013. “Pallavas and Buddhism: interactions and influences.” In Sivasri. Perspectives in Indian Archaeology, Art and Culture (Birth Centenary Volume of Padma Bhushan Dr C Sivaramamurti and Padma Bhushan Shri K R Srinivasan), ed. D Dayalan, 105–136. New Delhi: Agam Prakashan. Gillet, Valérie. 2016. “Murukaṉ on his elephant: tales of a medieval Tamil-speaking South.” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Mumbai 87 (2013-2014): 35–78. 83

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Gonzales-Reimann, Luis. 2002. “The Divinity of Rāma in the ‘Rāmāyaṇa’ of Vālmīki.” Journal of Indian Philosophy 34 (3): 203–220. Gros, François, and R Nagaswamy. 1970. Uttaramērūr, Légendes, Histoire, Monuments. Pondichéry: Institut Français d’Indologie (Publications de l’Institut Français d’Indologie no. 39).

Hudson, Dennis D. 2009. The Vaikunta Perumal Temple at Kanchipuram. Chennai: Prakriti Foundation.

Mahābhārata. The Mahābhārata, Book 2. The Book of the Assembly Hall; Book 3. The Book of the Forest. Trans. and ed. J A B Van Buitenen. Chicago & London: The University of Chicago Press, 1975.

Mahalingam, T V. 1988. Inscriptions of the Pallavas. New Delhi: Indian Council of Historical Research / Agam Prakashan.

Nagaswamy, R. 1969. The Kailasanatha Temple (A guide). Chennai: The State Department of Archaeology, Government of Tamilnadu.

Nagaswamy, R. 1979. Tiruttani and Velanjeri Copper Plates. Madras: Government of Tamil Nadu (Tamil Nadu State Department of Archaeology Publications 55).

Nagaswamy, R. 1980. “Śrī Rāmāyaṇa in Tamilnādu in Art, Thought and Literature.” In The Ramayana Tradition in Asia, ed. V Raghavan, 409–429. Madras: Sahitya Akademi.

Pollock, Sheldon. 1984. “The Divine King in the Indian Epic.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 104 (3): 505–528.

Pollock, Sheldon. 2007. Introduction to The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki, Volume III: Araṇyakāṇḍa, 3–84. New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. Reprint of Princeton University Press, 1984. Pollock, Sheldon. 1993. “Ramayana and Political Imagination in India.” The Journal of Asian Studies 52 (2) (May 1993): 261–297. Radhakrishnan, V. 1979. “Rama group from Thiruvadigai”. In South Indian Studies II, ed. R Nagaswamy, 157–163. Madras: Society for Archaeological, Historical and Epigraphical Research.

Sivaramamurti, C. 1980. “The Rāmāyaṇa in Indian Sculpture”. In The Rāmāyaṇa Tradition in Asia, ed. V Raghavan, 636–647. Madras: Sahitya Akademi. Sircar, D C. 1980. “Rāmāyaṇa in inscriptions”. In The Rāmāyaṇa Tradition in Asia, ed. V Raghavan, 322–333. Madras: Sahitya Akademi.

South Indian Inscriptions (SII). 1890–2016, 34 vols. Madras/New Delhi: Archaeological Survey of India.

Subramaniam, T N. 1966. Pallavar ceppeṭukaḷ muppatu. Thirty Pallava Copper-plates (prior to 1000 A.D.). Madras: Tamil Varalatru Kazhagam. The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki. New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. 2007. Reprint from Princeton University Press, 1984. 6 vols.

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4. Rāmāyaṇa in Khmer sculpture with

special reference to the Yuddhakāṇḍa,

10th-12th centuries Rachel Loizeau

The Rāmāyaṇa epic is mentioned in a limited number of inscriptions from ancient Cambodia while stone sculpture and bas-reliefs provide a large number of images. The Rāma story is illustrated in temple architecture as early as the 10th century but becomes more popular in the monuments from the 11th to 13th century. Mainly carved on pediments, lintels, and other minor locations, the bas-reliefs are juxtaposed in a non-linear narrative arrangement without any chronological ordering of the epic. The Khmer artists did not depict the full story of the Rāmāyaṇa but highlighted certain parts and some specific episodes which reveal the meaning, or the role played by the epic in ancient Khmer society. The Bālakāṇḍa was barely depicted apart from the rare episodes such as Sītā’s svayaṃvara (choosing one’s husband), Viśvāmitra’s sacrifice, or Tāṭakā’s death,1 while the Ayodhyākāṇḍa was almost completely ignored. Less expected might be the very limited number of scenes from the Araṇyakāṇḍa, especially if one compares with its popularity in Indian sculpture. There are numerous representations of the abduction of the princess by Virādha and the death of Kabandha,2 whereas the story of Śūrpaṇakhā is not seen3. The Kiṣkindhākāṇḍa gains more attention, specifically, the fight between the monkey-kings, Sugrīva and Vālin, followed by the death of the latter,4 while the meeting of Hanumān and Sītā is the only episode selected from the Sundarakāṇḍa. From the 11th century, the Yuddhakāṇḍa seems to have been the most popular part of the epic depicted in Khmer temples. This chapter does not aim to offer a survey of the representations of Rāmāyaṇa in Khmer sculpture but instead selects some major episodes and tends to explore the possible reasons for which they were favoured.

Rescuing the damsel from the villain: The abduction of Sītā by Virādha

The abduction of Sītā is not abundantly pictured but it is one of the earliest episodes of the epic to be illustrated, and the most popular scene from the Araṇyakāṇḍa in Khmer iconography, except during the 11th century as it is not seen at the Baphuon (unless it is now lost). However, the intervention of Virādha is often depicted in the 12th-century temples.5 The earliest images are found at Banteay Srei (10th century), where it is represented twice. One of these is located on the western lintel of the central shrine. 85

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa are watching as Sītā is abducted by Virādha. The rākṣasa armed with a spear carries off the princess on his left shoulder. The second image is carved on a pediment which is now exhibited on the ground outside of the third enclosure. In this version, Virādha holds the princess firmly in his arms. A despairing Sītā is looking at her husband. Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa are armed with swords and ready to severe his arms. These two versions represent two distinct events. The first one features the two brothers watching Sītā as she is seized by Virādha, while the second one shows the two princes going to the rescue of the princess. They are holding a sword whereas in Vālmīki’s text, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa first attack the rākṣasa by shooting at him (with their bow) and force him to drop Sītā. This is exactly what the 12th-century bas-reliefs at Angkor Vat show us. Virādha holds Sītā in his arms as Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa aim their arrows towards the rākṣasa (Fig. 4.1). In some less-familiar images, the two princes hold on to the arms of the demon. This scene is illustrated at Phnom Rung and in a bas-relief kept at the Conservation d’Angkor. In this version, the death of Virādha has been favoured over the abduction of Sītā. The Khmer artists scarcely figure the second

Fig. 4.1: Virādha’s attempt to kidnap Sīta, northern corner pavillon of the third enclosure, Angkor Wat temple, 12th century. Photograph courtesy: Rachel Loizeau. 86

Rāmāyaṇa in Khmer sculpture with special reference to the Yuddhakāṇḍa, 10th-12th centuries

abduction of Sītā by Rāvaṇa (Prasat Sen Keo, Banteay Samrè, Beng Mealea, and Phnom Rung) and one could explain this choice by the fact that the king of Laṅkā could not be portrayed as the cruel abductor of Sītā

However, the attempt of the abduction of the princess by Virādha is depicted by the two brothers going to rescue a woman from the villain.6 Almost none of the Indian or Indonesian representations of this episode depict the climax of the event, which is the abduction, but instead illustrate either the frightening figure of the rākṣasa rushing at them in the forest or the death of Virādha.

Sugrīva versus Vālin: Fighting for a throne

The fight between Vālin and Sugrīva, which is the most popular episode of the Rāmāyaṇa in India, is widely depicted in Southeast Asian sculpture, including ancient Khmer temples. The most astonishing images are those from the Prasat Chen of Koh Ker7 group now kept in the National Museum in Phnom Penh. The Vālin and Sugrīva group (approximatively 1.94 cm in height) dated from the beginning of the 10th century - under the rule of Jayavarman IV (928-944) - was originally located at the eastern gopura (gateway) I of the Prasat Chen of Koh Ker (Bourdonneau 2011: 95-141). The sculpture of Rāma and Hanumān or Aṅgada, recently brought back to Cambodia, belongs to the same group. The monkeys grab each other, their mouths wide open with visibly sharp teeth. This episode echoes the large sculpture group of the fight between Bhīma and Duryodhana from the Mahābhārata, which was located in the western gopura I of the Prasat Chen. These two episodes show rivalry between two members of the same family (brothers or cousins) for the sake of power, to ascend the throne. Both the opponents look alike, and it is impossible to identify them. The choice of this episode might be placed in the context of the political history of the 10th century during the succession of Jayavarman IV and his installation in Koh Ker, in the northern area of the kingdom. Two versions of the fight between Sugrīva and Vālin are illustrated at Banteay Srei. One is carved on the eastern pediment of the second enclosure. The death of Vālin is pictured along with the wrestling scene. Rāma aims at the two monkeys while Lakṣmaṇa holds the arrows and points to Vālin. The monkey is represented three times, once while fighting Sugrīva, then facing his assailant, and finally, lying on his back, his head held by another simian, pulling the arrow from his chest. This episode enjoys popularity. On the 11th-century temples, the monkeys hold hands and look as if they are executing a dance rather than fighting. In most of the bas-reliefs, Vālin and Sugrīva are bare-headed, instead of wearing a tiara. They look alike without any distinctive sign (garland of flower, head cover, etc.). At the Baphuon temple, the fight between the two monkeys is preceded by Sugrīva’s encounter with Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa and followed by Vālin’s death which is pictured as an anecdotal 87

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

detail. The monkey collapses wounded by an arrow in his back. This scene is depicted separately without any audience. At Angkor Wat, the fight between Vālin and Sugrīva is portrayed several times. In some bas-reliefs, only the fight between the two opponents is figured (half pediment on the central tower). However, a pediment of a south-eastern subsidiary door of the courtyard of the second enclosure displays a dense composition with numerous monkeys witnessing and encouraging the brothers (Fig. 4.2).7 The two opponents are engaged in a dynamic hand-to-hand combat. There is a theatrical depiction of the monkeys’ gestures in the foreground, mourning the death of Vālin. The valiant king is dignified in death and mourned by his people. Additional episodes from Kiṣkindhākāṇḍa are introduced in the 12th-century temples, more specifically at Angkor Wat, such as the alliance between Rāma and the monkeys, and the ascension of Vālin depicted along with the fight.8 However, some details of the story which are very common in Indian sculpture such as Rāma piercing the seven trees, are not shown in Khmer sculpture. However, the artists favoured another episode which is less familiar.

Fig. 4.2 : The fight of Vālin and Surgīva

and the death of Vālin, pediment, southeastern subsidiary

door of the courtyard of the second enclosure, Angkor Wat, 12th century. Photograph courtesy:

Rachel Loizeau. 88

Rāmāyaṇa in Khmer sculpture with special reference to the Yuddhakāṇḍa, 10th-12th centuries

Show of strength: From Vālin to Rāma via Dundhubi The wrestling between Vālin (Bālī) and Dundhubi (Dhūbī), which is not illustrated in Indian sculpture, seems to have been mostly depicted at Angkor Wat and Banteay Samrè.9 The story of Dundhubi, the young buffalo who challenges and kills his father, is developed in the Reamker (Rāmakerti) and later overshadows the feat of Vālin, the conqueror of Dundhubi, and the strength of Rāma, who kicks his carcass far away. At Banteay Samrè, Vālin crushes the body of a huge buffalo, holding the animal by his legs. On the central tower of Angkor Wat, Vālin holds Dundhubi by his horn and hind legs and lifts the body of the enormous buffalo over his head (Fig. 4.3). He is

Fig. 4.3: The wrestling between Vālin and Dundhubi, main tower, 1st enclosure, Angkor Wat, 12th century. Photograph courtesy: Rachel Loizeau. 89

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

attended by other monkeys who are encouraging him. Some monkeys are taking part in the fight and one of them bites Dundhubi’s tail. Vālin, who kills a powerful animal, becomes a new hero. This feat, related in the Kiṣkinḍhākāṇḍa, leads the monkey to his own death at the hands of Rāma while the latter helps Sugrīva, who was sent into exile, to regain his throne by killing his brother Vālin.

The trustful messenger: Meeting of Hanumān and Sītā

The Sundarakāṇḍa is barely depicted in ancient Khmer temples, except for this scene which is the crucial moment of the book. Illustrated in Indian sculpture as early as the 5th century, the encounter between Hanumān and Sītā has been later subjected to iconographic variations which reveal the role given to Hanumān as Rāma’s trustful messenger. In Cambodia, the earliest images appear during the 11th century (Vat Ek, Baphuon, Prasat Sa Khamphaeng Yai) and seem to have been favoured over the abduction of Sītā by Virādha. The princess is seated under a tree along with demoness in front of a kneeling Hanumān. The scene not only refers to the meeting but portrays the climactic moment when Hanumān hands Rāma’s ring to Sītā. The monkey stretches out his arm and holds the ring in the palm of his hand (Fig. 4.4). The ring is proof of his identity and his role as a trustful messenger, which has been given to him by Rāma. Sītā’s body posture indicates her despair; she does not even look at Hanumān.

Fig. 4.4: The meeting of Hanumān and Sītā, southern gopura, 2nd level, Baphuon temple, 11th century. Photograph courtesy: Rachel Loizeau. 90

Rāmāyaṇa in Khmer sculpture with special reference to the Yuddhakāṇḍa, 10th-12th centuries

The encounter between Hanumān and Sītā is pictured several times at the Baphuon in different narrative contexts. On the south gateway, the reader moves from the death of Vālin to the meeting of Hanumān with the princess. The monkey is flying over the Aśoka grove, holding the ring between two fingers and then kneeling in front of Sītā. On the northern gopura, the meeting is represented among the battle scenes from Kiṣkindhākāṇḍa and Yuddhakāṇḍa to remind the viewer of the reason why Rāma fights Rāvaṇa. At Angkor Wat, the meeting is carved in several half-pediments along with Hanumān’s battle against demons in the Aśoka grove. Hanumān, who always figured as a tiny monkey, offers a token to despairing Sītā, who is held captive in the Aśoka grove, and guarded by rākṣasī armed with swords. The most fascinating detail of the 11th-century Khmer images is the huge size of Rāma’s ring.

Yuddhakāṇḍa at sight: War propaganda or apotropaic function

The Yuddhakāṇḍa was a great source of inspiration for the Khmer artists from 12th century, except for the prior extensive set of narrative bas-reliefs sculpted on the walls of the gateways of the second level of the Baphuon (11th century). The Baphuon is an exceptional monument in many respects and the Yuddhakāṇḍa has a prominent place. However, if we look more carefully, the number of episodes is very limited. Rāma and his allies waged three major battles against Kumbhakarṇa, Indrajit, and Rāvaṇa. The character of Kumbhakarṇa was a subject of special attention, which reminds us of the bas-reliefs of the Loro Jonggrang (Prambanan) in Indonesia. At the Baphuon, the story of Kumbhakarṇa is depicted at length on the external wall of the western gateway. The two other battles are pictured on the exterior walls of the northern gateway. Indrajit aims at the two princes who are captured by the nāgapāśa (serpent noose) and rescued by Garuḍa. Finally, Rāvaṇa confronts both Rāma and his faithful friend, Hanumān. In the 12th century, additional episodes enriched the repertoire of the Yuddhakāṇḍa but mainly in four temples: Angkor Wat and Banteay Samrè in Cambodia as well as Phimai and Prasat Phnom Rung in Thailand. The alliance between Vibhīṣaṇa and Rāma is described at least twice at Angkor Wat (Fig. 4.5) and Banteay Samrè (half-pediment of the first enclosure), while the construction of the bridge is pictured at Phimai and Banteay Samrè. A detail mentioned in the Khmer and Malay literary versions (Hikayat Seri Rama), which states that a fish tried to dismantle the bridge during its construction, seems to have been represented at Phimai, whereas at Banteay Samre the dam was not even sculpted. The bas-relief shows monkeys carrying stones for the construction and Rāma standing at the centre of the composition. Among the new episodes introduced in Khmer 12th-century temples, some are less familiar; more surprising might be the role of Aṅgada as Rāma’s emissary in Rāvaṇa’s court before the beginning of the war.10 91

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Fig. 4.5: The alliance between Vibhīṣaṇa and Rāma, Half pediment, Banteay Samrè, 12th century. Photograph courtesy: Rachel Loizeau.

Aṅgada as Rāma’s emissary

Illustrated on a half-pediment of the northern lateral door of the maṇḍapa (hall) at Wat Phu (Laos), this episode is seen at Banteay Samrè and several times at Angkor Wat (Fig. 4.6). The monkey has been identified as Hanumān while he is killing the demons after meeting with Sītā during his journey in Laṅkā. However, the tiara he wears tends to suggest that he is Aṅgada, sent as Rāma’s emissary to Rāvaṇa’s court. In the upper section, Aṅgada leaps up to the roof of the palace, lifting a demon in each hand. In the foreground, three demons, armed with swords, are seated. A fourth one, maybe Indrajit, is standing. This scene was then repeated several times at Angkor Wat.11 Apart from the Wat Phu image where the king of Laṅkā is not seen, Rāvaṇa is portrayed among the audience with his multiple arms and heads.

Lakṣmaṇa versus Indrajit: The nāgapāśa episode

The nāgapāśa episode, which is narrated early at the beginning of the war, was one of the favourite episodes of Khmer artists from the 11th century.12 Surprisingly not represented in Indian sculpture, Indrajit’s intervention was illustrated at the Caṇḍi Brahmā at Loro Jonggrang in the 9th century (Java, Indonesia). On the northern gateway of the Baphuon, Indrajit’s attack and Garuḍa’s intervention are depicted simultaneously 92

Rāmāyaṇa in Khmer sculpture with special reference to the Yuddhakāṇḍa, 10th-12th centuries

Fig. 4.6: Aṅgada at Rāvaṇa’s court, half pediment, eastern gallery, third enclosure, Angkor Wat temple, 12th century. Photograph courtesy: Rachel Loizeau.

(Fig. 4.7). Indrajit, whose torso emerges from a cloud that looks like a flaming circle, fires an arrow at the two princes, while Garuḍa flies towards the princes lying on the battlefield. In the Khmer version, the Rāmakerti, only Lakṣmaṇa is tied by the ophidians, a detail which seems to have been illustrated at the Bakong at Roluos temple-site (9th-12th centuries, Fig. 4.8). The popularity of the hybrid eagle, a half human-half animal with a leonine tail – and a serpent (in the churning of the ocean) in Southeast Asia, may explain the reason why the Khmer carvers favoured this particular episode of the Yuddhakāṇḍa rather than the final battle between Indrajit and Lakṣmaṇa. The first sculpture of Garuḍa, Viṣṇu’s vāhana (vehicle), protector and enemy of the nāga (serpent), date from the 10th century at Koh Ker. His popularity rises during the 12th century with the development of Vaiṣṇavism and the construction of Angkor Wat (the nāgapaśa is depicted at Angkor Wat, Thommanon, Tevoda, Preah Khan, Bakong, as well as Phimai and Phnom Rung) but the eagle became particularly popular from the reign of Jayavarman VIIin architectural ornamentation and Buddhist iconography.

Lakṣmaṇa injured by Rāvaṇa’s or Indrajit’s spear?

This episode appears only at Angkor Wat and Banteay Samrè, where it seems to have been favoured over the nāgapaśa scene with reference to the location and dimensions 93

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Fig. 4.7: The nāgapaśa episode, northern gopura, second level, Baphuon temple, 11th century. Photograph courtesy: Rachel Loizeau. 94

Rāmāyaṇa in Khmer sculpture with special reference to the Yuddhakāṇḍa, 10th-12th centuries

Fig. 4.8: The nāgapaśa episode, northern pediment of the central tower, Bakong, 9th to 12th century. Photograph courtesy: Rachel Loizeau.

Fig. 4.9: Rāma extracts the spear from his brother’s chest, pediment, southern gopura, second enclosure, Angkor Wat, 12th century Photograph courtesy: Rachel Loizeau. 95

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

of the composition (Fig. 4.9). Lakṣmaṇa lies on the battlefield, while Rāma extracts the spear from his brother’s chest by pushing his feet on Lakṣmaṇa’s stomach. Vibhīṣaṇa (Bibhek) then sends Hanumān to search for medicinal herbs on Mount Hemaban. On the upper part of the pediment, Hanumān and another monkey carry magical herbs to heal him.

The death of Kumbhakarṇa

The story of Rāvaṇa’s brother Kumbhakarṇa was depicted at length on the inner wall of the western entrance pavilion, at the second level of Baphuon (Giteau 1995; Loizeau 2015). The set of bas-reliefs display some fascinating similarities with the narrative sequence dedicated to the demon in the Caṇḍi Brahmā at the Loro Jonggrang (9th century). The Indonesian artists depicted the awakening of the demon, the death of the giant rākṣasa assaulted by the monkeys, and finally, the lamentations over Kumbhakarṇa’s body. In the Khmer monument, the carvers illustrated his awakening, the giant’s battle against the monkeys, and his death (Fig. 4.10). However, in the 12thcentury monuments, the moment favoured by Khmer artists is the fight of Rāvaṇa’s brother against the monkeys (Banteay Samrè, Angkor Vat, Thommanon, including the Khmer temples in Thailand: Phimai and Phnom Rung). On the inner pediment

Fig. 4.10: The death of Kumbhakarṇa, western gopura, second level, Baphuon temple, 11th century. Photograph courtesy: Rachel Loizeau.

96

Rāmāyaṇa in Khmer sculpture with special reference to the Yuddhakāṇḍa, 10th-12th centuries

of the northern wing of the first enclosure of Angkor Wat, Rāma aims his bow at the demon, whereas Vibhīṣaṇa wields his sword against his brother, whilst his brother is being attacked, on all sides by the monkey army. The Khmers rarely portrayed the defeat of the giant rākṣasa Kumbhakarṇa. The monkeys cling to the demon, bite his head, shoulders, etc.

Rāma and Rāvaṇa’s final battle

The last fight of the Yuddhakāṇḍa, the battle between Rāma and Rāvaṇa, seems to have been introduced in Khmer iconography from the 11th century, at the Baphuon and Prasat Sen Keo. In both the monuments, Rāma fights on Hanumān’s shoulders, whereas Rāvaṇa stands in his chariot, which is pulled by demon-headed horses (Fig. 4.11 and 4.12). In the 12th and 13th century, Rāma was mostly portrayed riding a chariot. At the Preah Khan, the prince fights, first, the rākṣasa on Hanumān’s shoulders and then reappears in the foreground on a chariot fighting Rāvaṇa (Fig. 4.13). The rākṣasa is identified by his multiple heads and arms and the lions are pulling his chariot.13 In most of the images, the king of Laṅkā and Rāma dominate the foreground; the upper

Fig. 4.11: The last battle between Rāma and Rāvaṇa, northern gopura, second level, Baphuon, 11th century. Photograph courtesy: Rachel Loizeau.

Fig. 4.12: The last battle between Rāma and Rāvaṇa, northern gopura, second level, Baphuon, 11th century. Photograph courtesy: Rachel Loizeau.

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Fig. 4.13: The fight between Rāvaṇa and Rāma, pediment, Preah Khan. Photograph courtesy: Rachel Loizeau.

section of the pediment depicts the battle between the monkeys and demons. At Banteay Samrè, some episodes illustrated on the outer pediments of the entrance pavilion of the second enclosure are outstanding. In one scene, the monkey army confronts a rākṣasa riding a chariot, perhaps Indrajit. Rāma’s figure overarches the top of the composition. In another scene, both Rāma and his brother are depicted on the shoulders of huge monkeys, whilst in the foreground, musicians herald the departure for war. Rāma’s position is very similar in all the Banteay Samre bas-reliefs and shares similarities with Śiva’s dance posture of war. Apart from his battle against Rāma and his meeting with Aṅgada, Rāvaṇa is not the major figure of the Khmer Rāmāyaṇa. The issue of the battles is also rarely depicted.14 The death of the king of Laṅkā was rarely illustrated (Banteay Chhmar temple). Rāvaṇa, symbolizing enemies of the Khmer kingdom, appears as a valiant and royal character.

Sītā: From svayaṃvara to trial by fire

The last episode of the Yuddhakāṇḍa is Sītā’s ordeal, which was very popular in the versions of the Rāmāyaṇa from Southeast Asia. This episode was introduced in the Khmer monuments of the 12th century (Beng Mealea, Chau Say Tevoda, Angkor Wat). At Angkor Wat, it was depicted several times. Sītā is figured either as the prey of the 98

Rāmāyaṇa in Khmer sculpture with special reference to the Yuddhakāṇḍa, 10th-12th centuries

Fig. 4.14: Sītā’s ordeal by fire, Cau Say Tevoda, western gopura, southern face, 12th century. Photograph courtesy: Rachel Loizeau.

flames or lifted by gods and assistants, untouched by the flames, testifying to her chastity and pureness (Fig. 4.14).15 Four episodes feature Sītā in Khmer sculpture. She is won by Rāma at her svayaṃvara, seized by Virādha in the forest, meets Hanumān, and finally goes through an ordeal by fire.16 At Phimai and Baphuon, she is brought on the battlefield to see her husband wounded. The princess appears, sometimes, seated in the forest with Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa (Preah Vihear and Thommanon).

Many monuments were destroyed during the war and post-war periods and several sculpted images are either fragmentary or lost, which makes any comprehensive study quite challenging. Nevertheless, the surviving bas-reliefs reveal the scenes favoured by the artists or/and their patrons and the evolution of the Rāma story in ancient Khmer society. The goal of the artists was not to depict the full story but to select certain scenes, particularly those known for their symbolism. Some episodes are scarcely or occasionally illustrated. The core of the story depicted in the temples from the 10th to 12th century remains more or less the same, except for the battles of the Yuddhakāṇḍa which retain more attention in the 12th-century monuments, and more specifically, at Angkor Wat. Battles are depicted mainly on large pediments or half-pediments as large compositions. They are particularly numerous at Angkor Wat and in the 12th99

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century monuments, but the Rāmāyaṇa is not the only story to be seen. There are many battles staging Viṣṇu and his avatāra as Kṛṣṇa fighting against demons. The choice of these martial scenes could be seen as a warning for the visitor. The images could then have an apotropaic function, “protecting the protector” as Boreth Ly has said about Phimai iconography, warning potential enemies or reassuring inhabitants of the Khmer kingdom. Moreover, in the 12th century, the king Suryavarman II, patron of Angkor Wat, could have identified himself as Viṣṇu, the royal god, and the scenes depicted could remind the viewer of his own martial function as both protector of the kingdom and god’s abode.

Endnotes 1.

Rāma is seen shooting at a wheel (Sītā’s svayaṃvara) at the Baphuon, Angkor Wat, Beng Mealea and Preah Pithu temple U. See, Roveda (2005:118-119).

2. The death of Kabandha is illustrated in many temples from the 12th century (Banteay Samrè, Thommanon, Angkor Wat, Phom Rung or Preah Khan) as a vast composition carved on pediments or miniature bas-relief at the bottom of some pilasters and at the centre of lintels.

3. Śūrpaṇakhā’s mutilation may have been represented on a pediment at Phnom Rung in Thailand. Rāma is seen shooting at Mārica at the Baphuon, Banteay Samrè and Angkor Vat.

4. The fight of the monkeys is illustrated at Banteay Srei, at the Prāsāt Cen of Koh-Ker, Chau Say Vibol, Baphuon, Angkor Wat, Chau say Tevoda, Thommanon, Banteay Samrè, Preah Pithu temple Y, Phnom Rung, etc. 5. Virādha is seen seizing Sītā at Banteay Srei, Thommanon, Beng Mealea, Angkor Wat, Phimai and Phnom Rung. 6. At Banteay Srei, it echoes the duel between two brothers, Sunda and Upasanda, fighting to win over Tilottamā.

7. The fight of the two monkeys and the death of Vālin is depicted in a large composition in the northern corner pavillon of the third enclosure as well as in an additional pediment of a subsidiary door of the second enclosure of the Ankor Wat temple. In both, several monkeys witness the fight of the brothers and the death of Vālin. Their animated gestures indicate various feelings, such as anger or grief. 8. This scene was identified as Sugrīva’s coronation, but I would rather suggest identifying this scene as Vālin’s ascension, being lifted by gandharvas after his death.

9. The fight between Dundhubi and Vālin is carved on a pilaster of the southern door of the central tower at Banteay Samrè.

10. Like Roveda, I had first identified this scene as Hanumān fighting rākṣasa Rāvaṇa during his journey to Laṅkā, and I would like to thank Mary Brockington who suggested its identification as the diplomatic mission of Aṅgada in Rāvaṇa’s court. 11. This scene is carved on a half-pediment of the western gopura of the third enclosure, on the northern half-pediment of the door of the eastern gopura of the fourth enclosure, and on the northern pediment of the central tower.

12. The nāgapaśa episode is illustrated on the northern gopura of the second level of the Baphuon and on a pediment at Wat Baset (see Dagens 1968: 186-187)

13. The lions have leonine heads whereas at Banteay Samre their heads looked like rākṣasa. At the Baphuon and Prasat Sen Kev, rākṣasa headed horses pulled Rāvaṇa’s chariot.

14. Rāvaṇa is seen shot in a bas relief at Banteay Chhmar whereas in most of the representations he stands on his chariot facing Rāma while the prince is shooting at him.

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Rāmāyaṇa in Khmer sculpture with special reference to the Yuddhakāṇḍa, 10th-12th centuries

15. She is lifted above the flames at Chau Say Tevoda and Beng Mealea.

16. These four episodes are illustrated in the northwestern pavilion of the third enclosure of Angkor Wat temple.

Bibliography

Bourdonneau, Éric. 1999. “Redéfinir l’originalité de Banteay Srei. Relation entre iconographie et architecture.” Aséanie 3: 27-65.

Bourdonneau, Éric. 2011. “Nouvelles recherches sur Koh Ker (Chok Gargyar). Jayavarman IV et la maîtrise des mondes.” dans Monuments et mémoires de la Fondation Eugène Piot, 90: 95-141. Dagens, Bruno. 1968. “Iconographie de quelques fondations de Sūryavarman 1er.” Arts Asiatiques XVIII: 173-198.

Dagens, Bruno. 1988. “Autour de l’iconographie de Pimay.” dans La Thailande des débuts de son histoirejusqu’au 15e siècle. I symposium Franco-Thai, 17-27. Bangkok: Silpakorn University.

Deydier, Henri. 1952. “L’enlèvement de Sītā au Prasat Khna Sen Kev.” Bulletin de la Société des Études indochinoises, 27(3): 363-366.

Deydier, Henri. 1952. “Étude d’iconographie bouddhique et brahmanique.” BEFEO, tome XLVI (1): 257-265.

Finot, Louis. 1910. “Les Bas-reliefs de Baphuon.” Bulletin de la Commission Archéologique de l’Indochine 10: 20-37. Paris.

Fontein, Jan. 1997. “Preliminary notes on the narrative reliefs of Candi Brahmā and Viṣṇu at Loro Jonggrang, Prambanan.” In Living a Life in Accord with Dhamma: Papers in honor of Professor Jean Boisselier on his eightieth Birthday, ed. N Eilenberg, MCS Diskul et R L Brown, 191-204. Bangkok.

Giteau, Madeleine. 1995. “Note sur Kumbhakarṇa dans l’iconographie khmère.” Arts Asiatiques 50: 6975.

Krishnan, Gauri Parimoo, ed. 2010. Ramayana in focus: Visual and Performing Arts of Asia. Singapore: Asian Civilisations Museum. Levin, Cecelia. 1999. “The Ramayana of Loro Jonggrang - Indian antecedents and Javanese impetus.” PhD dissertation. New York University.

Levin, Cecelia. 2000. “The Ramayana, Ramakatha and Loro Jonggrang; Ramayana reliefs of the Shiva temple.” In Narrative Sculpture and Literary Traditions in South and Southeast Asia, ed. Marijke J Klokke, 59-72. Leiden: E J Brill.

Loizeau, Rachel. 2010. “The Rama Legend at the Baphuon and Angkor Wat Temples.” Paper presented at the Asian Civilisations Museum, Singapore, “Rāmāyaṇa: Reinterpretations in Asia” conference, July 2010. Loizeau, Rachel. 2015. “Indic Epics in Khmer art: narrative reliefs of Baphuon.” In Arts of Cambodia: Interaction with India, ed. Swati Chemburkar, 32-41. Bombay: Marg Publications, vol. 67, no. 2. Ly, Boreth. 2005. “Picture-Perfect Pairing: The Politics and Poetics of a Visual Narrative Program at Banteay Srei.” Udaya (6): 151-180.

Ly, Boreth. 2009. “Protecting the Protector of Phimai.” Journal of the Walters Art Museum 64/65: 3548.

Przyluski, J. 1921 “La légende de Rama dans les bas-reliefs d’Angkor Vat.” Arts et Archéologie Khmères I, -23: 319-330. Ramakerti (XVIe-XVIIe siècles), 1977, translation Saveros Pou, BEFEO.

Roveda, Vittorio. 2010. “Dundubhi (Torapi) in Ramayana narratives of Cambodia and Thailand.” In Gauri Parimoo Krishnan (ed.), Ramayana in Focus, Visual and Performing Arts of Asia. Singapore: Asian Civilisations Museum.

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Roveda, Vittorio. 2005. Images of the gods: Khmer mythology in Cambodia, Thailand, and Laos. Bangkok: River Books.

Roveda, Vittorio. 2002. Sacred Angkor: The Carved Reliefs of Angkor Wat, photography by Jaro Poncar. Bangkok: River Books.

Saran, Malini, and Vinod C Khanna. 2004. The Ramayana in Indonesia. New Delhi: Ravi Dayal.

Stutterheim, W F. 1925. Rama-Legenden und Rama-reliefs in Indonesien, 2 vols. München: Georg Müller. Eng. trans. Rāma-legends and Rāma-reliefs in Indonesia, trans. by C D Paliwal and R P Jain. New Delhi: IGNCA and Abhinav. 1989.

Sunnary, Lan. 1972. “Étude iconographique du temple khmer de Thommanon (Dhammānanda).” Arts Asiatiques 25: 155-198.

Varasarin (Uraisi). 1986. “The Ramayana story from Phnom Rung and Phimai temples, Thailand” In Proceedings of Second International Ramayana Conference, Thailand, April 1986, 33-42. Bangkok: Thai-Bharat Cultural Lodge.

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5. Ramayana Bronzes and Sculptures from the Chola to Vijayanagara Times Sharada Srinivasan

Early Ramayana narratives in stone Rama, the hero of Valmiki’s Sanskrit epic, the Ramayana, is regarded as the seventh incarnation or avatar of Lord Vishnu. Early literary evidence of the identification of Rama as an avatar of Vishnu is to be found in the works of the poet Kalidasa, who appeals to Vishnu to be born as a son of Dasharatha (i.e. Rama) for the destruction of the demon-king Ravana (Suresh 2011: 95-97).

The earliest sculptural depictions of Ramayana imagery appear as narrative reliefs rather than as full-fledged individual deities. One of the earliest reported sculptural depictions (Kanwarjit 2010) debatably pertaining to the Ramayana is not of Rama but of Ravana, seen in an early historic terracotta from Kausambi, Allahabad Museum. It supposedly depicts the abduction of Rama’s wife Sita by Ravana. In the narrative sculptures of the Gupta period, Rama is depicted as an ascetic during his exile rather than as crown prince. The Gupta emperors were devotees of Vishnu, with Garuda, the vehicle of Vishnu, representing their dynastic crest. In the Vishnu temple at Deogarh, Madhya Pradesh, of the Gupta period (6th century), sandstone reliefs from the Ramayana are depicted vividly on the platform, representing Rama. The National Museum collection has a red sandstone relief slab (78 x 68 cm; Morley 2005: 65) that depicts Rama blessing Ahalya to relieve her from Gautama’s curse which had turned her to stone. Rama is seated elegantly, with a bow in the right hand while blessing her with his left hand as she kneels before him. In the 5th-century Gupta terracotta at the Asia Society, New York, Rama and Lakshmana are represented with their hair tied up in ascetic buns. Based on available remains, one may surmise that it was not until the 6th century, during the Gupta period, that Brahmanical bronzes made their presence felt. One of the remarkable early Vaishnavite bronzes is a Chakrapurusha, or the personified wheel of Vishnu, 24 cm in height, from Kashmir, in the Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto, attributed by Pratapaditya Pal to 600 CE (1988: 90). It shows vestiges of Gandharan influence. Early inscribed Vaishnavite bronzes include a Pala bronze of Balarama, 103

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brother of Krishna (Vishnu’s incarnation, who features in the Mahabharata epic), from Kurkihar in Patna Museum (Khandalavala 1988: 122). He is identified by his insignia and the ploughshare while the inscription is dated 817 CE, to the period of Devapala. Ramayana bronzes are relatively scarce during the early medieval period.

Emergence of Ramayana iconography in southern India

From southern India, a spirited early historic bronze figurine from the Andhra Buddhist Ikshvaku site of Nagarjunakonda, of a prince with a bow (Deshpande 1988: 31), deserves mention. Though it may be unrelated in terms of identity, it seems to anticipate the style of princely Rama bronzes with a bow that emerges later in the region. While Ramayana narratives begin appearing in Chalukyan cave and structural temples, they are not found as part of the main iconographic representations but as minor or subsidiary narratives along with representations from the Panchatantra, Mahabharata and Sthalapuranas. These locations include the adishthana or base of the Upper Shivalaya at Badami (6th century). The Papanatha temple, Pattadakal (8th century) has a sequence depicting a yajna or ritual performed by Rama’s father, Dasharatha, labelled in Kannada. Hanuman, the monkey-general, who fought with Rama against Ravana, makes a distinctive appearance at the Virupaksha temple at Pattadakal in a depiction of his meeting with the captive Sita in Ashokavana in Lanka. The 8th-century Virupaksha temple was built by the Chalukya queen Lokamahadevi (Bolon 1988), which even as it commemorated her husband Vikramaditya II’s victory over the Pallavas, has also remained as a lasting tribute to the art of the vanquished in the overall inspiration from the Pallava Kailasanatha temple in Kanchipuram. The prevalence of Vaishnava worship amongst the Pallavas is indicated by the fine Vaikuntha Perumal temple, said to have been built by Paramesvaravarman I (c 675 CE) and finished by Nandivarman-Pallava-malla (c 742 CE) (Aravamuthan 1931: 26). Several fine early Pallava bronze icons of standing and seated Vishnu are found such as from Chingleput district, and now in Government Museum, Chennai (Sivaramamurti 1963: 25). The Pallava Vaikuntha Perumal temple depicts Rama along with other incarnations of Vishnu as seen in a stone frieze of Rama with a long bow, Lakshmana, and Sita on a lotus, identified by Nagaswamy (2011: 91). The influence of the Ramayana is also reflected in the way the king was eulogized in the Pallava biruda inscription found on an ornamental pavilion of Narasimhavarman I at Mahabalipuram (7th century) on the Dharmaraja Ratha. It describes the ruler as ‘satyaparakrama’, an epithet to describe Rama in Valmiki’s Ramayana (Sivaramamurti 1952: 39). Such inclinations towards god-king associations become further entrenched by the later medieval periods in India and Southeast Asia. 104

Rāmāyaṇa Bronzes and Sculptures from the Chola to Vijayanagara Times

One of the masterpieces of early Chola architecture, the Nageswara Temple at Kumbakonam is attributed to Aditya Chola in the 9th century. The base of this temple has exquisite miniature renderings of scenes from the Ramayana. Whereas some scholars such as Sanford (1974: 193-211) have speculated whether some of the superlative life-size figures ion the niches have links to Ramayana characters, connecting them to these miniatures at the base level, others such as Rajarajan (2008) have argued that they are portrait sculptures. The famed narrative stone panels along the basement of the Prambanan temple in Indonesia of the 8th-9th century depicting the Ramayana betray Indian influences, such as from coeval Pallava and early Chola art and architecture (Srinivasan 2013a, Shanmugam 2010, Nilakanta Sastri 1958).

Ramayana bronzes as utsavamurti or processional icons

The hymns of the poet-saints of the Tamil Vaishnava Alvars of 7th-8th centuries CE, such as Nammalvar, accord great respect to Rama as an incarnation of Vishnu. It took the genius of the Cholas to give the memorable characters of the Ramayana their due representation in bronze, despite being predominantly Shaivite worshippers, with some magnificent examples. By the Chola period, Ramayana bronzes such that of Rama, Sita, Lakshmana and Hanuman emerge as important icons for processional worship in the form of utsavamurtis (processional icons) in Vishnu temples (Dehejia (2003: 190). These appear as a set of four images of Rama, his wife Sita, his brother Lakshmana and the devoted monkey-general Hanuman. A reference to the Ramayana bronzes of Paruthiyur comprising of Rama, Sita and Lakshmana, is to be found in the Chola Leiden copper plates from Anaimangalam (Krishnamachari 2011), as pointed by Kudavayil Balasubramaniam. The plate records the grants made by Rajaraja I Chola to the temple, as witnessed by officials including the revenue officer. These masterly bronzes can be dated to Rajaraja’s period (985-1010 CE) (Nagaswamy 1983: 154-157) and are now in worship after having been stolen in the 1930s and then restored. The Ramayana was rendered in various Indian languages, Kamban’s Iramavataram being the outstanding Tamil version which provided a creative impetus to many artists. A superlative Rama bronze is presently located in the Philadelphia Museum of Art, attributed to the end of the 10th century by Dehejia (2003: 190) (Fig. 5.1). He is majestically depicted with the symbolic kodanda (bow) in his upraised arm and an arrow in the lowered hand, and jewelled crown with the siraschakra ornament following canonized forms of Chola icons. As dwelt on in more detail further, the value of the archaeometallurgical finger-printing exercise undertaken by the present author lies in that it has helped in identifying some key pieces of Ramayana bronzes 105

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Fig. 5.1: Rama, Philadelphia Museum of Art. Photograph courtesy: Arvind Venkataraman.

of the latter Chola and Vijayanagara period. All these indicate a marked rise in the stature of Rama as an iconic figure in Chola art. It is also interesting that the full-blown imagery of Rama seems to emerge in Chola art primarily in the medium of bronze almost circumventing the usual route via sculpture. One may speculate whether the theatrical nature of the Ramayana, which had made its way into several performing arts including shadow puppetry, also gave it a certain appeal as processional icons. Ramayana bronzes were also made elsewhere in southern India, with a delicate and extraordinary Chera example from Kerala (16th century) that deserves mention. It depicts the full set of Rama and Sita seated on a lotus base (Fig. 5.2), and Lakshmana standing with a prominent curved bow. A fairly accurate simian-like Hanuman is seated below with a manuscript in hand, and with his tail wound around him. Rama’s right hand is in vyakhyanamudra (gesture of discourse) and Sita holds the stalk of a lotus in the manner of Chera images of Parvati. Significantly, there is a small Shivalinga in front, as Rama is said to have prayed to Shiva at Rameswaram at the southernmost tip of the peninsula before proceeding to Lanka. The figures are surrounded by a pierced canopy of foliage and set on a rectangular pedestal with no apparent lugs. 106

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Fig. 5.2: Ramayana bronze set, Kerala National Museum. Photograph courtesy: Sharada Srinivasan.

Validating stylistic attributions through archaeometric analysis Almost all medieval South Indian bronzes were solid-cast by a lost wax process. This technique, described as madhuchchhishtha-vidhana in Indian artistic treatises such as the 12th-century Manasollasa (Reeves 1962), is still largely followed by hereditary families of icon makers, especially in the village of Swamimalai in Tanjavur district of Tamil Nadu (Srinivasan 1996, 1999, 2001, 2016).

While a large body of work exists in the area of the iconography of South Indian images, there has nevertheless been room for differences due to subjective criteria for making stylistic, chronological, and provenance attributions. Objective, technical criteria can help in such situations by providing supportive data to validate attribution. Images of Jaina and Buddhist affiliations often have donor inscriptions; however, icons of Hindu deities were rarely inscribed as they were cast mostly for worship, posing a problem for making stylistic attributions. There are nevertheless prospects where by calibrating the metallurgical profile of different groups of bronzes, a method of relative dating and stylistic authentication can be established. 107

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In the first comprehensive archaeometallurgical finger-printing exercise on South Indian images, 130 artistically important South Indian bronze images, sampled from the collections of the Government Museum, Chennai (70), Victoria and Albert Museum, London (50) and the British Museum, London (10) were investigated using lead isotope analysis and spectro-chemical analysis to attempt to generate such characteristic profiles which could act as tracers. Representative images ranging from the early Christian era to the 18th century were sampled using micro-drilling techniques for elemental composition of eighteen major, minor and trace elements using simultaneous multielement analysis by ICP-OES. Major, minor and trace elements were analyzed for 18 elements of Cu, Zn, Pb, Sn, Fe, Ni, As, Sb, Bi, Co, P, S, Cr, Mn, V, Cd, Ag and Au. Sixty of the icons analyzed by ICP-OES were also then subjected to lead isotope analysis using thermal ionization mass spectrometry. Lead isotope ratio analysis is a powerful method for archaeological finger-printing and classification because lead isotope ratios of artefacts from similar sources of lead tend to cluster together due to geochemical factors. As discussed in Srinivasan (1999) it was found from this study that, from the lead isotope ratios and trace element profiles one could identify characteristic chemical ‘finger-prints’ for different stylistic groups of South Indian metal icons. Furthermore, these analytical signatures could then be used to ‘date’ South Indian images, i.e. to make stylistic re-assessments for images of uncertain attributions. The sampled South Indian images were thus stylistically re-classified under the groups of Pre-Pallava, Early Pallava and Andhra (c. 200-600 CE), Middle Pallava (c. 600-850 CE) and Later Pallava (c. 850-875 CE), Early and High Vijayalaya Chola period (c. 850-1070 CE), Early Chalukya-Chola (c. 1070-1125 CE), Later Chalukya-Chola (c. 1125-1279 CE), Later Pandya (c. 1279-1336 CE), Vijayanagara and Early Nayaka (c. 1336-1565 CE) and Later Nayaka and Maratha (c. 1565-1800 CE) (Srinivasan 1999, 2004b, 2016). For clarity, the stylistic groups were devised by the author, following a review of the dynastic classifications made by various art historians, as explained in previous papers (Srinivasan 1999, 2016). Thus, for example, the Imperial Chola rulers are described as Vijayalaya Chola after the founder and what is usually known as Late Chola is described as Chalukya-Chola following the ascent of an Eastern Chalukyan prince Kulottunga to the Chola throne in 1070 CE which wrought a departure from the earlier classicism of Chola bronzes (Dehejia 1990: 93); while the classification of the Later Pandyas is derived from Tapsell (1983). About 80% of the analyzed South Indian images were bronzes (i.e., alloys of copper and tin) with only 20% being brasses (i.e., alloys of copper and zinc). Although South Indian icons are described in popular parlance as ‘pancha-loha’ or five-metalled, this might refer only to the symbolic addition of minor traces of gold and silver to alloys of copper, lead and tin/zinc as indicated by discussions with present-day sthapatis at Swamimalai 108

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and from the analyzes of South Indian images (Srinivasan 1999). It may also be noted that although such metal icons are often generically referred to as ‘bronzes’ many of them are in fact composed of brass.

Emergence of Vaishnava processional icons under the Pallavas

The lack of epigraphically dated or inscribed Pallava metal images has led earlier scholars such as Barrett (1965) to question the existence of a Pallava school of bronze as distinct from Chola. Later, Nagaswamy (1988: 153, 1995), after an extensive study, attributed at least 35 images to the Pallava period. Khandalavala (1995) also put forth his opinion that the ‘great’ tradition of South Indian bronzes was well underway in the Pallava period. The technical finger-printing studies undertaken by this author (Srinivasan 1999, 2004a, 2013a) also supports the existence of Pallava bronzes icons, as a substantial number of images had distinct analytical signatures especially of lead isotope ratios and trace element trends, which correlated well with those of the dated Pallava artefacts such as coins, charters and seals, and constituted different signatures from those found in Chola artefacts. From lead isotope and trace element authentication studies mentioned before, at least three Vishnu images were attributed to the Pallava period. One of these from the Chingleput district closely resembles, in the slanted discus and conch, a Vishnu depiction in a Vishnu temple in Nathankoil, Tanjavur district (Nagaswamy 1988: 147). Thus, the emergence of processional Vaishnavite icons by the Pallava period is corroborated by archaeometallurgical studies. The legacy of Pallava bronze Vishnus is also to be found in far-off Southeast Asia (Srinivasan 2013a). The prominent depiction of Rama with a bow as found in the Vaikuntha Perumal temple frieze, mentioned earlier, may also be kept in mind when looking at the styles of Chola period Rama bronze icons.

Ramayana icons as a processional set

A sampled set of Rama, Sita and Hanuman (acc. no. 315/55, 316/55 and 318/55, Government Museum, Chennai) from Tiruvalangadu, Chingleput district, Tamil Nadu (Fig. 5.3) was found to have technical profiles that matched the Later Chalukya-Chola images. The Rama image has stylistic similarities to a coeval Bhikshatana icon from Melaperumbulam playing the musical instrument, veena, dated to 1160-1180 CE from an associated temple inscription (Nagaswamy 1995: 125; Dehejia 1990: 117). It was of low leaded bronze of 6% lead and 2% tin. Stylistically, they were the handiwork of one master sculptor making the wax models, with similarities in ornamentation and in the styles of the tight garments. Apart from the individual details, what is also lovely to behold is their composition taken together as a set, complementing one another in terms of the relative sizes indicating their stature, while the images of Rama, Lakshmana and Sita seem to sway in unison with the similar directionality 109

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Fig. 5.3: Ramayana set of Rama, Sita, Lakshmana and Hanuman, Tiruvalangadu, Chingleput district, Government Museum, Chennai. Photograph courtesy: Government Museum, Chennai.

of their respective flexions or bhangas. They convey a great sense of the drama they would have generated when being taken out in procession. They bear the vestiges of the classicism of high Chola bronzes. Ramayana bronzes are also used in extant worship in some temples such as the Cheranmadevi Ramaswamy temple, with a set of late bronzes Rama, with a bow, Sita, Lakshmana and Hanuman, dressed in silk and adorned with jewellery and flowers (Fig. 5.4).

Fig. 5.4: Ramayana bronzes in worship, Cheranmadevi Temple. Photograph courtesy: Arvind Venkataraman. 110

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Hanuman bronzes found in Tamil Nadu and Ceylon One of the delectable aspects revealed by this survey of Ramayana bronzes is the variety and liveliness in the depictions of Hanuman, with a skilful interplay of the part-simian and part-human manifestations of this mythical character. A striking Hanuman bronze, the monkey general of Lord Rama, from Kongunadu, now in the Victoria and Albert Museum London (Fig. 5.5) was corroborated by archaeometallurgical analysis to fit an attribution to the Early Chalukya-Chola period, i.e., latter part of the 12th century with 74.8% copper, 14.9% lead and 6.9% tin. Hanuman bows deferentially with the hand before his mouth in a gesture of reverence while his face looks more like a man and less like an ape compared to some other depictions of Hanuman (as also pointed out by Dehejia 2003: 190). This image has some marked provincial Eastern Chalukyan features with a head dress of curls similar to the inscribed portrait of the Eastern Chalukyan prince Kulottunga III in the Kalahasti temple dated to 1178 CE (Dehejia 1990: 93) so that the technical and stylistic attributions seem consistent. An intriguing image of Hanuman from the Victoria and Albert Museum London and reportedly found in Ceylon was studied by the author. As seen (Fig. 5.6), the image is characterized with long tapering legs flexed at the knees, outstretched palms, expressive simian-like face with two prominent fangs and dagger in the girdle. The bronze further features a lug on the head from which it may have been intended for hanging, perhaps as an oil lamp. Unlike most Southern bronzes this image is hollow cast and with a circular pedestal; thus, the stylistic affiliations of the bronze are ambiguous. It cannot be denied that it does share a few features of later Ceylonese bronzes in terms of the long spindly legs but its modelling is quite unlike the examples of the Polonnaruva phase of Ceylon. However, it appears to share the closest affinities to a Karaikkal Ammaiyar image from the Victoria and Albert Museum (IM-118-1924; Dehejia 2003) in terms of the grotesque expression, spindly legs and the tight curls in the hairdo. The hallmark hair with tight curls seems indicative of a type of regional provinciality observed from the Chalukya-Chola period onwards. Interestingly, both these similar dramatic images which were analyzed by the author share lead isotope ratios and trace element trends consistent with the Later Pandyan period with around 20% lead. The finds of Ceylonese bronzes that may be attributed as Later Pandyan from the Tamil region is not surprising given that the Pandyans maintained links with rulers in Sri Lanka. It is tempting to surmise that this Hanuman image might have been commissioned by the Hindu Tamil community in Sri Lanka from the Tamil mainland. The image also underscores the appeal of the Ramayana and its enduring characters such as Hanuman in Sri Lanka (Srinivasan 2013b), with its associations of the mythical kingdom of Lanka which Hanuman is said to have burnt down with his tail. 111

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Fig. 5.5: Hanuman, Victoria and Albert Museum (acc. no. IM-135-1927). Photograph courtesy: Trustees of the Victoria and Albert Museum, London. 112

Fig. 5.6: Hanuman, Victoria and Albert Museum (acc. no. IS-275-1869). Photograph courtesy: Trustees of the Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

Rāmāyaṇa Bronzes and Sculptures from the Chola to Vijayanagara Times

Discriminating between Chola and Vijayanagara Rama images The Vijayanagara dynasty consciously continued Chola conventions in bronze casting. As pointed out by Michell (2000: 168), even the architectural style adopted by the Vijayanagara kings was heavily borrowed from Tamil standards. In this regard, the archaeometallurgical studies involving lead isotope and trace element analysis proved particularly effective in pointing to different signatures of these for Chola and Vijayanagara bronzes, very likely related to the ore’s sources, and which helped in identifying specific examples of Rama bronzes of these different periods.

A fine sampled image from the Government Museum, Chennai, on which lead isotope analysis was undertaken was a Rama image from Volayankunnam (Fig. 5.7) from

Fig. 5.7: Rama, Volayankunnam (acc. no. 495/65) from the Government Museum, Chennai. Photograph courtesy: Sharada Srinivasan. 113

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the Government Museum, Chennai. The lead isotope trends suggested an attribution to about 1047-1070 CE. It could pass as a Vijayanagara bronze with its relatively sharp features indicative of less worn, later bronzes. However, an attribution of the 11th century might be more appropriate as it does have a stamp of Chola classicism, while the shoulder ornaments are more similar to Chola art. The shallow relief of the decorations shows less evidence of post-cast tooling, unlike Vijayanagara bronzes. It may be pointed out too, that occasionally, remelting can result in a later image having an earlier lead isotope ratio signature. However, on the whole, the lead isotope signatures of Chola and Vijayanagara bronzes were distinct enough to suggest that this did not happen much.

A regal three-feet high Rama with a bow from the Victoria and Albert Museum, found in the Ramnad Zamindary of the former Madura province is an excellent example of a ‘high’ Vijayanagara bronze (Fig. 5.8) and was also technically finger-printed to this

Fig. 5.8: Rama, Victoria and Albert Museum (acc. No. IM-71-1927). Photograph courtesy: Trustees of the Victoria and Albert Museum, London. 114

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period. It exhibits features of the Chola Ramas in its stance; however, the angular features and plainer crown and simple decorations and delineation suggest it is a Vijayanagara bronze of about the 14th century. Michell (1995: 199) also dates it stylistically to the later Vijayanagara period. It was found to be of brass by ICP-OES analysis by the author with 21% zinc and traces of cadmium that may suggest the use of metallic zinc (Srinivasan 2016). It is one of the exceptional Rama images where he is actually holding a finely attenuated bow, rather than just the symbolic gestures. That this Vijayanagara/Early Nayaka era image was taken around in procession is indicated by the sets of lugs on the pedestals. However, whereas Vijayanagara depictions of Rama with the bow are to be found in small granite friezes such as in the Vitthala temple (Fig. 5.9), a closer

Fig. 5.9: Frieze of Rama, Sita and Lakshmana, Vittala Temple, Hampi. Photograph courtesy: Sharada Srinivasan. 115

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parallel for this bronze seems to be the style of a full-blown, large rounded sculpture from the 12th century Hoysala temple of Nuggehalli (Fig. 5.10), sculpted out of the more pliant medium of schist. Hoysala art vividly depicts aspects of the Ramayana (Settar 1992). From the Vijayanagara period, less formalized depictions are also found of crudely carved Rama, Sita and Hanuman figures on boulders (Sinopoli 2003: 224). It is also interesting that it was not only the classicism of the Cholas that seem to have been the models for the Vijayanagara metal smiths. For instance, a Rama image from the Victoria and Albert Museum London (Fig. 5.11) that fitted well the Vijayanagara analytical and lead isotope trends of the 15th century seem to hark back more to the decorative Hoysala style of Karnataka.

Bronze of Bharata

Amongst the rarer depictions are those of Bharata (Fig. 5.12), the brother of Rama. King Dasharatha, on the insistence of his wife Kaikeyi, Rama’s stepmother and Bharata’s mother, is forced to banish Rama to the forest so that the crown could be taken up by Bharata. In an episode of the Ramayana, Bharata who remains loyal to Rama meets the recently exiled prince Rama at Chitrakuta and implores him to return to Ayodhya to rule. However, Rama chooses to continue his exile to honour the promise his father Raja Dasharatha had made to Kaikeyi. Bharata then requests Rama for his padukas or wooden sandals, which he places on the throne of Ayodhya, to rule as regent of the kingdom. A truly exceptional, large bronze of Bharata is to be found in the National Museum, New Delhi. This well-modelled bronze captures the dignified and sombre demeanour of Bharata who placed his devotion to his brother above all else. Bharata is depicted raising his arms to support Rama’s sandals on his head, wearing a short dhoti. While the lotus base itself does not have holes, the pedestal below has two sets of hooks indicating that it was carried around in the procession. It has been attributed to the 14th-century Vijayanagara period by the National Museum, although at first glance it is closely modelled after Chola bronzes, underscoring the relevance of archaeometallurgical finger-printing for more effective discrimination.

Some preliminary iconometric explorations

Since South Indian bronzes were broadly modelled on the basis of the talamana canon of measurements, an attempt was made to undertake iconometric studies to explore traditional modelling systems. This research was undertaken partly with the support of the Department of Science and Technology – Indian Digital Heritage (DSTIDH) project. For the two Rama images discussed previously, finger-printed to the Later Chalukya-Chola Rama from Government Museum, Chennai (Fig. 5.13) and the Vijayanagara Rama from Victoria and Albert Museum London (Fig. 5.11) iconometric studies were made, deriving from the writings of T A Gopinath Rao (1914). These suggest that Rama bronzes of the Vijayanagara period are more elongated and seem 116

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Fig. 5.10: Hoysala Rama sculpture, Nuggehalli, Karnataka. Photograph courtesy: Padhmapriya. 117

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Fig. 5.11: Iconometric analysis of Rama, Victoria and Albert Museum (acc. no. IM-1-1934). 118

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to follow specifications related to the uttama navatala (nine talas) measurements prescribed for deities, whereas the Chola Rama image seemed to be modelled closer to the ashtatala (eight talas) prescriptions. The text of Vaikhanasagama prescribes that full-grown men should be modelled upon ashtatala measurements, whereas the nine and ten talas were reserved for major deities (Gupta and Asthana 2002: 15). This is intriguing, suggesting that in the Chola period bronzes, Rama was perhaps visualized more as an idealized man or demi-god rather than as a full-fledged deity. But later, during the Vijayanagara period, Rama had gained an elevated and prominent status of a god-king by process of gradual deification. The Ramachandra temple at Hampi or former Vijayanagara of the Sangama period (15th century) reflects prominent Ramaworship by this period (Settar 1990). Likewise, in bronze too, by the Vijayanagara period, the enhancement of the status of Rama towards a deity is reflected in the shift in iconometric proportions moving towards the navatala or nine tala proportion as seen in Fig. 5.11. Fritz (1986) suggests that the notions of divine kingship at Vijayanagara had a performative aspect also when seen in relation to the spatial significance of the Ramachandra temple. Indeed, the circumambulatory rituals of processional Ramayana bronze icons would have added yet another dimension to this intertwining of royal and cosmic theatre.

Fig. 5.12: Bronze of Bharata, National Museum,

New Delhi. Photograph courtesy:

Sharada Srinivasan.

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Fig. 5.13: Iconometric analysis of the Later Chalukya Chola Rama bronze from Tiruvalangadu, Government Museum, Chennai. 120

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Acknowledgements The author is grateful for the support of the Government Museum, Chennai, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, Institute of Archaeology, London, and the IDH-Hampi project team members of Rajarshi Sengupta, S Padhmapriya, Praveen Johnson and Uma Krithika, and importantly, S Settar and S Ranganathan.

Bibliography

Bolon, C R. 1988. “Two Chalukya queens and their Commemorative Temples: Eighth century Pattadakal”, in Royal Patrons and Great Temple Art, ed. V Dehejia, 61-77. Mumbai: Marg Publications. Dehejia, V. 1990. Art of the Imperial Cholas. New York: Columbia University Press.

Dehejia, V. ed., 2003. The Sensuous and the Sacred- Chola Bronzes from South India, American Federation of Arts, New York, in association with Mapin Publishing, Ahmedabad.

Deshpande, M N. 1988. “Kushan bronzes from Chausa and Satavahana bronzes”, in Indian Bronze Masterpieces, Festival of India, ed. K Khandalavala, New Delhi, 31. Fritz, J. 1986. “Vijayanagara: Authority and Meaning of a South Indian Imperial Capital,” American Anthropologist, New Series, vol. 88(1), 44-55.

Gopinath Rao, T A. 1914. Elements of Hindu Iconography, vol. 1(2), Appendix B, 1-29. Gupta, S P and S P Asthana, 2002. Elements of Indian Art, New Delhi: D K Printworld.

Kanwarjit, S K. 2010. Colours of Ramayana, Spectrum, Tribune, Sunday, Oct 10th, 2010.

Khandalavala, K, A R Mathur and S Singh ed., 1988. The Great Tradition: Indian Bronze Masterpieces, New Delhi: Festival of India.

Khandalavala, K. 1995. “Four Unpublished South Indian bronzes”, Indian Art and Connoisseurship. Essays in honour of Douglas Barrett, ed. John Guy, 131-139. Ahmedabad: Indira Gandhi Centre National Centre for the Arts in association with Mapin Publishing Pvt Ltd. Krishnamachari, S. Priceless treasures of the Cholas, The Hindu, April 14th, 2011.

Michell, G. 1995. Architecture and Art of Southern India: Vijayanagara and the Successor States. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Michell, G. 2000. Hindu Art and Architecture. London: Thames and Hudson. Morley, G. 2005. Indian Sculpture. New Delhi: Roli & Janssen.

Nagaswamy, R. 1983. Masterpieces of Early South Indian bronzes. New Delhi: National Museum. Nagaswamy, R. 1988. South Indian bronzes. The Great Tradition - Indian Bronze Masterpieces, ed. K Khandalavala et al. New Delhi: Festival of India, 142-79.

Nagaswamy, R. 1995. On Dating South Indian Bronzes. Indian Art and Connoisseurship. Essays in Honour of Douglas Barrett, 101-129. Ahmedabad: Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts in association with Mapin Publishing Pvt Ltd

Nagaswamy, R. 2011. Viṣṇu Temples of Kanchipuram. New Delhi: D K Printworld.

Nilakanta Sastri, K A. 1958. A History of South India from Prehistoric Times to the Fall of Vijayanagara. London: Oxford University Press.

Pal, P. 1988. “Bronzes of Kashmir,” in The Great Tradition: Indian Bronze Masterpieces, ed. K Khandalavala, et al., 88-102. New Delhi: Festival of India. 121

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Rajarajan, RKK. 2008. “Identification of Portrait Sculptures on the Pada of the Nagesvara temple of Kumbakonam,” East and West, 58 (1/4405-414). Reeves, R. 1962. Cire Perdue Casting in India. New Delhi: Crafts Museum.

Sanford, D. 1974. Early Temples Bearing Ramayana Relief Cycles in the Chola Area: A Comparative Study, PhD Thesis. Los Angeles: University of California.

Settar, S. 1990. Hampi: A Medieval Metropolis, Bangalore: Kala Yatra Publications.

Settar, S. 1992. The Hoysala Temples, vol. 1 & 2, Institute of Indian Art History, Karnataka University, Dharwad and Kala Yatra Publications, Bangalore.

Shanmugan, P. 2010. “India and Southeast Asia: South Indian Cultural Links with Indonesia,” in Nagapattinam to Suvarnadwipa: Reflections on the Chola Naval Expeditions to Southeast Asia, ed. H Kulke, K Kesavapany and V Sakhuja, 208-226. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. Sinopoli, C. 2003. The Political Economy of Craft Production: Crafting Empire in South India, c. 1350-1650. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Sivaramamurti, C. 1963. South Indian bronzes. Bombay: Lalit Kala Academy.

Srinivasan, S. 1996. The Enigma of the Dancing Panchaloha (five-metalled) Icons: Archaeometallurgical and Art Historical Investigations on South Indian Bronzes, Unpublished PhD. Thesis, Institute of Archaeology, University College London.

Srinivasan, S. 1999. “Lead Isotope and Trace Element Analysis in the Study of over a Hundred South Indian Metal Icons.” Archaeometry 41(1): 91-116.

Srinivasan, S. 2001. “Dating the Nataraja Dance Icon: Technical Insights.” Marg: A Magazine of the Arts 52 (4): 54-70.

Srinivasan, S. 2004a. “Siva as Cosmic Dancer: On Pallava Origins for the Nataraja Bronze”. World Archaeology. [Special Issue on ‘Archaeology of Hinduism]. vol. 36(3): 432-450. Srinivasan, S. 2004b. “Chronology and Metal Sources of South Indian Metal Icons,” in Archaeology as History: South Asia, ed., H P Ray and C Sinopoli, 219-257. New Delhi: Indian Council for Historical Research and Aryan Books International.

Srinivasan, S. 2013a. “Techno-cultural Perspectives on Medieval Southeast Asia and Southern India: Pallava Bronzes and Beyond,” in Materializing Southeast Asia’s Past: Selected Papers from the 12th International Conference of the European Association of Southeast Asian Archaeologists, vol. 2, ed. Marijke J Klokke and Veronique Degroot, 167-78. Singapore: NUS Press. Srinivasan, S. 2013b. “Iconographic Trends in Rama Worship: Insights from Techno-cultural Studies of Bronzes,” Proceedings of a Conference on The Ramayana in Literature, Society and the Arts, 345-62. Chennai: CPR Publications, CP Ramaswamy Aiyar Institute of Indological Research Suresh, K M. 2011. Vijayanagara Sculptures in Hampi. Bharatiya Kala Prakashan.

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6. Mighty Messenger: Adaptation and Localization of Hanuman and the Ramayana in Southeast Asia Gauri Parimoo Krishnan

Introduction

The binary existence of good and evil, human and ape, ogre and celestial, divine and demonic, truth and deceit has created a fictional world where the sophisticated and the unsophisticated clash creating a perennial struggle for power, supremacy and justice. Many myths and legends in different societies, cultures and civilizations in the past have evolved that deal with such plots and will continue in the future. What makes the tale of Rama-Sita endure the ravages of time, as well as cultural, religious and linguistic boundaries, has engaged many scholars. The archetypal tradition of the Ramayana tale, in epic literature, visual and performing arts of India and Southeast Asia have at least one commonality – the core story. Its adaptation in different contexts, localization to suit the conditions as well as the expectation of its audience has led to certain retellings as well as variations. However, the validity of each one is as credible as the core story. The attempt here is not to find the relevance of the ‘original’ Ramayana but how it has been selectively absorbed by the diverse cultures in Southeast Asia, and how each culture holds on to its Indian roots, making it relevant as ‘national’ history in its past and present.1 Using the character of Hanuman as a reference, this chapter will explore the many exploits of Hanuman and how Ramayana remains the ‘signifier’ of Southeast Asia’s Indian inheritance, Sanskritization and visual aesthetics.

Localization of the Ramayana in visual narratives

G Coedès (1886-1969), the renowned French archaeologist and historian of Southeast Asia, in his watershed publication The Indianized States of Southeast Asia (Coedès 1968: 254) pointed out the universality of the theme of the Ramayana (along with the Mahabharata, Puranas, and Buddhist Jatakas) which “tugs at the hearts of audiences” from one end of Asia (Farther India as per Coedes) to the other, who “weep over the misfortunes” of a loving couple Rama-Sita, extol the virtues of iconic BuddhaBodhisattva and heroes such as Arjuna and Dasharatha. The theatrical performances all over Southeast Asia – their music, action, costumes and emotions evoke a sentimental connection with their Indian counterparts whose narrative and aesthetic inheritance 123

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over the years has completely been localized. The universality of the theme, the human values of justice and fairness and quest for the union of lovers, have arrested the psychology of many Asian cultures who celebrate the Ramayana narrative as part of their heirloom traditions, and as a cherished heritage shorn of its Hindu background that continues to inspire through the recent ideological layers of Islam, Christianity, colonialism, communism and democracy.

While European scholars were still taking stock of the Ramayana texts, editing and comparing recensions and regional variations during the 19th and early 20th centuries; Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941) after visiting Java, Sumatra, Bali and Siam in 1927, and Wilhelm Stutterheim (1892-1942), after studying the Ramayana narrative in Central Javanese reliefs of Candi Prambanan and East Javanese reliefs of Candi Panataran in 1929, had similar observations about the Indianization as well as the localization of Indian aesthetic principles, iconography and mythological narratives in the visual and performing arts of Southeast Asia (Stutterheim 1989: xxi-xxiii; Bose 2013). Some of the scholars working on the ancient kingdoms, literature and art forms of the Southeast Asian civilizations were busy looking for the Valmikian archetype and how the texts might have travelled along trade routes and through the Sanskritic religious routes; they did not consider the oral or folk narratives that were transmitted and absorbed by the common folk. It is only since the 1970s that the widespread understanding of the spread and variations of the Ramayana epic across Asia in their literary, visual and performed variations were systematically studied, documented and discussed in international Ramayana conferences hosted by the Sahitya Akademi, India, as credible contiguous material adopted and adapted through the localization of the tale and its characters, by the Asian as well as Western scholars.2 Explaining the ‘indigenization’ of the Ramakatha, Sachchidanand Sahai (1981: 2) wrote, “to understand the folklore, social structure and popular beliefs of different ethnic groups of the area and their interaction with the Rama legend is required to understand this process.” Furthermore, it is apparent through the extensive research and comparative study by Prof S Singaravelu (1968: 173; 2004) that language and literature are not necessarily the source for the visual and the performed Ramayana in Southeast Asia, and I believe more credence needs to be given to the dalangs or the puppeteers, dance-drama storytellers as well as visual artists and master designers of great and small monuments across time and space for their creativity in ‘adaptation, diffusion and acculturation’ of the Ramayana tales’ motifs, place names and forms as per their own local contexts. Notably, the localization of the theme in Southeast Asia is similar in southern and eastern parts of India. Further, a note needs to be taken of the role of Bengal and Orissa (Sahoo 124

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1980, 568-569) in the diffusion process as well as that of the Malay oral tales through Sumatra reaching Central Java where these scenes were depicted in large sculptured narratives on the walls of the 9th-century Shiva and Brahma temples at Loro Jongrang in Prambanan before making its way through the Sanskrit route in the Old Javanese Kakawin (Fig. 6.1).

Fig. 6.1: Abduction of Sita, Shiva temple, Prambanan, 9th century, Indonesia. Photograph courtesy: Gauri Parimoo Krishnan.

Dutch archaeologist and scholar W Stutterheim identified and interpreted the scenes of the Ramayana narrative, including the Vajaradhatu mandala on which the temple’s layout is based. In his observation, the Ramayana narratives are uniquely Javanese localized interpretations that are neither based on Valmiki’s Ramayana nor the Javanese Kakawin but the Malay Hikayats such as the Hikayat Seri Rama which may have travelled to Java from Palembang in Sumatra. The limitation posed by this material in the study is the lateness of the Malay written text which were not written prior to the 17th century, but the visual representation of the narrative reliefs at Candi Prambanan sufficiently prove the localization and indigenization of the Ramayana story and its visual composition based on 9th-century art and possible oral traditions. The cultural and political influence of Sumatra on Java with regards to Hindu art seems to be much more complex than we think and certainly deserves more research (Sahai 125

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1981: 12-13). It took another five hundred years for the Ramayana story to resurface in the art of the East Javanese kingdom of Panataran (14th century). In the Khmer art of Pre-Angkor and Angkor periods, however, it is not as extensive as in Javanese art.

Hanuman, the mighty messenger and his popularity in Southeast Asia Ramayana in stone narratives

Focusing our attention in this chapter on Hanuman, many references come to the fore. However, I have limited my observations to the Javanese, Khmer and Siamese examples. Hanuman and his exploits have engaged the audiences as well as storytellers and writers across the island and mainland Southeast Asia. Why is Hanuman given more prominence at Candi Panataran (14th century) in East Java compared to Candi Prambanan (8th-9th century) in Central Java or at Angkor Wat (11th century) in Cambodia? At Panataran, Angkot Wat, Banteay Srei, Phimai and later Siamese monuments, he assumes a half human-half ape form delineated like a Wayang puppet or a Khon mask dancer while in the Prambanan reliefs he is still represented as a humanized ape (Fig. 6.2). Both visual and performative arts have influenced each other in creating an identity of the varied characters of the Ramayana.

Fig. 6.2: Hanuman reporting to Rama after returning from Lanka, Prambanan, 9th century, Indonesia. Photograph courtesy: Gauri Parimoo Krishnan.

Hanuman’s enormous strength, magical power, wisdom and ability to achieve what he sets out to achieve, have been extolled in the art during the period of the Majapahit rulers of East Java and subsequently in the Cambodian and Thai visual narratives. Candi Panataran was also a centre of Tantric worship which brought to the fore the mystical and magical powers of Hanuman to prevail upon the design principles of the temple 126

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structure as well as the placement of the relief carvings. With the exception of Candi Prambanan relief narratives, where all the seven kandas or books of the Ramayana are relatively well balanced, Candi Panataran and later performative narratives such as the Ramakien Khon performance, Balinese Wayang-Wong and Kechak dance, and the Javanese Sendratari Ramayana (Fig. 6.3) to this day begin with the Maricha scene, abduction of Sita and her massive search, the war between the monkeys and ogres,

Fig. 6.3: Hanuman in Ravana’s court, Sendratari Ramayana, Indonesia, 2018. Photograph courtesy: Gauri Parimoo Krishnan.

and final victory of Rama and his monkey army over Ravana and his ogre soldiers in Lanka. The popularity of the Kishkindhakanda, Sundarakanda and Yuddhakanda are unquestionable in the visual and performing arts of Southeast Asia since they are perfect for dramatization and theatrically engaging. The Uttarakanda forms a separate part of the literary narrative and adapts many motifs and episodes from Bengal and South Indian sources and forms part of the Ramakien and Hikayat Seri Rama texts. Besides the influence of Brahmanism through epic and puranic literature, even Sanskrit literature such as Valmiki’s Ramayana or the Bhattikavya is freely studied and selectively absorbed. Sectarian Vaishnavism and Vaishnavite principles of the Dashavatara of Vishnu, especially the stories of the exploits of Krishna and the ordeals of Rama, Sita, Hanuman, etc., are widely illustrated from the Majapahit period onwards. This is also parallel to the visual efflorescence of the epics and puranic lore on built monuments all over Deccan and South India. Buddhist values from the Jataka tales have also been absorbed by the Ramayana characters, especially Rama as Vessantara or Buddha, and Lakshmana and Hanuman as Bodhisattvas or Ananda and Sariputta, tend to relate the Rama story, its characters and thematic motifs with the various Buddhist Paramitas (virtues or perfections). Thus, combined Hindu-Buddhist values 127

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in Siam and Khmer regions and the post-Islamic revision of the Ramayana in Java and Malaysia are unique phenomena that are deeply intertwined with the politics of culture that includes classical aesthetics and linguistics. While the various terraces of the Prambanan temples carried the narrative of the Ramayana faithfully forward, at Panataran it had developed clear favourites and delved only on scenes that were possibly popular in Wayang theatre and puppet performances. Prambanan reliefs are in large format and offer options of simultaneous narrative and detailed settings. Here, the story is much balanced across the seven books while at Panataran it is in small format, a condensed narrative dealing mainly with the main character and essential details has much in common with the Thai shadow puppets. Here, the caricature-like profile, details of the dress and accessories as well as compositional devices are organized according to the location of the scene. Hanuman has been profusely depicted and hence occupies a dominant role here (Kinney et al. 2003: 187-190) (Fig. 6.4).

Fig. 6.4: Hanuman combating an ogre, Candi Panataran. Photograph courtesy: Wikimedia Commons, Image: Michael Gunther (Public Domain).

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In Angkor Wat, the story is also illustrated on many tympanums and lintels of the doorways, as stand-alone episodes, or a moment from an episode rather than a linear continuous narrative. Some have just one episode, while others have simultaneous narratives. The battle scenes, Rama’s clever move of shooting Bali stealthily during the Bali-Sugriva fight, as well as the trickery by Indrajit leading to Rama and Lakshmana getting caught in the nagapasha (serpent-noose) are favoured themes. On one of the tympanums of Banteay Srei, there is a depiction of Ravana (Iravanan/Tacakkirivan) where he is trying to uproot the Kailash mountain, the abode of Shiva, who then presses the mountain with his big toe and crushes Ravana’s arms. In order to please Shiva, and to win his boon of immortality, Ravana makes a lute from one of his heads and string from his arms and sings the Samaveda in praise of Shiva for a thousand years. Shiva is indeed pleased and bestows a magical sword, Chandrahasa, on Ravana with a boon of long life and rulership over the three worlds. A similar story is also recorded in the Tamil Shaivite Tevaram hymns. This shows how the Tamil oral tradition has influenced the Hikayat Seri Rama and other mainland Ramayana narratives in Thailand and Cambodia. There is yet another interpretation of this episode given by KTS Sarao (2013: 224) who explains that when Ravana started lifting mount Kailash to please Shiva, it shook. Parvati got scared, while Nandi got enraged and cursed him that one day his Lanka will be destroyed by a monkey. This episode from the Shiva Purana finding a pride of place in Khmer architecture shows the intermingling of Vaishnava and Shaiva mythology and selective interpretation of the narratives in the hands of Khmer artists.

Ramakien in paintings and bas-reliefs

Ramakien follows the main plot of the Ramayana, essentially starting with the Hanuman’s search for Sita and ends with the reconciliation of Rama and Sita. It has been beautifully rendered in a visual narrative by Thai artists as bas-reliefs and painted murals that are found in Buddhist monasteries and temples. A total of 152 marble basreliefs in the ubosot (ordination hall) of Wat Pra Chetupon (Wat Pho) restored from Ayutthaya were constructed during the reign of King Rama III in the 18th century. It narrates the story from the abduction of Nang Sida (Sita) to the last battle of Intorachit, Sahatsadecha and Mulpalam. Ramakien painted murals are depicted in the galleries along the temple of the Emerald Buddha (Wat Phra Kaew) since late 18th century and restored several times due to the humid weather of Bangkok.

Ramakien was written in the late 18th century by Rama I for dance drama and Rama II created the popular Ramayana for dancing. Mongkut Rama IV and Vajiravudh Rama VI were interested in Sanskrit literature and they too added some parts and wrote the “Origin of the Ramakien” according to S Diskul. He further opines, besides the 129

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Valmikian source, Ramakien also includes Uttaranikaya and Anganikaya of Bengal, Tamil versions of the Rama story, Vishnupurana, Hanuman Nataka, Ramacharita Manas of Tulsidas, and Thai adaptations and former versions of the Rama story before the sacking of Ayutthaya (S Diskul 1994: 63-76).

The Ramakien literary narrative does not end with the killing of Tosakan (Thotsakan or Ravana), restoration of Nang Sida to Phra Ram, and his coronation as one would expect. It goes further into the life of Lava and Kusha and the second separation of Rama and Sita. Further research into the tripartite comparison of the oral and written narratives for the Khon dance performance (Vajiravudho 1967), the adaptation of the story to illustrate wall murals and bas reliefs, as well as the introduction of folk elements into the main narrative is needed in all Thai art forms, which captures popular genres and favourite characters such as Hanuman in popular Thai culture. The Ramakien version of King Rama I has a unique episode of the heart casket of Tosakan which Hanuman offered to retrieve with the help of Ongkot (Angada) so that Rama could kill Tosakan successfully. This is illustrated in the Wat Phra Kaew murals in Bangkok (Diskul 1981: 104-109). This version is believed to have been inspired by some indigenous Thai magical or Tantric practices where Tosakan’s heart could be retrieved and kept in a casket for safekeeping ritually by his preceptor Goputramaharishi. It also involves a deceitful act on the part of Hanuman that is characteristically unethical and un-Hanuman-like from the Indian perspective. Hanuman and Ongkot lie to Tosakan and win his favours and join his army deceitfully, winning over his heart at first and cheating him eventually. Even though Hanuman joins the army of Tosakan, Rama knows Hanuman is only pretending. Hanuman finally tricks Tosakan and the rishi (sage), takes the heart casket and at an opportune time in the battle, crushes it. When Tosakan knows his end is near, he goes to his palace and bids farewell to his wives and courtiers. Manto (Mandodari) asks him to return Sita to save his life, but he prefers to die a brave death of a warrior than live in fear and disgrace. This episode and the motif of preserving the heart as an organ or spirit is connected with the Medieval European legend of Faust (S Poolthupya 1994: 174), who sold his soul to the Devil. Tosakan, after preserving his heart, becomes invincible and engages in unscrupulous acts, just like a demon. This negativity of Tosakan’s character has many contemporary resonances as well as connections with European motifs and characters. Several instances of unscrupulous behaviour and trickery are ascribed to Hanuman in Thai Ramakien that shows his ability to manipulate every situation in the interest of the victory of good over evil, his unwavering loyalty to Rama and his efforts to restore the union of Rama and Sita. Use of trickery, maya, or duplication of fake objects and identities abound in Thai Ramakien where Pipek’s (Vibhishana’s) daughter Benyagai 130

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impersonates as dead Sita under the orders of Tosakan and appears before Rama to trick him. Even folk versions of the Ramakien are found, such as the two Phra Lak Phra Lam manuscripts from the Northeast Thailand or Laos, the Vientiane version and the Bangkok version in which the Benyagai episode appears.

Many encounters of Hanuman are illustrated repeatedly (Fig. 6.5), from the thematic sources of Sundarkanda, and Yuddhakanda, bringing to the fore the magical powers of Hanuman as well as his playful dalliance with the lady characters, which are wholly fabricated from Thai imagination. In most of his erotic encounters, he usually takes the lady characters’ love and at times produces offsprings. For the divine celibate simian god Hanuman in Indian Hindu faith, this is unimaginable. Here, I list a few examples of Hanuman’s trickery and his love exploits from Wat Pho in Bangkok: Hanuman’s killing of Sua Samut (Surasa), the ocean frontier guardian of Lanka (panel 17), Hanuman playing tricks on the hermit Nart (panel 18-21), the entire encounter at Lanka in several episodes, the floating lady Benyagai (panel 69-77), his encounter

Fig. 6.5: Hanuman depicted as a white monkey on the murals of the temple of the Emerald Buddha, Bangkok. Photograph courtesy: Wikimedia Commons (Public Domain).

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with Supannamatcha (panel 88-92) and Hanuman capturing Wirunyamuk in a magic net (panel 126), and Hanuman killing Sahatsadecha (panel 152) while Benyagai impersonates Sita (panel 73) are moving evidence of how trickery was employed as a technique of storytelling to weave the narrative and keep the audience engaged (S Vingvorn 1994: 194-200).

Hanuman’s intelligence, wisdom and ability to foresee danger as well as his ability to cheat his rivals in the guise of a little powerless white monkey and his transformation into a powerful, unbeatable mighty ape, artful lover and playful magician, all rolled into one, whose ultimate objective is to serve his master come through effectively in Thai Ramayana. It is also to be noted that even though Phra Ram is an incarnation of Lord Narai, he is still rescued by Hanuman such as in the case of Maiyarab’s abduction of Phra Ram, where Hanuman manages to overcome all the challenges with the help of his son Matchanu. There is also the dual Hindu-Buddhist theological transformation of Phra Ram into the divine four-armed Lord Narai at several junctures in the illustration of the Ramayana episodes where evil or negative characters are put to rest by the moral agency of the divine righteous powers. The presence of Vishnu in Thai Ramakien is an alternative for the king as well as the Buddha/Bodhisattva, a nice blend of Hindu and Buddhist values of humanity and kingship in the motif of a leader. Many archetypal motifs of the Ramayana are also used in fortune telling manuscripts in Thailand suggesting the archetypal nature of the characters, their situations, vulnerability and similarities with the lives of the ordinary folks who knew the tale very closely.

Hikayat Seri Rama

The Hikayat Seri Rama text written in Perso-Arabic (Jawi) script from the early 19th century has survived in many manuscripts of which two recensions have been published and another five have been summarized (R Muniandy 1994: 83). Of significance to this chapter is the fact that it is also widely accepted and recognized by scholars. In Hikayat Seri Rama, there is an influence of oral and folk traditions from the south, east and west of India, Indonesian archipelago and the Malay Peninsula, which has led to many motifs, words and episodes included from the Tamil poet Kamban’s Iramavataram and Uttara Kandam attributed to poet Ottakkuttar (R Muniandy 1994: 86). The story of Patala Maharayan in Hikayat Seri Rama and Mayiliravanan Katai in the Uttara Kandam possess magical powers and are said to be included from the Tamil source into Hikayat Seri Rama, Thai Ramakien and Cambodian Reamker. Hanuman plays a great part in this story because he not only goes in search of Rama to the underworld but also meets his own son Hanuman Tuganggah, who is even stronger than him as he was given birth to by Ravana’s sister (Raja Manik or Jandana) who had swallowed Hanuman’s semen in the sea when he leapt across the sea in search of Sita. In Mayiliravanan Katai, a 132

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similar incident occurred causing Timiti, a fish, to give birth to Maccakarppan. In both stories, Hanuman disguises as a bird or a bee and enters the palace. This shows that not only Valmiki but Kamban and other Tamil folk authors’ works were also the source for the Southeast Asian Ramayanas. As rightly pointed out by Rajantheran Muniandy (1994: 92), “Finally it may be noted that the Malay folk and literary traditions of the Rama story have assumed distinct forms incorporating both localized elements and popular elements from oral sources reaching the Indonesian shores before reaching the Malay Peninsula from different parts of the Indian subcontinent, especially from South Indian Tamil sources.” The Southeast Asian texts are therefore much modified and innovative in their approach in retelling the Ramayana core story, enriching it with local motifs and aspirations. Besides oral and written Tamil Ramayana sources, many Sanskrit words are also accepted in the Malay language, literature and official titles during the period of the Melaka Sultanate (15th century). For example, the title of Lakshmana given to the Malay legendary warrior Hang Tuah bears close understanding of the Ramayana story and the role of Lakshmana, Rama’s younger brother and close confidant, warrior and commander of the troops. More such terms used even to this day include Paduka the function of Bharata as deputy, Seri Paduka - His Majesty, used in Malay courts for prominent citizens for their service to the State (Sri Ganeshan 1994: 77-82). This study of cultural confluence, however, would require another research paper. This chapter is a humble attempt at drawing attention to the multiple layers of shared heritage between India and Southeast Asia and how the inter-Asian cross-cultural strands have evolved and adapted giving new relevance to their localization (Sharma 2013: 9-22).

Endnotes

1. For this detailed discussion, see my publications based on two past exhibitions co-curated for the Asian Civilizations Museum in Singapore: Krishnan (1997 and 2010); and Kam 2000.

2. The Sahitya Akademi undertook ambitious projects of gathering Indian, Western and Southeast Asian scholars to bring to the fore many aspects of the Ramayana for the first time on such a vast scale which gave great momentum to the Ramayana studies worldwide. See, for example, Raghavan (1980), Srinivasa Iyengar (1983), and Krishnamoorthy and Mukhopadhyaya (1993: xxiii-xxxvii).

Bibliography

Bose, Sugata. 2013. “Modern Memories of Ancient Bonds: The Cultural Connections between South and Southeast Asia,” in Civilizational Dialogue, Asian Inter-connections and Crosscultural Exchanges, ed. Anjana Sharma, 25-35. Delhi: Manohar.

Coedès, Georges. 1968. The Indianized States of Southeast Asia, ed. Walter F. Vella, trans. Susan Brown Cowing. Canberra: Australian National University Press.

Diskul, SMC. 1980. “Ramayana in Sculptures and Paintings in Thailand”, The Ramayana Tradition in Asia, Papers Presented at the International Seminar on the Ramayana Tradition in Asia, ed. V Raghavan. New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi. 133

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Diskul, SMC and C S Rice. 1981. The Ramakien (Ramayana) Mural Paintings along the Galleries of the Temple of the Emerald Buddha (Thai and English). Bangkok: Government Lottery Office. Kam, Garrett. 2000. Ramayana in the Arts of Asia. Singapore: Select Publishing. Kinney, Ann R, M J Klokke and L Kieven. 2003. Worshipping Siva and Buddha: The Temple Arts of East Java. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. Krishnamoorthy, K and S Mukhopadhyaya. 1993. A Critical Inventory of Ramayana Studies in the World: Foreign languages, vol. 2. New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi in collaboration with Union Academique Internationale, Bruxelles. Krishnan, Gauri Parimoo. 1997. Ramayana: A Living Tradition. Singapore: Asian Civilisations Museum (exhibition catalogue). Krishnan, Gauri Parimoo. 2010. Ramayana in Focus: Visual and Performing Arts in Asia. Singapore: Asian Civilisations Museum (exhibition catalogue). Muniandy, Rajantheran. 1994. “Hikayat Seri Rama: Establishing the Source”, in Indian Studies Journal, Souvenir Volume of the 11th International Ramayana Conference, 83-100. Bangkok: Thammasat University. Poolthupya, S. 1994. “Symbolism of the Heart Casket in the Ramakien”, in Indian Studies Journal, Souvenir Volume of the 11th International Ramayana Conference, 170-178. Bangkok: Thammasat University. Raghavan, V., ed. 1980. The Ramayana Tradition in Asia, Papers Presented at the International Seminar on the Ramayana Tradition in Asia. New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi. Sahai, Sachchidanand. 1981. The Ramayana in Southeast Asia. Bihar: Centre for South East Asian Studies. Sahoo, K C. 1980. “Rama-Literature in Orissa and its Influence on Indonesia”, The Ramayana Tradition in Asia, ed. V Raghavan, 561-572. New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi. Sarao, KTS. 2013. “Banteay Srei, the Cambodian Citadel of Women: A Look at the Scenes from the Ancient Epics and Puranas,” in Civilizational Dialogue, Asian Inter-connections and Cross-cultural Exchanges, ed. Anjana Sharma, 219-231. Delhi: Manohar. Sharma, Anjana. 2013. Civilizational Dialogue, Asian Inter-connections and Cross-cultural Exchanges. Delhi: Manohar. Singaravelu, S. 1968. A Comparative Study of the Sanskrit, Tamil, Thai and Malay Versions of the Story of Rama with Special Reference to the Process of Acculturation in the Southeast Asian Versions. Reprint from Journal of the Siam Society, vol. 56(2). http://www.siamese-heritage.org/jsspdf/1961/JSS_056_2b_Singaravelu_ SanskritTamilThaiAndMalayStoryOfRama.pdf (accessed last on Nov. 8th, 2020). Singaravelu, S. 2004. The Ramayana Tradition in Southeast Asia. Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya Press. Sri Ganesan. 1994. “How Ramayana Developed in Malaysia”, Indian Studies Journal, (Souvenir Volume of the 11th International Ramayana Conference), 77-82. Bangkok: Thammasat University. Srinivasa Iyengar, K R. ed., 1983. Asian Variations in Ramayana: Papers Presented at the International Seminar on Variations in Ramayana in Asia: Their Cultural, Social, and Anthropological Significance. New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi. Stutterheim, Wilhelm. 1989. Rama-legends and Rama-reliefs in Indonesia. New Delhi: Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts and Abhinay Publications. Vajiravudho, Maha. 1967. “Notes on the Siamese Theatre,” Journal of the Siam Society 55, 1:1-32. Bangkok. Vingvorn, Sauvanit. 1994. “The Ramakien Bas-Reliefs of Wat Pra Chetupon”, in Indian Studies Journal, Souvenir Volume of the 11th International Ramayana Conference, 194-200. Bangkok: Thammasat University. 134

7. The Rāmāyaṇa Paintings of the Māliruñcōlai

Temple: Nationalism under the Spell of

Regionalism RKK Rajarajan

Māliruñcōlai (folk, Aḻakarkōyil) is one of the celebrated divyadeśas in southern Pāṇḍya country. Noted in the earliest stratum of Tamil literature (e.g., the Paripāṭal 15 and Cilappatikāram 11.91-110), it was the holy land cherished in the hymns of the woman mystic, Āṇṭāl. She considers the Lord Aḻakar/ Saundararāja to be her bridegroom, Māliruñcīlai-maṇāḷar (Nācciyār Tirumoḻi 4.1). No less than 128 hymns (Rajarajan 2012: 70-75) have been contributed on to the sacred land by six among the 12 Āḻvārs (Rajarajan et al. 2007a: 727-28). In the context of his earlier work, the author would now like to throw further light on this art heritage of the Rāmāyaṇa paintings of the Māliruñcōlai temple.1 The Nāyaka paintings of the Rāmāyaṇa in the Tirukōkaraṇam temple are also examined for comparative study. The aim is to collate the ideas gleaned from the Āḻvārs’ literature (7th-9th century CE) and the Irāmāvatāram of Kampaṉ (12th century). The paintings have been investigated in accordance with the following terms: 1. An examination of select episodes from the Rāmāyaṇa paintings.

2. A comparative study of the Māliruñcōlai (Vijayavenugopal 1987) and Tirukōkaraṇam imageries.

3. How do they reflect the thoughts of the Āḻvārs who composed hymns nearly 1200 years ago? 4. How are the ideas of the Irāmāvatāram of Kampaṉ reflected?

5. How was a pan-Indian epic regionalized by the Tamil poets and how did the Nāyakas compromise the themes channelizing the ideas towards the national mainstream?

6. The array of Rāmāyaṇa sculptures include those of the Western Calukya period at the Upper Śivālaya, Bādāmi, Durga Temple, Aihoḷe, and Pāpanātha temple, Paṭṭadakal (Dhar 2019); and of the Rāṣṭrakūṭa period at Ellora Cave 16 (Gail 1985; Markel 2000); the period when it was not popular in Pallava-Pāṇḍya (Empire I) art (Kalidos 2006, I); the period of the imperial Cōḻas (Sanford 1974; Rajarajan 2008: 405-14); and the Hoysaḷas (Evans 1997). 135

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7. Popularizing the amaranāyaka-Rāma was la renaissance under the Nāyakas, who brought the idea from their homeland, Vijayanagara, the metropolis (Settar n.d.), e.g., the Paṭṭābhi-Rāma temple.

While the scope of the above framework is a broad approach on which subject a monograph could be designed, I have arrived at a formula to concentrate on a particular decade (tirumoḻi, sacred saying, for Āḻvārs, and patikam, normally ten hymns in praise of Śiva, for Nāyaṉmārs) in the Perumāḷ Tirumoḻi2 by Kulacēkara Āḻvār (cf. Rajarajan 2016: 10.2.1-10, 10.3.1-10 of Periya Tirumoḻi)3. This is mainly due to the reason that the notes obtained from the hymns of the Āḻvārs would lead to the compilation of a new Rāmāyaṇa (cf. Kalidos 2006: 10-11, events from the Bālakāṇḍa to Uttarakāṇḍa). Consisting of 11 hymns, the tirumoḻi of Kulacēkara(ṉ) profusely annotates the Rāmāyaṇa events (cf. Kalidos 1997: 22 on PT 10.1-11; Rajarajan 2016: 71-74). Kulacēkara was an expert in the Rāmāyaṇa studies of the time.4 He was a devoted follower of the concept of Rāma-rājya, comparable to the heroes of Kiṣkindhā, e.g., Hanumat, Sugrīva and Jāmbavat (Rajarajan 2016). Cēra kings surrendered their kingdom at the feet of Lord Padmanābha of Aṉantapuram (‘Āṭakamāṭam’ in Cilappatikāram 11.35-40, 26.62, 30.51). They ruled as slaves of the Lord (Kalidos 2015a: 312-18) as opposed to the devarāja cult (PT 4.2: “I do not want this earthly kingdom… I would like to be a fish in the water-tank at Vēṅkaṭam”, Rajarajan 2016a: 90; cf. Rao 2017: 1-12). The guruparamparā mythologies (Āṟāyirappaṭi-G: 32-37) would be added when Kulacēkara listened to the Rāmakathā episode of Sītāpaharaṇa; he was under a trance and declared war on Laṅkā saying “the Mother-(Sītā) is in danger”. The mystic in the Perumāḷ Tirumoḻi (PT 8.1-11) has summarized the Rāmāyaṇa events evenly, covering the six kāṇḍas (as Kampaṉ did omitting the Uttarakāṇḍa) which hymns are presented hereunder in Roman transcription followed by an English summary. The Rāma-kathā events are singled out for the sake of comparison and contrast with the Rāmāyaṇa paintings of the (Maturai)-Nāyaka period Māliruñcōlai and Tirukōkaraṇam temples.5 The Āḻvārs were the pioneers to show the way to Kampaṉ who versified the Irāmāvatāram (12th century CE) or “Descent (Erscheinung or Verkörperung) of Rāma (cf. Rajarajan 2017: 20-24)”. These works include several folk elements, the roots of which are forgotten, not traceable in the Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki that is duly attested by the later medieval maṇipravāḷam (Sanskrit-Tamil mix) commentaries on the ‘Nālāyiram’ by Nam Piḷḷai (1147-1252 CE) and Periyavāccāṉ Piḷḷai (1167-1262 CE)6.

I. Literary Setting

Translated beforehand (Rajarajan et al. 2007: III, 1008-14), I have modified the earlier version on PT 8, and added notes to suit the present communication. Śrī Rāma, in his dedicated mission preoccupied with the annihilation of demons, had no time to sleep. 136

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The mystic in search for darśana of Śrī Rāma, the Dharma-yūpaḥ-438 and Viśodhanaḥ (VSN-438, 637), finds him a child and sings a lullaby (tālāṭṭu) to go asleep. In temple rituals, the Lord is aroused from bed early in the morning by reciting the suprabhātam, e.g., Tirupati, cf. the Tiruppaḷḷieḻucci and Tiruppallāṇṭu of Periyāḻvār and Toṇṭaraṭippoṭi Āḻvār (Śrīraṅgam, ARE 1892, no. 61; Rajarajan et al. 2017: 29-34). Rarely, Śrī Rāma is found in reposing mode in visual arts (cf. Jeyapriya 2010: 113-16).

Perumāḷ Tirumoḻi (PT 8)

8.1. maṉṉupukaḻk kaucalaitan maṇivayiṟu vāyttavaṉē7

teṉṉilaṅkaikkōṉ muṭikaḷ cintuvittāy cempoṉcēr kaṉṉinaṉ māmatiḷ puṭaicūḻ kaṇapuratteṉ karumaṇiyē eṉṉuṭaiya viṉṉamutē irākavaṉē tālēlō8

“Lord Rāghava*9, Thou were born in the eternally famed gem-womb of Mother Kausalyā. Thou were pleased to chop off the ten-heads of the crowned king of southern Laṅkā. Thou are the black pupil of the eye of Kaṇṇapuram that is protected by strong golden fortresses on cardinal directions.10 Be asleep, my cherished ambrosia.” * Note Jayadeva (12th century CE, cf. MacDonell 1979: 290-91; Brockington 1998: 162; Hardy 2014: 549) and the drama Prasanna-Rāghava. 8.2. puṇṭarīka malarataṉmēṟ puvaṉiyellām paṭaittavaṉē tiṇṭiṟalāḷ tāṭakaitaṉ uramuruvac cilaivaḷaittāy kaṇṭavartam maṉamvaḻaṅku kaṇapuratteṉ karumaṇiyē eṇṭicaiyu māḷuṭaiyāy irākavaṉē tālēlō

“Lord, Thou created Brahmā on the lotus emanating from Thy umbilicus (Chua et al. 2003: 341)11. It is Thou that produced the Milky Way. To destroy the mighty ogress, Tāḍakā12 Thou were pleased to lift the bow, dhanurdhara. Ardent devotees are picked off their minds on looking at Thy vigraha. The black-pupil of Kaṇṇapuram, Thou are the ruler of the aṣṭadiks. Be asleep, my darling Rāghava.” 8.3. koṅkumali karuṅkuḻalāḷ kaucalaitaṉ kulamatalāy taṅkuperum pukaḻc caṉakaṉ ṟirumarukā tācaratī13

kaṅkaiyilun tīttamali kaṇapuratteṉ karumaṇiyē eṅkaḷ kulattiṉṉamutē irākavaṉē tālēlō

“Kausalyā is endowed with fragrant tress whose house was blessed with Thy birth. Thou are the son-in-law of the global fame Janaka. Thou are the renowned as Dāśarathī-Rāma. The black pupil of the eye of Kaṇṇapuram that is full of tīrthas (cf. 137

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RA 84) as holy as the Gaṅgā. Be asleep Rāghava, Thou are the ambrosia of our family (Sūryavaṃśa) inheritance.” 8.4. tāmaraimēlayaṉavaṉaip paṭaittavaṉē tayarataṉṟaṉ māmatalāy maitili taṉmaṇavāḷa vaṇṭiṇaṅkaḷ kāmaraṅkaḷicai pāṭuṅ kaṇpuratteṉ karumaṇiyē ēmaruñ cilaivalavā irākavaṉē tālēlō

“Lord Rāma, Thou were the creator of Brahmā. Thou are the jyeṣṭhaputra of Daśaratha and the beloved of Maithilī. Bees are busy singing the note of kāmaram (Rajarajan et al. 2017b: 500) in the venue at Kaṇṇapuram. My black pupil of the eye, Thou are lifting the indomitable bow, Viṣṇu-dhanus mounted with the invincible Rāma-bāṇa. Be asleep, my darling Rāghava.” 8.5. pārāḷum paṭar celvam paratanampikkē yaruḷi ārāvan piḷḷaiyavaṉē ṭaruṅkāṉa maṭaintavaṉē cīrāḷūm varaimārpā14 tirukkaṇṇapurattaracē tārārum nīṇmuṭiyeṉ ṟācaratī tālēlō

“Lord Rāma, Thou came forward to offer the riches on the earth to Bharata in order that Thou may depart to the wild forest with the inseparable younger, Lakṣmaṇa (incarnation of Ādiśeṣa). Thy sacred chest is governed by Śrī. Thou are the king of sacred Kaṇṇapuram decorated with garlands on the tall crown. Be asleep my Dāśarathī.” 8.6. cuṟṟamellām piṉtoṭarat tolkāṉa maṭaintavaṉē

aṟṟavarkaṭ karumaruntē ayōttinakark15 katipatiyē kaṟṟavarkaḷ tāmvāḻuṅ16 kaṇapurat teṉ karumaṇiyē ciṟṟavai taṉ coṟkoṇṭa cīrāma tālēlō

“Thou had reached the primeval forest* followed by kith and kin. It was the resort for detached recluses. Thou are the Lord of the city of Ayodhyā. Thou are the black pupil of the eye of Kaṇṇapuram where the learned scholars in scriptural lore thrive. The word of the stepmother (Kaikeyī) was the Veda for Thee. Be asleep, my Lord, Cī-Rāma (Śrī Rāma).” * Citrakūṭa, Pañcavaṭī, Daṇḍakāraṇya and Kiṣkindhā.

8.7. āliṉilaip pālakaṉ17āyaṉ ṟulaka muṇṭavaṉē vāliyaik koṉṟaraciḷaiya vāṉarattuk kaḷittavaṉē kāliṉmaṇi karaiyalaikkuṅ kaṇapuratteṉ karumaṇiyē ālinakark katipatiyē ayōttimaṉē tālēlō

138

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“Lord, as a boy reclining on the banyan leaf (Vaṭapatraśāyī) that day, Thou were pleased to devour the worlds. Thou took to task Vāli, admonished him, and offered the sovereign kingdom to the younger vānara-hero, Sugrīva. The river Kāviri is flowing rolling gems in sluices that are deposited on the banks. The dark pupil of the eye at Kaṇṇapuram, Thou are the overlord of the city of Āli.18 The king of Ayodhyā; be asleep.” cf. “The emperor is back in Ayodhyā” (Rajarajan 2016: 81, figs. 2-3). 8.8. malaiyataṉā laṇaikaṭṭi matiIilaṅkai yaḻittavaṉē alaikaṭalaik kaṭaintamarark kamutaruḷic ceytavaṉē kalaivalavar tāmvāḻuṅ kaṇapuratteṉ karumaṇiyē cilaivalavā cēvakaṉē cīrāmā tālēlō

“Lord Rāma, Thou erected the causeway (Setu) by dumping hills in the sea, reached Laṅkā and completed the dahana. Thou churned the Ocean and blessed the gods by offering the ambrosia*. Experts in śāstras are fostering the arts at Kaṇṇapuram. My black pupil of the eye, expert in archery, the first servant of the state, Thou, Śrī Rāma be asleep for some time.” * Churning the Ocean of Milk is a metaphor for building the Setu; kaṭal vayiṟu kalakkita ñāṉṟu “that day (once upon a time) stirred the bosom of the Ocean” (Cilappatikāram 26.238 cited in Rajarajan 2014: 5). 8.9. taḷaiyaviḻu naṟuṅkuñcit tayarataṉṟaṉ kulamatalāy vaḷaiyavoru cilai19 yataṉāl matiḷilaṅkai kaiyaḻittavaṉē kaḷaikaḻunīr maruṅkalaruṅ kaṇapuratteṉ karumaṇiyē iḷaiyavarkaṭ karuḷuṭaiyāy Irākavaṉē tālēlō

“Rāma, Thou are the first-born of the house of Daśaratha whose fragrant tress richly spreads out (Keśava). Thou hold an excellent bow lifted to ruin the fortified Laṅkā. Bunches of purple waterlilies are deposited on the shores of the River Kāviri. My black pupil of the eye residing at Kaṇṇapuram; Thou are gracious toward Thy younger brothers. Be asleep; my darling Rāghava.” 8.10. tēvaraiyu macuraraiyun ticaikaḷaiyum paṭaittavaṉē yāvarum vantaṭi vaṇaṅka varaṅka nakart tuyiṉṟavaṉē kāviri naṉṉati pāyuṅ kaṇapurat teṉ karumaṇiyē ēvariveñ cilaivalavā irākavaṉē tālēlō

“Lord Rāma, Thou are the creator of the gods, the demons and the directions. Thou were reclining in the sacred city of Araṅkam when the cosmic mass arrives to pay obeisance.20 The righteous River Kāviri, dharmadevatā (beauty of the world), is gently 139

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flowing through Kaṇṇapuram. My black pupil of the eye, Thou are an expert in wielding the bow. Be asleep; my darling Rāghava.” 8.11. kaṉṉi naṉmāmatiḷ puṭaicūḻ kaṇapurat teṉ kākuttaṉ taṉṉaṭimēl ‘tālēlō’ eṉṟuraitta Tamiḻ mālai koṉṉavilum vēlvalavaṉ kuṭaik kulacēkaraṉ coṉṉa paṉṉiya nūlpattum vallār pāṅkāya pattarkaḷē

“Rāma coming in the patriarchal lineage of Kakutstha is based at Kaṇṇapuram protected by strong fortresses. These garlands of Tamil lullabies21 are in the exaltation of the Lord’s feet. Kulacēkaraṉ speaks out these words, master of the killer-dart, and the upright white-umbrella. Masters in these ten books (hymns) are cultivated devotees.”

The principal note of the Rāmā-kathā as told in the above hymns may be condensed for the sake of comparison with visual illustrations. This may serve to pinpoint the vernacular elements (e.g., Tamil, Bengali, Kannada, Telugu, Malayalam, Southeast Asian), which we consider ‘regionalism’ that agrees with or departs from the panIndian output that is ‘nationalism’ (Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki). Nationalism is vital, but regionalism could not be set aside under compelling circumstances when diverse cultural categories congregate to give shape to the philosophy of ‘emotional integration’. The Roman transcription of the Tamil hymns may be of help to ascertain how panIndian thoughts (nationalism) are recast in vernacular medium22 (regionalism): 1. Rāma was born in the gem-womb of Mother Kausalyā - toppled the ten-heads of the crowned king of southern Laṅkā, Rāvaṇa 2. Created Brahmā on the lotus emanating from the umbilicus of Mahā-Viṣṇu* produced the Milky Way - destroyed the hefty ogress, Tāḍakā * Māyōṉ (Māya), Māl/Kṛṣṇa (Black), Tirumāl, Neṭiyōṉ (the Tall), Kaṇṇaṉ are the Tamil names 3. Rāma was the son-in-law of Janaka - Sītā-kalyāṇam 4. Dhanurdhara-Rāma (RA-90), Rāma as wielder of Viṣṇu-dhanus offered by Paraśurāma 5. Rāma presenting the kingdom of Ayodhyā to Bharata - Bharata placing the sandals on siṃhāsana as de jure king 6. Rāma, Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa in the forest (Citrakūṭa, Pañcavaṭi, Daṇḍakāraṇya and Kiṣkindhā) 7. Vaṭapatraśāyī - Vāli-vadham - Sugrīva-paṭṭābhiṣeka 8. Setu - Churning the Ocean of Milk 9. Laṅkā-dahana 140

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10. Raṅganātha of Śrīraṅgam (equated with Ayodhyā) 11. Kaṇṇapuram temple, heaven on earth, the bhūloka-Vaikuṇṭha

II. Rāmāyaṇa Paintings Beginning of the Rāma-kathā

Whenever the world is under threat of atrocities by demons, the gods appeal to the reclining Lord in the Kṣīrābdhi to appear on earth to protect the worlds (sādhus) from terror-strikers (duṣṭas or nīcas [Rāvaṇa called nīca in Kampaṉ, see Rajarajan 2001: 786]; cf. the Gītā 4.8, Periya Tirumoḻi 7.8.2). The Periya Tirumoḻi says the ṛṣis and gods appealed to the Lord (Hayagrīva) to arrive on earth to protect the peacemakers. A painting in the Māliruñcōlai temple finds the Lord reposing on Ananta (Fig. 7.1, Śeṣaśāyī, PT 8.2; see Rajarajan 2006, II: pl. 119) that suggests the beginning of Rāmāvatāra (cf. Rāghavā RA-77, Raghupuṅgava RA-8, Śrī Rāma RA-1, 108, Rāmabhadrā

Fig. 7.1: Seṣaśāyī, Māliruñcōlai. Photograph courtesy: RKK Rajarajan. 141

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RA-2, Rāmacandra RA-3). Vaṭapatraśāyī (Perumāḷ Tirumoḻi 8.7) is reclining on the tiny leaf. The Lord’s Viśvarūpa releases the Cosmos from his big belly, peṟuvayiṟu, hiraṇyagarbha VSN-70 (Tiruneṭuntāṇṭakam 24; Periya Tirumoḻi 5.5.4).

Rāma-janma in Ayodhyā

The Bālakāṇḍa events begin with the righteous administration of Daśaratha (see, Daśaratha and Rāma in Rajarajan 2015a: fig. 8). He was childless. He was advised to bring sage Ṛṣyaśṛṅga (Parthiban & Rajarajan 2016: fig. 11) to conduct the putrakāmeṣṭiyajña (Fig. 7.2). On the successful completion of the yajña, four princes are born of whom the jyeṣṭhaputra was Śrī Rāma (Fig. 7.3), the beloved of Kausalyā (Perumāḷ Tirumoḻi 8.1), ‘Kausaleyāya’ (RA-23).

Fig. 7.2: Ṛṣyaśṛṅga performs the putrakāmeṣṭi-yajña, Māliruñcōlai. Photograph courtesy: RKK Rajarajan.

Tāḍakā-vadham

Brahmaṛṣi-Viśvāmitra (‘Viśvāmitrapriyāya’ RA-13) could not tolerate the atrocities of demons, particularly Tāḍakā in his forest abode.23 Daśaratha half-heartedly lets the ṛṣi take Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa to the Siddhāśrama to eradicate the terror-creators (‘Kharadhvaṃsin’ RA-24). Rāma kills the monster Tāḍakā (Vālmīki-Rāmāyaṇa [VR] Bālakāṇḍa, Sargaḥ 26; PT 8.2, RA-31, Gauri et al. 1997, fig. p. 25; Fig. 7.4) so that the ṛṣi could peacefully perform yajñas for Cosmic Harmony (cf. Rajarajan 2015a: 127-41, fig. 14, cf. Rajarajan ed. 2010: fig. BW 31).

Sītā-kalyāṇam

Having completed the first round of rākṣasa-vadham, Rāma is guided to Mithilā to take part in the svayamvara (choosing one’s husband) of Sītā. On the way, they 142

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Fig. 7.3: Kausalyā-suprajā-Rāma, Māliruñcōlai. Photograph courtesy: RKK Rajarajan.

Fig. 7.4: Rāma kills the monster Tāḍakā, Māliruñcōlai. Photograph courtesy: RKK Rajarajan.

pass through the hermitage of sage Gautama, and offer redemption to Ahalyā (‘Ahalyāśāpavimocana’ RA-44, Rajarajan 2015a: fig. 16). Janaka finds Rāma break the Rudra-dhanus, and take the hand of Sītā (Fig. 7.5) (VR, Bālakāṇḍa, sarga 67, 73; Perumāḷ Tirumoḻi 8.3, ‘Jānakīvallabha’ RA-9, ACM 2006: 278-70). While returning to Ayodhyā (Fig. 7.6), the kṣatriya-Rāma has an encounter with the brāhmaṇaParaśurāma, ‘Harakodaṇḍakhaṇḍana’ (RA-27).24 The Viṣṇu-dhanus offered by the ṛṣi was wielded, resulting in Paraśurāma-garvabhaṅga (VR, Bālakāṇḍa, sarga 76, PT 8.4). 143

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Fig. 7.5: Sītā-kalyāṇam and Paraśurāma-garvabhaṅga, Tirukōkaraṇam. Photograph courtesy: RKK Rajarajan.

Fig. 7.6: Paraśurāma-garvabhaṅga, Māliruñcōlai. Photograph courtesy: RKK Rajarajan.

Ayodhyākāṇḍa

The Ayodhyākāṇḍa is the most eventful book of the Rāmāyaṇa. Daśaratha decides to celebrate the coronation of Rāma. Kaikeyī under the mesmerism of Mantharā, the hunch and servant-maid, forces Daśaratha to exile Rāma and offer the crown to Bharata. Events pass on swiftly as Rāma followed by Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa crosses the River Gaṅgā with the help of niṣāda-Guha (Fig. 7.7). He is camping at Citrakūṭa (RA52). Bharata, rebuking his mother for evil deeds, meets Rāma in the forest. He was willing to surrender the crown at the feet of the Lord. Rāma refuses (cf. ‘Pitṛbhakta’ RA-45), gives the kingdom back to Bharata, and permits him to continue as king until his restoration after the stipulated time of banishment (Fig. 7.8). Rāma offers his sandals to Bharata that are placed on the siṃhāsana (throne) of Ayodhyā (PT 8.5, Kalidos 1991: fig. 14). From Citrakūṭa, the royal party departs towards the upper reaches of the River Godāvarī to live in Pañcavaṭi (identified with Nāśik[a]) for some time. Rāma felt he 144

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Fig. 7.7: Crossing over the Gaṅgā and arriving at Citrakūṭa, Tirukōkaraṇam. Photograph courtesy: RKK Rajarajan.

Fig. 7.8: Citrakūṭa: Bharata meeting Rāma, Tirukōkaraṇam. Photograph courtesy: RKK Rajarajan.

could enjoy solitude (Krishnan et al. 1997: fig. p. 29). Sītā is kidnapped by Rāvaṇa, the womanizer (Rajarajan 2016: 76, ‘māyā-Mārīcahantṛ’ RA-57).

Araṇyakāṇḍa

From Pañcavaṭi, Rāma and others go into the interior regions of the forests in the Deccan (Daṇḍaka “penal province”? daṇḍa “(rod of) punishment’ RA-43) moving toward Kiṣkindhā. The most terrific among the demons, Ayomukhi and Kabandha (cf. ‘Dūṣaṇatriśirohantṛ’ RA-35, ‘Virādhavadhapaṇḍita’ RA-22), are punished, leading to their redemption (VR, Araṇyakāṇḍa, Rajarajan 2015: fig. 1). The royal entourage enjoys their stay in the forest that was both a blessing and a curse; curse in the sense that Sītā wants to lead forest life once again in the Uttarakāṇḍa that was the beginning of the end. The paintings in the Bṛhadāmbāḷ temple25, Tirukōkaraṇam, present enchanting pictures of the forest life of Rāma, Sītā and Lakṣmaṇa (Fig. 7.9). The ‘Forest Book’ (PT 8.6, Hart 1988, Rajarajan 2016: pls. 28a-28c) may symbolically denote the āśramadharma, i.e., vānaprastha and sannyāsa (Basham 1971: 159-60). 145

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Fig. 7.9. Forest life of the royal family of Ayodhyā, Tirukōkaraṇam. Photograph courtesy: RKK Rajarajan.

Kiṣkindhākāṇḍa

Kiṣkindhā’s importance in the history of India is two-fold. Rāma’s meeting with Hanumat (cf. Kalidos 1991: figs. 5-16), Sugrīva and Jāmbavat (cf. ‘Ṛkṣavānarasaṃghātin’ RA-51, ‘sadā-Hanumadāśrita’ RA-22) was a blessing destined to alleviate their miseries. The Vijayanagara empire was founded in Kiṣkindhā (Sewell 1980; Settar n.d.) as a bulwark to check Islamic onslaught. The vānara-nāyakas, Vāli and Sugrīva, were at loggerheads (Fig. 7.10). Supporting Sugrīva, Rāma dislodged the regime of Vāli, mortally wounded him (‘Vālipramathana’ RA-16, Kalidos 2006: pls. XLVIII.2, LI) and awarded the kingdom to Sugrīva (PT 8.7). The Ayodhyā princes marched toward the South seacoast, mobilizing the vānara army; the Setu (Fig. 7.11), a causeway, built (PT 8.8, Rajarajan 2014); Setu is compared to the churning of the Ocean of Milk (PT 8.8; Parimoo 1993: figs. VII-VIII).

Fig. 7.10. Kiṣkindha events, Māliruñcōlai. Photograph courtesy: RKK Rajarajan.

146

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Fig. 7.11. Setubandhana and Fall of Laṅkā and Rāvaṇa, Māliruñcōlai. Photograph courtesy: RKK Rajarajan.

End of Terror

Laṅkā-dahana by Hanumat (PT 8.9; Kalidos 1989: pls. 39-40) takes place in the Yuddhakāṇḍam. Rāvaṇa was chastised (‘Daśagrīvaśiroharāya’ RA-29, PT v. 1; Boner et al. 1994: fig. 297, Jeyapriya 2010: pl. CP XXII.2, Rajarajan 2016: fig. 1). Rāvaṇa’s ten heads were chopped off, symbolic of curbing the ahaṅkāra (pride) of Laṅkā (cf. Paraśurāma-garvabhaṅga). The ayaṇa of Rāma is heading towards the end (Fig. 7.11). Sītā performs agnipraveśa. The coronation of Vibhīṣaṇa (Periyāḻvār Tirumoḻi 2.6.9, RA-26) is performed. Śrī Rāma takes flight to Ayodhyā (Mohan 2015: figs. 1-2). The paṭṭābhiṣekam is celebrated (Rajarajan 2016: figs. 2-3, Ragunath 2014: pl. 125).

Finally, the Lord migrates to his ethereal abode in the Vaikuṇṭha. The concluding two verses in the PT (8.10-11) identify the descendant of Kakustha26, Rāma with Raṅganātha (Chua et al. 2003: 280) of Śrīraṅgam (=Ayodhyā) and Kaṇṇapuram with the Vaikuṇṭha on Earth (Fig. 7.12). The colossal mūlabera in the Śrīraṅgam temple faces the south, symbolic of warning to the protracted blunders committed by the islanders (Tirumālai 19)27. 147

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Fig. 7.12: Lord Raṅganātha as Vaikuṇṭhamurti, crowned and attended by Srī, Bhū and Aṇṭāḷ (cf. Kalidos 2012: fig. 2-3 including Nappiṉṉai), southern Gopura (5th prākāra) of the Srīraṅgam Temple. Photograph courtesy: RKK Rajarajan.

Fig. 7.13: Kaṇṇapuram Temple, the bhūloka-Vaikuṇṭha. Photograph courtesy: RKK Rajarajan.

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The celestial Vaikuṇṭha is a divyadeśa in the hymns of the Mutal [Early]-Āḻvārs (Tiruvantāti I, v. 25, Tiruvantāti II, v. 3, Tiruvantāti III, v. 11). Besides, we have another divyadeśa-Vaikuntam (Tiruvāymoḻi 9.2.4, 8) among the Navatiruppatis in the Tāmiraparaṇi basin. Kaṇṇapuram is the bhūloka-Vaikuṇṭha in folk tradition (Fig. 7.13); cf. bhūloka-Kailāsa in case of Śiva temples (Rajarajan 2015a: 139-42). Rāma is the Para-Brahman (RA-97).

The cult of Rāma was invigorated in the Tamil-speaking Drāviḍian zone by the Vijayanagara emperors whose governors, the Nāyakas, held the regal sceptre posted at Ceñci, Tañcāvūr and Maturai, including Keḻadi/Ikkēri (cf. Rajarajan 2006). The popularization of the cult was in tune with the spirit of Rāma-rājya adumbrated in Vālmīki’s epic, which halcyon time the Vijayanagara emperors wanted to revive and emulate as emphasized in the Madhurāvijayam of Gaṅgādevī (Dodamani 2008: 14-16). The emperors took personal names such as Rāmacandrarāya, Kṛṣṇadevarāya, Vīra Narasiṃha, Acyutadevarāya, Veṅkaṭa, Tirumāla, and so on. All these are the epithets of Rāma (see Appendix) and Kṛṣṇa, as may be discerned from the Viṣṇusahasranāma or the aṣṭottarams (see, SDASNM).28 Several temples for Rāma and Kṛṣṇa were erected under the Vijayanagara-Nāyaka rulers; the entire landscape of the divyadeśas is permeated with the spirit of Kṛṣṇaism (Hardy 1983: 1-48) and Rāmaism (Rajarajan 2016: 71). Earlier temples29 were delineated with Rāmāyaṇa paintings on walls or ceilings and sculptural pillars (Gopalakrishnan 1996: fig. 14)30 in maṇḍapas, including temple cars, e.g., Tirumāliruñcōlai, Tirukōkaraṇam, Rāmasvāmi at Kuṃbhakōnam, Vaṭuvūr, Madhurāntakam, and Tāṉipaṭi (see, Kalidos 1989: 259-74).31 These visuals demonstrate the ‘divine comedy’ of nationalism in consonance with regionalism. The avowed purpose behind these murals and visuals was the propagation of the hallowed Utopia Rāma-rājya. Indian kings imitated Rāma or Kṛṣṇa in the best administration of the state, broadcasting the idealism of Aśoka (3rd century BCE, cf. Aśokaḥ VSN-336), i.e., dharma-saṃsthāpana (Gītā 4.8) and dharma-vijaya. The infiltration of regional ideas in the literary output and visual illustrations was slowly and steadily spreading over a vast span of time during 500 to 1700 CE; cf. the Marāṭhā apparel that the princes of the Ayodhyā ruling family put on in later medieval visual art (Ions 1975: pl. p. 53, Jeyapriya 2009: pl. 9). India’s tryst today is to establish universal harmony if neighbouring nations in the Asian world cooperate.32 As revealed through Kulacēkara Āḻvār’s Perumāḷ Tirumoḻi, Rāmarājya and Viṣṇu-dharma are universal. Epic renderings are primordial inheritances of the world, the common properties of humanity. This was the rationale behind the Indian epics and their visual retelling. Climate may change due to geological upheavals and rulers may alter forms of government but Rāma-rājya is constantly anticipated in 149

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the history of the world through the ages, saṃbhavāmi yuge yuge (Gītā 4.8). Professor John Brockington (1977) had intuitively given the following title for one of his articles; cf. Rāma is ‘Satyavrata’ (RA-20): Rāmo dharmabhṛtāṃ varaḥ; If Rāma rules, peace and prosperity flow as milk and honey.

Declaration

This chapter is part of my research on “Rāmāyaṇa Paintings of the Tirukōkaraṇam Temple”; Alexander von Humboldt post-doctoral Stiftung under the tutorship of Professor Adalbert J Gail in the Institut für Indische Philologie und Kunstgeschichte der Freie Universität Berlin. This piece of work is dedicated to my departed brother R K Vijaya-Rāghavaṉ.

Abbreviations ARE

Annual Report on Epigraphy

PT

Perumāḷ Tirumoḻi

ASI

Archaeological Survey of India

PVP

Periyavāccāṉ Piḷḷai

STN

Śrītattvanidhi

‘Nālāyiram’ QJMS RA VR

VSN

Nālāyirativviyappirapantam

The Quarterly Journal of the Mythic Society Rāmāṣṭottaram

Vālmīki-Rāmāyaṇa Viṣṇusahasranāma

Endnotes 1 The author did his Master’s thesis on the Nāyaka period (raṅga) kalyāṇa-maṇḍapa of the temple. It was left abruptly, after a brief report in his doctoral thesis (Rajarajan 2006: 4647). The author would now like to throw further light on this art heritage with due refer­ ence to the Rāmāyaṇa narrative sculptures.

2 Perumāḷ Tirumoḻi (PT) is the contribution of Kulacēkara Āḻvār in 105 hymns. The hymns of the Āḻvārs have been brought under twenty-two integral segments, e.g., Tiruvāymoḻi of Nammāḻvār (Settar 1993: 223-40) and Periya Tirumoḻi of Tirumaṅkai Āḻvār (Rajarajan et al. 2017a: vol. IV; 2017b), the two making up over 2000 hymns.

3 Sanskritized ‘Kulaśekhara’; He was the mystic hailing from the Hill Country, Malaināṭu/Mal­ nāḍ (Kēraḷa, cf. the Keralaputra in Aśoka’s Girṇār Edict). H. Sarkar (1978: 21) identifies the saint with a king of the Perumāḷ dynasty, dated 800-820 CE.

4 For a brief account of the Rāmāyaṇa annals, see Rajarajan (2014: 3-4).

5 For historical sketches of these temples see Rajarajan (2006: 46-47, 57-59). 150

The Rāmāyaṇa Paintings of the Māliruñcōlai Temple: Nationalism under the Spell of Regionalism

6 Two specific thematic deviations could be mentioned here on which the author has worked out separate articles: i) Rāma on the model of Kṛṣṇa engaged in erotic dalliance with sever­ al women (Periya Tirumoḻi 4.3.5, 5.5.2, cf. 3.4, 3.6, 3.7); Śrī Rāma is ekapatnīvratin in Vālmīki and Kampaṉ; ii) when Rāvaṇa in disguise as a ṛṣi solicits a boon from Brahmā, Viṣṇu appears as a child on the lap of Pitāmaha and warns him not to sanction the solicitations (see Tiruvantāti I, v. 45, Tiruvantāti III 77, Nānmukan Tiruvantāti 44). Later, Kampaṉ in the Irāmāvatāram says Rāvaṇa lifted the cottage along with Sītā, not touching the pativrata (in­ volving physical contact) (Rajarajan 2001: 783-97). Nam Piḷḷai and Periyavāccāṉ Piḷḷai were authorities in the itihāsa-purāṇas (e.g., the Mahābhārata, the Rāmāyaṇa, the Viṣṇu Purāṇa, the Vedas, and so on). They seem to have followed a version of the Rāmāyaṇa that was not the standard edition (cf. Brockington 1998: 548-49) that is followed today. 7 Cf. Veṅkaṭeśvarasuprabhātam: ‘Kausalyā suprajā Rāma pūrvāsandhyā pravarttate… tava suprabhātam’ (VR, Bālakāṇḍa, 23.2); suprabhātam redundant in all 29 hymns.

8 All the hymns are cast in the moulds of a lullaby requesting the baby Rāghava-[Rāma] to go under the trance of a sleep; Tālēlō (see Periyāḻvār Tirumoḻi 1.4.1-10, Rajarajan et al. 2017a, III, 1994-1100). Telugu uyyāla of Saint Aṇṇamayya; cf. Jo Jo Kṛṣṇa Jo Jo Mukunda; Lāli paramānanda Rāma Govinda. Lāli…lāla are pet invitations to cute chubby little ones; lālanaṃ means “caressing, fondling” (Apte 2010, 479). Cf. the hymns of Periyāḻvār (Tirumoḻi 1.2.13, 1.5.2, 1.7.1, 1.8.5, 1.10.1, 2.9.6, 3.6.3, 5.1.10) for whom Kṛṣṇa is Kuṭṭaṉ; laddie, cēṭṭā in Malaiyāḷam, lāla in Hindi, cf. Russian ‘Kutik’* (Lev Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina Part V, chap. 30, p. 122). * Cf. Drāviḍian kuṭṭi (little one of the animal species), pālakaṉ (bālaka), ciṟukkaṉ/ciṟuvaṉ, ciṟu “little” (Periyāḻvār Tirumoḻi 1.5.7); the heroine’s name in Tolstoy’s masterpiece is Katy­ usha, Uṣā (kataḥ means “nut-plant” Apte 2012, 130)? 9 For an analysis of the epithets of Dāśarathī-Rāma, see Brockington 1988 (cf. Rajarajan 2015: 14-15 note 11). We have Rāmāṣṭottaram (100 epithets on Rāma) for regular recital in Rāma temples, e.g., Vaṭuvūr or Madhurāntakam; Paṭṭābhi-Rāma in Hampi is today an archaeological site, a result of the dastardly united expedition of the five Deccan Sultans.

10 Kaṇṇapuram is a divyadeśa in the Kāviri delta, close to Nākapaṭṭiṉam; Kaṇṇaṅkuṭi (Periya Tirumoḻi 9.1.1-10) and Kaṇṇamaṅkai (Periya Tirumoḻi 7.10.1-10) are the trio-venues (total 152 hymns) in close proximity; the placenames are rooted in Kaṇṇaṉ, Kṛṣṇāraṇya-kṣetras. 11 For copious illustrations, see, Parimoo 1983; Settar 1991, vol. II; and Kalidos 2006, vol. I.

12 For a study of the Rāmāyaṇa wood-carved sculptures in the Vañcaikkuḷam-Mahādeva tem­ ple, Kēraḷa see Rajarajan (2015a: fig. 14 on Tāḍakā-vadham).

13 Cf. the Pallava inscription in the Ādivarāha-Viṣṇu-gṛha at Māmallapuram: ‘Rāmo Rāmaśca Rāmaśca’ (ARE 1922, no. 663; Srinivasan 1964: 173). Tācarati/Dāśarathī is familiar with the Āḻvārs (cf. Periyāḻvār Tirumoḻi 3.9.2, 4.7.1, 8.4.7; Periya Tirumoḻi 10.2.3, cf. Rajarajan et al. 2017b: 1294).

14 Vīra-Śrī (PVP); Vīra-Lakṣmī is one among Aṣṭa-Lakṣmīs (STN 1.112, Santhana-LakshmiParthiban 2014, 76).

15 Ayodhyā is identified with the ‘Ammāji Mandir’ on the bank of the Śarayū. Raju Kalidos (2015) deals with the divyadeśa-Ayodhyā reflected in the hymns of the Āḻvārs (6th-9th cen­ turies CE).

16 The hymns bearing on the divyadeśas (totally 40) in the delta province bear witness to the fact the brāhmaṇas were proficient in the Vedas, itihāsa-purāṇas, and the other fine arts (e.g., dance and music). They were affluent by virtue of vast tracts of devadāna lands donat­ ed by rulers of the land (e.g., Śrīraṅgam, ARE 1936-37, no. 15). 17 This is Vaṭapatraśāyī reposing on a tiny leaf of vaṭavṛkṣa (Kalidos 1989, pl. 34, 2006, I, 15; Boner et al. 1994: Tafel 20, figs. 206, 387, 478; Gail 2014: figs. 5-6). 151

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18 Āli is a divyadeśa in the delta, the birthplace of Tirumaṅkai Āḻvār, also called Ālināṭaṉ “Lord/ Baron of the Āli country” (Periya Tirumoḻi 3.4.10, 4.4.10, 7.3.10, 7.7.10, 7.8.10, 8.4.10, 9.7.10; Rajarajan et al. 2017b: 52). 19 PVP says it was Brahmāstra.

20 Periyāḻvār (Tirumoḻi 4.9.11) beautifully talks of the conglomeration of the north and south at Araṅkam/Śrīraṅgam (Fig. 7.9): ‘Teṉṉāṭum Vaṭanāṭum toḻaniṉṟa Tiruvaraṅkat tiruppati’. 21 Iḷaṅkōvaṭikaḷ, Kulacēkara Āḻvār and Cēramāṉ Perumāḷ Nāyaṉār (Rajarajan 2015a) were Kēraḷaputras that wrote in pristine Tamil.

22 Rāma-Irāmaṉ (Tiruccantaviruttam 81, 94; Periyāḻvār Tirumoḻi 3.10.6, 4.1.1-2 4.3.7; PT 9.1-2, 10.1, 3, 6; Periya Tirumaṭal 51; Periya Tirumoḻi 10.3.1), Daśaratha-Tayarataṉ (Tiruvāymoḻi 3.6.8, 10.1.8; Periya Tirumoḻi 3.10.6, 4.3.5), Kaucalai-Kausalyā (PT 8.1, 3, 9.3, 10) and so on. For concordances see Rajarajan et al. 2017b.

23 Vālmīki says Siddhāśrama was the venue where earlier Lord Vāmana conducted tapas (VR, Bālakāṇḍa, Sargaḥ 29).

24 For Paraśurāma see Boner et al. (1994: figs. 296, 581).

25 An early medieval rock-cut shrine for Śiva, it was an evolving entity down to the Nāyaka period. The agramaṇḍapa in the north accommodates the Rāmāyaṇa murals on the ceiling. Bṛhadāmbāl, cf. Bṛhadśvara, is a later (Nāyaka period) name.

26 Kākusthaḥ (VR 1.25.19, 1.27.27, 1.2811) or Purañjaya, forerunner of Raghuvaṃśa (Dilīpa > Raghu, Aja, Daśaratha and Rāma) beginning with Ikṣvāku; Vālmīki employs several epithets of Rāma (Brockington 1998, 531-32): Naraśārdūla (Lion among men, VR 1.23.2, 1.28.13), Raghunandana (scion of Raghu VR 1.23.12, 1.27.9, 1.33.23), Rāghavaḥ (1.26.1, 14), Rāgha­ vasyāmitaujasaḥ (VR 1.25.3), Rāghavasya-mahātmanaḥ (VR 1,45.8), Daśarathātmaja (VR 1.26.34), Surasttama (“Jewel among gods” VR 1.32.19), Rāma-mahābāho (VR 1.29.7) and so on (cf. Appendix). 27 Eṉceykēṉ “what shall I do? … The (reposing) Lord has placed the tiara on the west, the legs extended toward the east; back shown to the north*, and viewing southern Laṅkā”: kuṭaticai muṭiyai vaittuk kuṇaticai pātam nīṭṭī vaṭaticai piṉpukāṭṭit teṉticai yilaṅkai nōkki… *

28 The Nāyakas posted in their gubernatorial circles took the following names: Raṅgap­ pa, Tirumalai, Cokkanātha (meaning Aḻakar “the Handsome”), Vijayaraṅga (Maturai), Raghunātha, Vijaya-Rāghava (Tañcāvūr), Rāmabhadra (Ceñci), Rāmarāya, Veṅkatādri, Vīrabhadra, cf. Vīra-Rāghava presiding God of divyadeśa-Evvuḷ* and Vijaya-Rāghava of Pūṭkuḻi*. Though the names reflect the mainstream nationalism, few of these are identifica­ tions of regionalism, e.g., Cokkanātha/Saundararāja, also Vijaya- and Vīra- Rāghavas. *These two are Tonṭaināṭu (northern Pallava country) divyadeśas (Kalidos 2016a). 29 In Pallava-Pāṇḍya (Empire I) temples up to 850 CE, the Rāmāyaṇa sculptures are conspic­ uously missing (cf. Rajarajan 2015-16), while at the same time literature and inscriptions (see note 12) are rich; cf. the Calukya and Rāṣṭrakūṭa heritage (Gail 1985; Markel 2000; Dhar 2019). The earliest miniature reliefs are from the early Cōḻa temples at Puḷḷamaṅkai (galapāda* motifs: Kalidos 1996: fig. 7) and Nāgeśvara-Kuṃbhkoṇam (galapāda motifs: Sanford 1974: 193-211). Sanford identifies one of the portrait sculptures at the bhiṭṭi level with Daśaratha (cf. Rajarajan 2008: fig. 7). *galapāda is a moulding of the adhiṣṭhāna. A few early Cōḻa temples accommodate an array of miniature reliefs in this section (Harle 1958: 96-018). The specialty of Puḷḷamaṅkai (close to Tañcāvūr north) is the temple is sunk into a tub below (ca. 1-2 metres) the ground level. 30 In this image dhanurdhara-Rāma is seated on the shoulder of Hanumat. The Tāṭikkompu Temple (district Tiṇṭukkal) is dated during the time of Rāmadeva-mahārāya (1629 CE). 152

The Rāmāyaṇa Paintings of the Māliruñcōlai Temple: Nationalism under the Spell of Regionalism

31 For the Rāmacaritmānas miniatures, Yaldiz et al. (1992: 124-34). Also, Boner et al. (1994: figs. 582, 512-513).

32 Cōḻa adventures in Southeast Asia and Laṅkā were cultural, not colonial. Had not the people of the east coast from the Cōḻamaṇḍalam to Gauḍa via Amarāvatī and Oḍiśā set their footprints in the far eastern world, including China and Japan, the colossal Buddhist, and Hindu monuments (e.g., Angkor, Ayutthayā, Borobudūr, Prambanan) would have never appeared on the surface of the earth.

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Appendix

Rāmāṣṭottaram*

* Alphabetical list (SDASNM citing Bhaviṣya Purāṇa); for alphabetical list of Viṣṇusahasranāma see Rajarajan et al. (2017b, 1652-57). The aṣṭottarams seem to be later medieval compilations of the Vijayanagara period for regular recital in temples meant for the gods/goddesses. It may take +15 minutes for recital in one sitting. Numeral following the name denotes the serial number.

Oṃ (prefix) Ādi-Puruṣaya-69 (cf. 70, 73) namaḥ (suffix)

Ahalyāśāpavimocanāya-44, Anantaguṇagambhīrāya-78, Bhavarogasya-bheṣajāya-34,

Brahmaṇyāya-62 (cf. 97), Citrakūṭasamāśrayāya-52, Daṇḍakāraṇyakartanāya-43,

Dāntāya-14, Daśagrīvaśiroharāya-29, Dayāsārāya-72, Dhanurdharāya-90, Dhanvine-42,

Dhīrodāttaguṇottamāya-79, Dūṣaṇatriśirohantre-35, Harakodaṇḍakhaṇḍanāya-27, Haraye-85,

Jagadgurave-50, Jaitrāya-10, Jayantatrāṇavaradāya-53, Jāmadagnyamahādarpadalanāya-30,

Jānakīvallabhāya-9, Janārdanāya-12, Jarāmaraṇavarjitāya-93, Jitakrodāya-48,

Jitāmitrāya-11, 49, Jitāvāraśaye-83, Jitendriyāya-47, Kausaleyāya-23, Kharadhvaṃsine-24,

Mahābhujāya-59, Mahādevāya-58, Mahādevādipūjitāya-81, Mahā-Puruṣāya-70,

Mahāyogine-64, Mahodarāya-65, Māyamānuṣacāritrāya-80, māyā-Mārīcahantre-57,

Mitabhāṣiṇe-75 (cf. 76), Mrudvānarajīvanāya-56, Munisaṃstutāya-63, Para-Brahmaṇe-97,

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The Rāmāyaṇa Paintings of the Māliruñcōlai Temple: Nationalism under the Spell of Regionalism

Parākāśāya-101, Paraṃdhāmne-100, Paraṃjyotiṣe-99, Pāraṇāya-104, Parasmai-107, Parātmane-96, Parātparāya-102, Pārāya-105, Pareśāya-103, Pītavāsase-89, Pitṛbhaktāya-45, Puṇyacaritrakīrtanāya-40, Puṇyodayāya-7, Purāṇa-Puruṣottamāya-73, Pūrvabhāṣiṇe-76, Rāghavāya-77, Raghupuṅgavāya-8, Rājendrāya-7 (cf. Rājarājāyaḥ ŚSN-983), Rājīvalocanāya-5, Ṛkṣavānarasaṃghātine-51, Rāmabhadrāya-2, Rāmacandrāya-3, Saccidānandavigrahāya-98, sadā-Hanumadāśritāya-22, Saptatālaprabhetre-28, Saraṇatrāṇatatparāya-15, Sarvadevadidevāya-55, Sarvadevastutāya-60, Sarvadevātmakāya-106, Sarvayajñādhipāya-91, Sarvāpaguṇavarjitāya-95, Sarvapuṇyādhikaphalāya-67, Sarvatīrthamayāya-84, Sāśvatāya-4, Satyavāce-18, Satyavikramāya-19, Satyavratāya-20, Saumyāya-61, Setukṛte-82, Śivaliṅgapratiṣṭhāya-94, Smitavaktrāya-74, Smutasavaghināśanāya-68, Śrīmate-6, ŚrīRāmaya-1, 108, Sugrīvepsitarājyadāya-66, Sundarāya-87, Sumitāputrasevidāya-54, Śūrāya-88, Śyāmāṅgāya-86, Tāḍakāntāya-31, Triguṇātmakāya-37, Trilokarakṣakāya-41, Trilokātmane-39, Trimūrttaye-36, Trivikramāya-38, Vāgmine-17, Vālipramathanāya-16, Varapradāya-46, Vedāntasārāya-32, Vedātmanē-33, Vibhīṣaṇaparitrātre-26, Virādhavadhapaṇḍitāya-22, Viśvāmitrapriyāya-13, Vradharāya-21 and Yajvine-92.

Viṣṇusahasranāma

Excerpt from the “One-thousand Epithets of Viṣṇu” (pertaining or relevant to Śrī Rāma), part of the Śāntiparvan of the Mahābhārata; the sahasranāma (maṅgalaśloka 2) adds: Ya idam śṛṇuyān nityam yaśc’āpi parikīrtayet/ Nā’subhaṃ prāpnuyāt kiñcit so’mutr’eha ca mānavaḥ “The student that hears and recites these names every day is not overcome by evil of any kind…” (Rajarajan et al. 2017b, 1652-57),

Ādidevaḥ-334/490, Ajaḥ-95/204/521, Aparājitaḥ-716/862, Aśokaḥ-336, Āśramaḥ-852, Atīndraḥ-157, Brahmajñaḥ-669, Caturvedavit-771, Dharma-yūpaḥ-438, Dharmī-477, Guṇabhṛt-839, Hiraṇyagarbhaḥ-70/411, Janārdanaḥ-126, Lokabandhuḥ-733, Lokādhyakṣaḥ-133, Lokādhiṣṭānam-894, Lokanāthaḥ-734, Mahādevaḥ-491, Mahendraḥ-268, Manoharaḥ-461, Naraḥ-246, Nārāyaṇaḥ-245, Parameśvaraḥ-377, Prabhuḥ-35/299, Pratāpanaḥ-277, Puṇḍarikāṣaḥ-111, Puṇyaḥ-687/925, Puṇyakīrtiḥ-688, Puṇya-śravaṇakīrtanaḥ-922, Puruṣaḥ-14/406, Puruṣottamaḥ-24, Rakṣaṇaḥ-928, Rāmaḥ-394, Rudraḥ-114, Śāntiḥ-584, Sarvadarśanaḥ-94, Sarva-lakṣaṇa-lakṣaṇyaḥ-360, Sarveśvaraḥ-96, Satyaḥ-106/869, Satyadharmā-529, Satyadharma-parākramaḥ-289, Satyadharma-parāyaṇaḥ-870, Subhāṅgaḥ-586/782, Sundaraḥ-791, Tīrthakaraḥ-691, Tripadaḥ-534, Vaikuṇṭhaḥ-405, Vanamālī-561, Vedaḥ-127, Vedāṅgaḥ-130, Vedavit-128/131, Vikramaḥ-78, Viśodhanaḥ-637, Yajñaḥ-445/971, Yogī-849, Yogīśaḥ-850, Yugādikṛt-300, Yugāvartaḥ-301and so on.

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8. Expressions of the Ramayana Epic in Malaysian Arts Cheryl Thiruchelvam

The Ramayana epic is no stranger to the cultural traditions, artistic expressions and everyday lifestyles of the Southeast Asian people. From the royal court culture and ceremonial events, stage performances and dramas, wayang kulit (leather puppet shadow play) and mak yung (dance drama of Kelantan), daily rituals and offerings, literatures and oral storytelling; the Ramayana epic has been embedded in the cultural landscape of this region over generations. The impact of Indian cultural and artistic influence in Southeast Asia cannot be dismissed without an analysis of considerations such as the code of living, literature, conceptions of law and kingship, and evolved philosophy of life (Rawson 1967: 7). This is due to the strategic maritime location of the Southeast Asian region, where it has been exposed to various influences and trans-passing cultures as it succeeded as a corridor between the East (China) and the West (India and as far as Arab and Italy). Notwithstanding the exposure to various external factors, the Indian influence in Southeast Asia remains undoubtedly pervasive. This was highlighted by Fiona Kerlogue: “Nevertheless, the elements of expression that did find their way from India into the repertoire of Southeast Asian culture have been long-lasting and pervasive and must be recognized in any account of the arts of the region” (Kerlogue 2004b: 13).

It is vital to note that the Indian influences were neither forced culturally nor imposed with power through an invasion; instead, the indigenous people implemented what was relevant and good to them (Rawson 1967). Southeast Asia is a multifaceted region that varies in culture, ethnicity, race, language, religion, political-economic factors, and history; and this inevitably creates a highly rich culture and identity across the region. With that, various approaches can be used in examining this region, and Victor King (2016) proposes a fluid framework based on identity and culture in examining the Southeast Asian region while including the differences and similarities within the region. The resonance of the Ramayana epic can be found in most of the Southeast Asian literature (Kam 2004). This includes translation and adaptations, stage performances, wayang kulit performances, paintings, sculptures, rituals, as well as cultural practices. 158

Expressions of the Rāmāyaṇa Epic in Malaysian Arts

This is evident in the various versions of the Ramayana literatures in Southeast Asia such as Thailand with its Ramakirti, Cambodia with its Reamker, Indonesia with its Serat Kanda/ Kakawin Ramayana, Laos with its Rama Jataka and Malaysia with its Hikayat Seri Rama (Kam 2004: 4). Even though various art forms and performances have sprung in this region, there are certain elements and attributes from the Ramayana epic that still resonate among these different art forms and performances. This inevitably reflects the regional belonging as well as the historical ties of the Ramayana epic. This points towards the immediate relevance of the Ramayana tradition in this region. As Gauri Krishnan summarizes: “... to see Asia as a whole and to unearth the universal appeal of the Ramayana throughout Asia and Southeast Asia in particular where Ramayana ethos appears to have gotten entrenched in the local cultural fabric and appears as a cultural signifier again and again” (Krishnan 2010: 12). It is important to note that the earliest evidence of the wayang kulit was found in Java in the 9th century, where wayang denoted the recital of the Ramayana epic as summed by Sarkar (1982) (Krishnan 1997: 17). This also points to the earliest practice of the wayang kulit tradition in this region, with the Thai Nang Yai dating back to the 15th century. The wayang kulit in Malaysia is believed to be an assimilation of different wayang kulit practices from its neighbouring countries such as Indonesia, Thailand and even Cambodia (Sweeney 1972: 22-25). In the adaptation and localization of the plots or even the names of characters, the storyline from the wayang kulit may not necessarily be based entirely from the Ramayana epic; for certain features or even characters are brought in from the Panji tales or even from the Mahabharata. Although, these manifestations were noted to be present in the Malaysian wayang kulit by Yousof (2010: 135), the Ramayana epic had withstood as the central source of dramatic materials. Among other Indian cultural influences and elements that were embedded into the early states in this region, the Ramayana epic had a significant and profound impact on the people and their cultural beliefs in this region. Mishra highlights: “The Ramayana tradition affected the life, custom, belief, geography and history of Southeast Asia. Performing arts like shadow play and puppet shows had continuous interaction with Rama story. In the bas-relief of temples, there are representations from the Ramayana stories” (Mishra 2001: 4). Almost every country in Southeast Asia has its own localized wayang kulit – Indonesia has the wayang purwa and wayang golek and Bali with its distinctive Hindu influence has its own variation of the wayang kulit for the Ramayana characters (Yousof 2010: 151-159). Thailand and Cambodia are known for relatively large leather puppet figures –Nang Yai and Nang Sbek Thom, respectively (Kam 2000: 7 & 44). In Malaysia, the Ramayana epic serves as an influence on the Wayang Kulit Siam (also known as Wayang 159

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Kulit Kelantan) and Wayang Kulit Gedek as noted by Ghulam Yousof (2010: 158-159). In Laos, the Ramayana epic manifests itself in the form of the traditional dance drama known as Phalak Phalam (Jähnichen 2009) similar to Myanmar with the adaptation of Buddhist drama – Zat Pwe (Kam 2000: 53). Though there may be differences over time in the leather puppet design, the mechanics of the puppet, characters, story plots or purpose of the performance of the wayang kulit itself, nevertheless, the wayang kulit tradition has not ceased to exist in this region. More importantly, more contemporary wayang kulit performances and artistic forms have emerged as a result, in order to save the old cultural heritage by incorporating digital technology into the traditional art form. As such, it is the intention of this chapter to put forth the argument that the point of reference for the various emerging art forms and other artistic practices in Malaysia derives its origin or ideation from the Ramayana epic.

Emerging creative expressions and artistic forms of the Ramayana Epic in Malaysia

The implementation of the National Cultural Policy (NCP) 1972 in Malaysia became a driving force for the nation state to safeguard Islamic religious elements and the Malay culture in particular. As such, cultural practices, elements and attributes from the Ramayana epic were Islamicized to suit the local religious-cultural setting. On a more serious note, the wayang kulit which was a significant cultural tradition was banned in the state of Kelantan that was governed by the secular Islamic party - Parti Islam Se-Malaysia (PAS) in 1990 (Fredericks 2011). Despite this obstruction and restriction, the influence of the Ramayana epic in Malaysia can still be found in ceremonial events of the royalties, Malay weddings, use of Sanskrit words in the Malay language, the literature of ‘Hikayat Seri Ram’, the wayang kulit tradition, theatrical performances such as mak yung, daily cultural practices and social beliefs. Additionally, since the 1960s, other art forms and artistic expressions - paintings, visual designs, sculptures, digital arts and architectural designs, and more contemporary forms have sprung up in the local art landscape. The wayang kulit tradition which has evolved into a much more contemporary form highlights the elasticity, unique feature and relevance of the Ramayana epic in contemporary times. This transition of elements from the Ramayana epic from its traditional form, onto canvases, and currently into more contemporary media was summed by Ahmad Dawa, Anuar, Nyok and Ahmad Shariff as: “From the realm of stage and shadow, elements of traditional shadow play then move into artists’ canvases in manners of expression preferred by the artists. Among the earliest modern painters in this country to transfer shadow play tradition into their works are Nik Zainal Abidin, Nik Salleh and Yusoff Abdullah. The juxtaposition of these traditional elements into works of art is then continued by later artists using 160

Expressions of the Rāmāyaṇa Epic in Malaysian Arts

different themes and techniques, in keeping with their own aesthetic concepts, styles and sensibilities” (Ahmad Dawa 2008: 102).

From the earliest and primary form where wayang kulit was made from leather and performed by Tok Dalang (puppeteer), wayang kulit figurines and characters have been captured and presented in watercolour paintings by Nik Zainal Abidin (Fig. 8.1). He was a Kelantanese who had early exposure to the traditional heritage of wayang kulit. However, the Wayang Kulit Siam and mak yung performances that were considered to be un-Islamic (Ooi 2013), were famous in Kelantan. Nik Zainal Abidin was a pioneer in transferring the wayang kulit characters onto paper; alongside, he highlighted socio-political issues in some works. He also related to the cultural heritage of his birth state in his work Puja Pantai, and his personal battle with memory loss, which was portrayed with the use of Rama (protagonist) against Ravana (antagonist). In his pioneering years, most of his paintings were based on wayang kulit characters or moments captured in the performance of the wayang kulit. In his final years, he managed to use his painting (‘Rejection’) to reflect on the Malaysian socio-political issue.

Fig. 8.1: Wayang Kulit Kelantan, 1961, Nik Zainal Abidin, Oil on canvas. Photograph courtesy: Rupa. Malaysia: Meninjau Seni Lukis Modern Malaysia (2001). 161

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

The essential characteristics from the wayang kulit characters, such as the profile posture, head dress, weapons and accessories that distinguished each character are brought forward by Nik Zainal in his paintings. These characteristics and elements are: (i) the head dress of Rama from the Wayang Kulit Siam of Kelantan is undeniably of Thai influence, (ii) the presence of Hanuman, also known as Si Kera Putih (White Monkey), who is Seri Rama’s loyal devotee and humble servant from the epic, (iii) the bow and arrow which is a signature of Rama’s weapon, as seen in Seri Rama of the ‘Wayang Kulit Siam’, (iv) the similarities of the costume for Rama’s character in Nik Zainal’s painting which has been derived from the wayang kulit character of Seri Rama, and (v) the upward-bend gesture of the hands (that eventually form a skewed cone) from the wayang kulit characters are also present in his characters.

His paintings capture the characteristics of wayang kulit (styling, characters, and storyline) that relates to the Ramayana epic, and this is not in parallel with the implementation of the NCP. Hence, only upon localization of the wayang kulit tradition - Islamicization of the characters, adaptation of the storyline, injection of local cultural context and even introduction of new characters, such as Pak Dogol (similar to clown), the wayang kulit tradition was acknowledged to be more of a Malay cultural tradition in expression and symbolism. With a paradigm shift in the wayang kulit tradition that was originally used to depict the Hindu epic, the localized wayang kulit was accepted and became the leverage for the creation of a multitude of art forms and artistic expressions of the Ramayana epic.

Syed Thajudeen’s grand and almost mystical paintings capture the figurative style of the wayang kulit tradition. His choice of colours and the way he paints gives the viewer a magical, mysterious and fantasy-like feeling. In a personal interview with Syed Thajudeen, when asked why he chose Ramayana in particular to be represented or imbibed in his paintings, he had responded by noting that, firstly, it was Malay cultural history. The Ramayana epic was something that was close to his heart, essentially because of the values and teachings of the epic – love, devotion, relationships, and honour. Furthermore, he had also mentioned that when he was in India to pursue his education in arts, after his visit to the Ajanta caves – the sculptures and the colour scheme (the colours were made from natural material) became a huge inspiration to him in creating his works. Side-profile characters, elongated limbs, doe-like eyes, pouting lips, detailed garments and jewellery for the characters, and the presence of nature in the background, and not forgetting his blotches of rustic colours that blend into one another that gives the paintings an ancient and mystical feel - are among his notable and distinguished style. In ‘Hanuman Visits Sita’ (Fig. 8.2), Syed Thajudeen refers to a particular plot where Hanuman is sent by Rama to rescue Sita from her 162

Expressions of the Rāmāyaṇa Epic in Malaysian Arts

captor Ravana in Lanka, and he brings along Rama’s ring (here signified as a jewel) as proof of Rama’s intention towards Sita.

Fig. 8.2: Hanuman Visits Sita, 1972, Syed Thajuddeen, Oil on canvas. Photograph courtesy: Masterpieces from the National Art Gallery of Malaysia (2002).

This figurative style for the characters can also be found in other artworks by different artists such as Chiang Sao Ling’s ‘Wonderful Life’ and Loo Foh Sang’s ‘Sunset Series – Festive Dance’ (Fig. 8.3). Besides the distinctive wayang kulit figuration/stylization that are present, a much closer and deeper look into the content and context of these artworks is also needed. In ‘Wonderful Life’ – Chiang’s characters are portrayed with happy and smiling faces, and these characters are positioned to show an upbeat movement (not illustrated)1. The characters can be seen to be in a celebrative mood as they gather around to dance and rejoice. Effects that resemble smoke or clouds engulf this painting that gives it a magical touch. However, in Loo’s ‘Festival Dance’, there is a sense of seriousness due to the choice of darker shades and the static characters in it. It projects a much more serious tone, with the main character (larger than other characters and in a more presentable garment as well as accessories) staring into the distance. The secondary characters appear much smaller, with normal clothes, rugged down and in a position of offering gifts to the main character which can be presumed to be a dalang (puppeteer who performs the wayang kulit). Two dark shadows are present in the background and could perhaps be read as spirits. Also, the offerings – one pigeon in each hand of the 163

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Fig. 8.3: Sunset Series – Festival Dance, 2005, Intaglio print on paper, Artist: Loo Foh Sang. Photograph courtesy: Muzium dan Galeri Tuanku Fauziah.

female secondary character, the presence of fish, and also flying-fish like character are present in the composition. This can be associated with the offering practice during the wayang kulit performance, as has been noted by Amin Sweeney (1972: 18-19) that the most significant role of the dalang with magico-religious capability was as a spirit medium. This was when he entered a state of trance to offer food for the spirits, which is known as berjamu (feast of spirits). The close ties with the spirit world – berjamu session was indeed to offer thanks and seek blessings from the spirits, as noted by Abdul Ghani (2012: 321-335). On a closer inspection, the context of both these artworks – a celebration in the former and magico-religious feel in the latter - must not be forgotten as these different contexts can also be established in the performance of wayang kulit in a traditional setting. And it is these purposes – to celebrate and to heal (or spiritual refinement) that is shown in the context of Chiang and Loo paintings, respectively. This, as Lisa Morse (2013: 137-138) notes, meant that there was more than one purpose of the wayang kulit performance, such as cultural education, entertainment, healing, spiritual refinement, balance, and the appeasement of spirits. Moreover, in an earlier study, Sweeney (1972: 164

Expressions of the Rāmāyaṇa Epic in Malaysian Arts

15-18) notes that the dalang had two significant roles: as an entertainer and spirit medium. Wayang kulit that was performed during a wedding or circumcision in a village served as entertainment. In addition to that, wayang kulit was also performed to celebrate births in the village (entertainment) and concomitantly pass down historical tales and folklore with moral values (Ghani 2012: 322).

Both Nirmala Shanmugalingam and Norma Abbas not only applied characterization and stylization but went a step further and adapted the storytelling technique of the wayang kulit – by including the shadow of characters cast on the screen into their works. Although, their figures take a departure from its traditional form, both of Norma’s female figures face each other with a pop-like and groovy finish. These side-profiled female characters, with emphasis on their eyes and mouth, reflect their wayang kulit origin. With the presumption, that one of the female figures is to represent Malaysia, and the other to represent Indonesia in this ‘almost’ symmetrical composition (two female figures, two pigeons); elements of differences are notable in each character. Norma’s painting illustrates the scenario of how Malaysia and Indonesia can be the same yet different in a given time due to shared historical roots. Titled ‘Indo Connection II’ the artwork also portrays the roots and links between Malaysia and Indonesia – whether it is the people, culture, arts or history (Fig. 8.4). The unmistakable pucuk rebung (bamboo shoots) design usually found on batik is present on the garments of both the characters. Batik is yet another significant cultural icon that is shared both by Malaysia and Indonesia. Furthermore, adapting the wayang kulit style to depict

Fig. 8.4: Indo Connection II, 1994, Norma Abbas. Photograph courtesy: Rupa Malaysia – Meninjau Seni Lukis Moden Malaysia (2001). 165

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

such content strengthens the context of the artwork as the wayang kulit tradition in Malaysia is known to be a mixture and assimilation of wayang kulit tradition from both Indonesia and Thailand.

Similarly, Nirmala Shanmugalingam has adopted the side-profiled and elongated limbs of the wayang kulit characters into her figures (Margaret Thatcher and her US ally – Ronald Reagan) to bring forward her socio-political consciousness. Unlike Norma, Nirmala juxtaposed newspaper clippings with the representation of her subject as wayang kulit characters painted in acrylic to create a collage ‘Friends in Need’(not illustrated here)2. At the back of these wayang kulit-like characters, there are shadows (ogre look-alike that are also derived from wayang kulit characters) that are meant as a political comment through shadow-characterization). The injection of a ‘non-Ramayana’ storyline or even a new character is not alien to the wayang kulit tradition as the new

Fig. 8.5: Message III, 2013, Raja Lope Rasydi. Photograph courtesy: Raja Lope Rasydi Raja Rozlan. 166

Expressions of the Rāmāyaṇa Epic in Malaysian Arts

interjections are common methods used to educate and raise awareness among the public. While in the collage ‘Friends in Need’, Nirmala Shanmugalingam raises socio­ political awareness based on issues abroad, she also provokes the viewer to ponder, analyze and perhaps question their very own political agenda that they face at home.

Raja Lope comes from Beruas, Perak, which is the old Gangga Nagara kingdom of HinduMalay origin, and draws inspiration from this history in order to create his paintings (Maganathan 2013). Inspired by the rich local myths and legends, he has captured his dreams and wild imaginations into paintings of wayang kulit characters, kuda kepang, newly inspired local fairies that are juxtaposed with local cultural elements such as batik, keris, toman fish, and even racial symbols. However, his painting does not project a sense of antiquity as his wayang kulit characters are made to look robotic – with a touch of futurism, as he has done with his local fairies (Fig. 8.5). Talking about the

Fig. 8.6: Tuan Puteri Leia (Princess Leia), Tintoy Chua, Peperangan Bintang (Star Wars) Wayang Kulit Project. Photograph courtesy: Author (taken from Tradisi ke Pop Exhibition at BSVN). 167

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

message in his paintings, Raja Lope has highlighted the importance of protecting our culture and world, so that the mythical elements and legends will continue to live on and become an inspiration to dream and live.

Tintoy Chua uses the elements from the wayang kulit to re-create contemporary characters from movies, or even festivals. Known as fusion wayang kulit, Tintoy Chua works together with a local puppeteer to custom design these characters. In an interview with Samantha Joseph, Tintoy Chua explains that the fusion wayang kulit project was initiated during a Designer Weekend Show in 2012, where he and Teh Take Huat were driven to create a contemporary Malaysian character for the exhibition (Joseph 2015). The very first Star Wars inspired characters were Perantau Langit (Luke Skywalker) and Sangkala Vedeh (Darth Vader) – as the protagonist and antagonist, respectively. Eventually, more characters such as Hulubalang Empayar (Stromtrooper), Tuan Puteri Leia (Princess Leia) and even the cute and smart Ah Tuh (R2) were added into the collection (Fig. 8.6).

Working with Pak Dain as the puppeteer (dalang) and Azrai for translation of the script, the Peperangan Langit (Star Wars) made its debut in Kota Bahru on 18 October 2013 and received a highly encouraging response. Elaborating further on the character design, Tintoy explains that the character designs for the Peperangan Bintang series were inspired by the Ramayana epic (Joseph 2015). Princess Leia has been localized and customized according to Malaysian culture – her character design is essentialized heavily on the wayang kulit style; side-profiled figure, her hands in a pose that is similar to the example of Sita Devi of the Wayang Kulit Siam. Princess Leia is wearing the traditional batik cloth, and there are resemblances between the decorative element on her shoulder, her head dress, and how she is made to stand on a space station, with reference to the traditional design of Sita Devi. The design for Princess Leia is complete with the traditional fan and finished with rods in order to move the leather puppet and the character’s hand. And that was just the beginning for a variety of other fusion wayang kulit which was brought to life based on local content and context. Over time, Tintoy Chua had revived the wayang kulit tradition by creating wayang kulit characters such as Tok Santa (Santa Claus), Batman, Chinese New Year greeting based on animal zodiacs, and even Zakulit Wayang Merah (from the anime). In regard to his intention of creating a new movement of the traditional wayang kulit, Tintoy emphasized that it is not his intention to replace the old tradition, but more to cater for the younger generation who have never experienced the traditional wayang kulit in order to appreciate it (Joseph 2015). Over the years, another element, such as the pohon beringin (tree of life) which was traditionally used in the opening and closing scenes of the wayang kulit performances, 168

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has been applied onto other media. The pohon beringin or banyan tree, plays a vital role in the performance of the wayang kulit and is commonly used to portray scenes from nature. Sweeney (1972: 35) explains that the ‘pohon beringin’ is used to represent mountains, caves or trees. Other than being used as a mere object of nature representation in wayang kulit performance, the pohon beringin is also employed as a ritual significance tool amongst the Malays. Despite being used to begin or end a wayang kulit performance, the pohon beringin, also known as Gunungan as noted by Ghani (2012: 329), was a source of energy or life that is brought to other puppet figures. The ritual significance of the pohon beringin was also highlighted by Bujang (2007: 135-156) whereby the dalang depended on the spirit of the pohon beringin as spiritual strength. The tip of the banyan tree puppet figure is used to transfer ‘life’ to other characters in the wayang kulit performance. This is simply because the Malays believe that every individual owns its spirit, and this spirit has to be mediated in order to produce movements. And it is this spirit that determines the activeness/liveliness of other characters in a wayang kulit performance. Furthermore, as posited by Yousof (2010: 146) the fundamental concepts of semangat (spirit) and angin (possession due to emotional imbalances) underlie the Malay tradition, especially in ritualistic beliefs and traditional theatre practices. The vitality of this semangat (spirit) that was initially represented by the use of the pohon beringin leather puppet is captured and still present in various other art forms in current times. The repetition of the distinguished pohon beringin shape (the tip that looks similar to the tip of a spade in a deck of cards) in a variety of strokes, sizes and colours are captured by Fatimah Chik in her batik piece titled Pohon Beringin. The interlocking of the ‘tip of spade’ shapes with other patterns and elements in the artwork portrays the presence of the spirit that is tightly woven in the traditional folk beliefs and ritual practices in the Malay tradition and Southeast Asians’ consciousness. These shapes and patterns that are translucent and overlap each other at various points, project a vague but lively effect as the unmistakable spade shape that represents the pohon beringin is repeated in small scale from the centre of the artwork to the ends, growing gradually in size and occupying the width and length of the canvas. A simple outline of the pohon beringin in blue stroke is made visible symmetrically at the centre of the canvas.

In Liew Kung Yu’s ‘Cemerlang, Gemilang dan Terbilang’, Liew composes a digital montage using Photoshop, based on different Malaysian icons (Ngui 2008) such as the Proton car, PETRONAS Twin Towers, the first Malaysian astronaut and the word MERDEKA (independence or freedom) to represent the achievements of a modernized Malaysia, that forms the shape of a pohon beringin. With the perforations and play of 169

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light that is cleverly matched in this artwork, the character of Ravana is projected on the floor, similar to the projection of shadow in the traditional wayang kulit. Juxtaposing traditional elements and modern content, the work is anchored in Malaysian identity and independence. Ngui notes: “Cemerlang, Gemilang dan Terbilang borrows from both local folk symbolism and the grand narratives of literature and applies this to the modern developing world as a means of storytelling, creating a space where beauty, high cap and kitsch, theatre (the Wayang Kulit analogy) and a playfulness of the installation meet (Ngui 2008).

Conclusion

This chapter has put forth some of the many creative expressions and ideas that have surfaced in the Malaysian art landscape containing elements or attributes from the Ramayana epic. From its initial form of the wayang kulit tradition, the Ramayana epic has continued to transcend into a multitude of artistic expressions in the present. Although, the Ramayana epic may not be entirely captured in its totality, nevertheless, artists (grandmasters such as Nik Zainal Abidin and Syed Thajudeen, as well as emerging contemporary artists) acknowledge its historical significance and cultural identity by using the Ramayana epic as an inspirational source or point of reference. It is also vital to note that the wayang kulit, in particular, has become the leverage for the Ramayana epic as it was primarily the oldest form of theatre and a convenient medium of storytelling. The Ramayana epic that originated from India was shared with the people of Southeast Asia through the wayang kulit tradition in its early days. This can be further explained as each country has its traditional wayang kulit practice together with its localized Ramayana epic. As Krishnan notes: “Shadow play is probably the oldest form of theatre believed to precede human theatre. Much before man ventured to impersonate the form of the divine beings, he conceived their images in shadow play. Moreover, because of the strong association with the spiritual in its conception, shadow plays are performed in a largely religious setting to spread religious mythology, to teach ethical and moral codes, to entertain and to comment on society (Krishnan 1997: 16).

In reality, the epic has gone through transformation and localization, emerging in diversified versions, complexities and cycles. As such, can the Ramayana epic be disregarded with the varieties that are existent and that will emerge in future, which will not be exactly identical to the original epic? Are the various creative expressions and ideas that have emerged to be considered as a series of falsification of the Ramayana epic? To begin with, change is inevitable in every aspect of our daily lives – whether arts or cultural practices or information and technology, or even to our beliefs and thinking. Adaptation and customization are vital so that we ‘fit’ into current 170

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times and make progress. The same can be said of the Ramayana epic, written more than 2000 years ago; it cannot and will not make its presence known in its entire originality and extent. Nevertheless, the variety of versions that continue to exist do not necessarily mean that it is a form of falsification. In pre-modern times, the wayang kulit was a vital source for religious, spiritual and entertainment activities. However, in modern times, one cannot expect the traditional wayang kulit to be a significant cultural tool when other technological mediums are in greater use.

This chapter argues that the Ramayana epic is deeply and tightly embedded in the socio-cultural and spiritual-religious practices of the peoples in Southeast Asia. Although Islam has tremendously changed cultural belief and practices in Malaysia, the traces of Hinduism and Buddhism have not and cannot be wiped out entirely. This is because Southeast Asia was deeply influenced by Hindu and Buddhist empires such as Srivijaya, Angkor, Ayutthaya, and Majapahit over centuries. Archaeological monuments such as Borobudur, Prambanan, Angkor Wat, and monuments that are yet to be discovered (underwater temples in Bali, Indonesia, or even the archaeological findings in the Bujang Valley, Malaysia) only shows the depth and vastness of the Hindu-Buddhist period. With the coming of Islam to Southeast Asia, there has been a gradual effort to remove Hindu-Buddhist elements. As Abdullah Coombes notes: “Any assessment of Malay culture is misguided if it does not recognize the profound impact that Islam as the civilizing and spiritual force since the 13th century has had in shaping the body of Malay psyche and world view. From the complete adab (customs) to the artisans and house-builders, we see the gradual rejection of pre-Islamic customs and art-forms, mostly Hindu, and the result refined and matured up until the encounter with secularism, colonization and attempted de-Islamization of the Malay Archipelago” (Coombes 1995: 20). As Hindu customaries, artistic forms, and cultural practices have shaped this region over centuries, providing a ‘blueprint’ for this region, can all its imprints and traditions be replaced with Islam and Christianity? When artists need inspiration or a platform to channel their ideas or thoughts, most artists refer to the historical context of the region or the roots of their cultural identity. Asia, and Southeast Asia in particular, is rich in socio-cultural identity as well as its long history. Marshall Clark noted that the Ramayana epic had served as an important cultural unifier for the Southeast Asia region (Clark 2010: 217-225). Although modern-day Southeast Asian countries are independent of each other, this region was once united and influenced by HinduBuddhist empires. If the Ramayana epic had not reached Southeast Asia, would the wayang kulit tradition have originated? And if it was not for the wayang kulit tradition, would its distinguished stylized figurative characters have been captured by painters 171

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and visual artists alike? More than that, the fact remains that there are artists who still refer to the Ramayana epic due to its historical significance and role played in forming the cultural identity of this region. Kerlogue further notes the significance of the contribution of Hinduism in particular to artistic expressions (such as the stone reliefs, shadow puppets, temple hangings, textiles and glass paintings etc.) of the Southeast Asian region. Kerlogue summarizes that, “It is the characters and stories of the Hindu epics, however, that represent the most powerful unifying force in Southeast Asian art” (Kerlogue 2004a: 93).

The Asian context must not be viewed similar to the Western context. Asian historiography is rich and complex, and, thus, socio-cultural setting, geographical location, historical roots, the different religions and its teachings, cultural practices and traditions, politics, trade, and even elements of myth and magic must be taken into consideration in regard to art historical research. Though various interpretations, art forms and creative expressions deriving from the Ramayana epic have surfaced, differing in context and extent from the original epic, this, however, does not falsify the truth of the importance of the Ramayana epic in Southeast Asian arts, culture and historical identity. The fact that the Ramayana epic is still referred to, only proves its significance as an umbilical cord to the arts of this region.

Acknowledgement

A heartfelt thanks to my supervisor, Sarena Abdullah, PhD, from Universiti Sains Malaysia, for her continuous guidance, encouragement and assistance in writing the draft of this paper.

Endnotes

1. For an image, see Wonderful Life, 2005, Watercolour on paper, Artist: Chiang Sao Ling, Penang Water Colour Society’s 25th Anniversary Art Exhibition Catalogue (2008).

2. For an image, see Friends in Need, 1986, Nirmala Shanmugalingam, Acrylic and collage on canvas, Rupa Malaysia - Meninjau Seni Lukis Modern Malaysia (2001).

Bibliography

Abdul Ghani, Dahlan. 2012. “The Study of Semiotics Wayang Kulit Theatre in Malay Culture Society.” In Estudios Sobre El Mensaje Periodistico 18(1): 321–35.

Ahmad Dawa, M Najib, Z Anuar, H Nyok, and Z A A Shariff, eds. 2008. “Maritime Empire and the Age of Commerce.” In Timelines: Malaysian Art With 50 Years National Art Gallery, 102. Kuala Lumpur. Bujang, Rahman Haji. 2007. “Fungsi Komunikasi Dan Estetike Dalam Persembahan Teater Tradisional Wayang Kulit.” In Jurnal Pengajian Melayu, 18: 135–56. 172

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Clark, Marshall. 2010. “The Ramayana in Southeast Asia: Fostering Regionalism or the State?” In Ramayana in Focus - Visual and Performing Arts of Asia, ed. Gauri Parimoo Krishnan, 217–25. Singapore: Asian Civilisation Museum. Coombes, Harun Abdullah. 1995. “The Islamic Spirit: Social Orientations in Contemporary Malaysian Art.” In Art and Spirituality, ed. Hani Ahmad. Kuala Lumpur: National Art Gallery.

Fredericks, Micheal. 2011. “Wayang Kulit.” The Star Online. www.thestar.com.my/travel/ malaysia/2011/05/30/wayang-kulit/.

Jähnichen, Gisa. 2009. “Re-Designing the Role of Phalak and Phalam in Modern Lao Ramayana.” In Wacana Seni Journal of Arts Discourse, 8: 1–42. http://wacanaseni.usm.my/WACANA_ SENI_JOURNAL_OF_ARTS_DISCOURSE/JOURNAL-8,PDF/1Gisa.p. Joseph, Samantha. 2015. “Wayang Troopers.” In New Sunday Times, January 18.

Kam, Garret. 2000. Ramayana in the Arts of Asia. Singapore: Select Books.

Kerlogue, Fiona. 2004a. “Hindu Vision.” In Arts of Southeast Asia. Singapore: Thames and Hudson.

Kerlogue, Fiona. 2004b. “Origins.” In Arts of Southeast Asia. Singapore: Thames and Hudson.

King, Victor T. 2016. “Conceptualising Culture, Identity and Region: Recent Reflections on Southeast Asia.” In Pertanika Journal, 24(1): 25–42. Krishnan, Gauri Parimoo. 1997. Ramayana, a Living Tradition (Introduction). Singapore: National Heritage Board.

Krishnan, Gauri Parimoo. ed. 2010. Ramayana in Focus: Visual and Performing Arts of Asia. Singapore: Asian Civilisation Museum. Maganathan, Dinesh Kumar. 2013 (November). “Ode to a Dream.” Sunday Star.

Mishra, Patit Paban. 2001. “India-Southeast Asian Relations: An Overview” South Dakota State University. Morse, Lisa. 2013. “The Shadow Puppet Theatre of Malaysia: A Study of Wayang Kulit with Performance Scripts and Puppet Design by Beth Osnes.” In Theatre Journal 65(1): 137–38.

Ngui, Matthew. 2008. “Liew Kung Yu: Excellence, Glory and Distinction.” NAFAS. http://universein-universe.org/eng/nafas/articles/2008/liew_kung_yu. Ooi, Kok Chuen. 2013. “Shadows on Canvas.” In The Star Online, May 26. http://www.thestar. com.my/story/?file=%2F2013%2F5%2F26%2Flifearts%2F13141991.

Rawson, Philip S. 1967. The Art of Southeast Asia: Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand, Laos, Burma, Java, Bali. London: Thames and Hudson.

Sweeney, Amin. 1972. Malay Shadow Puppets – The Wayang Siam of Kelantan. Great Britain: British Museum.

Yousof, Ghulam-Sarwar. 2010. “Ramayana in the Malaysian Wayang Kulit Siam.” In Ramayana in Focus - Visual and Performing Arts of Asia, ed. Gauri Parimoo Krishnan, 135. Asian Civilisation Museum. 173

Literary Cultures

Texts, Recitation, and Associated Imagery

Figs. 14.2 & 14.3

9. The Discourse on Governance and Ethics as a Leitmotif in the Old Javanese Rāmāyaṇa or Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin Malini Saran

Diverse Rāmakathās—or Rāma’s stories—spread through Southeast Asia during the first millennium, and the Indonesian island of Java was foremost in creating its own Rāmāyaṇas of extraordinary beauty and individuality. Two outstanding Rāmāyaṇa tellings made an appearance in Central Java in the latter half of the 9th century. One was a poetic work known as the Old Javanese Rāmāyaṇa (OJR), or Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin (RK), based largely on a Vālmīkian mahākāvya written in Sanskrit by Bhaṭṭi, an Indian poet. The other was an elaborate sculptural rendition of a Rāmakathā, in the state temple complex of Prambanan. Both works were sponsored by the Śaivite kings of the Mataram dynasty who had recently assumed power in Central Java after the centurylong domination of the Buddhist Śailendra dynasty.1 Both Rāmāyaṇas, varied in their tellings, reflect Java’s acquaintance with the broader oral traditions of Rāmāyaṇa in addition to an impressive knowledge of classical Sanskrit texts and Buddhist teachings.

In examining the context of the Rāmāyaṇa’s first iterations in Java, it is useful to recall that Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa (VR) was composed in India at a time when the concept of the state was still evolving, and kingship required definition (Thapar 1994). As Sheldon Pollock points out, “We are not dealing here as in other epic traditions with just the heroic deeds of warrior kings, but with the nature and function of kingship as such; and these questions are not tangentially significant but central to the structure of the epic…the problems of kingship addressed so insistently by the epic texts were new ones and in their very nature, urgent” (Pollock 2007: 10). It is, therefore, reasonable to assume that some urgency of purpose motivated Java’s two magnificent state-sponsored expressions of Rāmāyaṇa in literature and sculpture. Inscriptions and charters in Old Javanese from the 9th century CE speak of this era as marked by political instability (Christie 2015: 52). Scholars point out allegorical aspects in the RK that reflect the transfer of power of one king to another after a victorious battle (Acri 2016: 457; Robson 1983). The need of the hour, thus, appeared to be the propagation of stable governance under the guidance of a powerful monarchy. 176

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The creation of RK, a Vālmīkian Rāmāyaṇa, was an inspired response to the need for a state myth that validated the role of an all-powerful king ruling over an ideal Javanese state. The discourse on governance and ethics was introduced to Java couched in the lofty verses of the Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin, kakawin being a poetic form that uses Indian metres in the indigenous language of Old Javanese. Rather than a pragmatic textbook on statecraft, the poets chose as their model a Sanskrit mahākāvya2 called Rāvaṇavadha (The Slaying of Rāwaṇa) that celebrated the triumph of Rāma over Rāwaṇa. Its Indian author, Bhaṭṭi (hence also Bhaṭṭikāvya, The Poem of Bhaṭṭi), retold Vālmīki’s epic of 240,000 verses in 22 cantos, while exemplifying the rules of Sanskrit grammar in its 1640 verses. The RK is hailed by modern scholars for its exemplary emulation of the poetics and prosody of its model, for its poetic beauty and as an independent work of genius (Hooykaas 1958; Khanna and Saran 1993).

This chapter suggests that the RK was also an exemplary poem for the teaching of nīti (morals) in governance and ethics. Nīti in the poem is personified by Rāma, the exemplary ruler whose duty as a king and an incarnation of the god Wiṣṇu is to safeguard the welfare of the world threatened by Rāwaṇa, the powerful and evil rākṣasa king. In RK, the rules of the moral order securing the kingdom are resolutely defined and defended by Rāma, which Rāwaṇa by word and deed defies and attempts to destroy. With the slaying of Rāwaṇa, Rāma restores the world to the path of enlightenment and pronounces that a king is the embodiment of eight additional divinities whose specified duties are to protect the welfare of the world. In the RK, ethical governance implies as much an ordering of the internal universe of the king as that of the polity. The concept of nīti in governance in the multi-layered meanings of RK extends beyond the realm of statecraft to the character of the rulers: Rāma, by the pursuit of virtue and the control of his senses, acquires spiritual strength that leads him to liberation and victory, in contrast to Rāwaṇa whose inflated ego and sensual indulgence invite destruction and death to him and his kingdom. These nuanced ideals of governance and ethics enshrined in the RK would resonate in the literature and drama of Java and Bali until contemporary times. The RK achieved this by adapting the content and structure of its mahākāvya model to emphasize the teaching of governance and ethics. Additional material in harmony with Javanese ideals was adapted from a variety of Sanskrit sources to enrich the poem’s moral content which flowed as a discernible theme through the verses in Old Javanese. The story and characters themselves spell out the principles embedded in its moral codes. The rules of governance and ethics are critically evaluated from different perspectives in the time-honoured Indian practice of discussion and debate, known as vāda-vidyā and by the apparent application of the tenets of ‘Nyāya’ method or the 177

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‘science of right and wrong reasoning’.3 The Javanese poets adapted these techniques used in Bhaṭṭikāvya to create a unique Rāmāyaṇa in Old Javanese that became a benchmark for ethical governance for which it is respected and remembered to this day.

Bhaṭṭi’s choice of Rāma as the protagonist, as in RK, fulfils one of the primary conditions of a mahākāvya—that of an exalted hero who embraces the whole range of human aspiration touching on the four aims of Hindu life that lead to spiritual liberation (Peterson 2003: vi). Emulating Bhaṭṭi’s structural choices, the scope of the RK is confined to the contents of the six kāṇḍas of Vālmīki’s epic. By omitting the concluding Uttarakāṇḍa, this ‘auspicious tale’, as the RK describes itself (Sarga 26, v. 50, line 2), ends on an auspicious note with the crowning of Wibhīṣaṇa as the king of Laṅkā and the triumphant return of Rāma and Sītā to Ayodhya. The subject of almost half of RK, as in Bhaṭṭi’s poem, covers the events in the Yuddhakāṇḍa, the second longest of Vālmīki’s kāṇḍas, which contains ‘literature’s finest discourses on dharma and nīti, as well as the bloodiest battles that culminate in the slaying of Rāwaṇa’ (Goldman and Goldman 2010: 5). RK further adjusts Bhaṭṭi’s poetic structure to support its own theme of just governance by including episodes that Bhaṭṭi left out, re-arranging his sequence in others, and inventing episodes included neither by Bhaṭṭi nor by Vālmīki. In contrasting noble with lowly behaviour of characters played out across the domains of earth, sea and sky, a portrait emerges in RK, of the ethics of the ideal state protected and ruled by Rāma, the ideal king.

Situating the discourse

Coinciding with the requirement of aesthetics in Bhaṭṭi’s mahākāvya, the edifying tale of Rāma and Sītā in RK was permeated with kalangwan, as the beauty and magical power of poetry are termed in Old Javanese (Zoetmulder 1979: V). In the words of the Old Javanese poet, “This tale composed in beautiful language may be presented to the public and its essence be heard and be famous” (Robson 2015: Sarga 26, v. 49–50).4 The pervading ‘essence’ in this case was the dhārmic ideal that the realm would thrive if it was ruled by a king who abided by tenets based on moral law, while destruction would be the lot of those like Rāwaṇa who refused to obey. A new metaphoric world, lifted from Bhaṭṭikāvya, was transcreated in the language of Old Javanese poetry in terms comprehensible to an audience living in a vastly different social and religious context. Hence, its didactic and redemptive quality was conveyed through imagery and drama familiar to the Javanese imagination when recited, chanted or sung, as it is done in Bali even today. Ideas vocalized in the rhythms of a verse achieve greater dramatic effect. Accordingly, verses that explained the concept of Rāma as an incarnation of Wiṣṇu were amplified and discourses on governance added and modified. We can assume that commentary in a local language probably assisted its explanation, as 178

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occurs in mabasan, or recitation clubs in Bali today when a line of poetry is broken into word groups in order to be paraphrased in the vernacular (Robson 1983, 317).

Much has been written about the Javanese poet’s skilful adaptation to his own language of Bhaṭṭi’s use of alaṃkāra or exalted imagery in words (arthālaṃkāra), the sonorous effects of alliteration (śabdālaṃkāra) and assonance (yamaka) to increase the impact on an audience more used to listening than to reading a page in silence (Hooykaas 1958; Hunter 2011). Bhaṭṭi’s inclusion of rhetoric as ‘alaṃkāra’ needs to be acknowledged no less, as this effectively used feature of persuasive argument in RK has not received the attention it deserves. The categories of debate theorized in the Nyāya system of philosophy that aim to unveil true knowledge (Lloyd 2007: 367) seem to have influenced the structure of arguments in the Bhaṭṭikāvya which, in turn, provided the Javanese poets with the means to illustrate their own truth. The use of these methods encourages us to regard the RK as a performance art, similar to the Javanese theatre of shadow puppets or wayang kulit to which it bore a symbiotic relationship and to which it later provided rich material. Robson points out that “giving long speeches seems to be one of the author’s narrative techniques in Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin” (Robson 2015: 15). Bhaṭṭi himself observes that his “excellent composition always produces victory for discoursing and debating people”, likening it to “a well-deployed missile” (Karandikar and Karandikar 1982: 326). Using the structure of the mahākāvya as a frame around which great speeches are built, the Javanese poets applied Bhaṭṭi’s use of rhetoric or persuasive argument in discourses between several characters, particularly during Rāwaṇa’s assembly in Laṅkā when three perspectives on political strategy and kingship—represented by the rākṣasa brothers Wibhīṣaṇa and Kumbhakarṇa and their grandfather Sumāli—based on logic and inference stand in contrast with Rāwaṇa’s specious arguments. By foregrounding speech against the swift pace of the narrative, RK follows Bhaṭṭi’s example in telling conversations scattered throughout the poem in scenes of dramatic action, contrasted with lyrical descriptions of natural beauty. The Javanese discourses examine the moral component of every action to illustrate the kernel of the nīti teachings. Examples include: when Rāma instructs Bharata in the forest on ethical governance and the duties of a king; and when the monkey king Bāli, fatally shot by Rāma’s hidden arrow, questions him on his unjust action (Sarga 6, v. 174–184); in Hanūmān’s first meeting with Rāwaṇa to which the whole of Sarga 10 is devoted, a debate ensues regarding Rāma’s killing of Tāṭaka, Bāli, Yojanabāhu, Mārīca and Wirādha, which Rāwaṇa incorrectly attributes to their weaknesses and Rāma’s duplicity and cowardice rather than his valour; when Aṅgada acting as Rāma’s envoy meets Rāwaṇa in Laṅkā to persuade him to submit to Rāma and is royally spurned (Sarga 18, v. 38–49); and 179

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finally, in the most important discourse between Rāma and Wibhīṣaṇa that occurs at the end of the war when Rāma describes the qualities of eight gods embodied in the king. As noted by Robson, “It is no wonder that Balinese and Javanese scholars valued precisely these passages for their beneficial teaching” (Robson 2015: 15).

Women are an integral part of this engagement. For example, in an episode recounted neither by Vālmīki nor by Bhaṭṭi (Sarga 11, v. 22–32), Sītā’s skilful use of persuasive argument is seen in her letter to Rāma sent from Laṅkā through Hanumān, assuring him of her love and loyalty to make sure that he will take her back (Molen 2003).5 Another example is seen when Trijaṭā befriends Sītā in Laṅkā and castigates Rāma for unjustly rejecting his chaste wife (Sarga 24, v. 169–186). Even the sages in the sky hailing the divinity of Rāma address him in direct speech to remind him that Sītā is the goddess Śrī and is an indivisible part of him. The collective ownership of an Indian knowledge system of governance and ethics was achieved in Java through the discourse of gods, demons, men, women, monkeys and birds in speeches, conversations, discussions and debates adapted to the local context. Of the several important discourses in the RK that accentuate the content of nīti, three chosen examples are discussed below. The first is Rāma’s seminal disquisition on governance and ethics addressed to Bharata in the forest which occurs towards the beginning of the poem in Sarga 3. The second occurs in the middle of the poem in Sargas 13 and 14 that are set in Rāwaṇa’s council in Laṅkā. Here, in an extended debate, the right and wrong forms of reasoning are illustrated in the arguments of Rāwaṇa and his advisors on the advisability of war. The third example is taken from the end of the poem in Sarga 24, which forms Rāma’s culminating discourse on the eight duties of a king as formulated in the aṣṭabrata.

Rāma’s discourse to Bharata on ‘the code of noble conduct’ (Sarga 3, v. 53 –84)

In Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, Rāma’s famous speech relating to the duties of a king is addressed to Bharata at the start of their meeting in the forest before the latter announces the death of their father and urges Rāma to assume his rightful throne in Ayodhyā (Ayodhyākāṇḍa Sarga 94, v. 1–59). This speech is dropped in Bhaṭṭikāvya. The RK, however, reinstates Rāma’s disquisition but alters its emphasis and abbreviates its form. Further, Rāma delivers it at the end of his meeting with Bharata while handing over his sandals to be placed symbolically on the throne until his return. Scholars consider the speech an interpolation, on account of metrical and stylistic inconsistencies (Uhlenbeck 1989). It was probably inserted not long after the rest of 180

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the poem was composed and was, therefore, regarded as an integral part of the text (Robson 2015: 81). Even if it was a later addition, its importance is undisputed as it is the first significant discourse on the subject of ethical governance delivered by a confident Rāma, whose physical prowess and moral authority as the incarnation of Wiṣṇu has been established in the previous two sargas. Furthermore, the ideas it propounds will echo through the rest of the poem.

In Rāma’s definition of the moral code, the RK borrows ideas from a range of Hindu and Buddhist texts in Sanskrit, of which some have been identified (Khanna and Saran 1993: 234–242). The RK quotes Vālmīki in stating the philosophy of dharma, artha and kāma, translated as ‘matters of righteousness, of the state and of personal desire’, which Rāma sets out in proper order and proportion as the goals of life. RK touches on the Vālmīkian principles of statecraft, for example, in the tending of dhārmic institutions such as temples, monasteries and religious foundations; the building of “roads, rest houses, ponds, dams, dykes, markets and bridges, and whatever might please the people” (v. 70); the loyalty of servants, etc.; the punishment of evil-doers; and the importance of sage counsel from ministers, echoing the Arthaśāstra and other Sanskrit works on statecraft that speak of the importance of a trusted group of advisors. Yet, when it comes to the qualities of the king, a noticeable emphasis is given to “the host of excellent virtues that pertain to a king” which are described as “marvellous wisdom” (v. 56) and “accomplished insight” (v. 57). These bear a striking similarity to the terminology used in another treatise on nīti known as the Kāmandakīya Nītisāra,6 a Buddhist counterpart to the Arthaśāstra. A Sanskrit text in 19 sections, each has a descriptive title on the elements of polity and is made up of pithy maxims on virtues to be emulated and vices to be abhorred. A few examples follow, although the sarga by sarga comparison that is warranted lies beyond the purview of this chapter. A full section in KN (Section 1), for example, advocates the knowledge of the holy books to the king and his need for self-control. Speaking in the RK of the “code of noble conduct” a ruler must observe, Rāma begins his address to Bharata, using the terminology of the Kāmandakīya Nītisāra: If you are entrusted with the protection of the whole world, You should guard the code of noble conduct and keep it in your mind; Adhere to the precepts, keep the scriptures in view at all times, And follow all the words of the holy books—this is what brings happiness. (v. 53)

The leitmotif appears early of the good qualities the king must guard and bad ones he should eschew: 181

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Good morals should be guarded, passion and hatred removed; Abstain from envy, let your mind and body be empty. These are the rules to be adhered to, so that you may be loved in all you do, But excess of pride in a king, my brother, makes the people turn elsewhere. (v. 55)

Rāma advises Bharata that a king listens to the grief of his subjects to whom he is pledged (v. 58) and lauds the virtues of effort and resolution in performing any task that forbids contempt “even to the lowest creature” (v. 59). He points to the example of a lion’s terrifying strength, unequalled in courage yet cautious in killing (v. 60). Elsewhere, the king is compared to the lion who guards the mountain on which people represented by forest and grass thrive and who depend on him for their happiness (Sarga 3, v. 77). Arrogance is to be avoided as is indulgence in defamation, the intoxication of high birth (v. 61) and a violent character (v. 64). Equanimity and kindness should be practised (v. 65). Images that will resonate in a later discourse are the metaphorical comparisons of the king to the sun “who burns the world relentlessly to eliminate evil-doers” and to the moon who inspires affection by being kindly disposed to all men (v. 76). Ever mindful of protecting the common folk against threats, Rāma in the RK identifies five latent dangers that are not mentioned by Vālmīki but are listed as such in the Kāmandakīya Nītisāra (Section V, v. 82). These include: being sent to fight in a hostile territory, the danger of thieves abroad, other kinds of ill-doers who can cause harm, the clear danger posed by the king’s favourites and, lastly, the greed of the king himself (Dutt 1896: 61). The emphasis on qualities of character in Kāmandakīya Nītisāra, Section III (Dutt 1896, 25–30), is also seen in RK when Rāma cautions Bharata about modesty, empathy and kindness. The vices a king must resist, such as addiction to drink and intoxication of all kinds, are given equal attention. The errors of a king, merely listed by Vālmīki, are further elaborated (Pollock 2007: 284).

In RK, the spiritual character of the king is a desired feature of kingship, and the importance of this aspect is frequently discussed: Your understanding of what to do is called ‘marvellous wisdom’; On the battlefield fortitude and heroic speech should be practised. Renouncing worldliness you should be liberal to the brahmans and ascetics; You should inspire awe when protecting the world and make it firm.(v. 55)

The conflicting nature of the qualities, requiring a king to be both an ascetic and a warrior, is an idea that gains salience in the course of the RK. In Sarga 4, far from the realpolitik of his previous teaching to Bharata, Rāma speaks like an ascetic clothed in 182

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bark but “never far from his weapons” whose powers will be enhanced by spiritual training. In conclusion, the RK once again invokes “the codes of conduct” (verse 84, line 3), in which the Buddhist ideals of compassion and empathy, sincerity and honesty play a significant role: This is how the king should preserve the land in good fortune; His concern for others and his love for them are great, as he sees all the suffering of men, He looks with care and follows each and every word of the codes of conduct, His sympathy is sincere, he countenances no dishonesty and therefore escapes affliction (v. 84)

The council in Rāwaṇa’s court: Speaking truth to power

The relationship advocated for a king with his counsellors mentioned earlier in Rāma’s discourse to Bharata is illustrated in Rāwaṇa’s court, in both its positive and negative aspects. With Rāma’s army at his door, Rāwaṇa summons his ministers to seek the counsel of his ministers, brothers and his venerable grandfather: should he go to war or not? To maximize the rhetorical impact, Bhaṭṭi compacts Vālmīki’s speeches on governance by several members in the course of two assemblies into four speakers in one assembly abbreviated to a single canto (Canto XII). While the RK follows Bhaṭṭi’s version of the proceedings in a single assembly, the debate is expanded into two sargas—Sargas 13 and 14—to allow for extended political analyzes, including that of Kumbhakarṇa awoken by his grandfather’s speech. Kumbhakarṇa’s final speech occurs in a sarga later in the RK (Sarga 22) when he is forcibly awakened by a desperate Rāwaṇa to come to his aid, and his subsequent fight unto death is described in rousing terms with his parting words of wisdom.

The discourses of Wibhīṣaṇa7

The discourse of the learned councillor Wibhīṣaṇa to Rāwaṇa in Sarga 13 of RK, closely following Canto XI in Bhaṭṭikāvya, is an outstanding example of logic, clarity and lucidity. Wibhīṣaṇa’s counsel stems from the words of his mother who, after witnessing the devastated world around her, urges her son “to warn [his] wicked brother”. The whole world seems to be stricken with a poison, As your brother Rāwaṇa is like a powerful poison. (v. 8) Therefore, warn your wicked brother Tell him about how a noble good man behaves, 183

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So that he does not resist, you must use a tactic, And try hard to instruct him in the sacred precepts. (Sarga 13, v.13)

His mother’s words bring clarity to Wibhīṣaṇa’s mind as he proceeds towards Rāwaṇa’s assembly. This episode is a favourite in the recitation clubs of Bali even today. Wibhīṣaṇa’s discourse is a response to the fallacious argument by Prahasta, Rāwaṇa’s prime minister, who rashly urges his king to go to war wasting no time on counsel, and being dismissive of Hanumān’s burning of Laṅkā. Wibhīṣaṇa, the acknowledged expert on the scriptures and ethical questions, uses positive argument to launch into a scathing critique of Prahasta’s advice that reaches for weapons instead of replying with a plan that will make things better (v. 41): The aim of deliberation is to promote discernment, And good policy does not rely on heroism. Anyone who is highly knowledgeable in what the scriptures say, He is obliged to speak up and give advice on policy. (v. 42)

He puts forward a thesis, which if Rāwaṇa were to follow, would assure him victory. For anyone wishing to be victorious in a battle, Wibhīṣaṇa advocates the six constituents of policy to be used as a winning strategy: (i) forming an alliance, (ii) sowing discord among the opposition, (iii) deciding whether to wage war or not, (iv) fostering hatred among the opposition, (v) choosing allies which could be used as protection and (vi) a kindly disposition (Sarga 13, v. 49; Santoso 1980: 341).8 If the king has no kindly disposition, the six actions are pointless, and it is useless to have them… (Sarga 13, v. 50)

as he will be unable to attract treasure and troops. In applying the six constituents of policy to Rāwaṇa one by one, he demonstrates by unassailable deductive logic how the rākṣasa king cannot win. Furthermore, The six inner foes, passions and so on, are enemies close at hand, And these are the reasons for a lack of kindness; Therefore, the king should guard himself against the six foes, Banish them and not entertain them in his heart.9 (v. 52)

He advises the king against waging a war that can bring no benefit (v. 54). Applying the ‘tactic’ suggested by his mother, Wibhīṣaṇa carefully builds up the argument, persuading Rāwaṇa to yield to Rāma. He then lists precisely those qualities in Rāma that are absent in Rāwaṇa. Other persuasive arguments added by Wibhīṣaṇa reduce Rāwaṇa to silence, although he remains unconvinced and still boils with fury. 184

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The discourse of Sumāli10

Rāwaṇa’s maternal grandfather Sumāli speaks next, politely and out of affection in the manner of an experienced elder statesman. He pleads with Rāwaṇa to submit to Rāma, whom he describes as a man extraordinarily powerful without the appearance of being so (v. 3–4). He cautions Rāwaṇa to be wary of an enemy who may appear inferior and to bolster his argument, Sumāli draws parallels with known instances when death was caused by an extraordinary event (v. 7–15). Sumāli concludes with the counsel that Rāwaṇa, being inferior, should pay homage to Lord Rāma and show devotion to him to ensure his own future good fortune (v. 18).

The discourses of Kumbhakarṇa11

Hearing the discourse of his grandfather, Kumbhakarṇa awakens from deep sleep. Though drowsy, he reflects on the exchange of ideas he had heard, speaking in a voice as loud as thunder (v. 21). Addressing Daśānana, he states that it is idle to talk about policy because stubborn conceit will not allow Rāwaṇa to follow Wibhīṣaṇa’s advice, one who is an expert in the scriptures (v. 22–23). In simple damning terms of one brother to another, Kumbhakarṇa describes the latter’s obdurate nature: Though the sun should grow cold And the moon become hot, No matter how many times you are told, There is no chance you will take any notice. (v. 24)

Kumbhakarṇa voices his qualms that Rāwaṇa’s cruelty and lack of fear will make him act in ways that prove to be inveterately wrong and could even seal the latter’s death (v. 28). He lists the vices that will be the undoing of Rāwaṇa’s illustrious past: You are addicted to food and drink, absorbed in pleasure, Enjoying vulgar indulgences, and abandoning yourself to mental darkness. (v. 2)

However, Kumbhakarṇa vows not to abandon him and to defend him unto his death. Declaring death in battle to be ‘the ultimate happiness’, Kumbhakarṇa goes back to sleep.

Wibhīṣaṇa makes one last attempt to warn Rāwaṇa of the appearance of various ill omens in the heavens. Rāwaṇa’s reaction is one of uncontrollable rage, and the description of his face red with fury with ‘eyes frightful and round’ (v. 48) is exactly as he is portrayed in the Rāwaṇa puppet of contemporary performance.

Breaking Rāma’s code of respect for the learned, the elder brother hurls abuse at Wibhīṣaṇa (not found in Bhaṭṭi), calling him the “wicked stain on the white 185

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linen of the family” (v. 55). For Rāwaṇa, Wibhīṣaṇa is a traitor, and he descends from his throne in a fit of fury to kick him in the face (v. 59). His contempt for the wisdom of a learned counsellor is complete and demonstrates the misuses of argument.

By Sarga 22, the war in Lanka has reached its peak. Rāwaṇa’s prime minister Prahasta joins the count of the many dead. Kumbhakarṇa has to be re-awakened and must now go into battle for the sake of his brother. He does so, castigating Rāwaṇa in an elaborate figure of speech (arthālaṃkāra) in a cluster of five verses of a drowning ship in a torrential storm at sea, a metaphor for a man blind to the perils of his six inner foes. An extract follows: You do not realize you are drowning in the sea, Which is your intoxication, broad and deep. Your constant greed is like the rolling swells and your passion can be compared to the great waves.

Your pleasure might be the rushing torrents, Your selfish nature the rocks your anger the squalls of wind, And your blindness the thick dark clouds. (Sarga 22, v. 29–30)

Kumbhakarṇa goes into battle, elaborately depicted in Sargas 22 and 23. In 10 riveting verses in the dandaka metre, loved by the dalang or puppeteers of wayang kulit, he is cut to pieces. While Kumbhakarṇa makes the correct analysis of his brother’s situation, he arrives at the wrong conclusion, one that costs him his life.

The discourse of Rāma to Wibhīṣaṇa: Aṣṭabrata12

The RK culminates in a mighty battle in Sarga 24 in which Rāma kills Rāwaṇa and restores a peaceful and just society. At the death of his ‘unwise’ brother, Wibhīṣaṇa’s lamentation in 10 verses (Sarga 24, v. 33–43) recapitulates the ‘well-intentioned counsel’ from grandfather Sumāli which Rāwaṇa had rejected. Rāma admonishes Wibhīṣaṇa, saying it was proper for Rāwaṇa to die for he was a famed monarch, renowned for performing austerities, and having fallen in battle without retreat had attained final liberation. To mark Wibhīṣaṇa’s coronation as the king of Lanka, Rāma then delivers his discourse on the aṣṭabrata (in another departure from Bhaṭṭikāvya). The 10 stanzas, even more famous than Rāma’s advice to Bharata, became the single-most influential and oftquoted passage in Javanese literature for centuries to come. In this Javanese trope borrowed from the Indian Manusmṛti, eight other deities are incorporated into the body of the king —Indra, Sūrya, Candra, Yama, Kuwera, Varuṇa, Bāyu and Agni—spelling 186

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out the character and duty performed by each.13 These eight deities are likened to a string of precious stones, jostling each other as they form a large encircling bracelet to protect the three worlds: the heavens, the earth and the underworld (Robson 2015, Sarga 24, v. 61). The qualities of the gods echo the temporal duties of a king as defined by Rāma to Bharata in Sarga 3—the generosity of Indra in showering rain to the world; the stern justice of Yama who eliminates troublemakers; the gentleness of Sūrya, the sun, in his demands of the people; the kindness and tenderness of conduct like that of Śaśi, the moon; the subtlety of Bāyu (or the wind) in investigating the conduct of people; the enjoyment of pleasure in moderation, following the example of Kuwera; the ability to administer punishment like Baruṇa with his snake arrow; and the ability to attack and burn the enemy like Agni. A comprehensive list of qualities, this elevates the king to the realm of the gods and blends the human order with its cosmic rhythms. This formula of wisdom created during the Central Javanese period became the talisman of good rule for generations to follow. It was chanted, reaffirmed and redefined with every passing age. Rāma then cautions Wibhīṣaṇa against impurities similar to the seven layers of darkness (harking back to Kumbhakarṇa’s description of his ‘mental darkness’ in Sarga 13)—the intoxicating flattery of high birth; the insolence of great might; the greed for gold; a biting tongue when valiant in battle; the poison of knowledge; the intoxicating folly of youth; and lastly, the vain intoxication of good looks (v. 75–76) that can only be dispelled by virtues held fast.

The culminating verses of Rāma’s instructions on the ethical behaviour befitting a king are delivered in exalted terms (Hunter 2011): Strive intently for the Dharma that supports the World It is the passion of the holy man that you should follow, It is not wealth that should be your aim, neither pleasure or fame The power of good men depends on their protection of the Dharma.

You will be the supporting post of the world if you are able to follow the teachings of Manu—it is that which you should strive to protect, Sin and evil will be destroyed if you make them your means of accomplishment The affection of the people will then be ensured. The brilliant light of discerning wisdom, right behaviour and the Dharma indeed, bring the attainment of spiritual power, all pure and free [from the fetters of existence],

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Impurity ensnares us, though it doesn’t bite—the more it ensnares us, the quieter it becomes, so we abandon the supreme state of the merit of perfected asceticism. (Sarga 24, v. 81–82, 84, as translated by Hunter 2011: 49)

The ruler’s spiritual aspect is increasingly highlighted as the poem progresses to its conclusion. The tone and temper of Rāma’s advice to Wibhīṣaṇa are perceptibly altered as he promotes the practice of asceticism and yoga to control his senses in the attainment of spiritual power. Several scholars of Old Javanese literature suggest that Sargas 25 and 26 also bear the stamp of a different hand (Acri 2015; Hunter 2016; Zoetmulder 1974). It is not inconceivable that several poets contributed to the text over a prolonged period of time.

Conclusion

The study of a 9th-century Rāmāyaṇa poem in Old Javanese is a rewarding experience at many levels. For scholars who are distant from the original manuscripts, and unfamiliar with the archaic language of Old Javanese, every manuscript translated into English prose or verse offers not only a deeper appreciation of the original but also encourages further exploration of Indonesia’s earliest known telling of Rāmāyaṇa. This chapter grew out of remarks made by S O Robson in the introduction of his translation in verse of Kern’s manuscript of 1900, in which he questions the central message of RK and the deeper significance of the poem as a whole (Robson 2015: 14–17). A continued scrutiny of this text reveals that the full extent of Bhaṭṭikāvya’s contribution to the making of the RK has remained unacknowledged. Hailed mostly for its grammatical virtuosity, Bhaṭṭi’s ingenious culling of Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa into 22 cantos of a mahākāvya with its majestic themes and aesthetic tenor, the deliberate selection and juxtaposition of episodes and the unusual illustration of rhetoric, provided indispensable guidelines in the creation of the Javanese masterpiece. The genius of the Old Javanese poet lay in adapting Bhaṭṭi’s poetic techniques to craft a Javanese Rāmāyaṇa that shifted the emphasis to the ethics of statecraft in a Javanese model of governance in terms that would be acceptable and relevant to all spheres of Javanese life. The template of the discourse of governance and ethics first laid in RK in the ninth century left a profound and lasting impact on the Javanese concept of the state and its ruler. The recurring leitmotifs of the rules of governance, both positive and negative, that are debated through the discourses of RK suggest that the larger aim of the narrative was to disseminate through the beauty of poetic images and persuasive argument the values of an ideal society, protected by a king with supernatural powers. These were imagined in aesthetic figures of speech and sound and a convincing 188

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rhetoric in Old Javanese meant to reach a wide audience accustomed to listening to public recitation and tales of wandering poets. To Rāma’s physical prowess and moral character were added his spiritual powers as the incarnation of Wiṣṇu as well as eight other gods of whom he was the embodiment. His stature as a divine king added moral heft to his discourses. At the same time, the RK emphasized the human qualities of Rāma as a dutiful son, a devoted brother, a passionate lover and husband to Sītā and a loyal friend to Sugrīwa. He had to be reminded that he was a god, and each of his varied encounters through the poem with people, rākṣasas, monkeys and even the sages in the sky ended in the acknowledgement of his mission on earth to protect the kingdom and ensure just governance. Thus, the code of noble conduct devised for a king with human virtues of benevolence, truth, honesty, kindliness and sweet speech are contrasted with the vices personified in Rāwaṇa that are labelled as ‘the six inner foes’ and ‘the seven layers of darkness’. The beneficial effects of Rāma’s observance of this code of noble conduct as much as the negative result of Rāwaṇa’s violation of it remains the theme of this poetic work. In Rāma’s enunciation of a Javanese ‘Code of Noble Conduct’ for a king, the Javanese reached beyond Bhaṭṭikāvya to Buddhist textual articulations on the elements of polity embedded in nīti, as elaborated in Kāmandakīya Nītisāra. A study of the age, provenance and contents of lontar manuscripts of Kāmandakīya Nītisāra preserved today in the Pusat Documentasi in Bali would deepen our understanding of Buddhist textual contributions in the past to the discourse of governance and ethics in Java and Bali.

It is equally important to thoroughly investigate Bhaṭṭi’s apparent use of India’s Nyāya tradition of debate, logic and rhetoric (interrelated subjects in India) and the Javanese poets’ skilful adaptation of it in RK, as it proved to be a compelling method by which to examine the merits of the theory and practice of ethical governance. Recurring poetic images and the skilful use of rhetoric in persuasive arguments, for example, are used in vain in the face of Rāwaṇa’s refusal to follow his wise counsellors’ considered advice to submit to Rāma and return the abducted Sītā, reinforcing the consequences of his violating the code of noble conduct.

The principles laid out by Rāma to Wibhīṣaṇa in the aṣṭabrata continued to be invoked and adjusted to changing situations in the centuries that followed. Rāma’s discourse to Wibhīṣaṇa, inspired by the Manusmṛti, was greatly revered in Java and became a definitive Javanese text on kingship by the 14th century. It is echoed in the 14th-century Nāgarakṛatāgama in the form of seven gods—Saptadewawṛtti—and in the Javanese Tantri Kamandaki, a version of the animal fables on the Pañcatantra cycle of stories, where it occurs in a slightly altered form (Weatherbee 1994: 415). The image of the 189

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king as mountain and people as grass echoed in the Nāgarakṛtāgama is recognized as belonging to the teaching tradition of nīti or the science of morality held dear by the Javanese people (Santoso 1980: 19; Zoetmulder 1974: 166).

The formula for the conduct of a king, first enunciated in the RK, would henceforth apply in the following centuries to any ruler regardless of his religious practices. The Rāmāyaṇa remained synonymous with the ideal state, and its characters provided the benchmark for ethical or unethical behaviour. The narrative literary tradition echoed in the theatre of the wayang kulit provided the perfect platform for continuing discussions on Javanese ideals of statecraft and kingship. The characters in the wayang theatre of Java and Bali—particularly Rāma, Hanumān, Kumbhakarṇa, Wibhīṣaṇa and Rāwaṇa—discussed ethical, social and spiritual concerns in easily understood terms. In an interesting twist in the wayang kulit performances of modern times, Wibhīṣaṇa is portrayed as an untrustworthy turncoat and a traitor, exactly as Rāwaṇa describes him in the RK. Kumbhakarṇa, who willingly dies in the service of his king and country, right or wrong, continues even today to be portrayed as a patriot in the performing arts of Java and Bali. The virtue of patriotism is accorded the highest rank of all. The utterances of these characters in the RK—powerful passages fundamental to the discourse on kingship, governance and ethics—persisted not only through the Hindu– Buddhist era but even when Java turned to Islam in the 15th century and modern Javanese replaced the archaic language of Old Javanese.

The concept of aṣṭabrata had a great impact on the later Islamic courts of Java. The worship of Rāma, god incarnate that became widespread in India, is not seen in Java. Instead, the emphasis laid on Rāma’s character as the ratu adil, or the just king and the channel of a supernatural power, segued into the Islamic idea of a spiritually powerful king who was connected to the guardian ancestors of Java. Today, the aṣṭabrata continues to be cited as it remains relevant to the moral basis of authority in the contemporary Indonesian state (Saran and Khanna 2004: 203).

Governance and ethics are of critical importance to any civilized society, ancient or modern. The explorations of the moral dimensions of statecraft and ethics and the conduct of the ruler initiated in RK became a part of public discourse through the centuries. While India’s initial contribution to this discourse in Java and Bali must be acknowledged, it is to the credit of RK or OJR that the ideals of ethical governance defined over a thousand years ago would endure in the literature and performing arts of Indonesia with the integrity that defined its first formulations. 190

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Endnotes 1. This is attested by the Śivagṛha inscription of 856 CE and supported by the Nālanda copper plate inscription of Devapāladeva of 860 CE (Acri 2014: 246). 2. A mahākāvya, the most prestigious in the genre of kāvya poems, is called a ‘great’ poem because of the its stately themes and high aesthetic expression cast in the form of sargas. Indian grammarian Daṇḍin regards Bhaṭṭi’s poem as the sixth in the canon of the mahākāvyas.

3. Twentieth-century philosopher Bimal K Matilal defines Nyāya as ‘the discipline dealing with categories of debate over various religious philosophical, moral and doctrinal issues’ to reach ‘the correct ways of seeing’ (Lloyd 2007, 367). The Nyāya system is one of India’s six major philosophical systems. Its ground rules were said to be laid out by Gotama about 550 BCE and formalized in a commentary by Vātsyāyana around 400 CE. 4. All translations of RK are taken from Robson (2015), unless otherwise indicated.

5. While Van der Molen convincingly demonstrates Sītā’s use of an Aristotelian method of argument, its equivalent in the Indian Nyāya system needs investigation.

6. Kāmandakīya Nītisāra speaks ‘of the culling from the code of one of pure intelligence who has mastered the different branches of learning’ (Chapter 1, v. 7–8; Nath 1896: 3). The code is expressed in a series of short and significant lessons for the king. 7. Sarga 13, v. 40–96; Sarga 14, v. 35–47.

8. Santoso’s translation in prose is preferred for its clarity.

9. The six inner foes are anger, lust, envy, infatuation, greed and cruelty are also mentioned by Biṣṃa in the Mahābhārata. The Kāmandakīya Nītisāra lists anger, lust, avarice, a fiendish delight in inflicting injury, arrogance and a morbid desire for power (Section 1, v. 55, 12). 10. Sarga 14, v. 2–19.

11. Ibid., v. 20–33. Verses after the death of General Prahasta are included (Sarga 22, v. 19–42). 12. Sarga 24, v. 50–61.

13. No other Indian text has been as influential in Java as the Manusmṛti.

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Hunter, Thomas M. 2011. “Figures of Repetition (Yamaka) in the Bhattikavya, the Raghuvansa, the Siwagrha Inscription and the Ramayana Kakawin.” In From Laṅkā Eastward. The Ramayana Kakawin in Literature and the Visual Arts, ed. A Acri, H Creese and A Griffiths. Leiden: KITLV. Kangle, R P. 1972. The Kautilya Arthashastra. An English Translation with Critical Explanatory Notes Part 2. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers Pvt Ltd.

Karandikar, M A and S Karandikar. 1982. Bhattikavyam (Edited with an English Translation). Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers Pvt Ltd.

Khanna, V. and M Saran. 1993. “The Ramayana Kakawin: A Product of Sanskrit Scholarship and Independent Literary Genius”. Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde, 149 (2e): 226–249. Leiden: KITLV. Lloyd, Keith. 2007. “Rethinking Rhetoric from an Indian Perspective: Implications in the Nyaya Sutra”. Rhetoric Review 26 (4): 365–384. Molen, Willem van der. 2003. “A Token of My Longing: A Rhetorical Analysis of Sita’s Letter to Rama, Old Javanese Ramayana 11.22-32.” Indonesia and the Malay World, 31 (91): 339–355. Peterson, Indira Vishwanathan. 2003. Design and Rhetoric in a Sanskrit Court Epic—The Kirātārjunīya of Bhāravi. Albany: State University of New York Press. Pollock, Sheldon I. 2007. The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki: An Epic of Ancient India Volume II: Ayodhyākāṇḍa, Indian Edition. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers Pvt Ltd.

Robson, Stuart O. 1983. “Kakawin Reconsidered: Towards a Theory of Old Javanese Poetics.” Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land-, en Volkenkunde, 139(2/3): 291–319. Leiden: KITLV. Robson, Stuart O. 2015. The Old Javanese Ramayana. A New English Translation with an Introduction and Notes. (Javanese Studies: Contribution to the Study of Javanese Literature, Culture and History vol 2). Tokyo: Research Institute for Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies.

Santoso, S. 1980. Ramayana Kakawin. 3 Vols. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. New Delhi: International Academy of Indian Culture. (Sata-Pitaka Series 251).

Saran, M and V C Khanna. 2004. The Ramayana in Indonesia. New Delhi: Ravi Dayal Publishers. Thapar, Romila. 1994. Interpreting Early India. New Delhi: Oxford University Press.

Uhlenbeck, E. 1989. “The Problem of Interpolation in the Old Javanese Ramayana Kakawin.” Bijdragen tot de-Land-en Volkenkunde Deel, 145(2/3): 324–335. Leiden: KITLV Royal. Weatherbee, D E. 1994. “The Astabrata, Saptadewawṛtti and Nāgarakṛtāgama VII: 1–2.” Bijdragen tot de Taal-,Land- en Volkendunde Deel, 150 (2de): 414–416. Leiden: KITLV Royal.

Zoetmulder, P J. 1974. Kalangwan: A Survey of Old Javanese Literature. The Hague: Koninklijk Institute.

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10. Thai Rāmakīen:

Its Close Links with South India Chirapat Prapandvidya

Epigraphic evidence clearly indicates the arrival of the Rāmāyaṇa, the Mahābhārata and the Purāṇas in the reign of King Bhavavarman I, the first king of Chenla, the preAngkorian Khmer kingdom (around the end of 6th century to the beginning of 7th century CE) and the endeavour to popularize them (Majumdar 1953: 18-19; Sarkar 1986: 60). The illustrations of the Rāmāyaṇa in the form of bas-reliefs found in Thailand (Figs. 10.1 and 10.2) and Cambodia indicate that the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa (henceforth VR) was known in Thailand not later than 11th century CE (Varasarin 1986: 33 ff) and it was still popular in Cambodia until the reign of King Jayavarman VII (c.1181- 1218) as attested by several bas-reliefs carved on several temples (Fig. 10.3).

Fig. 10.1: A relief at the temple of Phimai (cir. 11th century CE), Nakhon Ratchasima, northeastern Thailand, depicting Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa being tied with Nāgapāśa from Indrajit’s arrow. (Sattar 1966: 550-551).

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Fig. 10.2: A relief at the temple of Phnom Rung (12th century CE), Buriram, northeastern Thailand, depicting the abduction of Sītā by Virādha. (Sattar 1996: 229-232).

Fig. 10.3: A relief at the temple of Banteay Chhmar (cir. 12th century CE), north-western Cambodia, depicting the beginning of The Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. The bearded figure may be identified with Bhāradvāja, Vālmīki’s disciple, the headless figure with Vālmīki, four-faced figure with Brahmā, the two birds with Krauñcas, and the figure with bow with the hunter. (Sattar 1996: 11-12).

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The indications of a South Indian connection of the Thai Rāmakīen (henceforth TRK), which is the Thai pronunciation of Sanskrit Rāmakīrti, can be found from the names of characters, place names, some peculiar episodes, etc.

The Names of the characters

Anomātan was the first king of Ayudhyā (VR- Ayodhyā) and the last syllable of his name seems to be of South Indian origin. The origin of the king according to the account given in the TRK (King Rama I, Book I, 1964: 4 ff) is as follows: The TRK begins with Hirantayakṣ (Skt. Hiraṇyākṣa) who rolled the earth, kept it under his armpit and went to Pātāla, the netherworld. The gods rushed to Phra Isuan (Skt. Īśvara/Śiva) at Mount Krailās (Skt. Kailāsa) for rescue. So Phra Isuan ordered Phra Nārāyaṇ (Viṣṇu) to rescue the earth from the hand of Hirantayakṣ. Phra Nārāyaṇ took the form of a boar, went to the nether world, killed him and rescued the earth. Phra Nārāyaṇ returned to his abode in the Milk Ocean and began to recite the Vedic mantras. As a result, a lotus in full bloom with a child in it appeared from his belly. Phra Nārāyaṇ took the child and presented it to Phra Isuan. Phra Isuan commanded Phra Indr (Skt. Indra) to found a city for the child. Phra Indr then ordered Phra Viṣṇukarm (Skt. Viśvakarman) to use his divine power to build a city and he did accordingly and named it Śrī Ayudhyā Dvārāvadī (Skt. Dvārāvatī). Phra Isuan named the child Anomātan and put him on the throne of Ayudhyā as the first king. He ruled for a long time and begot a son named Ajabāl (Skt. Ajapāla) who succeeded him. King Ajabāl had a son named Dośaroth (VRDaśaratha) who also succeeded him. The beginning of the TRK seems to have been taken by the narrator from the accounts in a distorted form from the Viṣṇu Purāṇa (Wilson 1980, Vol. I, 38 ff. and Vol. II: 537 ff.).

Trībūram (King Rama I, Book I, 1964: 57 ff) is a demon in the TRK. The name Trībūram sounds like Tamil. Apparently, it is derived from the word Tripura, which is the name of three fabulous cities built by Maya for three demon brothers, sons of Tārakāsura, namely Kamalākṣa, Tārakākṣa and Vidyunmālī. (Mani 1993: 793-794). Trībūram acquired the boon from Phra Isuan (Śiva) that no one, not even Phra Nārāyaṇ (Viṣṇu), could kill him. With that invincible power, he wreaked havoc in the three worlds. Eventually, he was killed by Phra Isuan by combining powers from various gods. Kuperan in the TRK is the son of Lastian (King Rama I, Book I, 1964: 75), King of Longkā (Skt. Laṅkā). Apparently, Kuperan sounds like it is Tamil-derived from Kubera, son of Pulastya. Lastian must have probably been changed from a postulated form Pulastyan. Pulastya had a son named Viśravas, who had two wives named Kaikasī and Devavarṇinī. Kubera was born of Devavarṇinī whereas Rāvaṇa, Kumbhakarṇa, Vibhīṣaṇa and Śūrpanakhā were born of Kaikasī. (Mani 1993: 612) 195

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The other names of characters that show traces of Tamil language are Kalaikot (VRṚṣyaśṛṅga), Sumantan (VR-Sumantra), Kukhan (Guha), Sahamalivan (Mālyavān), etc. The city name Māyan also sounds like Tamil.

The episodes peculiar to the TRK

The previous life of Dośakaṇṭh (Rāvaṇa)

On Mount Krailās (Kailāsa), Nonduk (Skt. Nandaka), a certain demigod, was given the charge of washing the feet of the gods who came to pay homage to Phra Isuan (Śiva). He became the object of constant pranks of those gods who pat on his head or pulled his cheeks or plucked his hair until his head became bald. He was very anguished about his plight; hence he asked Lord Śiva for a boon. Lord Śiva granted the boon to him that whoever he would point his finger at would instantly drop dead. He became arrogant with his newly acquired power and created havoc for both gods and men. The gods approached Lord Śiva to help. Lord Śiva asked Viṣṇu to destroy Nonduk. Viṣṇu appeared as a beautiful celestial nymph before Nonduk who became enamoured with the nymph. Viṣṇu in disguise expressed her reciprocal feeling on the condition that Nonduk must beat her in a dance contest. He agreed and danced, imitating her dance moves. During the dance, the nymph pointed her finger at one of her legs. Nonduk, on following the movement, caused his leg to be broken by his own finger; then Viṣṇu assumed his original form. Nonduk rebuked Viṣṇu for resorting to unfair means to destroy him. Viṣṇu, before slaying him, told him that in the next life Viṣṇu would be

Fig. 10.4: Painting at Māliruñcolai Temple (folk: Alakarkoyil) in southern Pāṇḍya country (now in Tamil Nadu), depicting Kalaikottu Muni being brought to Ayodhya to perform the Putrakāmeṣṭi yajña (the sacrifice to obtain a son). Photograph courtesy: RKK Rajarajan.

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born as a human being with one head and two hands and would kill him when the demon would be born with ten heads and twenty hands. Thus, Nonduk was reborn as Dośakaṇṭh (Rāvaṇa) and Viṣṇu incarnated as Rāma (Satyananda Puri 1998, 10-11; King Rama I Book I 1964, 76 ff). This episode in the TRK is evidently an adaptation of the story of Bhasmāsura in the Śivalīlāmṛta in Marāthī (Mani 1993: 127).

The birth of Sītā

When King Dośaroth (VR-Daśaratha) requested Sage Kalaikot (VR- Ṛṣyaśṛṅga) to perform the rite for begetting his heir, a being appeared out of the sacrificial fire, holding a tray of three divine sweet balls, the fragrance of which went as far as Laṅkā, the capital of Dośakaṇṭh (Skt. Daśakaṇṭha, VR-Rāvaṇa). Moṇḍo (VR-Mandodarī), Daśakaṇṭh’s queen, had a strong desire to eat the sweet ball. So Rāvaṇa sent Kākanāsura (Skt-Kākānana-Asura?), a demoness, to bring the sweet-meat for her. She took the form of a crow and flew to Ayodhya, but she succeeded in stealing only one half of a sweet ball. Moṇḍo ate the sweet-meat and became pregnant. She, later, gave birth to a girl who was actually the incarnation of Lakṣmī, the Goddess of Fortune. As soon as she was born, the child cried out “destroy the whole race of the demons; destroy the whole race of the demons.”

After learning the prediction from Phiphek (VR-Vibhīṣaṇa), the astrologer, about the destructive consequences indicated by an ominous cry, Rāvaṇa decided to discard the baby by putting it in a casket and letting it float along a river. The casket containing the child was found by Sage Janok (VR-Janaka) who was the king of Mithilā but left the throne to practice austerity. Thinking the baby should not come in the way of his practice of austerity, he buried the casket with the baby and prayed to the gods to protect it. After sixteen years the sage decided to return to his kingdom and wanted to take the baby with him. He ploughed the whole ground to find the baby; instead, he found a full-grown beautiful girl. He named her Sīdā (VR- Sītā) as she was found from the furrow and adopted her (Satyananda Puri 1998, 24-26). The birth of Sītā in the TRK is faintly similar to the accounts given in the Devī Bhāgavata Purāṇa, the Kamba Rāmāyaṇa, the Ānanda Rāmāyaṇa and the Adbhuta Rāmāyaṇa (Mani 1993, 721-722). The stealing of the sweet ball or pāyāsam by Kākanāsura does not occur in the VR (Rajagopalachari 1986, 3).

The above-mentioned Sage Kalaikot, the deer-headed ascetic, who was invited by King Dośaroth to perform the ceremony (putrakāmeṣṭi yajña) for getting an heir is undoubtedly the same as Kalaikoṭṭu Muni of South Indian Rāmāyaṇa depicted in 197

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the paintings of Māliruñcolai temple (Fig. 10. 4) (Rajarajan 2017). There is a mural painting depicting the story of Sage Kalaikot being seduced by Princess Arunvadi (Skt. Aruṇavatī), daughter of King Romabat, in the northern hall on the premises of the Mandapa shrine of the Buddhist monastery named Wat Phra Chetupon (Pali-Jetavana), popularly known as Wat Pho, to the south of the Grand Palace, Bangkok.

The episode of Rāmasūr (Skt. Rāmāsura)

At spring time in heaven, the gods and goddesses celebrated the season with great merriment. Maṇīmekhalā, a goddess of the ocean, who had a fabulous gem, also came there. Rāmasūr, a demon with unparalleled power, who was also on his way to heaven, saw the goddess playing with the gem. He wanted to possess the gem for himself. He, therefore, chased the goddess to snatch away the gem but in vain. He threw his axe at her but she playfully dodged the axe with the help of the gem. It is believed that till today, this chase is going on, and as a result of the throwing of the axe and the playful moving of the gem, the flashing and thundering phenomena take place.

At that time, a god named Arjuna was also on his way to heaven. On seeing him, frustrated Rāmasūr caught hold of Arjuna’s legs and hit Mount Meru with the body of Arjuna causing it to tilt to one side. As a result, Arjuna died. Phra Isuan (Śiva) asked all powerful beings to put Mount Meru back to its original position. When the effort of others came fruitless, he asked Kākās, the original name of Bālī (Vālin), and Sugrīb (Sugrīva) for help. Both were successful in restoring the Mount Meru. (King Rama I, Book I, 1964: 129 ff) Rāmasūr, here, is evidently Paraśurāma (King Rama VI, 1977: 42-45) and Arjuna is Kārtavīryājuna, the king of Hehaya dynasty, who had thousand hands and ruled Mahiṣmatī on the Narmada river. Once Kārtavīryārjuna fought with Rāvaṇa at the Narmadā river, captured, and detained him. Pulastya came and requested Kārtavīryārjuna to release Rāvaṇa (Mani 1993: 394). In the TRK, Arjuna caught Rāvaṇa on account of his trespassing into the former’s garden. Sage Gobut (Skt. Goputra), Rāvaṇa’s teacher, requested the god Arjuna to release him. (King Rama I, Book I, 1964: 90 ff). The account in the TRK seems to be confused with the account in the VR in which Bālī (Vālin) caught him with his tail. Moreover, the narrator seems to have confused the name Bālī with thousand-handed Bāna, son of Bali. On account of the mix-up, probably, another name Kākās of Bālī must have been derived from the initial part of Kārtavīryārjuna, the powerful king of Hehaya dynasty, who also had thousand hands and was the defeater of Rāvaṇa. The god Arjuna who was killed on account of his clash with Rāmasūr is obviously Kārtavīryārjuna who was killed by Paraśurāma (Mani 1993: 395). 198

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The episode on the birth of Hanumān The birth of Hanumān according to the TRK is as follows: After having established himself firmly on the throne of Khīdkhin (VR-Kīṣkindhā), Bālī (Vālin) was introduced to a powerful monkey called Hanumān who was actually his own nephew, being the son of his step-sister, Svāha. Svāha was the daughter of Kāla-acnā (VR-Ahalyā), wife of the sage Gotama (VR-Gautama), of whom Bālī (VR-Vālin) and Sugrīb (VR-Sugrīva) were born from Indra and Āditya, respectively. Svāha was cursed by Kāla-acnā to stand on one leg with one hand holding a branch of a tree. She would be freed from the curse only when she gave birth to a son. Phra Isuan (Śiva) took pity on her and took this opportunity to help Rāma in his fight against demons. He ordered the Wind-god, Vāyu, to put his (Śiva’s) power and the power of all divine weapons in the mouth of Svāha. All the combined powers resulted in forming Hanumān, being born through the mouth of Svāha and having Vāyu as his father. Śiva’s Triśūla (trident) became his limbs and his handy weapon, stuck to his chest, which could be taken out any time he needed. His mother told him that he had some special invisible marks on his body, namely two earrings, diamond canines, white coiled hair. Only an incarnation of Nārāyaṇa (Viṣṇu) could see them, whom he should serve devotedly. Svāha was released from Kāla-acnā’s curse after giving birth to Hanumān. Once Hanumān, playing mischievously, damaged the garden of the goddess Umā. She cursed him so as to reduce his strength to half and the curse could become ineffective when Rāma fondled him all the way from head to tail. Vāyu took Hanumān to meet Śiva who bestowed upon him the boon of immortality and taught him how to change his form and disappear at will. Śiva sent for Kākāś (VR-Vālin) and Sugrīva to come to Mount Kailāsa so as to introduce Hanumān to them. He also created a monkey named Chomphūphān (VR-Jāmbavān) and gave him to Vālin as his foster child. Thereafter Chomphūphān and Hanumān accompanied Vālin and Sugrīva to Kīṣkindhā. (King Rama VI, 1977: 117; Satyananda Puri 1998: 20-21)

The episode of Rāvaṇa being captured by Bālī (VR-Vālin)

Ongod (VR-Aṅgada), Bālī’s son, at the age of ten, was taken to a river and the guardian let him play there alone. At that time, Rāvaṇa came there and knowing that the boy was Bālī’s son, decided to kill him. He, thus, turned himself to a huge crab and hid under the water waiting for the opportunity to kill the boy. The monkey soldiers who were around, noticed that there was a huge crab. They tried to capture it but in vain. They informed Bālī who immediately came to the spot. Seeing Bālī, the crab turned back to his real form and fought with Bālī. Rāvaṇa was eventually captured and kept as a captive for seven days, thus, becoming the laughing stock of all the monkeys (Satyananda Puri 1998: 22). The account in the VR is given differently in which Bālī 199

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used his tail to tie around Rāvaṇa and flew to Kīṣkindhā. The latter admitted defeat (Mani 1993: 106).

Episode of Rāvaṇa marrying Moṇḍo (VR-Mandodarī)

Moṇḍo (Mondodarī) was a frog in her previous life and lived on the milk given by four Rishis. One day a Nāginī, female serpent, from Pātāla came to the hermitage to take revenge on the Rishis for hitting her on the tail while she was having sexual intercourse with an ordinary snake. She vomited her venom in the milk bowls of the Rishis while they were away. The frog wanted to show her gratitude to the Rishis. So, she jumped into one of the milk bowls. She died from the Nāginī’s venom. When the Rishis returned, they came to know that the frog’s deed saved their life. They revived her and turned her into a beautiful maiden and offered her to be the maid of the goddess Umā (King Rama I, Book I, 1964: 150 ff). Once Mount Meru tilted to one side on account of Virulhok (Skt. Virūḍhaka) who threw his upavīta (sacred cord) of Nāga at it (King Rama I, 1964: 181 ff). Śiva asked Dośakaṇṭh (Rāvaṇa) to restore it to its normal position. Dośakaṇṭh did and Śiva wanted to reward him. Śiva had to give Umā to him according to his request. Dośakaṇṭh had to carry her to Longkā (Laṅkā) on his head as the body of Umā was very hot. Viṣṇu, in his effort to obstruct the act of Dośakaṇṭh, turned himself into an old man planting a tree upside down. Dośakaṇṭh told the old man that he was foolish. The old man told Dośakaṇṭh that he was more foolish as he was taking a woman with a hot body who would burn the whole race of the demons. He asked Dośakaṇṭh to ask Śiva for Moṇḍo instead. He followed the old man’s advice. While carrying Moṇḍo, he passed over the palace of Bālī (Vālin). Bālī challenged him to a fight. Dośakaṇṭh lost in the fight and had to give Moṇḍo to Bālī. Dośakaṇṭh asked Ongkod (Skt. Aṅgada), his teacher, to ask Bālī to return Moṇḍo to him. Bālī agreed and returned Moṇḍo, but by that time Moṇḍo was already pregnant. Sage Ongkod had to remove the fetus of Moṇḍo and put it in the womb of a she-goat. At the time of delivery, the sage took the baby out from the goat’s womb, named it Ongkod (VR-Aṅgada), and returned it to Bālī (Satyananda Puri 1998, 22).

Here, Virulhok must have been confused with Virūpākṣa, son of Mālyavān, born of a gandharva damsel named Sundarī (Mani 1993: 826), or it may also be confused with Virūḷhuka (Skt. Virūḍhaka), one of the four Buddhist world guardians. He is the guardian of the south and chief of the kumbhāṇḍas (Edgerton 1972, 489). Uttara Kaṇḍa of VR contains the story of Madhurā being cursed by Pārvatī to be a frog for 12 years. After 12 years she became a beautiful maiden and was adopted as 200

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a daughter by an Asura named Maya and his wife Hemā who named her Mandodarī (in South India Maṇḍodarī is current). Rāvaṇa married Mandodarī and took her to Laṅkā (Mani 1993, 476).

The episode of Benyakāy

When the monkey army of Phra Rāma (Rāma) was camping on the seashore preparing to cross the sea to Laṅkā, Dośakaṇṭh wanted to deceive Rāma that Sītā was dead. He asked Benyakāy (Skt. Pañcakāya), Bibhek’s (VR-Vibhīṣaṇa’s) daughter, to transform herself to be Sītā and to act as a dead body floating in the river near Rāma’s camp. On seeing the dead body of Sītā, Rāma and Phra Lak (Lakṣmaṇa) lamented greatly.

When he saw Hanumān, Rāma became angry, thinking that Hanumān’s burning of Laṅkā was the instigation that prompted Dośakaṇṭh to take Sītā’s life. When Hanumān observed with keen eyes that the body floated upstream, he knew immediately that the body was a fake one. Consequently, he burnt the body to test whether the dead body was real. Benyakāy flew away, but Hanumān followed and caught her. Hanumān courted her, and an intimate relation followed. As a result, a son was born of Benyakāy. He was named Asuraphad (Satyananda Puri 1998: 61-62; Satyavrat Shastri 1990: 222-223). The episode does not exist in the VR. The name Benyakāy seems to be confused with Atikāya, son of Rāvaṇa, born of Mandodarī (Mani 1993: 612).

The episode of Suvaṇṇamacchā

From Dośakaṇṭh’s sexual relations with a fish, a daughter with the top part of a beautiful girl and lower part of fish was born. He named her Suvaṇṇamacchā (Skt. Suvarṇamatsyā).

At the time when Rāma built a bridge to Laṅkā, Dośakaṇṭh ordered his daughter and the school of fish under her leadership to remove all the building materials thrown into the sea by the monkey army with the intention to obstruct the construction of the bridge. Hanumān dived into the sea to find out the cause of the disappearance of the building materials. He found the mermaid and courted her. It ended with intimate relations between the two. As a result, a son was born without the knowledge of Hanumān. He was brought up by Maiyarābṇ (Skt. Mahirāvaṇa), the king of Pātāla, the nether world, who named him Macchānu (Skt. Matsyā+hanu). Macchānu found his real father when Hanumān went to Pātāla to rescue Rāma, who was carried away to Pātāla while he was asleep by Maiyarābṇ and was kept there in an iron cage (Satyananda Puri 1998: 66-67; Shastri 1990: 223) 201

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The episode of Maiyarābṇ (Mahirāvaṇa) Dośakaṇṭh, once again, sought the help of his relative Maiyarabṇ, who was the king of Pātāla. He possessed magical powers learnt from his preceptor, Sumedh Muni, who helped him remove his heart (soul), turn it into a bee and hide it in Mount Trikūṭa. He, thus, became virtually immune to death. Maiyarābṇ used herbs and his magical power to make everybody in Rāma’s army including Rāma himself fall into deep sleep in spite of the fact that Hanumān kept the pavilion where Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa stayed in his mouth. Maiyarābṇ carried Rāma to Pātāla and kept him in an iron cage.

Hanumān, after being freed from the effect of Maiyarābṇ’s magic, went to Pātāla to rescue Rāma, passing through various obstructions on the way. He met his son, Macchānu, who guarded one of the outposts to Pātāla. Hanumān, with the help of Bilākuan, Maiyarābṇ’s elder sister, who told him the secret about Maiyarābṇ’s invulnerability, succeeded in slaying the demon and rescuing Rāma (Satyananda Puri 1998: 66-70). The episode does not exist in the VR, but it appears in Śiva Purāṇa (Prapandvidya 2016) and in Ramlilamrita where the name of the demon is Ahi-Mahi Rāvaṇa, who abducted both Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa (Naidu 1971: 34-35). It also exists in the Krittivasi Ramayana. The word Maiyarābṇ may be the result of the phonetic change from Tamil Mayaliraban (Satyananda Puri 1998:70).

Conclusion

The main plot of the VR was maintained by King Rama I, the author of the TRK, but the details of the story greatly differed from the former. From the above-mentioned account, one can see that Śiva was given the highest position among the gods, including Viṣṇu. This is one of the indications that the TRK has a close link with South India where Śaivism has been prominently present since centuries. The features of Hanumān in the TRK, such as his having a trident as his weapon, having white complexion, being born with the semen of Śiva which seven Ṛṣis (sages) collected on a leaf and poured it in the ear of Añjanī, Gautama’s daughter (Prapandvidya 2016). etc., show the leaning of the TRK towards Śaivism which is prominent in South India. Other indications that highlight the close link between TRK and South India are the names of characters and place names which sound like Tamil. Additionally, the account also shows that the TRK was composed of the account given by narrators who must have been originally from South India or must have been the descendants of South Indians like most of the present Thai Brahmans who are the descendants of southern Thailand’s Brahmans whose ancestors, in turn, were from South India. 202

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Bibliography Diskul, Subhadradis and Charles S Rice. 1982. The Ramakian (Ramayana) in Mural Painting along the Galleries of the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. Bangkok: Government Lottery. Edgerton, Franklin. 1972. Buddhist Hybrid Sanskrit Grammar and Dictionary, vol. 2. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.

King Rama I, Book I. 1964. Rāmakīen (Ramakirti). Bangkok: Sueksaphan Panich.

King Rama VI. 1977. Bokerd Ramakirti (Origin of Ramakirti). Bangkok: Nakhon Thon Publishers. Majumdar, R C. 1953. Inscriptions of Kambuja. Calcutta: Asiatic Society.

Mani, Vettam. 1993. Puranic Encyclopaedia (reprint). Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.

Naidu, S Shankar Raju. 1971. A Comparative Study of Kamba Ramayanam and Tulasi Ramayana. Madras: University of Madras. Prapandvidya, Chirapat. 2016. “Lord Śiva’s Avatāra (incarnation) as Hanumān and Its Linkage with the Thai Rāmakīen (Rāmāyaṇa).” Paper presented at World Ramayana Conference, Jabalpur. Rajagopalachari, C. 1986. Rāmāyaṇa. Mumbai: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan.

Rajarajan, RKK. 2017. The Rāmāyaṇa Paintings of Māliruñcolai Temple Nationalism under spell of Regionalism.” Paper presented at the International Conference Connecting Cultures: Rāmāyaṇa Retellings in South India and Southeast Asia, 13-15. Bengaluru [published as chapter 7 in the present volume]. Sattar, Arshia. trans. 1996. The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki. New Delhi: Penguin Books.

Sarkar, H B. 1986. “Rāmāyaṇa in Southeast Asia: A General Survey” In SVTBCL. Souvenir Volume of the 2nd International Ramayana Conference, 1986, organized by Thai-Bharat Cultural Lodge (SVTBCL). Bangkok: Thai-Bharat Cultural Lodge. Shastri, Satyavrat. 1990. Śrīrāmakīrtimahākāvyam. Bangkok: Mulamalla Sachdev Foundation; Amarnath Sachdev Foundation.

Souvenir Volume of the 2nd International Ramayana Conference. 1986. Organized by Thai-Bharat Cultural Lodge (SVTBCL). Bangkok: Thai-Bharat Cultural Lodge. Satyananda Puri, Swami. 1998. The Ramakirti (Ramakian), the Thai Version of the Rāmāyaṇa. third edition. Bangkok: India Studies Centre, Thammasat University. Sundaram, P S. trans. 2002. The Kamba Rāmāyaṇa. New Delhi: Penguin Books.

Varasarin, Uraisi. 1986. “The Rāmāyaṇa Story from Phnom Rung and Phimai Temples, Thailand” In SVTBCL. Souvenir Volume of the 2nd International Ramayana Conference, 1986, organized by Thai-Bharat Cultural Lodge (SVTBCL). Bangkok: Thai-Bharat Cultural Lodge. Wilson, H H., trans. 1980. The Viṣṇu Purāṇa. vol, 1-2. Delhi: Nag Publishers.

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11. From Kanauj to Laos: Development of the ‘Floating Maiden’ Episode in the Southeast Asian Rāma tradition Mary Brockington

Illusion, and the delusion it may or may not induce, has lain at the heart of the Rāma narrative from its earliest form.1 If Sītā had not been deluded by a rākṣasa counterfeiting a marvellous deer and uttering a dying cry for help, causing Rāma and then Lakṣmaṇa to leave her unprotected in the hostile forest, and if she had not then been deluded by a counterfeit mendicant, enabling Rāvaṇa to abduct her safely, the story as it is told in the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa and in most subsequent retellings, could never have happened.2 The popularity of this motif is emphasized by the use of other illusions, such as the counterfeit head of Rāma produced at Rāvaṇa’s order to persuade Sītā that resistance to his advances is futile, and the counterfeit Sītā apparently killed by Indrajit to demoralize Rāma (VR 6, 22-24; 6, 68-71 respectively). Neither of these illusions has any lasting effect on the plot, for the victims are soon disabused by their friends; but tellers have drawn on them both to create one of the best-loved romantic embellishments to the narrative in Southeast Asia, the so-called ‘Floating Maiden’ episode. Still irrelevant to the outcome of the narrative as a whole, the most highly developed written form of that story is not recorded until the late-18th-century Thai Rāmakīen, but its appearance can be traced back several centuries to Javanese tradition; analogues are found in Mon and Lao versions.In this chapter, I examine the crucial role played in its development by a hitherto unexplored incident in the classical Sanskrit Bālarāmāyaṇa, a nāṭya, or drama, by Rājaśekhara. The Rāma story had for centuries been revered and indigenized in the area now known as Thailand, as is testified by 11th-century sculptures dating from the Khmer occupation at sites such as Phimai and Phnom Rung; Frank E Reynolds mentions knowledge of the Rāma story in some form from at least the 13th century, and possibly several centuries earlier (1991, 55).The sack in 1767 by the Burmese of the Thai capital (significantly called Ayuthaya after the kingdom of its hero) was — and still remains — traumatic, entailing as it did the loss of all cultural records. Shortly afterwards, as a means of promoting national regeneration, a new Thai king established the tradition (continued to the present day) of taking ‘Rāma’ as his regnal name and rapidly ordered a written version of the Rāmāyaṇa to be compiled from remaining traditions, but how 204

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far the material presented in the ensuing Rāmakīen has been preserved, and how far it has been embellished for political reasons, cannot be accurately determined.

The ‘Floating Maiden’ episode occurs when Rāvaṇa3 learns to his dismay that the vānara army is in the process of building a causeway that will enable them to reach and attack Laṅkā (Rāmakīen 1968, 161-64).4The maiden is called Benjakai;5 she is a rākṣasī, niece of Rāvaṇa, and shares the rākṣasa shape-changing power. As the daughter of Vibhīṣaṇa (Pipek), whose recent defection to Rāma’s side has caused Rāvaṇa vindictively to enslave her, her loyalty is divided. She is anxious to see her father again and to escape Rāvaṇa’s slavery, but she is also frightened of disobeying her uncle.When Rāvaṇa feigns repentance for banishing Vibhīṣaṇa, and gives her an opportunity to see him again, after a long struggle she agrees to his proposal: to take on Sītā’s form and float across to the vāṇara camp, pretending to be dead, in the hope of demoralizing Rāma to the point of giving up the struggle to reclaim Sītā.The ruse initially works, and Rāma is deceived by the illusion, until Hanumān points out that the apparent body does not smell like a corpse and cannot have floated against the tide; he suggests cremating it,6 at which Benjakai rapidly comes back to life but is captured by Hanumān before she can escape.Rāma soothes Vibhīṣaṇa’s anger, and orders Hanumān to take her back to Laṅkā to inform Rāvaṇa that his plan has failed. The Hanumān of the Thai telling has an unrestrained erotic nature. With the inevitable — not to say mandatory — exception of Sītā, he makes love physically to every female he meets in the course of the story, including Rāvaṇa’s chief queen; indeed, some of his conquests seem to have been invented solely for the purpose of being seduced by him.7 Benjakai is easily persuaded to share his passion, and the short journey to Laṅkā is said to take a long time!Atypically, Hanumān’s affair with Benjakai lasts beyond the initial encounter, the only one of his amours to do so. At a crucial point in the battle, Rāvaṇa’s meditation to secure invincible powers will be disrupted only if his cave retreat is unblocked by the water in which a rākṣasī has washed her feet; Hanumān goes to beg it from Benjakai. Their liaison cannot be acknowledged publicly until after Rāvaṇa’s defeat, when the new king (Benjakai’s father Vibhīṣaṇa) gives her to Hanumān as a reward for his service. She bears a son, Asuraphad, with a monkey head and a rākṣasa body, who eventually rediscovers his father and plays a leading role in defeating an insurrection against his grandfather. The simulated corpse motif is shared with other tellings whose oral nature means that they cannot be dated, preventing us from determining whether they have adapted the Thai version, suggested it, or been drawn from a common source. One such version is the Loik Samoing Ram from the Mon area that straddles the present Myanmar/ Thailand border; it has been seen to have affinities with many differing Southeast 205

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Asian versions.8 The versions presented in two Lao tellings are much attenuated but still recognizable.In the one studied by Pierre-Bernard Lafont (from Muongsing, in the far north-west, near the border with present-day Myanmar), Hanumān is celibate and Vibhīṣaṇa’s daughter absent: the corpse is impersonated by a male rākṣasa who is killed on discovery, not taken back to Laṅkā (Lafont 2003: 122-23). In the telling found near Vientiane studied by Sachchidanand Sahai, the Rāma story is presented in a divergent, highly independent way; its content reflects its position on the border with present-day Cambodia.It is so firmly localized in Laotian culture that it is often difficult to recognize it as the same tale: nevertheless, the supposed corpse does appear, but as a transformed banana trunk (Sahai 1996, II: 271-72). The mere fact that both tellers felt the need to reproduce the motif in any form at all, so far removed in both geographical and narrational terms from its origin, indicates the importance they attached to the romance of Benjakai and Hanumān. They could deny it, but they could not omit it.

Fig. 11.1: Benjakai captured and seduced by Hanumān; fresco at Wat Bho / Vatt Pubi, Siem Reap. Photograph courtesy: John Brockington, 2009.

The popularity of the Benjakai episode as presented in the Rāmakīen is also emphasized by the number of similar appearances and re-appearances in Thai or Thai-influenced areas from shortly after the date of the Rāmakīen: these include verbal texts,9 reliefs,10 wall paintings (Fig. 11.1),11 shadow puppets,12 and modern staged or musical performances.13 206

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Reduced to its simplest constituents, the Thai Benjakai romance revolves around: a visit to Rāma’s camp by Vibhīṣaṇa’s appealing young daughter simulating Sītā during the building of the causeway; the visit is initiated by Rāvaṇa in order to demoralize Rāma, involves Hanumān and incorporates a strong erotic element.

Tracing earlier examples of these narrative elements in the Rāma story suggests a complex web of transmission.

The Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa had presented the germ of a visit to Rāma’s camp by Sītā’s friend, Saramā; she is a sympathetic character, but fulfils none other of these requirements. After Rāvaṇa has tried to persuade the captive Sītā that her resistance is futile, claiming to have killed her husband and showing her an illusion of Rāma’s severed head, Saramā reassures the distraught captive and offers to visit the vānara encampment to take a message to Rāma. Sītā gratefully accepts Saramā’s friendship, but rejects her suggestion of a visit to the camp, explaining that it would be more useful for her to spy on the rākṣasa council of war instead (VR 6, 25.3-11). Neither Rāma nor Rāvaṇa takes an active part. The episode takes place after the vānara army has already crossed to Laṅkā. Hanumān is not involved, and there is no place for any eroticism. Saramā is a rākṣasī, one of Sītā’s captors, otherwise unidentified in that text.In later Indian tradition, then identified as Vibhīṣaṇa’s wife, she was often conflated with Trijaṭā, an aged rākṣasī known in the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa more for her self-interest and hostility to the rākṣasas than for any specific kindness towards Sītā (VR 5, 25.4-37),14 but later similarly associated with Vibhīṣaṇa; Kampaṉ makes her his daughter (Kampaṉ 1996: 389, 468). This germ is given more definition in the Old Javanese Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin (RK 17.69-90), where the visit by a daughter of Vibhīṣaṇa, now called Trijaṭā, is actually performed, though in other respects the narrative remains essentially the same. After a similar episode where Rāvaṇa attempts to delude Sītā (this time with illusory heads of both Lakṣmaṇa and Rāma), Trijaṭā flies to the vānara camp on Suvela, on her own initiative, to consult her father; he reassures her that Rāma is alive,15 so she reports back to reassure Sītā and prevent her from committing suicide. It has been clearly established that the Kakawin (probably early 10th century) was based on a Sanskrit kāvya of the 6th-7th century by the grammarian-poet Bhaṭṭi, the Rāvaṇavadha or Bhaṭṭikāvya,16 in part coming close to a direct translation, but incorporating much additional material. Bhaṭṭi had made no mention of any intervention by a friend of Sītā, concentrating into a single verse a scant reference to the material of 10 sargas 207

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in the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa.17 Whether the Kakawin’s 29-verse account arose from its author’s own creativity, or from earlier Javanese tradition cannot be determined.The possibility cannot be ruled out that the whole episode represents an interpretation by the Kakawin’s author (or some intermediate source) of a puzzling verse occurring without explanation in most manuscripts of the Southern recension of the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa: in the sarga preceding the offer from Saramā to fly to the vānara camp she reveals to the grieving Sītā that she has already seen Rāma alive and well among his troops (6,24.15).18 All that the Kakawin’s extended episode can safely be said to demonstrate is that an expanded role for Sītā’s friend, now called Vibhīṣaṇa’s daughter Trijaṭā, had been known in Central Javanese tradition from the 10th century or earlier.

With the episode as inherited from the Sanskrit Rāma tradition now established in Southeast Asia, increasing indigenization freed the new tellers from many of the constraints felt by their Indian counterparts. The basic framework of the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa had to be retained — Sītā must be abducted, Rāvaṇa must be overcome — but episodes could be expanded, modified or invented, characterization could be altered, religious requirements could be changed. Significant clues, both visual and verbal, help to establish that it was in Java that the transformation of Saramā’s visit to comfort Sītā into the ‘Floating Maiden’ romance took place. The verbal evidence must be gleaned from the Malay Hikayat Seri Rāma, a vast, sprawling compilation of local traditions, not confined to modern Malaysia but circulating widely in medieval Java. Its written form is known under two main recensions: the earlier material, probably dating back to the 13th century, is recorded in the manuscript published by Roorda van Eysinga (Ro. ms); significant alterations appear in the identifiably later material in the 17th-century manuscript published by W G Shellabear (Sh. ms).19 The helpful correlation of the material produced by Alexander Zieseniss allows us to trace the limited attempts to defer to increasingly influential Muslim sensibilities by removing or modifying some of the elements more likely to cause offence. The episode as recorded in the Ro. ms is essentially similar to RK 17.69-90. Sītā becomes suicidal at the sight of the counterfeit heads of the two male heroes Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, but agrees to her friend’s offer to make a clandestine visit to the vānara camp to seek confirmation of their welfare; in a minor addition Srī jātī (Trijaṭā) now meets Rāma, and brings back a recognition token to prove her visit. One major new element is incorporated: the friend is escorted back to the aśokavana by Hanumān. The Zieseniss/Burch summaries give no reason for Hanumān’s presence, and make no mention of any erotic behaviour. Whether the redactor knew of no erotic association, or whether he merely thought it tactful not to mention any, is a matter 208

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for speculation. Crucially, a few centuries later, the Shellabear version does insert a passage raising the issue of propriety:

Dewī Srī jātī bids Hanumān accompany her on the homeward journey. He refuses to approach a woman with whom he is not acquainted but obeys Rāma’s command when the latter declares that she is his sister; also Hanumān only agrees to carry his weary companion because she stresses the necessity of her speedy return. (Zieseniss, trans. Burch, abbreviations expanded)

Such a studied insistence on propriety strongly suggests that a tale involving exactly the reverse, involving Hanumān in an erotic episode, so popular that it could not be ignored in the later Muslim culture of Java, yet too well-established to be simply jettisoned, is being deliberately contradicted. Nonetheless, the narrative structure presented in the Hikayat still makes no mention of a corpse being counterfeited at the causeway on Rāvaṇa’s instructions in order to demoralize Rāma; the ‘Floating Maiden’ is apparently absent from any written tradition extant from medieval Java accessible to me.20

Visual evidence suggests that an erotic version of the visit had been current in Java from the 14 or 15th century at the latest, and probably substantially earlier. A Majapahitperiod carved terracotta brick, probably from Trowulan, Eastern Java, dating from the 14th to 15th century,21 depicts the seduction by Hanumān of a beautiful captive lady, bashful but not unwilling: Hanumān, eager, tender, pleading, nevertheless keeps a tight grip on the captive, while she coyly considers the proposition he is whispering in her ear, and finds it attractive. This brick was undoubtedly part of a series and is obviously too small to depict Rāvaṇa’s orders to Vibhīṣaṇa’s hapless daughter and her transformation into the counterfeit corpse of Sītā, but in default of any plausible evidence to the contrary, I propose that the Trowulan terracotta gives us the earliest extant testimony to the popularity of some form of the ‘Floating Maiden’ motif in Java at least four or five centuries (and probably much longer) before it appeared in the late-18th century Thai version. Visual narratives in any medium are always a useful guide to the dating of their verbal counterparts. Their designer assumes that the viewers will be to some extent familiar with the tale already if they are to be able to identify the scene presented: the general rule dictates that visual sources are preceded by verbal ones (whether oral or written). Sculptures are particularly useful indicators of provenance and age; especially if they are attached to temples, as this one probably was: they usually remain in situ, the approximate date of construction known or inferable. That is to say, the Trowulan brick gives us a terminus ante quem for the erotic element of a highly popular tale identifiable with the most prominent 209

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feature of the later Thai romance. Unfortunately, the reverse situation, absence from a frieze or other visual sequence, gives no reliable evidence of absence from the verbal tradition as a whole; the fact that no corresponding episode appears in the Javanese carved friezes at Prambanan (mid-9th century) or Panataran (14th century) proves nothing.

Just how close this putative Javanese version was to the Benjakai romance as a whole cannot be determined without further evidence of its existence.The only motif the Hikayat Seri Rama has in common with the Rāmakīen narrative is a visit to Rāma’s camp by an attractive daughter of Vibhīṣaṇa; both recensions differ fundamentally from it in several important respects. In the Hikayat, Sītā’s friend initiates the visit; Benjakai does not, and would very much prefer not to be involved at all. The visit initiated by Sītā’s friend has the purpose of reassuring Sītā about the simulated head of Rāma; the one demanded by Rāvaṇa in the Rāmakīen has the purpose of demoralizing Rāma with a simulated corpse of Sītā. The only motif shared by the Rāmakīen with the Saramā episode at VR 6,24-25 is the visit by a female relation of Vibhīṣaṇa to reassure Sītā; even so, Saramā’s visit is merely suggested, not performed. The episodes appearing in the Old Javanese Kakawin and the Malay Hikayat Seri Rāma can only be regarded as analogues, not as sources. Crucial motifs present in the Rāmakīen but missing from the texts so far considered are the visit before the causeway is completed, initiated by Rāvaṇa in order to demoralize Rāma, by a simulated Sītā. For them I propose we examine an incident in the classical Sanskrit Bālarāmāyaṇa, a 10-act nāṭya composed early in the 10th century by the dramatist Rājaśekhara, staged like his other early plays at Kanauj under the patronage of the Gurjara Pratīhāra ruler Mahendrapāla (r. 903-907); Rājaśekhara brings forward to the building of the causeway a reworking of the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa motif of the illusory Sītā created and slain by Indrajit at the height of the battle (VR 6,68), supplemented by the counterfeit head of Rāma produced by Vidyujjihva (VR 6,22.6-8,34-43). Rājaśekhara presents a rare redirection towards their own side of the rākṣasas’ power to counterfeit, not to deceive their enemies, but with a more positive purpose by making his Mālyavān commission the creation of a counterfeit Sītā to comfort the lovesick Rāvaṇa, who has returned from Sītā’s svayaṃvara without the object of his passion. This counterfeit Sītā is not so much an illusion as a life-like mechanical doll with its voice produced by a talking mynah bird inside its head. Though initially deluded, Rāvaṇa soon realizes the deception, as of course he must be made to do, or he would have no need to abduct the real Sītā and the narrative could not proceed along the indispensable traditional lines (Bālarāmāyaṇa 1910, V: 6-9,11-23). While the causeway is being built he flies overhead with the mechanical Sītā — useless to him 210

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now — cuts off its head and drops it with the intention of deluding and demoralizing Rāma and his army (Bālarāmāyaṇa VII: Warder 1972-92, V, §3631).The mynah, still inside the head, is unharmed, and comforts Rāma by explaining the whole situation, introducing an element of burlesque, if not downright bathos.

Sītā is counterfeited repeatedly in the Sanskrit dramas, for many different purposes, but I have met no other example involving the whole or a part of such a counterfeit being used by Rāvaṇa to delude Rāma at the causeway; material shared with other nāṭyas is limited to verses and other verbal similarities, not to narrative content. Nor have I as yet found Rājaśekhara’s counterfeit-at-the-causeway motif adopted into the Indian vernacular tradition.22 New features introduced in the nāṭyas did not enter Indian tradition, and were not designed to enter it. Ever seeking novelty, these dramatists never achieved innovation. I argue, however, that a developed form of Rājaśekhara’s incident did enter another tradition, that of Southeast Asia, in all probability via Java; if so, we should be profoundly grateful to whoever transformed it into the romance of Hanumān and Benjakai. Transmission from Rājaśekhara’s nāṭya required the existence of a recipient culture open to complex classical Sanskrit literature, supplementing or even replacing the basic level of oral transmission by bilingual tellers; medieval Java provided just such a milieu. Javanese poets drew inspiration from a variety of Sanskrit texts ranging from the late epic to complex classical Sanskrit kāvyas, but it is clear that the process demanded three components, all of which were to be found in Java. One was a high standard of linguistic scholarship such as that achieved in East Java during the Kaḍiri period (c. 1100-1220; de Casparis 1983: 14-15); a second was a wide knowledge of epic and classical Sanskrit literature; the third, equally striking, was the desire and ability demonstrated by these gifted literati to transform suggestions in their source material into new or expanded romantic narratives.

One such scholar-poet was the anonymous Javanese who adapted Bhaṭṭi’s Rāvaṇavadha to produce the Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin. He had been undaunted by the complex grammatical structure of his exemplar, closely reproducing parts of it. It is also likely that he used the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa directly, and possible that he knew the Bhagavadgītā and was familiar with a number of classical texts, including Kālidāsa’s Meghadūta (Khanna and Saran 1993); he alludes directly to Vātsyāyana, author of an erotic text, presumably the Kāmasūtra (RK 26.35). Crucially, he had no inhibitions about embellishing Bhaṭṭi’s scant narrative with attractive passages charged with emotion (eg. RK 17.69-90). This trend was followed a century later in Kanwa’s Arjunawiwāha, which introduced an erotic element into the contest between the ascetic Arjuna Pāṇḍava and the disguised Śiva found in the Mahābhārata (MBh 3,39-40; Saran and Khanna 2004: 115, 120-22). 211

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In common with the Bhaṭṭikāvya (and a high proportion of Sanskrit Rāmāyaṇas), the Kakawin narrative ends on a happy note with Rāma’s triumphant return to Ayodhyā and no reference to the material of the Uttarakāṇḍa, but one Javanese author did recreate the controversial seventh kāṇḍa (Phalgunadi 1999), following the Vālmīki narrative closely in his prose (c. 1000). This adaptation was itself drawn on by later Javanese poets, who reworked and elaborated individual episodes. One example is the fight between Rāvaṇa and Arjuna Sahasrabāhu in the 14th century Arjunawijaya of Tantular, notable for the purposes of this article for its creation of the affecting and tragic figure of Citrawatī, Arjuna’s beloved wife.The work by Willem van der Molen on manuscript extracts of the Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin demonstrates the literary skills consciously exercised by Central Javanese poets in transmitting the text (van der Molen 2017).23 Classical authors were widely used and acknowledged: Monaguṇa calls attention to his reliance on Kālidāsa’s Raghuvaṃśa in his rendering of the romance of Aja and Indumatī, the Sumanasāntaka (Monaguṇa 2013); and the Old Javanese Smaradahana adapts and expands an incident in Kālidāsa’s Kumārasambhava.

The crucial component to be noted is that the extant works were in no way mere translations into the vernacular. That Sītā’s friend Saramā from the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa developed into the Kakawin’s Trijaṭā, should have been creatively merged with Rājaśekhara’s puppet Sītā and transformed into the romantic and potentially tragic Benjakai in Java at this time and in this cultural context can be considered highly plausible. I suggest that the list of classical Sanskrit authors known and adapted to their own use by these highly literate — and highly literary — Javanese scholars should now include Rājaśekhara.

Endnotes

1. I must record my appreciation to the conference organizers for enabling me to present my paper in absentia, and to Gauri Krishnan for presenting it for me. 2. Rākṣasas had always been presented as kāmarūpin, able to change shape at will; the Thompson Indexes classify this motif as D40 and D630. All references to the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa [VR] in this chapter are to the Baroda Critical Edition.Fuller details about the material cited in this chapter can be freely accessed from the dataset deposited by John and Mary Brockington on the Oxford Research Archive, url http://ora.ox.ac.uk/objects/ uuid:8df9647a-8002-45ff-b37e-7effb669768b

3. Totsakan in the Thai version.To avoid confusion, I use the Sanskrit form of all names, where available. 4. A briefer version appears in the so-called Chalermnit Rāmakīen (1977, 56-57).

5. In other texts the name or transcription can be Benyakai, Nang Loi, Punnakaya, Srijati, Suponnakha, or Yekkhaniya.

6. Thompson motif-indexes 1955-58, 1958, motifH 248: test of death: to see whether person is dead or feigning. 212

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7. This amorous characterization is in stark contrast to his usual treatment within India, where his celibacy is increasingly stressed (Lutgendorf 2007 passim, particularly pp.32031).

8. Ohno 1995, and 1996, 370. The rākṣasī is here named Suponnakha, but this does not imply that the character has been conflated with the Vālmīki version’s Śūrpaṇakhā, for in the Loik Samoing Ram Rāvaṇa’s sister goes by the name of Sammanukot. 9. For examples see the Thai episode translated by Pensak Chagsuchinda (1973; maiden known as Nang Loi), and the Maha Rama Vatthu, a 19th century Burmese version differing from earlier tellings by incorporating this and other episodes found in the Rāmakīen (Ohno 1999, 3; maiden’s name Yekkhaniya); the spread of the episode to Cambodia, with the maiden named Punnakaya, is mentioned by the Khmer scholar Saveros Pou (1980, 28), although I have not found the episode in the literary texts.

10. For example, panels 69-76 of the Rāma reliefs at Wat Phra Jetubon, Bangkok (Cadet 1982, 126-34), dated from their style to the 18th century by the art historian Ling Achirat Chaiyapotpanit (personal communication February 2013); for reliefs showing Hanumān capturing the fleeing maiden in the Battambang area of modern Cambodia see Giteau 1969, 113-14.

11. In the part-panel on the left, the sham corpse is being mourned by Rāma (below) and captured by Hanumān trying to escape (above); in the next panel Benjakai is shown guarded by the vānaras (below), then being escorted back to Laṅkā by Hanumān, he licking his lips, she hopeful (above). The wall-paintings at Wat Bho / Vatt Pubi, Siem Reap (modern Cambodia) were produced in the early 20th C under Thai occupation; the Benjakai episode is examined in detail by Giteau (1969) and the whole Wat Bho series of paintings by Giteau (1999) and by Gamonet and Nepote (2002); for the series at the Silver Pagoda, PhnomPenh, see Giteau 1969, 112-13. 12. Giteau 1969, 114-16.

13. In 2000 the Benjakai (Nang Loi) story featured in a performance of Thai classical music, principal vocalist HRH Princess Maha Chakri Sirindhorn, lyrics by HRH Prince Narisaranuvattiwongs.

14. She is described as vṛddhā, ‘aged’, in v.4a. The view of Trijaṭā is fairly positive, but there is no mention of a visit to Rāma’s camp. As early as the Rāmopākhyāna of the Mahābhārata (3,264.53-71) and later under the name Tirisadai in the Tamil version by Kampaṉ (Kampaṉ 1996, 368-70, 378-79, 561, 629-30, 647), the roles of Saramā as comforter and Trijaṭā as teller of an auspicious dream became merged under the name Trijaṭā. 15. Unlike the Vibhīṣaṇa of the Thai version, who is so outraged when her deception is unmasked that he demands her immediate execution, and has to be pacified by Rāma.

16. Zoetmulder (1974, 227-28) gives a convenient summary of the development of research into the sources of the Kakawin from the work of Sarkar (1934) and Ghosh (1936), via Bulcke (1950) and Hooykaas (1955).

17. ‘Then ten-headed Ravana disturbed by desire, his enemy’s power discovered by his spies, deceived Sītā with an illusory head of Rāma and sent out his army to fight ’Bhaṭṭi 14.1; cf. VR 6,16—25 (a total of 353 verses in the Critical Edition). Zoetmulder drew attention to the fact that it is from this verse onwards that the poet introduces new material not found in the Bhaṭṭikāvya (1974, 228-29). 18. More plausibly, N mss locate this sighting of Rāma firmly within the context of sargas 16.1—22.5, overheard by Saramā and reported to Sītā at 24.6-17, attributing it not to Saramā but to Rāvaṇa’s spies.In an apparent attempt to make sense of the reading, the 213

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Assamese narrator Mādhava Kandalī (14th century), combines the two suggestions; but his text introduces a further inconsistency: Saramā spies on Rāvaṇa then on her own initiative flies to the vānara camp and sees that Rāma is alive, yet omits any mention of this joyful news to Sītā on her return (2000, II, 72-73).

19. For comprehensive details of these and other manuscripts see Barrett 1963, 543. The situation is further complicated by the fact that the Sh ms was copied earlier than the Ro ms. 20. The version of the Javanese Serāt Kāṇḍa examined by W F Stutterheim lacks a large portion of the battle for Laṅkā narrative (1925, 78). 21. Now displayed in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, accession number 1977.750; studied in Mary Brockington 2012. 22. If anyone else has, I should be most grateful to learn about it.

23. I am grateful to Professor van der Molen for sharing his draft paper with me.

Bibliography

Barrett, ECG. 1963.“Further light on Sir Richard Winstedt’s ‘Undescribed Malay version of the Ramayana’.” In Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 26:531-43. Bhaṭṭi. 2009. Bhatti’s Poem: The Death of Rávana. ed. and trans. Oliver Fallon, Clay Sanskrit Library. New York: New York University Press and JJC Foundation. Brockington, Mary. 2012. “The Ladies’ Monkey: Hanumān in Boston.” In Journal Asiatique 300.1:199-214.

Bulcke, Camille [Kāmil Bulke]. 1950. Rāmkathā: utpatti aur vikās, 2nd edn 1962, 3rd rev. edn 1971. Prayāg: Hindī Pariṣad Prakāśan. Cadet, J M. 1982. The Ramakien: the stone rubbings of the Thai epic, illustrated with the basreliefs of Wat Phra Jetubon, Bangkok, 1st edn. 1971. Tokyo: Kodansha International/ Bangkok: Central Department Store.

Casparis, J G de. 1983. ‘India and maritime South East Asia: a lasting relationship.’ Third Sri Lanka Endowment Fund Lecture delivered at the University of Malaya on Wednesday, August 10, 1983. Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya.

Gamonet, Marie-Henryané and Jacques Nepote. 2002. “Introduction aux peintures du Ramayana de Vat Bo, la Chapelle des gouverneurs de Siem Reap”, Peninsule (Paris) 45:5-88. Ghosh, Manomohan. 1936.“On the source of the Old-Javanese Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin”, In Journal of the Greater India Society 3:113-17.

Giteau, Madeleine. 1969. “A propos d’un épisode du Rāmakerti représenté à Vatt Pūbī (Siem Rāp)”, In Arts Asiatiques 19:107-21.

Giteau, Madeleine. 1999. “Les peintures du Rāmāyaṇa cambodgien au monastère de Wat Bho (Siem Reap)”, In Indologica Taurinensia 25:179-245.

Hikayat Seri Rāma 1928/1963. Die Rāma-Sage bei den Malaien, detailed summary of contents by Alexander Zieseniss. Hamburg: Friederichsen and de Gruyter, Eng. trans., The Rāma saga in Malaysia by P W Burch. Singapore: Malaysian Sociological Research Institute. Hooykaas, Christiaan. 1955. The Old-Javanese Rāmāyaṇa kakawin: with special reference to the problem of interpolation in kakawins. Verhandelingen van het Koninklijk Instituut voor Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 16. ‘s-Gravenhage: Nijhoff. 214

From Kanauj to Laos: Development of the ‘Floating Maiden’ Episode in the Southeast Asian Rāma tradition

Kālidāsa, Raghuvaṃśa. 1928. Kālidāsa, le Raghuvamça: la lignée des fils du soleil, trans. Louis Renou. Paris: Paul Geuthner.

Kālidāsa, Raghuvaṃśa. 2016. Raghuvamsam: the line of Raghu. trans. AND. Haksar. Gurgaon: Penguin Books India.

Kampaṉ. 1996. Kamba Rāmāyanam, an English prose rendering, by M V Hande. Mumbai: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan.

Khanna, Vinod C and Malini Saran. 1993. “The Ramayana Kakawin: a product of Sanskrit scholarship and independent literary genius.” Bijdragen Tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indië 149.2:227-49.

Lafont, Pierre-Bernard, trans. 2003. Phommachak: Rāmāyana tay lōe de Muang Sing (Haut Mékong), présentation et traduction du tay lōe par Pierre-Bernard Lafont. Paris: Centre d’Histoire et Civilisations de la Péninsule Indochinoise. Lutgendorf, Philip. 2007. Hanuman’s Tale: The Messages of a Divine Monkey. Oxford University Press: New York.

Mādhava Kandalī. 2000. Mādhava Kandalī Rāmāyaṇa, composed in Assamese. trans. Shanti Lal Nagar, 2 vols: I, 110-II, 207. Rāmāyaṇa in Regional Languages 1. New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal.

Mahābhārata CE. 1933-66. The Mahābhārata. Critically ed. V S Sukthankar and others, 19 vols. Poona: BORI. Mahābhārata CE. 1973- .The Mahābhārata. trans. JAB van Buitenen, James L Fitzgerald and others. Chicago: Chicago University Press.

Molen, Willem van der 2017. “The Ramayana fragments in the Merapi Merabu Collection” (unpublished paper).

Monaguṇa, Sumanasāntaka. 2013. Mpu Monaguṇa’s Sumanasāntaka: an Old Javanese epic poem, its Indian source and Balinese illustrations. ed. and trans. Peter Worsley et al. Bibliotheca Indonesica 36. Leiden: Brill. Murāri, Anargharāghava. 2006. Rama Beyond Price. Trans. Judit Törzsök. Clay Sanskrit Library. New York: New York University Press and JJC Foundation. Ohno, Toru. 1995.“An Epitome of the Mon version of Rama story.” Unpublished (?) paper delivered at a Rāmāyaṇa Conference at Leiden.

Ohno, Toru. 1996. 大野徹: “モン語版ラーマーヤナ「ロイク・サモイン・ラーム」の特徴 “Salient Features of the Mon Version of the Rama Story.” 東南アジア研究 Tōnan Ajia Kenkyū 34.2:370-386 [in Japanese, with English summary on pp. 370-71].

Ohno, Toru. 1999. A Study of Burmese Rama Story, with an English Translation. Osaka: Osaka University of Foreign Studies.

Phalgunadi, I. Gusti Putu, ed. and trans. 1999. Indonesian Rāmāyaṇa, the Uttarakanda. New Delhi: Sundeep Prakashan.

Pou, Saveros. 1980. “Some proper names in the Khmer Rāmakerti.” South East Asian Review (Gaya) 5.2:19-29 [issue reprinted in 1981 as Rāmāyaṇa in South East Asia, ed. Sachchidanand Sahai. Gaya: Centre for South East Asian Studies.

Rājaśekhara, Bālarāmāyaṇa. 1910. A Literal Translation of the first five acts of Rajasekhara’s Balaramayana, by S Venkatarama Sastri. Bangalore: Irish Press [for later acts see Warder 1972-92, vol. V]. Rāmakīen. 1968. The Ramakien: a prose translation of the Thai Ramayana, by Ray A Olsson. Bangkok: Praepittaya Co. [largely based on Der Kampf der Götter und Dämonen, by Christian Velder. Schweinfurt: Verlag Neues Forum, 1962]. 215

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Rāmakīen. 1973. Nang Loi, the floating maiden: a recitation from an episode of the Ramakien, a Thai version of the Indian epic Ramayana, by Rama II, King of Thailand (1809-1824). trans. Pensak Chagsuchinda. Scandinavian Institute of Asian Studies, Monograph series 18. Lund: Studentlitteratur.

Rāmakīen. 1977. Ramayana: Masterpiece of Thai literature retold from the original version written by King Rama I of Siam. 2nd edn, Bangkok: Chalermnit Bookshop; 3rd edn 1977. Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin [RK]. 2015. Rāmāyaṇa: the story of Rāma and Sītā in Old Javanese, ed. H Kern, romanised by Willem van der Molen; [and] The Old Javanese Rāmāyaṇa: a new English translation with an Introduction and Notes, by Stuart Robson. Javanese Studies 1-2. Tokyo: ILCAA.

Reynolds, Frank E. 1991.“Rāmāyaṇa, Rāma Jātaka, and Ramakien: a comparative study of Hindu and Buddhist traditions.” In Many Rāmāyaṇas: the diversity of a narrative tradition in South Asia, ed. Paula Richman, 50-63. Berkeley: University of California Press; repr. in “Ramayana.” Classical and Medieval Literature Criticism 53, ed. Lynn M Zott, 280-88. Detroit: Gale, 2003. Sahai, Sachchidanand. 1996. The Rama Jataka in Laos: A Study in the Phra Lak Phra Lam, 2 vols. Delhi: B R PC [includes translation]. Saran, Malini and Vinod C Khanna. 2004. The Ramayana in Indonesia. New Delhi: Ravi Dayal. Sarkar, Himansu Bhusan. 1934. Indian influences on the literature of Java and Bali. Calcutta: Greater India Society.

Sirindhorn, Princess Maha Chakri, and Prince Naris Saranuvattivongs. 2000. Khonsoet ru’ang Ramakian ton Nang Loi ban ton. Krung Thep [Bangkok]: Munnithi Naritsaranuwattiwong. Stutterheim, W F. 1925. Rāma-Legenden und Rāma-Reliefs in Indonesien, 2 vols. München: Georg Müller. English trans. C D. Paliwal and R P. Jain. 1989. Rāma-legends and Rāma-reliefs in Indonesia. New Delhi: IGNCA and Abhinav.

Tantular, Arjunawijaya. 1977. Arjunawijaya: a kakawin of Mpu Tantular. ed. and trans. S Supomo. Bibliotheca Indonesica, 14, 2 vols. The Hague: Nijhoff. Thompson, Stith. 1955–58. Motif-index of folk-literature, 6 vols. Rev. edn Copenhagen: Rosenkilde and Bagger, repr. [no date]. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Thompson, Stith. and Jonas Balys. 1958. The Oral Tales of India. Indiana University Publications, Folklore Series 10. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa CE [VR]. 1960-75. The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki. Critically ed. G H Bhatt and U P Shah, 7 vols. Baroda: Oriental Institute.

Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa CE [VR]. 1984-2016. The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki, an Epic of Ancient India, 7 vols. Trans. Robert P Goldman and others. Princeton Library of Asian Translations. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Warder, A K. 1972-92. Indian Kāvya Literature, 7 vols. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.

Zoetmulder, P J. 1974. Kalangwan: a survey of old Javanese literature. Kon. Inst. voor Taal, Landen Volkenkunde Translation Series 16. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff.

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12. Making of a Language and the Making of a Bhakti Text: The Story of the Composition of Tunćat Ezhuttaććan’s Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ

Kiḷippāṭṭu A J Thomas

‘Ezhuttaććan’ is the name of a profession, which means, ‘a country school master.’ ‘Ezhuttu’ means ‘writing.’ ‘Ᾱśśān’ is the ‘master’ or ‘single-teacher-administrator’ of an ‘ezhuthukaḷari’ or ‘writing school’ by which name the country school was known. So, the original term is ‘Ezhuttāśśān’ or ‘master who teaches reading and writing.’ This evolved into ‘Ezhuttaććan’ which literally means, ‘the Father of Writing.’ Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu of Tunćat Ezhuttaććan is the seminal poetic work that ushered in both the Malayalam language and literature. Malayalam has developed as one of the leading Indian literatures. This work has earned its author the appellation, ‘Father of Malayalam Language and Literature.’ The epic poem of 20106 lines marks the beginning of the Bhakti Movement in Kerala in the late 16th and early 17th centuries. One of the earliest Ezhuttaććan scholars, Ćelanat Achyuthamenon, noted the greatness of Ezhuttaććan in his observation that he “... belongs to this rare and distinguished galaxy of men whose life was one of service and sacrifice and who made the world better and wiser than they found it.” (Achyuthamenon 1940: 45)

L D Barnett, comparing Ezhuttaććan to Tulsi Dās said, “Both were consummate masters in their art, wielding their native speech with the utmost skill and refinement, while at the same time they were able through their human sympathies and godliness to touch the hearts and inspire the imaginations of millions of men inaccessible to the charms of more scholastic and sophisticated art. Both too devoted their finest works to the glorification of the same deity, Vishnu, and in their representations ennobled the traditional pictures of Him by stripping away the overgrowth of unworthy ideas that seemed to obfuscate and dishonour them.” (Achyuthamenon 1940: vii) The Sanskrit Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa – of which Ezhuttaććan’s Kiḷippāṭṭu is a creative translation in Malayalam – is a condensed form of Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, which has been composed expressly for the purpose of highlighting the bhakti (devotional) element which leads to Advaita Vedānta-related spiritual practice. The work is believed to have 217

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been composed between the 14th and the l6th centuries CE, making Ezhuttaććan’s translation almost a contemporary of the Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa.

To compose his devotion-oriented works with the aim of reaching it to the lowly masses who did not know Sanskrit and were subjugated by the priestly class denying them access to means of spirituality, Ezhuttaććan is credited with having overhauled the developing language of Kerala; he created the modern Malayalam script of 51 letters and assigned the most accurate characters to represent the unique Malayalam speech-sounds, making the spoken and written languages congruous. In the process, he had improved upon the existing Vaṭṭezhuthu script of Malayalam with a 30-letter alphabet which was used in the ezhuthukalaris (country schools), by providing more letters to represent almost the whole range of Malayalam speech sounds, as he reorganized the Malayalam alphabet following the pattern of the Sanskrit alphabet. As the Second Ćera kingdom came to an end in 1124 CE, the suzerainty of Kerala was handed over to the Zamorin king of Kozhikode kingdom, who subsequently annexed other smaller kingdoms through force and declared himself overlord of the whole of Kerala through the 13th and 14th centuries CE. The turmoil that was born out of this political action unleashed centuries-long unrest and lawlessness in the land, which was exacerbated by the Vedic Nampūtiri Brahmin committees called ‘Sanketaṃs’ for the governance of temples which also had temporal authority over a particular territory and even could punish the reigning king1 (Namboodiri 2011). They also legitimized kings with low origins, including the Zamorin, through Vedic rituals and in return accepted their dānaṃ or donation of wealth, grains and cows, and exercised spiritual control over them. They forbade commoners from reading the Védas or Itihāsas or to even learn Sanskrit. On the cultural, moral and ethical fronts, standards were falling throughout this time. It was to reclaim the devotional and pious ways of life in such a time that Tunćat Ezhuttaććan led the devotional movement through the revolutionary act of rendering the Itihāsas and other scriptures in Malayalam for the common people to sing and chant.

Against the backdrop of ambiguity, or total lack of historical details surrounding Ezhuttaććan’s life and works, the rendering of an oral history of the poet’s family as communicated by the 14th generation grand-nephew of Ezhuttaććan (as per the claim of the former), C Radhakrishnan, himself a senior fiction writer of Malayalam, through his historical novel Theekkadal Kadanju Thirumadhuraṃ (Churning the Ocean of Fire, the Supreme-Sweet Nectar Emerges) opens up new avenues to approach Ezhuttaććan. 218

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Ezhuttaććan’s place among the early contributors to the evolution of Malayalam Malayalam as a distinct language had emerged in the 9th century CE, as evidenced in the Vāzhappaḷḷi Edict of ca. 830 CE. Literary works of merit begin with the prose work Bhāṣākauṭilyaṃ, a commentary on Kauṭilya’s Arthaśāstra in the 12th century CE. Rāmaćaritaṃ, in the song (pāṭṭu) tradition, of the 12th or 13th century CE2 is the first full-length poem in Malayalam, marking the beginning of a full-fledged Malayalam literature. Vaiśikatantraṃ, a bunch of poetic works belong to the 13th century but are in Maṇipravālaṃ, a mixture of early Malayalam and Sanskrit. The Ćambus of the 13th and 14th centuries in imitation of the Sanskrit Ćambu/Ćampu are mainly UnniaććiĆaritaṃ, Unniććirutevi-Ćaritaṃ and Unniyādi-Ćaritaṃ—all in praise of prominent devadāsis of those times.

Sandeśa Kāvyas or message poems of the period in imitation of Kālidāsa’s Meghdūtaṃ, are also interesting, especially Uṇṇuneeli Sandeśaṃ of ca.1365 CE. Another one of the same period is Kokasandeśaṃ3. Bhakti poems emerge next as important literary works, beginning with those of Kannaśśa Paṇikkars—Mādhava Paṇikkar, Śankara Paṇikkar and Rāma Paṇikkar -- of the Kannaśśa family of Niraṇam near Tiruvalla in central Kerala, who lived between 1350 and 1450 CE. Mādhava Paṇikkar translated the Bhagavad Gītā into Malayalam. Śankara Paṇikkars’s Bhāratamālā, a concise version of the Mahābhārata, stands out. Rāma Paṇikkar, with Rāmāyaṇaṃ, Bhārataṃ, Bhāgavataṃ and Śivarātri Māhātmyaṃ to his credit, is the greatest of the three. The next significant poet before Ezhuttććan is Cheruśśerry Namboodiri, whose Kṛṣṇagāthā, again in the pāṭṭu tradition, is bhakti-bhukti-mixed.4 But it was Ezhuttaććan who first produced significant epic works in the Malayalam language which he had standardized as already mentioned, by reforming the script that has been in use ever since, and also enriched it with thousands of coinages, similar to what Shakespeare, his contemporary, did to English. So, what makes Ezhuttaććan’s poetry different from his predecessors’? The matriarch of Malayalam literary criticism, Professor M Leelāvathi, in her Malayāla-kavithāsāhitya-ćaritram (History of Malayalam Poetic Literature), answers this question, thus: “Ezhuttaććan’s works not only rouse the emotional essence latent in the society’s and the individual’s soul but raise them to a hallowed concept of life. ‘Rousing’ is not the sole purpose of great poetry, but ‘keeping vigilant’ and ‘maintaining awareness of the need to attain perfection.’ Certain works rouse and entertain you, but they do not raise you to a higher level; they do not refine you... Ezhuttaććan’s works attained both (Leelavathi 2011: 99 -100).” 219

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Besides Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu, he composed Mahābhārataṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu, and Bhāgavataṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu and a few other works in Malayalam. ‘Kiḷippāṭṭu’ is a narratological technique promoted by Ezhuttaććan in which the narration is done in the voice of a parrot, which became prevalent in those times and went on to become fashionable as to be patronized by the official chronicler of Kozhikode, in writing the Kēraḷolpatti Kiḷippāṭṭu in the mid-17th century (Haridas 2016: 250, 316). Dravidian metres like Kēka and Kaḷakānći were employed in Kiḷippāṭṭus. Though many scholars are eager to pigeonhole Ezhuttaććan as the fountainhead of the Kiḷippāṭṭu movement, an eminent critic like Sukumār Azhikōde disagrees and places him as the foremost kīrtankār of the times.5 Through the composition of Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu, in which he projected Rāma as the Supreme Deity and did nāmajapam through the singing of his work, took the bhakti undercurrents of Kerala society to the surface, and surged it to its crest.

Ezhuttaććan: The historical figure

Ezhuttććan is believed to have been born at Tunćan Parambu, near Tirūr, in Malabar, in northern Kerala. But the recently disclosed family history of the poet says that he was born in Thānniyūr (present-day Tānūr), north of Tiruvūr (present-day Tirūr) and moved to Tunćan Parambu near Tirūr at the age of six or seven, along with his family, following a looting and pillaging campaign by marauders employed by the Zamorin who left their family homestead in ruins. The Ezhuttaććan Memorial in Tunćan Parambu erected by the Government of Kerala at the very site of Ezhuttaććan’s family home and run by a Trust headed by the Jnanpith awardee Malayalam fiction-writer M T Vāsudevan Nair, is a fitting tribute to the memory of the Father of the Language.

The dates regarding Ezhuttaććan’s birth, real name, family and his compositions are shrouded in mystery even now, owing to peculiar historical, religious, political and communal reasons. The causes for this state of affairs, while details about his contemporaries and even earlier personages of the Brahmin, royal and other uppercaste lineages are available, and only his are missing, are possibly effacement or obfuscation, as we have reason to believe based on the historical and socio-cultural occurrences detailed elsewhere in the chapter. Through the traces of historical evidence left, however scanty, and the internal evidence available in Ezhuttaććan’s works, Uḷḷūr S Parameśwara Iyer, in his Kerala Sāhitya Ćaritram Vol. II 6 mentions that “Considering the language and style of his works, it becomes clear that Ezhuttaććan lived in the 8th century of the Kollavarṣam era (ca. 1500-1600 CE)... it is quite safe to consider the lifetime of this great soul to be between 670 and 750 of Kollavarṣam (1494 -1574 CE).” The great scholar K P Nārāyaṇa Piṣāroti in his book Tunćat Ᾱćāryan also mentions a similar timeframe.7 220

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Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu contains references to the Portuguese and the naturalized forms of some Portuguese words, confirming the fact that the work was written after 1498, the date signifying the first arrival of Vasco Da Gama at Kozhikode. The historical background to the composition and wide acceptance of Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu and Ezhuttaććan’s struggles in accomplishing this feat has to be seen against the social and religious conditions of those times. The lack of spiritual leadership and guidance in the community following the decline of the Śramaṇa traditions of Buddhism and Jainism, and the ascendancy of the exclusivist Naṃpūtiri Brāhmins, a section of which formed administrative committees called Sankétaṃs, as seen above, who sought to have a tight grip over the lives of the people, would provide an effective backdrop.

The Naṃpūtiris had migrated to Kerala probably in the last centuries BC, or the early centuries of the Christian Era. The Buddhists and Jains had migrated to Kerala around the 3rd century BC and flourished till the 9th century CE from which time they began to decline owing to the onslaught of Vedic Hinduism led by those like Ᾱdi Śankarāćārya, and by the 13th century, they were successfully subjugated by the Vedic Brahmin Naṃpūtiris. The Buddhists and Jains were inclusive in their approach in which the original inhabitants of Kerala like the Parayas, Pulayas, Pānās, and others who belong to the now ‘depressed’ classes had enjoyed equal status with everyone else including the Brahmins, Christians and the Jews settled in Kerala. But as the Naṃpūtiris gained supremacy and the ‘Bouddhas’ (a term that included both the Buddhists and Jains) were crushed, the above-mentioned subalterns were enslaved and the Buddhists and the Jains of other castes were formed into groups slightly above the subalterns, like the Ēzhavas (now OBC).8 The Śramana tradition of learning for all and inclusion of all sections had been prevalent in Kerala as long as the Buddhist and Jain influence had remained. The Śramanas had propagated religious and temporal knowledge through their writings in Pāli language written in Brahmi script. Ayurveda, architecture, astronomy, algebra, logics and other branches of practical knowledge were made available to the common people through Sanskrit texts. Great traditional families of Ezhava-Thiyya (OBC) Ayurvedic physicians who are well-versed in Sanskrit from their own sources survive even now throughout Kerala, independent of the Nampūtiri monopoly on Sanskrit and traditional knowledge sources. The influence of the Śramanas in Kerala lasted almost a millennium and a half. By that time, the Naṃpūtiris had managed to have absolute control over the local rājahs, and through them, on the society at large. Till then, the common people had access to knowledge systems imparted by the Śramana tradition and also to the Vedic and Sanskritic traditions the Naṃpūtiris had brought in (Alexander 1949: 138-185). When Buddhism had declined 221

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and the Naṃpūtiris gained absolute power, the Sankétaṃs began to deny the access of the commoners to different kinds of knowledge systems. What they did to deprive the ordinary people of the knowledge of Vedic and Sanskritic texts through influencing the rulers, soon deteriorated into a royal crackdown on anyone who learned Sanskrit or recited the Vedas, even those poor Naṃpūtiris who did not toe the line of the Sankétaṃs (Alexander 1949: 138-185). Apart from the priests of some temples and their related folks who led upright lives, the power-mongering Naṃpūtiri Brahmins of the Sankétaṃ acted as the custodians of faith but actually vitiated the atmosphere further by acting as sycophants and wily courtiers who instigated the kings to indulge in further violence and oppression. The case with the Zamorin was no different, with respect to the Sankétaṃs that related to his kingdom. The land of Kerala was ruled over by the Later Ćeras (Second Ćeras), from circa 800 to 1124 CE with Mākōtai, or Mahōdayapuram (the modern-day Kodungallūr and the great ancient river port city of Muziris combined together). The Ćera kingdom was made up of 17 provinces (Rajendu 2015: 12) named nāṭus, which were ruled over by nāṭu utaiyavars (lords of the nāṭu). As the Ćera reign declined following persistent attacks by the combined Ćoḻa-Pāṇḍya forces over several decades, one of the more prosperous nāṭus, called Erālnāṭu or Eranāṭu (the earlier seat of the later Kozhikode or Kozhikode kingdom) gradually gained prominence, and the utaiyavar of this nāṭu, known variously as Sāmūtiri (Zamorin), Pūnturakkōn or Kunnalakkōn, (a title bestowed by the last Ćeraman Perumāḷ who is popularly believed to have anointed Kunnalakkōn as the king of the whole of Kerala, and, having been converted to Islam, had gone to Mecca and died in present-day Oman on his return journey to Kodungallur), became the overlord of all the other nāṭus, except two or three, through conquest (Rajendu 2016: 15). His title ‘Kunnalakkōn’ meaning ‘The Lord of the Mountains and the Waves,’ effectively refers to the fact that he was the ruler of the whole of Kerala. Kozhikode had become prosperous and internationally known, eclipsing the pre-eminence of Kollam (the great southern seaport and the earlier seat of the Perumāḷs), and that of Muziris. Kozhikode enjoyed maritime trade with the Arabs and other Middle Eastern nations and also with the Chinese, amassing phenomenal wealth and prestige as Ibn Battuta testifies. The historical tract Kēraḷōlpatti Kiḷippāṭṭu and the official records of the Zamorins called Kōzhikkōdan Granthavari also give us a fair idea of the economic, commercial, political, and social structures of those times.9 One of those nāṭus, which resisted the Zamorin’s suzerainty, was Vaḷḷuvanāṭu, home to proud patriots. Through means fair and foul, instigated, aided and abetted by Shāh Bandar Kōya or Sāmanthara Kōya (The Master of the Royal Port of Kōzhikōde, also known as ‘Kōzhikōde Kōya’, the chief of the Arab-linked traders of Kōzhikōde), 222

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one of the Zamorins wrested the prestigious guardianship of the international trade fair and religious festival famed as ‘Māmānkaṃ’ (celebrated once every 12 years, on the extensive sandy banks of the river Bhāratappuzha at Tirunāvāya near the Ponnāni seaport at the river-mouth), from the utaiyavar of Vaḷḷuvanāṭu, (called also as Vaḷḷuvakkonātiri or Veḷḷāttiri), after the latter had been enjoying the rare honour for more than three and a half centuries, presiding over thirty Māmānkaṃs. This historical event that happened at the end of continuous attacks over a century, is placed in 1485 CE by Karuvāyūr Mūssathu, the author of Aarangottusvarūpam Granthavari (Rajendu 2016: 16). By this act, the Zamorin proclaimed his suzerainty over Veḷḷāttiri. This sparked off a running blood feud spanning three centuries, until the mid-18th century when the Zamorin was defeated successively by Hyder Ali and his son Tipu Sultan, and his palace and kingdom were sacked, and later on the British annexed it, and the Māmānkaṃ came to an end.

The main blood feud was between the Neṭiyiruppusvarūpaṃ or the royal house of the Zamorins and the royal house of Vaḷḷuvanātu, called Ᾱrangoṭṭusvarūpaṃ, with tiny suicide squads of the latter called ćavers trying to attack and kill the Zamorin as he stood in state during the two festivals of Māmānkaṃ and Taippūyaṃ. Ćavers were small groups of supremely trained Kaḷarippayaṭṭu experts comprising 30 or 20, or even two or three warriors on occasion, who ritually tried to fight their way through a narrow corridor leading up to where the Zamorin stood — guarded by 30,000 soldiers on one side and 10,000 on the other. There were elite palace guards in addition, protecting the Zamorin as he stood in state at Nilapāṭutara, the ceremonial grandstand, during the two important festivals. Māmānkaṃ was a 30 day-festival culminating on the Makaṃ asterism of the month of Māghaṃ whereas Taippūyaṃ was celebrated on just one day on the Pūyaṃ asterism of the month of Makaraṃ. The Zamorin would stand on both occasions on the Nilapāṭutara shaking his ceremonial sword daring anyone to challenge his regal authority.10 The Zamorin had a similar blood feud with Perumpadappu svarūpaṃ in the vicinity, who later migrated to Kochi but sent ćavers to try and kill the reigning Zamorin like the Veḷḷāṭṭiri did. The Zamorin who was mistrustful of the loyalty of the other nāṭus adjacent to Vaḷḷuvanāṭu fomented trouble in all of them by instigating rebellion and carrying out organized plunder, to keep them subdued and got more enemies nursing blood feud from among all those nāṭu utaiyavars and their feudatories and the families of the countless ćavers who sacrificed their lives, whose numbers grew steadily over the decades and centuries and gave rise to more blood feuds and ćavers among the gentry. This went on for more than three centuries, as already observed, and the ćavers’ life-sacrifices at Māmānkaṃ or Taippūyaṃ continued, more and more as a 223

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ritual sacrifice, at times even without the permission of Veḷḷāṭṭiri. As the Zamorin tried to nip all potential ćavers in the bud and keep the other nāṭus on their toes, an atmosphere of social insecurity through state-sponsored pillage and plunder, targeted killings, rivalries among the various utaiyavars and their subordinates instigated by the Zamorin spanned those three centuries.11 Ezhuttaććan’s native kingdom of Veṭṭattunātu was in league with Veḷḷāṭṭiri and attracted the wrath and vengeance of the Zamorin whose agents unleashed a reign of terror sporadically in places such as Tānniyūr and Tiruvūr related to Ezhuttaććan’s birth and growing up. The advent of foreign mercantile powers like the Portuguese by the end of the 15th century and their subsequent interference and invasion of large chunks of the densely populated coastal regions of Kerala, caused serious confusions in the traditional, cultural, political, social and economic values, bringing in corruption and lawlessness, shredding the ethical and social fabric. The Dutch followed, who were equally disruptive and subversive. These two had attacked the Zamorin directly and indirectly and upturned the loyalty of many local utaiyavars and their subordinates, through bribes and the newly introduced wine and opium. The moral and ethical standards of the people had thus hit the nadir from the mid-16th to the early 17th centuries (Radhakrishnan 2012: 12).

Ezhuttaććan’s motivation for composing the Malayalam Rāmāyaṇa was to uplift the common people by leading them along the path of devotion through the constant chanting of the Lord’s name by means of a spiritual Rāmāyaṇa which they could sing in their own language (as most of them could not read and write). This act of translating a Sanskrit text (the Sanskrit Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa) into the language of the masses, was revolutionary beyond imagination in those times, as it broke the Brahminical prohibitions, roots and all. Not only was the non-Brahmins and low-caste people not supposed to chant the Vedic or Purāṇic ślokas in Sanskrit, but they were also forbidden to even hear such recitals. Considering that the non-Brahmin Ezhuttaććan, who is believed to have been a śūdra (Nair), ventured to break this seemingly impenetrable barrier of caste-based prohibitions and offered to the commoners, verses embedded with garlands of several potent mantras in the form of Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu (believed to be his first major work), the backlash from the power-mongering group of Vedic Nampūtiri Brahmins of the Sankétam would have been inevitable. He was believed to have been banished by the Zamorin instigated by the Sankétam, and thus he settled down near Palakkad within the kingdom of Kochi and continued to lead his bhakti movement consisting of devotees doing nāmajapam through the chanting and singing of his works. He was a practising yogi who established an ashram at Thekkegrāmam, near Chittūr, in Palakkad, where he attained Samādhi. 224

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History as fiction/Fiction as history It has been a startling discovery that direct descendants of Ezhuttaććan exist even today. Drawing on the traditional information handed down the generations from the poet’s lifetime, and also with support from his family chronicles exchanged by word of mouth, C Radhakrishnan, a senior Malayalam writer, claims that he is the 14th generation grandnephew of Ezhuttaććan. This claim and other details are found in the two Prefaces to the novel based on the life of Ezhuttaććan, Theekkadal Kadanju Thirumadhuram (Churning the Ocean of Fire, the Supreme-Sweet Nectar Emerges), which was born out of extensive research and from the history of his family tracing back to several centuries. In the Preface to the First Edition, titled “Anugrahasmarana” (In Remembrance of Blessings Received), he details the sources he tapped for information on the poet-patriarch. He asserts that the story of the novel is not fictional and is entirely based on the family lore which he heard from the lips of his paternal grandfather and great-grandmother on the maternal side, who never had any other intention than the humble duty of handing over the information they received from their forebearers. They did not have a general understanding of the history of the land, either (Radhakrishnan 2012: 12). Though it is deemed a historical novel, Radhakrishnan has termed it “Biography of the Father of Malayalam Bhāshā” in the title page. He further states that he realized that the peculiar situation of the absence of historical records about Ezhuttaććan’s life was caused by certain historical and social situations of those times, which he describes and elaborates upon, and places his creative work in that historical background. In the Second Preface to the 5th edition of Radhakrishnan’s work, titled “Swasthi” (Salute), he has given a detailed account of how his paternal grandfather and maternal great-grandmother narrated to him their Ezhuttaććan connection.12

Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa

The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki is considered the Ᾱdikāvya, or the first-ever poetic work in Bhāratavarṣa. This work dealt with Rāma as a perfect man/hero mostly, though acknowledging him as an incarnation of Viṣṇu. But during the rise of the bhakti movement, the Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa in Sanskrit was composed, rereading Vālmīki’s Rāmāyaṇa through the lens of bhakti, deeming Rāma to be god, to whom absolute devotion was directed.

Legend has it that the composition of the Sanskrit Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa was carried out by Veda Vyāsa, as references to it are found in Brahmāṇḍa purāṇa, as opined by Pandit P Gopalan Nair.13 Bhandarkar deduces that it was composed somewhere in Maharashtra between 1400 and 1600 CE. Dr V Rāghavan’s assumption is that it 225

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was composed in Andhra before 16th century CE. But the strongest support among scholars as the author of Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa is for Rāmānand, who is generally believed to have been a sanyāsin in the Vaiṣṇava tradition and believed to have spent his life in devotion to Rāma and composing the text. He was first thought to be from South India, but now scholars are almost convinced that he was a native of Prayag.14 The composition of the work is generally placed between the 14th and 16th century CE, making Ezhuttaććan’s translation contemporaneous.

The main difference between Vālmīki’s Rāmāyaṇa and Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa is that, although Vālmīki acknowledges the divinity of Rāma, he portrays him more as an ideal human being people can emulate, than blindly worship as a personal deity. An epic deals with human nature, with frailties and strengths in equal measure, whereas a devotional text projects a deity towards whom the devotee can turn his/her attention with single-minded devotion. That is what the creator of Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa did, by creating Rāma as the Supreme Godhead, and yet one who can also be a devotee’s personal deity.

The frequent hymns found in Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa are a distinct difference from Vālmīki’s text.15 Sītā is described as Supreme Prakriti. Rāma is intimated by Nārada that he is the incarnation of Viṣṇu, who has come in human form to annihilate the demons and Rāvaṇa himself ultimately. As he knows that Rāvaṇa will abduct Sītā, a Māyā Sītā (illusory Sītā) is created and the real Sītā is hidden by Lord Agni who returns her after the war. Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa is a Vedantic text which brings together bhakti, jnāna, and karma yogas.

Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu: Foremost bhakti text

There were poets before Ezhuttaććan who composed bhakti-poems. But it was only Ezhuttaććan who succeeded in elevating the hearts of Keralites to the sublimities of devotion, mainly through his Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu. He believed that only a society with a foundation of spirituality would be secure and stable. This conviction permeates the whole of his opus. It was because he had considered that his poetic purpose was the extolling of bhakti and its propagation that he chose the devotion-oriented Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ for translation. With the express purpose of leading the readers along the path of devotion, which is the sure way of liberation, he repeatedly reminds them about the greatness of bhakti. He taught the readers that bhakti led to jñāna, and jñāna to mokṣa. Besides the whole text being pervaded by bhakti, Ezhuttaććan has extolled devotion directly whenever the occasion arose. The following excerpts are examples. All translations are by the present author: 226

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Bhaktiyundāyālludanmuktiyumsiddhićīdum As soon as bhakti dawns, one attains liberation. (Araṇyakāṇḍam)

BhaktivardhiććālppinnemattonnuvarendatiLluttamottamanmārāyuḷḷavaravarallo If devotion grows, then there is no need for anything else; Aren’t those the ones who are the best of the best? (Araṇyakāṇḍam)

The common feature of the bhakti movement throughout the country was that it obliterated caste and rank differences. Ezhuttaććan had squarely refused to admit caste divisions which were dominant in contemporary society, which segregated people and oppressed the so-called lower castes, of one of which he too was a member. The following lines in Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu bear this out: Jātināmādikalkkalla, gunaguna Bhedamennatrebudhanmārudematam The wise opine that good and bad

Are not to be determined by caste or rank. (Yuddhakāṇḍaṃ)

Acknowledging that he (being a śūdra), has no right to handle the Vedas or śāstras, Ezhuttććan is rhetorically apologizing for going ahead and doing exactly that: Védaśāshtrangalkkadhikāriyallennathorthu Chétassisarvamkṣamićīduvinkrupayāle Considering that I have not right to handle Vedas or ṣāstras, Be compassionate and forgive me in your hearts and minds. (Bālakāṇḍaṃ)

Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu: A living tradition

Ezhuttaććan’s Malayalam rendering of Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa, titled Adhyātma Rāmāyāṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu and his first devotional work, Harināmakīrtanaṃ, were taken up with such zeal by the common people all over Kerala, that other bhakti texts such as Jnānappāna of his contemporary Pūntānam Nampūtiri were confined to certain circles. Nārayanīyaṃ, by his other great contemporary, Melpattūr Nārāyaṇa Bhaṭīatiri, was in Sanskrit and was thus confined to only the elite who knew the language. It is worth remembering that Tulsi Dās, the composer of Rāmaćaritmānas was the contemporary of these three as well, living in the 16th century CE and is often compared to Ezhuttaććan. 227

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Devotees’ faith in Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu is absolute. They read it daily. To divine what is auspicious and inauspicious they open its page at random, like with major religious texts. Reading it at a beloved person’s death-bed is a ritual followed even today. The tradition of reading it as a remedy for all ills during the most difficult month of the year, Karkkidakam, still continues in Kerala. Its reading is an absolute dedication of the self, to Rāma, the personal deity. Beginning in the 16th century, following its suppression throughout the Zamorin’s kingdom, and immediately after the circulation of the copies of Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu in different parts of Kerala by the kings opposed to the Zamorin, the custom of singing the text began, which continues even to this day as part of the observance of Rāmāyaṇa Māsam in Kerala.16

Conclusion

M R Chandrasekharan, in his study, observes that the greatness of Ezhuttaććan’s work is not based solely on bhakti, but also on the intensity of human experiences described in it. What if one is God himself? What if there are incarnations of God? There is no difference even if there are enemies of God. All those who are born on this earth, are bound to play one’s own roles, on the stage of life. If the only deciding factor is God’s absolute power to either bless or to annihilate, won’t the action part of Rāmāyaṇa be completely out of place? Was it necessary to spill so much blood to punish Rāvaṇa, to protect the Rishis and also to reduce the weight crushing the earth? Was it necessary to shed so much of tears? War, bloodshed and shedding of tears are all matters related to the human condition. Gods do not need war. Any serious story is composed as happening at the human level. The subject matter of literature is the study of human nature and portrayal of the amazingly strange array of human actions and motives. Who can stop a chain of actions? Although he could make the gods stand in a line attending on him, and the higher deities were at his beck and call, Rāvaṇa’s fate was to die on Rāma’s arrow that pierced him. Though Rāma and Sītā were god and goddess, and their incarnations at the same time, they both had to swim across the oceans of myriad tribulations and sorrows. (Chandrasekharan 2001: 9-40)

The wars and violence, the prohibitions, and two occasions on which he faced the possibility of execution and all the opprobrium that he went through, and the tragedy that befell his family (going by the version provided in his family chronicle), all these must have plunged Ezhuttaććan into the ocean of limitless grief which he swam across, and whose reverberations one can see in the dilemmas that the various characters of the Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ face. But his ultimate message is liberation through unremitting devotion. Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu remains the ultimate bhakti text in Malayalam. 228

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Endnotes 1. http://www.namboothiri.com/articles/yogam-yogaathiris.htm,2011.

2. Trends in Malayalam Literature, Chapter 4. http://shodhganga.inflibnet.ac.in/ bitstream/10603/99808/2/11_chapter4.pdf. pp. 115-117. 3. Ibid. p. 122. 4. Ibid. p. 123.

5. Ezhuttaććan, Tunćat. Ᾱdhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu. Edited with commentary and exegetic notes by Prof. Vaṭḷapparambil Gopinatha Pillai. p. 20. 6. Parameswara Iyer, Uḷḷūr S. Kerala Sāhitya Ćaritram, Vol. II. 7. Narayana Pisharoti, KP Tunćat Ᾱćāryan (Life and Works).

8. Sreedharamenon, A. A Survey of Kerala History. (Kottayam: D.C. Books, 2016), Kindle edition, location 2050 to 2174. 9. Haridas, V V. Zamorins and the Political Culture of Medieval Kerala. New Delhi: Orient Blackswan, 2016.

10. vii. http://shodhganga.inflibnet.ac.in/bitstream/10603/131929/16/16_chapter%209.pdf 11. Haridas, V V. Zamorins and the Political Culture of Medieval Kerala. New Delhi: Orient Blackswan, 2016. Also, http://shodhganga.inflibnet.ac.in/ bitstream/10603/131929/16/16_chapter%209.pdf

12. Haridas, V V. Zamorins and the Political Culture of Medieval Kerala. New Delhi: Orient Blackswan, 2016

13. Radhakrishnan, C Theekkadal Kadanju Thirumadhuram, 16-23. From C Radhakrishnan’s Malayalam work Theekkadal Kadanju Thirumadhuram, which is a biographical novel based on the life-story of Tuncattu Ezhuttacchan, the Father of Malayalam Language and Literature, it emerges that the family of Ezhuttaććan, both from his father’s side and his mother’s side, seemed destined to have been persecuted by a powerful section of priestly Brahmins of the Sankétam and by the Zamorin. On his father’s side of the family, his father’s sister’s son Kumāran, married to Krishnan’s eldest sister Sīta, became a ćaver and went to attack and kill the Zamorin at the Nilapaatuthara at Tirunaavaya and got himself killed. From ancient times his mother’s family of Pazhanjānattu had been running an ezhuthukalari from where the common people irrespective of caste and creed could learn Sanskrit and the essence of the Vedas. This was anathema to the caste-proud Sankétam Brahmins. Krishnan himself had followed this tradition. These worked as default mechanisms to ensure that he would always be in the middle of a Theekkadal (Ocean of Fire), which, instead of destroying him, enabled him to purify himself from earthly bonds, yet remain positive. Condemned twice to death and deported for life, away from his near and dear ones, he is purified in the fire of sufferings and separation. He resolves that all is meant for his ultimate purification, and for whittling away the sense of ego. All his literary works aim to infuse in the readers such a state of mind—viewing everything as part of Brahman, in the best Advaitic tradition.

14. Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇattinte Bhaṣāvivarttanam (Mūlavum Gadyatarjamayum)-The Malayalam Translation of Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ (The Original and Prose Translation): Introduction by Dr A Ramachandra Dev. p. 36, 37. 15. Ibid.

16. http://www.esamskriti.com/e/Spirituality/Philosophy/Ᾱdhāyatma-Rāmāyaṇa,-TheSpiritual-Version-Of-The-Story-Of-Sri-Rama-1.aspx

17. https://swarajyamag.com/culture/keralas-ramayana-masam-holds-its-own-despite229

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having-reached-the-next-gen-phase

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Ezhuttaććan, K N. Ezhuttaććante Kālavum Bhaktiyum (Ezhuttaććan’s Era and the Bhakti Movement). Thiruvananthapuram: Kerala Bhāṣā Institute.

Ezhuttaććan, Tunćat. Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu. Edited with commentary and exegetic notes by Prof Vattapparambil Gopinatha Pillai. Kottayam: D C Books.

Gopala Warrier. K V. 2010. Tunchattu Ezhuttaććan—Bhajananāmasidhāntathinte Ᾱćāryan. (Tunchattu Ezhuttaććan-The Master Preceptor of the Concept of the Devotional Chanting of the Lord’s Name). Kozhikode: Lipi Publications. Gopalakrishnan P K. 2001. Kéralathinte Sāmskārika Ćarithram. Thiruvananthapuram: Kerala Bhāṣā Institute. Kunjan Pillai, Śooranāṭṭu. 1979. Kairalīsamakṣaṃ. Trivandrum: K Bhaskaran Nair, Publisher

Kurup, ONV. 1993. Ezhuttaććan. Thiruvananthapuram: University of Kerala.

Leelavathi M. 2011. Malayālakavithāsāhityaćaritram. Thrissur: Kerala Sahitya Academi.

Mukundan, N. 1971. Ezhuttaććante Rāmāyaṇavuṃ, Mattu Rāmāyaṇangaluṃ (Ezhuttachan’s Ramayana, and Other Ramayanas). 230

The Story of the Composition of Tunćat Ezhuttaććan’s Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu

Narayana Menon. 1955. Tunćat Guruvaryarude Krithikal (Works of the Great Master of Tunćat). Narayana Pillai, P K. 1968. Tunćat Ezhuttaććan. Kottayam: SPCS.

Narayana Piṣāroṭi, K P. Tunćat Ᾱćāryan (Life and Works).

Parameswara Iyer, Uḷḷūr S. Kérala Sāhitya Ćaritram - Vol. II.

Parameswaran Nair. 1935. Tunćat Ᾱćāryan: Oru Nirīshaṇaṃ (The Sage of Tunćat: An

Observation)

Pavanan, Buddhaswdāheenam Kéralathil, 2008. Thiruvananthapuram: Kerala Bhāṣā Institute.

Radhakrishnan, C. 2012. Theekkadal Kadanju Thirumadhuram, 5th edition (Churning the Ocean of Fire, the Supreme-Sweet Nectar Emerges), Biographical Novel based on extensive research on the life of Ezhuttachchan). Kochi: Hi-Tech Books.

Rajendu, S. 2015. Vaḷḷūvaṇāṭū Grandhavari. Perinthalmaṇṇa: K Śankaranārāyaṇaṇ, Publisher. Rajendu, S. 2016. (compiled & edited). Aarangottusvarūpam Grandhavari, Thirumānāndhāmkunnu Grandhavari-A.D.-1484-1874. Śukapuram: Vaḷḷattōḷ Vidyāpīthaṃ.

Sreejan V C. 28 March 2010. “Ezhuttaććanezhuthumpōl,” (As Ezhuttaććan Writes--A Critique on Ezhuttaććan not Responding to the Portuguese Aggression of Those Times), In Māthrubhumi Weekly.

Usha, P. 2003. Ezhuttaććante Bhaktiyum, Darśanavum (Ezhuttaććan’s Devotion and Philosophy) Shukapuram: Vallathol Vidyapeetham.

Websites

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malayalam

https://nandakishorevarma.wordpress.com/category/kerala/

Trends in Malayalam Literature Chapter 4. http://shodhganga.inflibnet.ac.in/

bitstream/10603/131929/16/16_chapter%209.pdf http://www.namboothiri.com/articles/yogam-yogaathiris.htm,2011.

https://swarajyamag.com/culture/keralas-ramayana-masam-holds-its-own-despite-havingreached-the-next-gen-phase

http://www.esamskriti.com/e/Spirituality/Philosophy/Adhyatma-Ramayana,-The-SpiritualVersion-Of-The-Story-Of-Sri-Rama-1.aspx http://ajaysekher.net/2010/01/03/buddhism-kerala/

http://anudinam.org/2011/12/07/perumal-thirumozhi/ http://keralaculture.org/paattu-poem/263

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13. Kumaran Asan’s ‘Cintāviṣṭayāya Sītā’, Sītā, Deep in Thought, a Translation Sudha Gopalakrishnan

So much is written about Sītā. We know all about her from multiple Rāmāyaṇas— from Vālmīki’s Sanskrit epic and versions in other languages, retellings and reinterpretations, adaptations from oral tales, dances and drama—to paintings and graphic novels, the story of Sītā’s life has captured the imagination of all who have known at least something about her. We have gone in search of Sītā, eulogized her as the ‘ideal’ woman, wondered about her, doubted and derided her apparently submissive positions, reinterpreted her character to ‘empower’ her through our own analysis, and dedicated Rāmāyaṇas to her. Perhaps a lot of it is about us—what we feel she should have done under the circumstances.

However, what does Sītā say, about herself? Is she a passive victim of her situation? Kumaran Asan’s ‘Cintāviṣṭayāya Sītā’ (‘Sītā in Contemplation’) evokes Sītā’s memories about her own life. Extensively argued from Sītā’s point of view, the poem is set in Vālmīki’s hermitage, on the day before she sets out to meet Rāma at the royal assembly and finally renounces her life. As it recaptures the persons and circumstances who shaped her life, incidents of her immediate past roll in front of her mind, as if in a dream. Kumaran Asan (1873–1924), one of the most significant poets in Malayalam who transformed Malayalam poetry during the early part of the 20th century, is considered as one of the trimūrtis of Malayalam poetry along with Vallathol Narayana Menon and Ulloor S Parameswara Iyer. Credited with launching a new literary movement in Malayalam, Kumaran Asan through his poetic craft embraced a spirit of reflective lyricism and experiment, holding out new interpretive possibilities in the old narratives. Asan’s poetry covers many facets of universal themes such as love and compassion, death and spirituality, demonstrating a blend of meditative and romantic qualities. In his treatment of Sītā in ‘Cintāviṣṭayāya Sītā’, Kumaran Asan has achieved a degree of sophistication and complexity that go far beyond the usual assessments of her temperament and agency. The poet makes a departure from standard perceptions of Sītā—as the beautiful and docile wife of Rāma who accompanies him to the forest, walks into the fire unfalteringly to prove her chastity after her captivity in Laṅkā, 232

Kumaran Asan’s ‘Cintāviṣṭayāya Sītā’, Sītā, Deep in Thought, a Translation

goes back to Ayōdhya to resume her wifely duties, and submits to her fate after she is abandoned once again in the forest in a pregnant state.

As the title of the poem suggests, we encounter Asan’s Sītā in a moment of deep introspection. It is a significant day—her sons have gone to Ayōdhyā—with Sage Vālmīki. Sitting quietly in the orchard near Vālmīki’s hermitage at dusk, she is immersed in contemplation. The twilight hour with its magical beauty and mystery hurts her into thoughts, too deep for words. The incidents of her earlier life unfurl before her, as if in a dream, and she finds herself an abstract observer of her own life. That day could turn out to be a moment of reckoning for Rāma also, for he would recognize his sons, and perhaps accept them as heirs to the throne. She is deeply aware that her time in this world is practically over, and the material world of love, hate and suffering is now behind her. She lets her mind wander freely, to explore, interrogate and embrace truths about herself and Rāma, that she may not have attempted to do earlier. Sītā’s evaluation of her situation in the last phase of her life is honest and harsh. One does not see the virtuous fidelities of a submissive wife here. Sītā articulates an unsparing criticism of Rāma, and the manner in which he abandoned her in the forest. Through her eyes, we see a cautious king, Rāma, walking the straight and narrow path of ‘justice’—the definition of the word restricted to his royal obligations, and not to his duties as a husband. The mind does not forgive easily—she doubts the astuteness of Rāma’s judgement and is clear-eyed even about the worth of his royal lineage. She takes up the issues, one by one, and subjects them to close scrutiny. Memories of the agony of being left alone in the forest and the warm welcome at the hermitage make her conclude that the forest is a happier place than the city where there is much pretence and calumny all around.

As Sītā’s thought process develops, her selfhood manifests itself, ironically both through self-denigration and by censuring others including Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, but as the poem progresses, her mental state undergoes a change. From representing and seeking the truth in another, she gradually starts looking inwards and finds that her intense grief has transformed her inner core, leading to strength through self-knowledge. She realizes that she still loves Rāma, but with a boundless, all-encompassing quality that is akin to compassion.

Asan has etched this transformation in Sītā through powerful lines: A light spread through her, and her cheeks blushed slightly in thrill,

The delicate one shivered, her joy burgeoning like sprouts in a golden sand.

Standing still for a moment in deep compassion for Rāma’s situation,

The thoughts of Janaka’s daughter, like a forest stream, started flowing again. (150-1) 233

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Reaching the extreme end of her earthly journey, now there is nowhere else to go, but to the lap of her mother, the earth. She imagines it as a place of peace, beauty and the quiet, priceless, ‘primal seat of serenity’ where she can rest happily, to soar the heights and be one with the stars. As a final act of sacrifice, she goes up to meet Rāma in his royal assembly, and in that moment of final awareness, gives up her life. For this reinterpretation of Sītā’s character, Kumaran Asan had to contend with severe criticism after the poem was published. He was accused of ‘distorting’ her character and reducing her stature from a model of virtue to an ‘ordinary’ woman. The poem speaks for itself.

Accompanied by the sage, when her sons left for Ayōdhya, that day at sunset,

Sītā sat in a grove near the hermitage, burdened with deep thoughts. 1

The branches stretching out from the laburnum tree became an ornate canopy,

And the tender green grass made a silken carpet for her to recline. 2

Neither was the queen aware of the vanished sun, nor the pervading moonlight,

Or that she was sitting unaccompanied in that place. 3

The deep Tamasā river crafted water lilies, the like sprouts of joy; wafting breeze

Made ripples in water, and in the moonlight, the dense trees were molten silver. 4

Looking like wind-laden blossoms from the wild jasmine creeper,

A flock of fireflies flew out, and adorned her dense hair. 5

Her dark tresses were resplendent, like a constellation of stars

Spotted through a thick bower of trees. 6

Covering the body snugly with her garment,

She placed her hands, delicate like creepers, on her thighs. 7

Her drooping eyes, half-closed, were passive and frozen,

Even when her rough curly locks blew in the wind and rubbed her face. 8

The delicate one sat up straight, though not shifting her slack body;

She lightly drew in her breath, like a mild wayward breeze. 9

The deep tidal waves of thoughts, surging like an ocean inside her,

Brought different emotions to her graceful, dainty cheeks. 10

Not finding a way to restrain her wandering mind, in great grief

That noble lady expressed her thoughts thus, in a monologue: 11

There is no conviction to anything anymore, contexts keep changing all the time,

Everyone is constantly in pursuit; none knows the mystery of this world! 12

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Like a whirling droplet of mercury, and a roasting grain of rice,

The mind, though numb, flutters in agony—both mildly and with intensity. 13

I recall those happy days, when the whole world seemed glorious,

And how they faded away, like the cruel smile of fate. 14

The wearying summer will be over soon, rains drench the earth every year,

The trees shed leaves, and shoots and flowers will emerge again. 15

Animals and birds feel grief, but fleeting; only the human

In her supreme distinction, is destined to suffer absolute sorrow. 16

O, my left shoulder quivers persistently, like a pulsating worm;

Like a child pursuing his shadow, I will no more seek worldly pleasures. 17

The King of Manu may have listened to the sage’s superb poetry,

His heart welling up with torment, recognized his sons by now. 18

The spell of love’s wondrous passions has not ceased entirely, though

They do not enchant anymore, like an echo and its resonance. 19

Even a moment of separation hurt like a wound then;

That love, like a curled serpent, does not raise its head anymore. 20

Most temptations of the senses have ebbed away,

The mind is wretchedly empty, like a cage deserted by pigeons. 21

Once shining in the region of the heart, through night and day,

Now that brilliant moon reflects only in the mirror of my memory. 22

Penances are now routine, and life tranquil in meditative thoughts,

I grieve no more—though the spectre of humiliation haunts the searching mind. 23

Not giving up this body, and in compassion, I bore children in my womb

And now, my sons with their childish pranks, have become my joy. 24

They dispelled the darkness of my soul, with the light of their smiles—

Children, after all, are panacea to the grief of worldly life. 25

There are clear stars in the dark sky, and islands amid oceans;

There may occur such reinforcements that can dispel great calamities. 26

After all, providence holds no enduring grudge for a mortal,

While one hand strikes, she caresses you with the other hand. 27

That is why journeys are arduous, for earthly beings;

Grief and happiness fluctuate, like light and shadow. 28

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Or perhaps, what appears as happiness and grief are the same;

That may be why great minds are not moved by either. 29

Henceforth, not seeking disquieting happiness, I will choose pain;

If the mind welcomes grief, the cruel fate will cease to torment. 30

Perhaps, due to long habit, even darkness may seem like light,

And bitterness in the long run, may develop sweetness. 31

Life, wavering between good and bad, and without any leisure,

May keep spinning—like the moon, forever waxing and waning. 32

Sinking down and rising up in the deep-sea of joy and sorrow,

Mortal soul may transcend the ocean of desire someday. 33

Or else, the hand that sought to lead him to the mountain of joy

May itself have pushed him through the backstreets of grief. 34

Even when good happens, the mind is anxious of bad import,

Like a bird flapping its wings in terror, even when the goal is to tame it. 35

When the king ordered Lakṣmaṇa to abandon me in the forest,

My world turned dark, and hit by that thunderbolt, I collapsed. 36

Though wishing for death, my expectant condition deterred me,

In great anguish, the blow of separation struck a second time. 37

Orphaned and scorching, still my mind did not lose its sense,

Though it craved to unshackle and lighten its weight. 38

Perhaps, it is more torture to be demented, and so it was good—

For man, death is a better option than life without a grip on his senses. 39

I will not yearn for pleasure garden anymore, to offer that wild beast,

Like a cracked whistle in the woods, making tunes in solitude. 40

Or, there is no better friend than patience to spread goodness, And for man, no better teacher than sorrow to lead to wisdom. 41

It was luck that the mind turned away from sinful death,

The fruit of that resolve was propitious for the lineage. 42

I can’t think clearly; in the cloudy, dark corridors of my heart,

Several thoughts well up and swarm about, like flies. 43

My recollections sometimes wake up from slumber and liven up,

Like a joyful creeper that bursts forth into fresh flowers during season. 44

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I remember dear Lakṣmaṇa, his brows quivering, heart shattering to pieces,

Head resting in his hands, and tears pouring down, unable to leave me. 45

Seeing him in grief, that brave one, mighty and wise,

And devoted to his brother, my own anguish allayed momentarily. 46

You lived with us, not heeding the contrast between forest and palace,

My humility makes it hard even to think of you. 47

While we spent festive days enjoying the mountains and forests,

You, a terror to enemies, chose a life of penance and service. 48

Hearing my rebuking words, you abandoned me once in the forest,

Now you banished me again; destiny gives its due to all. 49

Dear brother, kindly forgive those brutal words, uttered unknowingly,

Unable to restrain itself, there are no vile ways this mind doesn’t traverse. 50

When the lord of Raghu wandered in the boundless, thick forest,

Alone and anguished in separation, you shielded him and the race. 51

Hearing the story of your war with the invincible Indrajit,

I gauged the depth of my anxiety and whole-hearted affection for you. 52

You may have tightly embraced the children whom the sage introduced,

And your mind, pure and malice-free, may swim in the ocean of joy. 53

Leave my tale, dear child! Live long as sole companion to your brother,

And be with others in the family, good-hearted and benevolent. 54

I recall how I swooned—collapsing as it may have seemed then,

clouding my memory, dimming my senses—a balm to my bruised heart. 55

In that condition, I felt like the child of death, a condition scary to mortals,

But to those who suffer severe mental torture, it is a blessing, indeed. 56

Not revengeful about my husband, and bereft of fear or inhibition,

My mind drowned deep below, and plumbed the depths of darkness. 57

My body, languid and full in pregnancy, sore even on flowery beds,

And lay in peace on the ground, ridden with thorns and insects. 58

Like dry autumn buoys the earth, wet and weary with prolonged rains,

The noble sage came and stood near me, I remember. 59

‘My hermitage is nearby, daughter, come with me, that is now your home’,

Uttering these guileless words, he soothed my heart somewhat. 60

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The world is transitory like a mirage, and only tranquillity is eternal—

Said the sage in kindness; and those words were imprinted firmly in my heart. 61

A cool lake near a burning forest? The calm shores of an ocean

With turbulent waves? The hermitage, likewise, is restful and serene. 62

The women in the hermitage, with cheeks not stained by fumes of bitterness,

Long live those ladies, shining eternally like luminous lamps! 63

I venerate their pure and clear spirit of love, always spread

For trees, birds, humans and celestials, alike. 64

I recall their fervent, absolute saintly spirit and wisdom

Learned from the wind, sun, moon, forests and mountains. 65

Noble-natured, embodying transcendent knowledge in earthly life,

The hermit women and mothers show dignity and grace in daily chores. 66

Meditating on the vagaries of life, listening to the lore and epics, They wisely distribute the flowers and fruits of the vine-stalk of their minds. 67

Hail these women, who deem serving the needs of their hermit-husbands

As their fulfilment, not hankering after material wealth! 68

Even when smṛti goes extinct, and śruti vanishes in the ocean of time,

These immaculate women will glorify the earth, with their pious disciplines. 69

The great poet, who renders the world ephemeral with his cherished thoughts,

May have felt compassion for the death of the lover bird, because of this. 70

My sad plight, which first led me to live here in their company,

Has now made me indebted to them, like an expert doctor curing an ailment. 71

Like fuel to the burning fire of constant and unmitigated desire,

Womenfolk in the palace turn their own lives into black embers and ash. 72

Minds rankling with contempt and jealousy, breeding greed and depravity,

Women in cities are destroyed every day. 73

Blind to their own faults, mistrusting the good deeds of others,

Jaundiced in vision and immersed in sin, they finally meet their sad end. 74

Like a jewel steeped in dirt, shorn of lustre, like a worm in the mind’s recesses,

Falling in the filthy deep pit of sin, the spirits of evil persons rot and decay. 75

That serpent of sensual cravings, through the mouth of that cave

Emits poisonous fumes, causing great distress to those nearby. 76

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Expensive clothes, glittering jewels and other such embellishments

Are like flowery creepers winding on pit-hollow minds of evil people. 77

With smiles more radiant than the moon, and honeyed words,

The city-folk, with their treacherous hearts, are demon’s gatekeepers. 78

Even without banners and chariots, forts and parlours, and mighty weapons,

The false tongues of evil people have the power to burn their enemies into dust. 79

The great strategies of the king and his powerful decrees

Can promptly be overturned by crooks with their wicked intrigues. 80

Forgetting long-lasting time-tested love and compassion, listening to

Mindless gossip, kings can leap towards wrongdoings. 81

Desirous of the crown, a king could bequeath matted hair to his own son,

And as for that son, he abandoned his faithful wife into the big forest. 82

Alas, the wind of memory has rekindled the blazing fire in the heart,

Already dead, my life is scorched and destroyed once again, now. 83

The renowned kings, when they themselves commit such misdemeanours,

Propriety is at stake, and the world is not fit to live, for good people. 84

In private, he showed his disapproval with me in Lanka—

Staining his own legs in the mud, why does Rāma now wash them in public? 85

O God! Binding into a trap of intense love, men in their arrogance

Have no hesitation to sacrifice women at the altar of their vanity. 86

That love which binds couples to each other throughout life

Sometimes turns out to be an immolation fire, when suspicions creep in. 87

O sacred marriage! After spreading joy and devotion like a mandāra flower,

Just see how much you have wilted and deteriorated now! 88

Scriptures are good for all, and misconduct can lead to mistakes,

When things go wrong, even they become unreliable. 89

Is it my fault that we had to live in the forest for a long time?

Is it my mistake, that the rogue rākṣasa king desired my body? 90

Fine, a reigning king is bound to heed the opinion of his own people,

People can be of diverse views—isn’t the king astute in judgement? 91

Wayward gossip-mongers can quarrel even with their own eyes,

My guiltlessness is proof that such comments are worthless. 92

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Bharata’s mother threw away her great fortune ruthlessly,

Even at that time, did the great king consider people’s opinion? 93

That is deemed as truth-abiding, and this as commitment to duty,

People celebrate even the blunders of astute people as perfect actions. 94

People in those days accepted me with delight, reckoned me as sovereign queen,

Now, have I become dishonourable, after my womb bore the seed of Manu’s race? 95

Thinking me barren forever, petty people may keep up pretences of cordiality,

Could they have shot the arrow of scandal as a defence for themselves? 96

Even when Bharata reached the forest, Rāma’s heart was cast with suspicion,

Has that sagacious mind now lost its discernment and become dull? 97

Am I not devoted to my lord, and have I not surrendered my heart to him?

What would the king lose if he had at least told me, and why this lapse? 98

The heart throbbing in agony, and the eyes heavy with raining tears,

Like the whimpering leaves of a plant while breeze detaches its fringed leaves. 99

The timorous-eyed lady continued to contemplate, without a pause,

Can superficial whirls caused by wind make a massive overflow abate easily? 100

Huge mountains and caves, terrible forest, lions, leopards, and serpents,

Abysmal oceans, and the dwelling places of ferocious rākṣasas, 101

Having known all these earthly horrors closely, there is no chance

That I will be afraid anymore; so why did the king conceal it from me? 102

Can Jānaki ever have a mind that goes against her husband’s wishes?

Can Gaṅgā’s eternal gushing ever flow against the great ocean? 103

The king, afraid of scandal, and always eager to absolving himself—

With this dastardly act, didn’t he re-affirm all that rumourmongering? 104

An honest judge may pardon a criminal on grounds of suspected innocence,

But I was punished without a crime—how will the king clear himself from sin? 105

With absolute faith and greatly in love, in my pregnancy, I expressed my desire,

With that cue, the king betrayed me thus—it is beyond contemplation! 106

When he set out for the forest obeying his father’s orders, I accompanied him,

My ruthless beloved cast me off alone now in the forest, among wild animals! 107

Let it be—this consummate, shared love that does not isolate one other,

He even spurned the feelings of basic appreciation, for this hapless one! 108

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Even an ant protects and cares for its progeny, even at the cost of itself,

And the gem among men, my beloved, threw away his offspring in the forest. 109

The son whom my father-in-law produced after doing several penances,

Denied the good fortune of an heir for himself, by listening to chatter tales. 110

Unthinkable as it seems, the king mercilessly killed a śūdra sage once,

An order has gripped him, endorsing the killing of those of lesser rank. 111

Empathetic quality, and great attributes like propriety,

Have left the king, it seems, even before the wife, his beloved companion. 112

In the forest, the condition of my favourite deer in her full pregnancy,

Used to bring tears of sympathy to the eyes of my beloved. 113

It may be that his sensitive heart blossomed like a tender bud, in the forest,

A mind entwined tightly with royal duties has now turned hard and rigid. 114

Indeed, during our stay in the forest, my beloved was gentle and pleasant,

When one assumes ceremonial positions, real friendships weaken. 115

After daily chores every day, on the banks of Gōdāvari, I remember

How we spent our days, with me as his beloved, and best pupil. 116

As no couple on this earth has ever dreamt, such was our frolicsome pleasure,

Living a carefree, relaxed life, like a single creature with two bodies. 117

Plucking lotus flowers, swimming and diving deep in the cool waters,

Running alongside with me on sand shores—my beloved was childlike in sport. 118

What can I say! like animals though endowed with human insight,

We fulfilled our joyous lives, like wingless birds. 119

O love! spontaneous and flawless, you are like a jewel in heart’s recesses

You are the most precious ornament to be adorned in the mind. 120

To a man, you are the cause of manliness, and for a woman, her virtue,

To think, you can transform a desert into a garden full of flowers. 121

For followers, the path of goodness, your beacon light beams heavenward,

The bad ones reach hell by exploiting love for the sake of self-conceit. 122

O love! even if those who love perish, you are always immortal,

And in the land of the dead, tears gush constantly, keeping memories alive. 123

Straightforward anger, my dear love, is not your enemy, it is arrogance

That closes your path and kills you, by sealing off the heart. 124

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Fairness, attitude of equality in treatment, patience, and mutual love—

The ugly rat of egotism can systematically gnaw at, and finish them forever. 125

Abundant prosperity, work expertise, great reputation and endless victories

Are proud achievements for anyone, leading to arrogance. 126

Blown by the winds of conceit, the lamp of love was put out,

Listening constantly to one’s own praises, one may come to harm. 127

If this fact were not so, without holding rancour at the gossip-mongers,

Will he rule the earth thus, abandoning his pregnant wife in the forest? 128

There were invincible brothers, capable of shouldering the rule of the land,

Is there no place in this forest, to live with his wife? 129

Doesn’t the king have a first-hand experience of the pristine forest?

He is also aware of the great paths of philosophical discourses. 130

Difficult to say this—even a scoundrel cannot accept bad words at his wife,

When I was slandered thus, how did he heed them, like they were the Vedas? 131

When a crow attacked me once, he retaliated, and as for the demon, made the

Rākṣasa race into a desert—now that unconquerable one behaves thus! 132

Or else, in the pursuit of justice, king may have listened to his emissaries

Considering honour as prime virtue, the scandal may have shaken him. 133

From the fire that emitted from his heart, kindling the sense of morality,

He was led to this action—the righteous one did not consider its perils. 134

The king, though tormented, was forced to do this, to protect his honour,

Fearing the spreading of poison, people sometimes cut off their limbs also. 135

A strong man does not reveal, but locks up his great anguish inside,

For deep waters, a swirling whirlpool is more perilous than strong waves. 136

Devoted to the welfare of others, he may have committed to this involuntarily,

And that truthful one will not take his words back, at any cost. 137

In Danḍaka forest, he undertook to kill those terrible rākṣasas,

And in Rśyamūka, in haste, he took a pledge to kill Bāli. 138

There are many such exploits, that the jewel of Raghu race has accomplished,

Some downfalls are good for the noble king, like caves in a mountain. 139

The father killed the sage’s son, mistaking him for an elephant,

Willingly giving boons to his wife and dying in regret. 140

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All hazardous ventures; considering these now without any rancour,

The son’s deeds are excusable—after all, a son inherits his father’s qualities. 141

Aja, another great ancestor, saddened at the loss of his wife

Died in deep grief—his descendent could have inherited that too! 142

No doubt about that, the king is devoted solely to me,

Even pained by separation, his mind can never turn to another. 143

During our first separation, my beloved lost his own mind,

Gaining victory, he re-kindled in me the tender feelings of love, every day. 144

Considering that, the king is surely deeply anguished about this separation,

How does he withstand my present situation, annoyed that I am right now? 145

Aha! considering, now that love has led to the creation of a golden Sītā

As his spouse in the ritual hall; strange are the ways of great men! 146

Miserable is the course of justice; alas! Kings are enslaved to others,

My husband has exiled me, and now has to worship a mere statue of me! 147

A light spread through her, and her cheeks blushed slightly in thrill,

The delicate one shivered, her joy burgeoning like sprouts in a golden sand. 148

Standing still for a moment in deep compassion for Rāma’s situation,

The thoughts of Janaka’s daughter, like a forest stream, started flowing again. 149

O lord, I understand—alas, that every day, bruised by your own hands,

You are imprisoned in the cellar of justice and righteousness. 150

A man neglects his own self, being at the cost of the vagaries of worldly decorum,

Like a bird that forgets the power of his wings, due to long captivity. 151

Imagining the spaces where your beloved wife and children live in this forest,

You must be in constant misery, bound to your cage of grief. 152

Sometimes listening to the sounds, and sometimes seeing a shadow,

Trying to spread wings or beak, and failing, you might be engulfed in sorrow. 153

You might be rolling in agony in the bed, alone and miserable,

Or alas, perhaps always babbling to yourself in sorrow, or dreaming. 154

Your own misfortune made you abandon and detach from your wife,

It is hard to make such huge sacrifices, caused by your steadfastness in duty. 155

You can fling the crown away and go begging, and sacrifice this body for another,

But it is hard to rule the earth with selflessness, solely according to people’s wish. 156

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Due to his unmatched willpower, that great one is venerable even by saints,

Steadfast in the decorum fit for kings, he is admired by all kings around him. 157

For the virtuous, earthly life is not for pleasure, but for great penance,

Always facing perils in his life, Rāghava has gained great glory. 158

Feeding the five senses with great relish, hurtling gradually towards doom,

Living constantly in fear of death, is not the life he opted for. 159

Though with superhuman powers, Rāghava has more self-control than a sage,

A beacon light of propriety—that noble one is always respectable in my eyes. 160

Notions of justice may change according to the long spans of time and space,

O ruler of the earth, you are the consummate model for selfless service. 161

Aggravated, the strokes of blemish that I have ascribed to you today—

O lord, please forgive the words of this conceited one, your own wife. 162

To think deeply, my life story is disgraceful, though I deem myself blemish-less,

I made my own husband victim to great anguish, many times over. 163

And then, because of this one, how many women became widows

So many lost their fathers; children orphaned, suffering great grief! 164

Tough to comprehend, the precepts of justice can turn both ways, as the wind,

Like an arrow that pierces its target, cruel destiny can meanwhile hurt us. 165

Enough, sharp arrows! Your efforts are wasted on me, for I am unfeeling, now,

O eternal wheel of universe, spin and go forward, abandon this wounded Sītā. 166

To a person with nothing else to achieve, life is not desirable anymore,

A master-actor should retreat from the stage, when he has finished his role. 167

The paddy plants perish in the forest after the grains are offered to others,

In the deep waters, the shells that once carried pearls stay down under. 168

The space of my mind clears up, and my intellect more luminous,

This river coursing towards the ocean, assumes a gleam unparalleled. 169

Ha, now let me bid adieu, the emperor of daylight, the Sun God—

Who envelops himself with golden arrows emitting amazing brilliance. 170

Clad in white garment, with abundant hair scattering like lotus threads,

Brightly smiling, and bathed in moonlight like holy ash—dear Moon, I salute you. 171

Dispelling and piercing through enveloping darkness, spreading your rays afar,

Illuminating the world with your splendour, o stars—let me bow to you. 172

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During dusk and dawn, weaving a magnificent carpet every day,

Covering open doors of the skies—my beloved twilight lady, accept my courtesy. 173

Lovely forests, gorgeous flowers resplendent with humming bees,

I have enjoyed you abundantly, and in gratitude, let me bid adieu. 174

Or else, I do not need to say goodbye to this beauteous world of externality,

Uniting with the earth, my desires will ultimately be merged with this splendour. 175

Dear Mother Earth! My precious parent, I can visualize you taking me away,

With great motherly love, to that magnificent bedroom, your abode. 176

In that cavern, I can sleep in peace, listening to the echoes of mountain streams,

The bunch of trees from bowers nearby will shower flowers on me every day. 177

Above me, flocks of birds will flutter about, singing their melodies,

In the vast fields nearby, herds of deer will dance, like wafting clouds. 178

More than that, all the jewels and minerals embedded in the depth of mountains

Will impart everlasting joy to me, and will belong to me forever. 179

I will recline thus on your lap in great comfort, dear earth, deep in slumber,

In deep slumber—but no, no—mother, my spirit will soar high. 180

Like a star reflecting in the waters, though bowing deep down to the earth,

And merged with your holy feet, o pure one, I will become a lamp in the skies. 181

Beloved Rāghava, my salutations! This bird is now leaving the tree branch,

Fearless, she is flying away by herself, without anyone to shelter her. 182

This place has no material to build the corporal world down below,

And no night and day—this is the priceless, primal seat of serenity. 183

Chastened and cleansed of your sorrows, tasks completed and in fulfilment,

O grandson of Aja, you will reach that place too, accessible only to a few. 184

She shuddered suddenly, and her delicate body trembled violently,

In great consternation, she said these clear words, deep in thought. 185

Please don’t; what, I should come to you, and present proof once again?

Does the king expect that I live with him once again as queen? Am I a puppet? 186

Great soul, alas, please forgive me! My mind and spirit cannot take anymore,

Please do not fret, my body will obey your command, and call on your highness. 187

Alas, such hovering thoughts welling up and surging constantly,

Her mind was scorched and afire, like a blazing garment. 188

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“The stars that soared at dusk are now plunged deep in the western mountain,

And other stars have risen, o Sītā, what is this?” said a lady hermit, coming to her. 189

Sprinkling holy water and assisting her, she took Sītā inside, lay her on the bed,

Towards early dawn, with Rāma’s message, the great sage arrived from Kōsala. 190

“Do not worry, daughter!” With the sage’s soothing words, gazing only at his feet,

She walked on, her face bent downwards, and reached the royal assembly;

Wordlessly, she went to him, saw her husband deeply drowned in remorse,

Amidst the royal gathering, and in this manner, she relinquished the world. 191

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14. Mabasan Rāmāyaṇa, a Continuous Retelling

of the Rāmāyaṇa in Bali Thomas M Hunter

1.0 Introduction The aim of this chapter is to introduce the contemporary Balinese art of reading and interpreting the Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa, or Old Javanese Rāmāyaṇa (OJR) carried out by ‘clubs’ who hold regular meetings and participate in temple and life cycle ceremonies, where their recitation and interpretation of ancient texts is counted as an offering of service to the religious community. These clubs, most often called Pesantian in contemporary Bali, are more formally known as Sěkaha Pesantian, or Sěkaha Mabasan, using the term sěkaha that refers to any group of people who carry out a single occupation, performing art form, or social duty and are formally organized as a dues-paying club. The meetings of these clubs are devoted to reading works from the ancient literature, mainly works in kakawin form, and often extend for as long as four hours for a single session.

Whether during club meetings or at public events, all mabasan readings consist of two parts. First, a line or phrase from an Old Javanese text is intoned in the form of recitation called ma-wirama, which is used to render the isosyllabic metres of the Indo-Javanese metrical system in terms of melodic principles based on the tones of the Balinese pentatonic scale. Since this recitation invokes the world of the ancestors, it is considered the more sacred and prestigious aspect of the art of mabasan. The ‘sounding of the text’ is then followed by an extemporaneous translation into an ‘oralliterary’ form of the Balinese language. As in neighbouring Javanese, social hierarchies are linked in Balinese to changes in vocabulary and usage between several ‘speech registers.’ The register used in mabasan sessions is largely drawn from the ‘high’ or ‘refined’ (alus) vocabulary of Balinese, with further enrichment with lexical items drawn from Old Javanese, but uncommon in ordinary Balinese. However, when the context of the narrative demands the ‘middle’ (madya) or ‘low/coarse’ (kasar) register may be used. The ‘middle’ register is appropriate, for example, in interpreting scenes depicting public meetings or counsels of the court, while the ‘low’ register should be used in interpreting angry or threatening dialogues between antagonists. 247

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The interpreter (pang-artos) of a mabasan session is trained to enunciate lines in his/her translation following a characteristic intonational contour that is a mark of mabasan language and a source of pleasure to listeners who may come as much to hear the translations of the pangartos as the intoning of the text.

2.0 The Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa, or Old Javanese Rāmāyaṇa (OJR)

Composed c. 856 CE during the heyday of the Sañjaya dynasty of Central Java, the Old Javanese Rāmāyaṇa (OJR) was the first of its kind—a literary work consciously moulded on the model of the kāvya, incorporating loan words, metres, figures and tropes of the Indian tradition into the linguistic framework of ancient Javanese to produce a new literary idiom. In time the literary language that began to be formulated with the composition of the OJR became the standard form for literary endeavour, while kakawin, the Javano-Balinese idiom modelled on the kāvya, emerged as the preferred idiom for literary expression. In contemporary Bali, traditional literature is ranked in a three-part system that places kakawin works in kakawin form re-termed Sěkar Agung, ‘Great Flower’, while compositions in the indigenous kidung metres and literary form are termed Sěkar Madhya, ‘Medium Flower’ and works in the Balinese gěguritan metres and form are classed under the term Sěkar Alit, Small Flower. The composition of kakawin, and their inscription on manuscripts made of prepared leaves of the lontar palm (Borassus flabelliflorum) was once common to Java and Bali, but today it is only in Bali that we can witness both the production and inscription of traditional manuscripts and their use in public readings of kakawin works. The script in use for inscribing lontar manuscripts, called Aksara Bali, is a distant descendant of the southern Brahmi scripts that migrated to Southeast Asia as early as the fifth century CE. Traditional literature of all kinds is inscribed on these manuscripts, everything from medical, magical and architectural lore to sacred scripture and literary works in kakawin form, or works of the Parwa literature, prose translations from the Mahābhārata that provide a rich source of material for the traditional dance and drama genres of Bali. These include Wayang, or shadow plays and Wayang Wong, a masked dance-drama focused exclusively on the Rāma-Sītā story. While the language of the kakawin and Parwa is called Old Javanese, in much of the scholarly literature in Bali it is known as Kawi, the language of poets. An ancient association of poetic skill with spiritual power lives on in a common epithet for the Creator: Sang Parama Kawi, ‘The Supreme Poet’.

3.0 Kakawin literature: A thousand-year history

The Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa is the first and only kakawin surviving from the Early Mataram period, when a classical culture developed the fertile Kedu plain of south-central Java. A ring of volcanic peaks separating the Kedu plain from the north coast provided a 248

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bountiful supply of water for the irrigation networks that ensured high productivity in wet-rice agriculture and at the same time provided a symbolic nexus in an emerging religious system that incorporated the worship of Śiva as lord of the mountain with ancient pan-Southeast Asian beliefs in the power of the ancestors, and their association with high mountain areas and the sacred springs of these areas. The most prominent— and geologically active—of these peaks is Mount Merapi, which in the ancient period was frequently identified with Mount Meru of the Purāṇic cosmology. The Early Mataram dynasty is counted as beginning c. 732 CE, when a figure known from later inscriptions as Sañjaya dedicated a lingga (liṅga) in commemoration of the founding of a dynasty that appears to have joined a Javanese patriline with a Sumatran matriline, and thus ensured a profitable combination of agricultural and maritime sources of income, by linking a Javanese dynasty to one of the Malay-Sumatran polities that from as early as 600 CE were part of a Mahāyāna Buddhist network that stretched from Nalanda University to the T’ang capital at Chang-an and beyond. Recent work has shown that Sumatra and Java were important points along the pilgrimage routes connecting China and South Asia and were centres of pilgrimage and study in their own right. We know, for example, that a Javanese monk named Bianhong, travelled to the T’ang court in c. 780 CE in his quest for advancement in the Tāntric Buddhist doctrines of the time and remained attached to the court until his death in 806 CE. Bianhong is said to have continued the teaching of the influential lineage of Śubhakārasiṁha (637-715), Vajrabodhi (674-741) and Amoghavajra (704-774), the three masters of the esoteric tradition whose travels from South Asia to the T’ang court were a major factor in the spread of esoteric Buddhism in maritime Asia.

From a period not long following Sañjaya’s declaration of a new dynasty in Central Java, there is growing evidence for the importance of a royal lineage with a stronger association with Mahāyāna Buddhism than with the combination of Śaivism and ‘ancestor worship’ that we know from the early inscriptions to have been the standard form of religious praxis for the general agricultural and urban populations of the time. It is not certain even today whether this dynasty—called the Śailendra (‘Lords of the Mountains’) was a separate dynasty allied during part of its history with the Sañjaya, or a branch line of the same dynasty that shared the same patriline, but was also linked to a polity of the western archipelago through its matriline. In any case, a group of religious preceptors called the ‘Śailendra rāja-gurus’ figure heavily in the first inscriptions of the Śailendra, which also give us the first instances of the use of verses in kāvya form in the Javanese inscriptions. From these verses, and the extensive reliefs illustrating works of the Mahāyāna canon at the great Buddhist complex of Candi Borobudur, we know that we have these royal preceptors to thank for the introduction into the archipelago of Sanskrit figures, tropes, plots and verse forms 249

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that within a century had stimulated the birth of a new literary language (Kawi) and a new literary idiom (kakawin).

However, it was not the Śailendra preceptors who were the midwives for this birth of a literary form, for, by the time of the Śivagṛha inscription of 856 CE, the Śailendras disappear from the historical record, while Mahāyāna Buddhism itself only begins to re-emerge in the historical record in the 11th century, when the East Javanese king Airlangga was notable for his patronage of both Śaiva and Buddhist religious communities and the revival of royal names incorporating elements known from the Śailendra inscriptions.

Many scholars have followed the lead of the German scholar, Walter Aichele, who in a German language article of 1969 proposed that close correspondences between the Śivagṛha inscription of 856 CE and the Old Javanese Rāmāyaṇa (OJR) and suggested that the OJR was composed under the patronage of the Sañjaya. He further linked the OJR and the Śivagṛha inscription with the construction and dedication of Candi Prambanan, a Śaiva temple complex located 44 km east of Candi Borobudur that was clearly intended as a state temple and to rival the glory of great Mahāyāna complex of the Śailendra line. As if in response to the extensive narrative reliefs of Borobudur illustrating Mahāyāna works like the Jātakamālā, Lalitavistara and Gaṇḍavyūha, a series of reliefs on the balustrades of the shrines to Śiva and Brahmā at Candi Prambanan illustrates the story of Rāma and Sītā in loving detail, and includes a final relief that links the narrative to the Uttarakāṇḍa of the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa, which was later translated into a Javanese prose form as part of the Parwa literature. One of the prominent features of the Rāma-Sītā story at Prambanan is the attention given to the role of Viśvāmitra as advisor to Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa. The close association of Brāhmin preceptors and Kṣatriya heroes is well known from the Indian tradition but took a special form in Java, where priest-ascetics of an Atimārga form of the Śaivāgama played a central role in rituals of the state. The many illustrations of these priest-ascetics on the shrines to Śiva and Brahmā at Candi Prambanan attest to their central role in religious practice and to the importance of the triśūla and sacred waterpot as emblems of their ritual importance.

The figure of Viśvāmitra in the reliefs of Prambanan is similarly depicted carrying a triśūla as he exhorts Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa to slay Kumbhakarṇa for the sake of ending the war with Rāvaṇa quickly (Fig. 14.1). This detail of the reliefs is interesting not least because Viśvāmitra does not appear in this scene in either the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa or the Rāvaṇavadha of Bhaṭṭi which provided a model for the first 15 of the 26 cantos 250

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Fig. 14.1: The sage Viśvāmitra instructs Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa to kill Rāvaṇa’s giant brother Kumbhakarṇa in order to finish quickly the task of defeating Rāvaṇa and restoring dharma to the world. Photograph courtesy: Thomas M Hunter.

of the OJR. This suggests the special importance that was given to the role of Śaiva preceptors in the training and guidance of young royals and the development of a model of Brāhmin-Kṣatriya alliances that has lived on as a model of political strategy in the ideology of the Balinese brāhmaṇa lineages and their extensive networks of commoner and gentry families allied through ancestral patterns of service.

Central Java remained the centre of political life in Java until 928 CE, when it is believed that intense seismic and volcanic activity in the Kedu plain were taken as a sign that the royal enclosure (kadaṭwan, kraton) needed to be transferred to a new site, equally auspicious as the ancestral heartland of the dynasty in the Kedu plain and slopes of the great mountain chain of Central Java. The move that was decided upon was to the Brantas river valley of East Java. This area was already under development as a promising zone for wet-rice cultivation and offered an advantage over Central Java: the Brantas was navigable well into the interior and emptied into the Java sea, close to the harbour areas of Tuban and Gresik, thus providing immediate access to the international maritime trade. While the ruling dynasties of East Java suffered their 251

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share of political vicissitudes, the Javanese variant of the ‘charter state’ system ensured high productivity in rice agriculture and production of goods for the export market, while a five-day market week and hierarchy of local and supra-local markets ensured what was for its time a remarkably high level of efficiency in the transportation and marketing of goods.

While the OJR was produced anonymously, and possibly by multiple authors, both the authors and royal patrons are often described in kakawin of the East Javanese period (c 929-1528 CE). Mpu Kaṇva, author of The Marriage of Arjuna (Arjunawiwāha), for example, served the legendary monarch Airlangga as his court poet, and in his kakawin speaks of accompanying his royal patron on a military campaign of 1035 CE, while Mpu Panuluh in his Lineage of Hari (Hariwangśa) speaks of the displeasure of his royal patron, Jayabhaya, at his first attempt at composing a kakawin. Royal patrons and members of the court were expected to be adept in the poetic arts and monarchs like Jayabhaya were known by their ‘poet names.’ Jayabhaya himself was renowned as a master poet with the penname Lung langö ing langö, ‘beautiful tendrils of poetic rapture.’

While the great classics of the East Javanese kakawin are composed in a style that differs significantly from that of the Old Javanese Rāmāyaṇa, works like The Marriage of Arjuna set a new standard of composition that became a model for the ‘classic’ kakawin of the East Javanese period. After the waning of Majapahit power in the early 16th century, kakawin continued to be produced in Bali well into the 19th century, when Ida Dalem Isteri Kanyā, first the regent and then the ruler of regency of Klungkung (1815 - c. 1868), promoted the traditional literary arts and is herself credited with the authorship of several kakawin, including the kakawin Āstikāyana. The Rāma-Sītā story has remained popular in Bali throughout its history, partly due to the importance of the story in the performing arts. It is also a favourite theme of mabasan readings, and, as Helen Creese (1998) has noted, it has influenced the composition of kakawin works of Bali more than the standard kakawin known in Bali as the ‘five classics’ (Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa, Arjunawiwāha, Bhāratayuddha, Bhomāntaka and Sutasoma) (Creese 1998).

4.0 Lontar and Prasi, the inscription of texts

Like the diffusion of the ideology of Sanskrit (and Pali) and the epic literature, the art of writing followed the ancient trade routes of Southeast Asia, with the result that a Southern Brāhmī script is considered a parent to the writing systems that developed in Sri Lanka and in mainland and insular Southeast Asia. The Balinese syllabary called Aksara Bali is among this extended family of Southern Brāhmī that developed in a long history in Java and Bali. Designed to retain the written signs of retroflex and 252

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aspirated consonants that are not found in the phonology of Western Malayo-Polynesian languages like Javanese and Balinese, the literary form of the Balinese script plays the important role of maintaining a connection with authoritative sources of religious and metaphysical belief in the ‘imaginary India’ of the Balinese past.

The art of incising prepared leaves of the lontar palm is still practised in Bali, and in fact, is part of a resurgence of interest in traditional Balinese literature that began during the ‘Raise Up Bali’ (Ajěg Bali) campaign that began following the Kuta bombing of 2002. Today it is not unusual to see postings on social media describing groups of as many as a hundred students from the Denpasar area high schools attending a workshop and competition devoted to the art of inscribing lontar palm manuscripts. In Fig. 14.2, we see a leaf of a lontar manuscript inscribed by I Madé Ari Wiraputra, who prepared the manuscript for a mabasan session organized for the author’s benefit in June 2015 by a group of five graduates of the Program in Regional Literature of Udayana University. I Madé also served as one of the ‘interpreters’ for this session that included recitation and translation of excerpts from kakawin works including the Arjunawiwāha, Smaradahana and Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa. The inscription of lontar manuscripts also was developed as a form of visual art that continues to be practised in Bali. Favourite stories from the epic sources are incised on the lontar palm leaves using a chisel-like stylus called a pang-rupak. After incision with the stylus, the leaves are inked with a mixture of charcoal made from areca nut

Fig. 14.2: Balinese lontar manuscript with verses from the OJR and other kakawin. Prepared for a mabasan reading in Denpasar in June 2015 by I Made Ari Wiraputra and Dwi Mahendra Putra. Photograph courtesy: Thomas M Hunter.

Fig. 14.3: A Balinese illustrated manuscript, or prasi, of the early 20th century. The scene illustrated is from The Marriage of Arjuna (Arjunawiwāha), Verses 3.4-4.10. Two apsaras beg forgiveness from the god Indra for failing to seduce the hero Arjuna and deflect him from pursuing his spiritual quest. The Balinese script reads maturing tan prasidhayang ngoda, “please pardon us for failing to tempt (Arjuna).” Photograph courtesy: Helen Creese. 253

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and oil is rubbed over the incisions made with the stylus. Many illustrated lontar manuscripts called prasi date to the 19th and early 20th century, but the current state of the art has suffered from its popularity as a form of Balinese souvenir. In Fig. 14.3, we see a leaf from a prasi illustrating a scene from The Marriage of Arjuna that follows a depiction of the attempted seduction of Arjuna that is one of the favourite themes of Balinese artists, whether from the tradition of prasi or the Kamasan school of ‘wayang style’ painting.

5.0 Shadow theatre (wayang) and masked dance in the dissemination of the epic stories

The visual and literary arts have played prominent roles in the spread of the epic stories of the Rāmāyaṇa and Mahābhārata in Southeast Asia. These are paralleled by a rich tradition in the performing arts that have enlivened both village and courtly cultures for generations. Among the most notable of the performing arts that incorporate characters and plots from the epics, wayang, or shadow theatre, and masked dance stand out as the foremost representatives of narrative traditions that keep alive the epic tales of the kakawin and Parwa literature for contemporary audiences. The shadow plays of Java and Bali are attested in inscriptions as early as the Balinese Běbětin inscription of 896 CE.1 In the early 11th century kakawin, The Marriage of Arjuna, the poet Mpu Kaṇva illustrates a metaphysical point with a figure of speech based on the shadow theatre:

There are those who watch shadow puppets (ringgit) and weep from sorrow, foolishly taken in, Though they know full well that what they see is merely carved leather made to move and speak, So it is for those who are attached to the sense objects, to the point they will fail to observe: In its essence everything is illusion‒all that exists in the world of becoming is no more than a conjurer’s trick.” 2

The Balinese Wayang Rāmāyaṇa is less commonly performed than stories drawn from the epic Parwa literature. However, this is not due to a contrast in popularity but results from the larger size of the musical ensemble accompanying Wayang Rāmāyaṇa, and consequently higher cost to commission a performance. While shadow play performers have felt economic pressure as mass media forms of entertainment take centre stage in the cultural sphere, innovative performers have found ways to ensure the continuing popularity of the shadow theatre and its epic characters and themes. 254

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5.1 ‘Theatrical diglossia’ and the role of the ‘clowns’ (panasar) When looking at the performance of shadow theatre from the point of view of the narration and dialogues presented by the shadow play master (dalang), we can observe a process of translation between languages that is in parallel with the recitation-andinterpretation format of mabasan. While in mabasan the Old Javanese/Kawi text is translated into a literary idiom of Balinese, in the shadow plays, narration and the spoken parts of the gods and heroes are delivered in a special form of Kawi known as kawi dalang, which is translated into ordinary Balinese by two sets of clown-like figures (panasar), one each for the ‘right hand’ and ‘left hand’ characters of the shadow plays. In the conflicts that invariably end with the victory of the ‘right hand’ side in a moral struggle, wise Tualen and his inquisitive son Měrdah serve as ‘clowns of the right,’ while on the left we find the bullying, loud mouth Delěm and his meek and more prudent side-kick Sangut (Fig. 14.4). In addition to translating the dialogues of the divine and noble characters into ordinary Balinese, these characters provide a running commentary on the storyline and connect it to anything happening in the village, province or nation worthy of comment and satire. The ‘high’ characters of wayang thus keep alive ancestral voices and models for behaviour, while the ‘clowns’ provide an essential connection to the everyday events and lives of audiences.

5.2 Wayang Wong: Masked dance drama devoted to the Rāma-Sītā story

The stories recorded in textual sources like the Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa are also brought to life in dramatic performances like the masked dramas devoted to the Rāma-Sītā story in the Wayang Wong. The troupes of the Pura Taman Pule in the village of Mas and in the village of Tejakula on the northeast coast are especially noted for their troupes presenting Wayang Wong. Here, as elsewhere, masks of favourite characters from the Rāmāyaṇa story are believed to be ‘magically powerful’ (těngět) and are thus among sacred objects that are likely to induce trance among some members of a temple congregation at the height of processions involving the public display of especially sacred masks. In Fig. 14.5, we see Hanumān, Sugrīva and Anggada in a lively scene from the beginning of the grand battle between Rāma and his allies and Rāvaṇa and his army of demons.

6.0 Poet-priests and the “Religio Poetae” of the kakawin world

The figure of a priest-ascetic who wanders “among the beauties of the mountains and seashore” and responds to them by composing poetry represents the epitome of spiritual practice in the Javano-Balinese tradition. In a summary of the form of this spiritual and literary practice, the late P.J. Zoetmulder spoke of a “religio poetae” in which religious writings were “not so much theoretical expositions as […] treatises 255

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Fig. 14.4: The wise ‘elder clown’. Tualen speaking with Sangut, son of Delěm, Tualen’s opposite number, an aggressive, bullying character who never heeds Sangut’s advice to remain calm and act wisely. Photograph courtesy: VCM (Virtual Collection of Asian Masterpieces, a project of the Asia-Europe Museum Network, Image 53. The clown Tualen […] (20th century. d. 1D347) and Sangut (20th century. 2.1 1D346. Indonesia, Bali. http://masterpieces.asemus.museum/stories/ view.nhn?id=518.

on the practice of mysticism or yoga […] a kind of yoga which seeks to find the deity through media in which the god is present or into which he descends (Zoetmulder 1974: 178-179). In the world of the “religion of poetry” the essence of divinity can momentarily “descend” into a well-formed literary utterance, just as the spirit of a shadow play character or mask can “enter” a performer, triggering the form of “extreme stage presence” called taksu in Bali.

By the end of the East Javanese period, c. 1528, the priestly figures known by their status-title Mpu, or Ěmpu, had gained a prominent position in the religious hierarchies of the Śaiva and Bauddha institutions. Blacksmiths and composers of kakawin were also given this title, in each case due to their association with a craft considered to 256

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Fig. 14.5: Sugrīva, Anggada and Hanūmān in a scene from a Wayang Wong performance of Tejakula village, Buleleng district, North Bali. Photograph courtesy: Doddy Obenk, photojournalist, Obenkografie Fine Art Photography, Denpasar, Bali, Indonesia. http://www. obenkografie.com.

have spiritual dimensions. In the period just following the collapse of Majapahit power in Java, a figure who exemplifies the role of the Mpu in the Javano-Balinese “religio poetae” emerged in the historical figure Dang Hyang Nirartha, the great priest-poet of the “golden age” of Balinese cultural life under Watu Renggong, who reigned from circa 1500 to 1545 CE in Gelgel during the period of a united Balinese kingdom in south Bali. Nirartha is credited with a number of important poetic works, including the kakawin Nirartha-prakrěta (NP), that combines a keen sensitivity to natural beauty with figures of speech aimed at conveying metaphysical truths. In NP 4.8, for example, the poet describes the inseparability of the ‘good’ and ‘bad’ elements of existence by first describing the way that the image of the rabbit in the moon ‘obstructs’ its beauty, but at the same time never fails to ‘follow’ the moon in also shedding its light on the earth.

Many legends have grown up around the career of Dang Hyang Nirartha, including the story of his magical arrival and his taking four special wives to sire the four brāhmaṇa lineages of Bali. His progress through the landscape as he sought inspiration in nature for his poetic compositions are recorded in an important network of temples called the Sad Kahyangan, ‘Six Temples of the Gods,’ each in a spectacular physical setting that is said to have inspired the poet in his meditations. He is also credited with having 257

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founded a similar temple on the neighbouring island of Lombok that is considered the spiritual centre of a syncretic form of Islam called Watu Tělu or Waktu Tělu. The site where Dang Hyang Nirartha is said to have attained mokṣa (Bali: kamokṣan) is the Ulu Watu temple, located on a promontory at the southeast tip of the island with a spectacular view of the Indian Ocean.

In prasi illustrations of priest-poet figures like Dang Hyang Nirartha, the identity of the poet as a practising ‘high priest’(pedanda) at the epitome of the traditional religious hierarchy is marked by his elaborate turban (ketu), while his writing board and stylus (karas and tanah) mark him as a poet carrying on the ancient tradition of composing kakawin verses.

7.0 Mabasan: The intoning and translating of texts

Mabasan sessions focusing on the Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa represent a long tradition of engagement with the Indian tradition and a continuing retelling and reinterpreting of the classical sources that even today provides standards of beauty and moral guidance. We are fortunate that recordings of mabasan sessions go back as early as 1928. In a recording from the “Bali 1928 Repatriation” project of Dr Edward Herbst we can listen to the intonation of a verse from the Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa by Ida Wayan Buruan of the brāhmaṇa community of Geriya Pidada of Klungkung (Semarapura) and a translation by his friend and fellow performer, Ida Madé Tianyar. Ida Madé Tianyar, who was famous in his time for his skill in playing the comictranslator role of the panasar in the masked dramas called topeng that portray characters and events from the Balinese ‘histories’ (Babad). We give below the Kawi (Old Javanese), Balinese and English versions for this excerpt. OJR 24.43a-b: Kawi text Wibhisama / 1/ nahan ta sambat nira /2/ Raghutama /3/ wawang matangguh sira /4/ Wibhisama /5/ huwus ta /6/

Balinese “adding spice” (masanin) translation: Daging asapunika Ida, Ida Sang Punta Wibhisana /1/ sapunika indik Ida, pandulamèn Ida /2/ né mangkin Ida Sang Ramabhadra /3/ tan mari gelis Ida, Ida pituhua reké Ida /4/ Adi, adi sang wipratmaka ja, adi /5/ pidaging puputang peragatang ja adi /6/

English: The contents are thus, about the nobleman, the honored Punta Wibhisana /1/ Thus in regard to Him, to His lament /3/ Now noble Ramabhadra / without pause quickly it is said that he would give advice /4/ Dear younger brother, born of a line of heroes /5/ The meaning is that you should stop, put an end (to lamenting) /6/ 258

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7.1 Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa readings of the Sěkaha Pesantian of SanurIntaran village, 1984-85 In late 1984, during the period of my fieldwork in Java and Bali, I was introduced to the late Ida Pedanda Ketut Sidemen, who at the time was known by his pre-ordination name Ida Bagus Sudiyasa (Fig. 14.6). Ida Pedanda was well-known for his expertise in traditional literature, having studied the art of intoning and interpreting the three forms of traditional Balinese literature from his illustrious predecessor, Ida Pedanda Madé Sidemen. I was interested in learning how the kakawin are preserved by the mabasan clubs of Bali and asked Ida Pedanda if I could join one of the existing groups

Fig. 14.6: The late Ida Pedanda Ketut Sidemen of Geriya Taman Sari, Sanur

explaining the meaning of a verse from the Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa. Photograph courtesy:

Thomas M Hunter. 259

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as a fledgling student, little knowing at the time that my knowledge of Indonesian language would not be sufficient for the task and that I would need to learn both ‘low’ and ‘high’ Balinese in order to fully understand the translation aspects of the mabasan sessions.

This led to a six-month period of study with three mabasan groups of the combined villages of Sanur and Intaran. I was taken on as a member of the Pesantian Anom, or ‘Younger Mabasan Group’ and attended their weekly meetings and visits to households and temples where they added their mabasan activities as part of the festive events of the ritual. I also attended occasional meetings with the more advanced Pesantian Lingsir, ‘Elder Mabasan Group’ of Sanur-Intaran village and another Pesantian group called Pesantian Was, which held its meetings on the day named Was from the Balinese six-day week (Sadwara), usually in the home of the late Ida Bagus Oka of Jěro Sanur, a brāhmaṇa household that doubled as the traditional ruling family of Sanur.

Under the tutelage of Ida Pedanda Ketut the Pesantian Anom of Sanur-Intaran had flourished, and continued to do so until well after his cremation ceremonies of 11 April 2011. While he was an acknowledged master in the intonation of texts in the kakawin, kidung and gěguritan forms of traditional Balinese poetry—and frequently composed gěguritan works and redactions of works from the kakawin or metaphysical literature (tutur)—Ida Pedanda was noted most for his command of the content of the literary forms he made his speciality. As a result, his translations are among the most lively and eloquent that I have had occasion to record.

There were two public events of early 1985 that provided good opportunities to record mabasan recitation and translation in a setting where one might expect inspired performances. The first was the group tooth-filing ceremonies that accompanied the wedding of the son of the late Ida Bagus Běrata, who was at the time the popular village chief (perbekel) of Sanur. The elaborate and lengthy preparations for the rituals of these life-cycle events included setting aside one of the ‘halls of discussion’ (bale paparuman) for the joint use of the Pesantian Lingsir and Pesantian Anom of the village, who together carried on a session lasting the better part of a day. The second was a formal occasion of March 1985, when the Pesantian Anom of Sanur-Intaran was asked to contribute a formal mabasan session dressed in full ritual attire (pakaian adat) as part of the ‘cultural presentations’ made by the village in a ‘Village Competition Contest’ (Lomba Desa) organized by the regency of Badung (Denpasar) (Fig. 14.7). On both these occasions, I was able to make recordings that captured some of the most eloquent examples of mabasan translation that I have collected to date. During the life-cycle rituals (Manusa Yadnya) of February 1985, the readings chosen were largely from the Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa, especially from the ‘instructional’ (pitutur) 260

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Fig. 14.7: The members of the Pesantian Anom of Sanur Intaran village during a formal mabasan session of March 1985. Photograph courtesy: Thomas M Hunter.

sections where Lord Rāma, Sang Rāma in Kawi and Balinese, gives instruction to either Bharata or Vibhīṣaṇa. On this occasion, the Kawi, the late Ida Pedanda Anom, recited verses, and the Ida Pedanda Ketut Sidemen, gave the Balinese gloss, bringing to his translations his characteristic eloquence in public speaking and his skill in understanding the language and meaning of the kakawin texts. The reading chosen is from the section of the OJR known in Balinese as Pitutur Sang Rāma Ring Sang Wibisana, ‘Rāma’s Teaching to Vibhīṣaṇa’ that begins with a wellknown series of verses beginning with Sang Rāma’s saying, (nihan kram de ning 261

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angdani rāt, “this is the way of setting the world in order.” These verses occur late in the OJR, after the death of Rāvaṇa and the lamentation (pandulamen) of Sang Wibisana. The metre of the verses is Sarisi (11 syllables). We give below the Kawi, Balinese and English renderings of this excerpt from the OJR.3 OJR 24.48: Kawi

nihan krama ni de ning angdāni āat /1/ awakta rumuhun warah ring hayu /2/ tӗlas ta mapagӗh magöm āgama /3/

tӗkerikang amātya mantrŋ tumūt /4/

Balinese “adding spice” translation: Nah, adi, Sang Wibisana kene, kene tu pidabdabe ane bakal ngisi gumi, adi /1/

Ragan adine malu tu pituturin baan ane madan rahayu /2/

Apang prasida, adi, umandӗl to, ngisiyang, gamӗlang kӗkӗcap agamane /3/

Apang tӗka tӗken para tanda-mantrin-adine apang dadi patuh pӗpinӗh /4/ English:

“Now then, little brother, like this, like this should be the precepts you should follow

to rule, to give the world form.

You should first instruct yourself in everything that is rahayu, that brings about

auspiciousness and well-being.

And it should be, brother, that you succeed in giving form to, in grasping firmly, the

words of the sacred texts. So that these things spread also to all your chief ministers, so that they too are firm

and true in their thoughts.” OJR 24.49. Kawi:

patih sang apatih /1/ patih satya ta /2/ sabhṛtya paricāra kapwâcara /3/ tӗkeng anak anūt ulah tan salah /4/ prajā ya milu jāgra /5/ nitî(ng) hayu /6/ Balinese:

Nah, nto pӗpatihe, buin aneng anggon ia pӗpatih /1/ Apang dadi patuh, pӗpinӗhne paturu satya, adi /2/

Sӗjabaning to tӗke daan tӗken panjak, tu pӗnyaman kӗ ring jadma mӗkӗjang, apang

dadi patuh, laksananyane mӗkӗjang /3/ 262

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Tӗka daan tu kӗ pianak pianaknyane apang ia nganutin pӗnglaksanane ane rahayu /4/

Nah, yen suba aketo baӗn adi nabdab, sinah bakal langgӗng, langgӗng tu linggih adine

ngisi gumi /5/

Sӗwireh adi, sӗtata mencangan, ngikӗtan wiwekane ane madan rahayu /6/ English:

“Yes, like that also in regard to all the lower ministers and all those they employ,

It must be that they are loyal in their thoughts, brother, that they follow truthfully

your orders. And this should include women as well, and all of the subjects of the kingdom, from

your own relatives down to the ordinary people - it should be that they are loyal and

truthful in all their actions.

Even unto women and children, it should be that they too follow in putting into practice

everything that is rahayu.

For if you are successful, little brother, in creating order in the world, clearly your

‘seat’ (linggih) in this world will be firm and everlasting. So it is, little brother, that you should always follow carefully the way of wisdom that

is known as rahayu.”

8.0 Traditional literary activities in contemporary Bali

The arts of mabasan recitation and translation are enjoying a renaissance similar to that of the art of inscribing lontar-palm manuscripts, partly through the efflorescence of mabasan clubs and partly the efforts of the lecturers, students and graduates of programs in traditional literature like that of the Faculty of Cultural Studies of Udayana University (Fakultas Ilmu Budaya Universitas Udayana) in Denpasar. In Fig. 14.8, we see two graduates of this program reading from a palm-leaf manuscript and preparing to give the Balinese gloss. There is a new emphasis on developing skills in intoning the texts in mawirama form, and the older techniques of spontaneous tradition continue to be preserved as the necessary ‘second ingredient’ in a mabasan session. These features come out in a recording of the first lines of the second canto of the OJR as melodiously intoned by Putu Ari Suprapta Pratama and translated by I Madé Ari Wiraputra. The metre is known as Basanta-tilāka in Bali and follows the usual pattern for this well-known 14 syllable metre.4

OJR 2.1a-b: Kawi: kāwit śarat-samaya kāla nirâr para ngkā /1/

n ton ta ng parādeśa ri hawan nira kapwa ramya /2/ 263

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Fig. 14.8: I Madé Ari Wiraputra reading from a lontar manuscript while Dwi Mahendra Putra prepares to give the Balinese translation. Dwi and Madé hold the ornate box (kropak) for the manuscript balanced on their knees. Photograph courtesy: Ni Wayan Pasek Ariati.

Balinese: Inggih, ri tatkala nemonin sasih katiga nampih kapate ri kenjekan Ida prasida lunga ida /1/ Kasuryan raris olih Ida wěwidangan desa paradesané sané sayuwakti dahat ing asri pisan /2 / English:

Yes, at the time when the third month meets with the (auspicious) fourth, that was the time when he set forth /1/ He could see all the area of the large and small villages, all wondrous in beauty /2/

Beginning in the 1990s the art of mabasan took on new life as part of a cultural reawakening that has included training programs in the art of inscribing palm leaf manuscripts, exponential growth in the number of mabasan clubs, the emergence of mixed male-female or female-only clubs and the incorporation of mabasan 264

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Fig. 14.9: A mabasan recording session in the studios of TVRI, the public broadcasting station in Denpasar, June 14, 2012. Photograph courtesy: Helen Creese and I Nyoman Darma Putra.

performances into the programming of TVRI, Indonesian public TV in Denpasar. A photograph taken in 2012 (Fig. 14.9) of a mabasan session about to be recorded at the TVRI studies in Denpasar gives us a good example of today’s integration of mabasan activities into a broader cultural mix that for many Balinese shapes their perception of what it is to be Balinese, and to participate in the negotiation of Balinese identities in the space between tradition and the challenges of modernity.

Acknowledgements

• The late Ida Pedanda Ketut Sidemen of Geriya Tama, Sanur

• The Pesantian Lingsir and Pesantian Anom of the Kantor Desa of Sanur-Intaran.

• Putu Ari Suprapta Pratama, I Madé Ari Wiraputra, Dwi Mahendra Putra & Gusti Ayu Novaeni, graduates of the Program in Regional Literature at Udayana University.

• Dr Ni Wayan Pasek Ariati, Director of the SIT Study Abroad Program in Indonesia

• Jonathan Adams, a doctoral student in ethnomusicology at the University of British Columbia 265

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• With special thanks to Dr Edward Herbst for a recorded example from the “Bali 1928 Repatriation Project,” a collaboration of Dr. Herbst with Hunter College and CUNY. For further details see: www.edwardherbst.net

Endnotes

1. The Běbětin inscription, dated Śaka 818 (= 896 CE), is numbered PB 002.II.b.5 in Goris (1954).

2. Hanânonton ringgit manangis asĕkĕl mūḍha hiḍĕpan / huwus wruh towin yan walulang inukir molah angucap / hatur ning wwang tṛṣṇeng wiṣaya malahā tar wikikana / ri tattwanyân māyā sahana‒hana ning bhāwa siluman /AW 5.9/

3. The recording can be found online at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sYnlFmIUA60 4. The metrical pattern for Basanta-tilaka is: g g l | g l l | l g l | l g l | g g, where g = guru, l = laghu.

Bibliography

Creese, Helen. 1998. Pārthāyaṇa: the journeying of Pārha, an eighteenth-century Balinese kakawin. Leiden: KITLV Press. Goris, Rulog. 1954. Praśasti Bali, Inscripies voor Anak Wungus. Bandung: Masa Baru.

Zoetmulder, P J. 1974. Kalangwan: A Survey of Old Javanese Literature. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff.

266

Performance Cultures

Theatre, Puppetry, and Folk Practices

Fig. 14.4

15. Representations of Ravana in a Kathakali Piece and a Mythological Drama Paula Richman

Over the centuries, the Hindu Ramayana tradition has represented Ravana, king of the rākṣasas, in two main ways.1 In the story’s earliest extant iteration, Valmiki’s epic Rāmāyaṇa (ca. 250 BCE-200 CE), Rama takes human birth to end the predations of Ravana, whose tyranny causes great suffering; Rama restores dharma on earth by slaying Ravana. In contrast, beginning ca. the 12th century, devotional retellings in Indian regional languages portray Ravana as gaining salvation because he is slain by Rama. How does representation change in theatrical productions where Ravana takes centre stage and Rama is absent or off-centre? Such productions, mostly from the modern period, constitute a third way in which playwrights represent Ravana. This chapter analyzes two productions that present Ravana as the play’s central character, rather than merely a symbol of adharma or a recipient of Rama’s salvific power: Rāvaṇodbhavam (The Origins of Ravana), a Kathakali work, and Ilaṅkēswaraṉ (King of Lanka), a mythological drama.

Both plays focus on Ravana’s aspirations for his family, lineage, and kingdom yet each presents Ravana through its own unique lens. The Kathakali play is composed in a late 18th-century mix of Malayalam and Sanskrit, while the mythological drama is composed in mid-20th-century Tamil. They differ in theatrical conventions, characterization, and socio-political circumstances. Nonetheless, both explore Ravana’s relationship with women in his family: the first focuses on Ravana’s endeavour to end his mother’s sorrow and the second highlights his efforts to protect his daughter. In exploring the intersection between Ravana’s story and theatrical representation, this chapter explores three questions. How does each playwright depict the motivations that drive Ravana’s actions? How does the play’s design enhance the scope of Ravana’s portrayal? Finally, in what circumstances does each play emerge? Most broadly, this chapter demonstrates how a familiar narrative can take on quite a different tone and form when viewed not as Rama’s journey but as the journey of Ravana. Specifically, I argue that, although each playwright imagines different motivations for Ravana’s actions, each presents Ravana in a more sympathetic light 268

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than conventional dramatic works centred on Rama. Further, I analyze how both plays’ designs illuminate aspects of Ravana’s life seldom emphasized in Rama-centric plays. Finally, I show that both plays emerge during a time of anxiety about shifting local political configurations.

I

The origins of Ravana’s penance in Kathakali Rāvaṇodbhavam, composed and choreographed by Kallaikulangara Raghava Pisharoty (1725-1799) in 1780, focuses on Ravana’s life from childhood to marriage. Pisharoty breaks new ground in Kathakali, a form of musical and dance theatre from India’s southwest coast (in today’s Kerala), by depicting Ravana as both the central character and a prati-nāyaka ‘anti-hero’.2 Further, after the work’s debut, Kapalingattu Nambudiri created an additional scene for Rāvaṇodbhavam called ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ in which Ravana’s emotional turmoil takes centre stage: he reveals his inner thoughts and re-enacts the origins of his ambition to perform tapas that later won him rule over the three worlds (earth, heaven, and the netherworld). Indeed, aficionados praise ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ as one of Ravana’s most dramatic scenes in Kathakali repertoire.

Rāvaṇodbhavam’s narrative

A Kathakali (‘play-story’) production rests on its āṭṭakkatha (enacted-story, a technical term for a play-text), which functions as a rough equivalent of a libretto for an opera.3 Dancers and musicians convey the narrative and express a character’s emotions. The dancer enacts the narrative with eye movements, footwork, and hasta-mudrās (hand gestures). Eyes indicate emotions such as pity, heroism, or anger. Footwork conveys energy and power, speeding up in battles and slowing down during more contemplative moments. The vocalist sings padams, first-person Malayalam verses that express the feelings of a character or Sanskrit-Malayalam third-person verses that describe events and settings. Hand gestures convey the words of songs and elaborate on them. Like sign language, the dancer’s hand, eye, and foot movements visually depict the story, while a percussionist emphasizes the rhythm of the piece. The first portion of Rāvaṇodbhavam recounts how Ravana’s maternal lineage lost its honour and prestige. As the work opens, Indra, king of the gods, learns that three rākṣasa brothers—Mali, Malyavan, and Sumali—are harassing humans and deities. Indra asks for Lord Vishnu’s aid in destroying the three miscreants, and, when Vishnu agrees, the two deities plan a secret attack but are caught unaware when the rākṣasas launch a pre-emptive strike. While Malyavan battles Indra, Vishnu slays Mali. Fearing for their lives, Malyavan and Sumali flee the battle and seek refuge in Pātāla (the 269

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netherworld). By turning their backs in battle, they bring dishonour upon themselves and taint the reputation of their lineage.4

Rāvaṇodbhavam now shifts focus to Sumali’s marriageable daughter, Kaikasi. One day, Sumali glimpses a flower-adorned, flying palace-chariot (puṣpaka vimāna) in the sky, upon which sits Kubera, god of wealth, shining like the sun. Sumali thinks that, were his daughter to unite with Kubera’s father, she too would bear a radiant son who could win back the honour of the lineage. Sumali instructs Kaikasi to travel to the forest where Kubera’s father, Sage Vishravas, performs tapas, and ask him to marry and beget sons upon her. Dutifully, she goes to Vishravas, he intuits that she seeks a son by him, and their first coupling produces Ravana.5 Unfortunately, Kaikasi had approached Sage Vishravas while he was performing a three-fire sacrifice. During a Vedic ritual, contact with impure creatures such as rākṣasas or impure deeds such as sexual intercourse, is utterly prohibited. Further, Vishravas begot Ravana at an inauspicious time of the day.6 As a result of these two misdeeds, Kaikasi gives birth to a frightful-looking child with ten heads, dark skin, fangs, twenty arms, and huge mouths, as bad omens greet his birth.

Rāvaṇodbhavam’s middle section depicts how Ravana’s parentage shapes his early life. Long ago, Vishravas had married Devavarnini, who gave birth to Kubera. As the sage’s first wife and mother of their eldest son, Devavarnini outranks Vishravas’ second wife, Kaikasi. Kubera also outranks his younger half-brother Ravana. Now grown, Kubera has earned success as the god of wealth and guardian of one of the earth’s quarters. He travels the world on his magnificent aerial chariot. Kaikasi fears that Ravana, offspring of a second wife, will never attain the same wealth and status as his successful half-brother. Ravana ranks only as second best in Kathakali’s hierarchy of characters, which ranges from most refined (noble warriors) to least refined (hunters, ogres).7 The most highly ranked male heroes (deities or princes such as Rama and Arjuna) called pacca (green), remain silent in battle, perform virtuous deeds, display dignified movements, and wear majestic costumes. The next highly ranked type of heroic character, called katti (knife), also shows valour in battle but three facial features distinguish it from a pacca’s face: an upturned red moustache, thick red lines above eyes and eyebrows, and white balls on his forehead and nose. All three disrupt the face, lessening its refinement. Katti characters transgress virtue, fight with great might, and often yell when angry or prideful. Despite second-rank status because his mother was a rākṣasa, Rāvaṇodbhavam presents Ravana (and his mother) sympathetically. 270

Representations of Ravana in a Kathakali Piece and a Mythological Drama

In Rāvaṇodbhavam, Kaikasi explains her fears for Ravana’s future to him and he decides to end her worries by conducting tapas to gain special power. In fact, he chooses a particularly harsh form of self-mortification.8 If one performs too much or too rigorous a form of tapas, the deities in heaven feel threatened and send Brahma to offer the practitioner a boon. If the ascetic accepts, his threat to the gods is neutralized.9 Since the consequences of tapas accrue outside the usual mechanisms of society, tapas can yield powers unavailable through ordinary channels. The intensity and duration of Ravana’s tapas win him boons that enable him to rise above his allegedly unalterable social status as the son of an (inferior) second wife. Rāvaṇodbhavam’s final section culminates with two marriages. Ravana takes Mandodari as his wife, who is known for her wisdom and virtue.10 And, since neither parent made any effort to arrange marriages for their children, Ravana also finds a groom who marries Ravana’s sister, Shurpanakha. Weddings are celebratory events that mark the attainment of proper conditions for conceiving offspring to continue the lineage. Thus, Rāvaṇodbhavam ends doubly auspiciously by portraying the weddings of two members of the family.

The legend of Rāvaṇodbhavam’s debut recounts that, immediately after its first performance ended, the play’s royal sponsor, Prince Vira Kerala Varma of Cochin, asked the learned head of another Kathakali troupe, Kappalingattu Nambudiri, to assess the new work. He replied that Rāvaṇodbhavam could be improved. The prince then challenged Nambudiri to ‘improve’ it and have his own troupe re-enact the revised work on the following night. Under this intense deadline, Nambudiri and two Nayars in his troupe, dancer Ittiri Panikkar and centā (cylindrical drum) player Kavungal Unniri Panikkar, created a new scene for Rāvaṇodbhavam.11 It was somewhat unusual to ask the leader of a different troupe to add an extemporaneous addition or interpolation, called an iḷakiyāṭṭam, and then re-perform the work the next day.

It was not unusual, however, to add newly created material to a Kathakali work. Indeed, audiences welcome and savour an iḷakiyāṭṭam because it enriches their aesthetic experience of the work.12 Nambudiri’s iḷakiyāṭṭam, aptly named ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ consists of a dance (āṭṭam) which depicts and provides insights about Ravana’s asceticism (tapas).13 Kathakali connoisseurs reacted positively to the new iḷakiyāṭṭam. Prince Vira Kerala Varma awarded each of the three men a costly ceremonial cloth. Four days later, the Maharaja of Cochin watched Rāvaṇodbhavam performed in Trichur and honoured each of the three performers with gold wristbands, usually bestowed upon one who showed valour in battle (True Jones 1982: 31-32). Adding ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ transformed Rāvaṇodbhavam from a relatively undistinguished āṭṭakkatha into one that won rare honours from royalty inside and outside the kingdom. 271

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The turning points of ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ For ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ Nambudiri introduced into Kathakali a theatrical device called a nirvahaṇa, which functions roughly like a flashback. At the time of Rāvaṇodbhavam’s composition, soldiers from the king’s militia staffed Kathakali troupes; they were almost all Nayars, middle-ranking retainers who trained in martial arts (Zarrilli 2000: 21). In contrast, Nambudiri was a Brahmin who had been trained in Kuḍiyāṭṭam, classical Sanskrit drama, in which each night of a multi-night work begins with a nirvahaṇa.14 In it, a soloist uses mudrās to present a visual soliloquy, in which he re-enacts past events that led to the present moment. In Rāvaṇodbhavam, Nambudiri’s nirvahaṇa is preceded and followed by padams composed by Pisharoty; between them, Nambudiri inserted ‘Tapasāṭṭam.’ (Nayer et al.: 1979: 612).15 Pisharoty’s āṭṭakkatha depicts how Ravana won his boons, but Nambudiri’s nirvahaṇa enriches the narrative by revealing what Ravana thought before, during, and after gaining his boons.16 As ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ opens, Ravana asks himself how he reached his current good fortune. To answer, he sifts through his past, using mudrās to reveal his inner thoughts at major junctures in his life. The account of ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ below conveys something of its dramatic power.

As ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ begins, a male dancer portraying Mother Kaikasi sits at the centre of the performance space, rocking her sleeping child, Ravana, on her lap. The actor mimes holding, rocking, and caressing her son.17 Gazing at his face with love, she rejoices at having given birth to him. Hearing a faint noise above, she looks up, sees nothing, and returns to admiring the boy. The sound soon grows louder and, when she looks again, she sees a flower-adorned aerial chariot approaching, as its drummer heralds a powerful personage: Kubera, Ravana’s half-brother. Kubera performed tapas, leading Brahma to make him the god of wealth and guardian of one-quarter of the earth.18 His aerial chariot shows Kaikasi how wealthy and famous he is.19

Seeing Kubera’s success, Kaikasi worries about Ravana’s future. Jealous of Kubera’s prestige and riches, she gazes down at Ravana and realizes that, although Vishravas fathered both boys, Kubera is powerful (pratāpam) but Ravana may be inconsequential (nissaram). She begins to weep.20 Now, the soloist ceases to play Kaikasi and assumes the role of Child Ravana, who awakens, feels Kaikasi’s tears falling on him, and asks why she cries. Then he mimes hearing her tell of Kubera’s great wealth and Ravana’s limited opportunities. Ravana declares that he will end her fears by going to the forest, performing tapas, and winning a boon.21 This first turning point of ‘Tapasāṭṭam,’ where Kaikasi weeps after seeing the aerial chariot, impels Ravana to undertake tapas. The audience sees that Ravana’s desire for 272

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a boon originates neither out of greed for possessing material objects nor jealousy of his half-brother but instead to comfort his worried mother. The dialogue between Kaikasi and Child Ravana, enacted in mudrās, takes up proportionately more time than any other part of ‘Tapasāṭṭam.’ It spotlights both Kaikasi’s concern that her son get the same opportunity to flourish that his half-brother received and Ravana’s ambition to ameliorate her sadness at her inferiority as a second wife.

Despite his tender age, Ravana then proceeds to the forest, where he chooses a harsh kind of self-mortification: the five-fire sacrifice. After purifying himself by bathing, he creates four Vedic fire pits, fills them with fire, and consecrates each with oblations.22 Next, he orders the sun to stand unmoving before him to serve as the fifth fire. He focuses single-mindedly on his tapas, despite the searing heat from the surrounding fires. After one thousand years, he stops and looks around, expecting Brahma to approach and offer a boon. The deity does not appear. Ravana surmises that his tapas did not suffice to gain Brahma’s attention, so he embarks on even more rigorous self-mortification.23 Raising his sword, he slashes off one of his heads and flings it into the fire. Again, he looks around, thinking that so extreme an act of self-sacrifice will attract celestial attention. Brahma still does not appear. Grimly determined, Ravana performs another one thousand years of tapas and sacrifices a second head. He continues to perform tapas and offers a head to the fire every thousand years, until only a single head remains. Yet Brahma does not appear. Utterly discouraged, Ravana prepares to return home. Abruptly, he changes his mind. Refusing to accept defeat, he determines that he will carry out a final courageous act, even if it leads to his death. Were he to sacrifice his life, he thinks, his fame as the valiant warrior who refused to accept humiliation from the gods would last forever. He would be known eternally as the one who exposed Brahma’s neglect of his duty. Defiant, he raises his arm to sacrifice his last head and declares to the heavens: “I will put you to shame (mānakkedu). Envision your infamy (apamānam)!”24

The nirvahaṇam’s second turning point occurs here, as Ravana exhibits extraordinary valour. He has performed self-mortification so harsh that it equals the courage by which warriors face death in battle fearlessly. Even when Ravana’s efforts seem to produce no results for thousands of years, his motivation never flags. The duration and difficulty of his tapas demonstrate one-pointedness of mind (ēkāgraha), a pivotal stage in an ascetic’s regimen. Fearlessness and perseverance allow him to live up to both the warrior ideal and the ascetic ideal. 273

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‘Tapasāṭṭam’ now depicts the circumstances under which Ravana gains not one but multiple boons from Brahma. Only when Ravana’s last head is at risk does Brahma appear. Then the deity quickly restores all Ravana’s heads, an admission that Brahma realizes that he erred in not attending upon Ravana when he completed his five-fire tapas (before sacrificing his heads). During the early millennia of Ravana’s tapas, he sees himself as petitioning for boons but as more millennia pass, Ravana’s anger at Brahma’s neglect steadily grows. When Brahma finally appears, expected power relations are reversed as Ravana takes control. First, he wants to rule over all three worlds. Brahma grants it. Next Ravana asks for boundless fame. The deity also grants it. The rākṣasa then demands all wealth. To that as well, Brahma agrees.

Without even uttering the customary blessing spoken when a guest takes leave, Ravana now gestures with his eyebrows for Brahma to leave his sight. As the deity turns to depart, Ravana abruptly calls Brahma back with a final demand: that Ravana shall never be killed by a rākṣasa or deity. When this boon is granted, Ravana dismisses Brahma. Then, strutting back and forth across the stage, his head thrust back in triumph, Ravana relishes his success. With pleasure he thinks, “Now, who is there equal (tulāyān) to me on earth?” and returns home.25 The final turning point in ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ occurs when Ravana wins the boons that gain him special powers. Just as significant, however, these boons deprive Kubera of power. By gaining rule over the three worlds, he surpasses Kubera, who guards just one-quarter of the earth. By gaining the boon of boundless fame, Ravana surpasses Kubera’s limited fame, whose source is his status as god of wealth. With his third boon of all wealth, he appropriates Kubera’s riches, making his brother’s role as the god of wealth just an empty title. Finally, he has extracted from Brahma a boon that he cannot be killed by any deity or rākṣasa, so he has protected himself from the threat that Kubera might try to slay him. He now surpasses Kubera in multiple ways.

Circumstances of creation

Rāvaṇodbhavam spotlights how Ravana’s familial situation and gender relations shape his life. Adopting the male ascetic ‘script’ of his father and half-brother (one not available to his mother, Kaikasi), Ravana wins boons that allow him to achieve self-transformation, turning him from an insignificant boy to an ascetic who gains great boons. His newly earned powers will bring him glory, some of it falling on his mother who gave birth to such an extraordinary son.

Rāvaṇodbhavam’s account of Ravana’s ancestry also emphasizes the dire situation of his lineage at his birth: his maternal grandfather’s cowardice, a mother forced to arrange her own marriage, and her dissatisfaction with the status of second wife. ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ 274

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portrays Ravana’s five-fire tapas surpassing his father’s three-fire tapas and Kubera’s wealth, fame, and prestige. Rarely does one find such a fine-grained account of three generations of rākṣasas, including a marriage between a Brahmin sage and a rākṣasi, as recounted by their rākṣasa son.

What circumstances shaped Pisharoty’s creation of such an unusual āṭṭakkatha? Mundoli Narayanan, a scholar of cultural studies, identifies a striking set of temporal conjunctures and political parallels between Ravana’s deeds as enacted in Rāvaṇodbhavam and legends about Sakthan Tampuran (‘the Strong King’), who ruled Cochin for 35 years (1770-1805).26 Narayanan points out that Pisharoty’s patron, Prince Vira Kerala Varma, was a prince in Sakthan’s family. Moreover, Pisharoty composed the play and Nambudiri added ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ and re-staged it during Sakthan’s rule (Narayanan 2009: 237-263).

Prior to Sakthan’s rule, political decisions in Cochin were negotiated between the ruler, heads of temples, and merchant guilds. When the British began appropriating power in nearby kingdoms, however, Sakthan suspected that he too might face political encroachment and should be prepared to act quickly to protect his kingdom from it. He centralized control over decision-making to prepare for such an eventuality. He also worked ruthlessly to ensure that troops could be mobilized rapidly in case of foreign attack. In a notorious incident, he insisted on building a road through the sacred grove of a famous temple. When the temple oracle objected, Sakthan brooked no objections, slaughtering him in that sacred place with his sword.27 With a similar ambition never to back down, Ravana threatens Brahma with eternal infamy if he does not award the rākṣasa his boons earned by tapas. ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ depicts Ravana as persevering and arrogant; legend portrays Sakthan as determined and prideful. Ravana won rule of the three worlds, ending the distribution of power among many rulers on earth, heaven, and the netherworld; Sakthan appropriated all political power in his realm, ending long-standing traditions of negotiations between the king, temples, and guilds. Rāvaṇodbhavam thus echoes, in performance, radical shifts in local governance on the ground.

‘Tapasāṭṭam’ has won such approbation among spectators that it has continued to be taught to Kathakali students from 1780 until the present.28 As all-night performances gradually gave way to shortened evening programs, ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ has remained a popular solo item among their selected excerpts from Kathakali works (Zarrilli 1984: 219-254).29 Stressing the respect accorded to ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ for more than three hundred years, Kathakali scholar Betty True Jones calls it “the most remarkable interpolation in the repertoire for Ravana” and “an acknowledged masterpiece of theatricality which endures in the repertoire of master actors to this day” (1982:30-31). 275

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II

Ravana as father in a Tamil mythological drama In 1956, Lakshmi Narasimha (1925-2006), widely known by his stage name ‘Manohar,’ acted as Ravana in Ilaṅkēswaraṉ and subsequently performed the role more than 1000 times in Tamil country and Ceylon.30 The play presents Rama’s deeds conventionally, but not so Ravana’s deeds. Instead, Ilaṅkēswaraṉ begins in the celestial realm, where Ravana tells Narada about the glorious early years of Rāvaṇa-rājya and explains what led to his kingdom’s decline. The play’s focus on Ravana’s life reflects contemporary Tamil revival and appropriation of Ravana as the ancient Dravidian king from whom current non-Brahmins descended. In 1954, Manohar had founded his own company, National Theatres, which staged many mythological dramas. He gained fame for playing ‘evil’ characters, most famous of whom was Ravana.

Mythologicals and Manohar’s Company

Sisir Kumar Das, a scholar of Indian literature, defines ‘mythological drama’ as an accepted term for theatrical productions based on myth (as opposed to history or current social problems). Das specifies their four defining characteristics: they are set in mythical time, they deal with characters and situations found in ancient narratives, they contain features of religious performances and they show “the dominance of devotion” (Das 2004: 289). Mythological dramas known for songs, glittering costumes, and dramatic plots flourished in late 19th-century India. They continued to attract audiences in Tamil country into the middle decades of the 20th century. Manohar put his personal stamp on plays staged by National Theatres. In addition to playing a starring role in his current production, he simultaneously performed duties that today would be carried out by a producer, a director, and a special effects expert. He identified promising plots and directed his staff writers to research their events and write provisional scripts. He sometimes wrote the dialogues himself, customizing them to fit his vision of the character he would play. Music played a central role in the plays, serving to establish a mood, enhance a love scene, heighten auspicious events, or summarize episodes too long to enact. Comic interludes brought levity to the play. Each year, he staged a new play that would premier in Madras before travelling to other Tamil-speaking areas. National Theatres drew loyal crowds to its mythological dramas, which often included elements such as celestial settings, miraculous events, or extraordinary weapons. His audiences came at least partly because Manohar had a reputation for masterminding stagecraft and special effects on stage so that they appeared utterly real to audiences. 276

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Bharat Dabholkar, a Bombay advertising executive and theatre fan, was astonished when Manohar took him to his warehouse and showed him what he used to produce such effects: [a] river of blood 8-ft deep, skeletons which grew from 5 ft. to 8 ft.,

a man being beheaded and his head rolling down, a pushpak viman

[aerial chariot] taking off and slowly disappearing from sight,

Shiva’s face during the Last Flood when he swallowed everything.

These were really illusions but were stunningly life-like.

Dabholkar ranks Manohar’s stagecraft equal to those of Cats and Phantom of the Opera, plays that he had seen abroad. He observes that these foreign plays “were produced at enormous cost, using sophisticated special effects,” yet the effects that made Manohar’s plays so life-like were “in the hands of dozens of dedicated dhoti-clad Tamilians.”31 Although Manohar also acted in films, he dedicated himself to live theatre. His acting and his overseeing of National Theatres won him the sobriquet ‘Protector of Drama.’ During his career, he acted in 31 plays.32

Manohar broke free of one-dimensional ways in which many past actors had represented villains. Besides King of Lanka, he enacted other ‘evil’ roles such as Indrajit (Ravana’s son) and Shishupala (Krishna’s foe). Manohar endowed Ravana with complex and sometimes opposing motives, as the character struggled to balance the demands of his siblings, love for his daughter, and the duties of a monarch who maintains his honour and that of his lineage. Tamil writer and critic Venkat Swaminathan notes:

The characters he chose were evil in popular perception, so he could play up their other side – noble, sensitive, artistic, and with other qualities demanding admiration, like unbending courage or the will to fight to the last. His portrayal of them was intended to earn the audience’s sympathy (Swaminathan 2004: 254). Manohar’s Ravana was noble but doomed, sensitive but stubborn, and prepared to die rather than back down. Ravana’s strengths and his arrogance impel Ilaṅkēswaraṉ’s plot, which reveals the many factors that shape Ravana’s life.33 The play features the visual splendour of celestial worlds, memorable songs, a kummi (Tamil folk dance), and an unconventional plot. Swaminathan notes that, after Ilaṅkēswaraṉ, Manohar’s name became synonymous with the play (2004: 254).

Prologue as point of view

Ilaṅkēswaraṉ’s opening scene occurs in the sphere in which dwell those who have been released from the cycle of death and rebirth; Ravana now lives there because he died 277

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at Rama’s hand. The setting draws on Manohar’s characteristic attention to detail in stagecraft. As the play opens, the audience sees Ravana in a grand hall that abounds in gold and precious gems, beautiful damsels, and fragrant flowers. Stage directions for the scene stipulate that gold lamps should spread rays of light as graceful as the celestial women who enter the hall to worship. The directions also specify that the sounds of the veena reverberate, surpassing in sweetness even the music played by Goddess Sarasvati, goddess of the arts (NT 1/1).34 Although Vaishnava devotional texts declare that those slain by Rama win eternal bliss, most conventional theatrical productions portray Ravana in Lanka’s royal assembly hall, the forest, or on the battlefield. In contrast, Ilaṅkēswaraṉ begins in this celestial hall, where Ravana sits, meditating on a golden throne as he chants “Rama, Rama.” Hearing him chant Rama’s name might surprise most orthodox Hindu members of the audience who think of Ravana mainly as Rama’s foe.

Sage Narada comes to Ravana and reports that he has just returned from earth, where people are debating whether he is an Aryan or a Dravidian. Puzzled, Ravana says that he is neither Aryan nor Dravidian, but instead a member of the arakkar kulam, the ‘rākṣasa lineage.’ When judging individuals, he declares, one should evaluate their deeds, not make judgments based on religious beliefs (matam) about varṇa (NT 1/2).35 Narada reveals that Tamils have revised Ravana’s history and some Tamils praise him while reviling Rama. Some even call Ravana the ancestor of their iṉam (community), asserting that he shares their social identity (NT 1/3).36 Ravana attacks such people for casteism, rooted in a caste-ridden culture (iṉa-p-paṉpu). Next, he condemns their hypocrisy; they claim they seek a society free of jāti-pētam (divisions by rank), but foster hate for people of jātis other than their own. Last, Ravana rejects their denigration of Rama, who is Ravana’s son-in-law. Stunned by his words, Narada asks him to explain. Narada’s request gives Ravana the opportunity to present, from his perspective, events that conventionally have been presented from Rama’s point of view in the past. Further, Narada’s appearance in Ilaṅkēswaraṉ’s prologue recalls his pivotal role in the first sarga of Valmiki’s Sanskrit Rāmāyaṇa, where Narada recounts Rama’s story upon which Valmiki bases his Sanskrit poem. Intriguingly, however, Ilaṅkēswaraṉ reverses the roles: In this Tamil play, Ravana, not Narada, knows and narrates the story. The switch in teller insinuates that Narada told Valmiki the story incorrectly, so Ravana must set the record straight by telling the true story.

Moreover, Ilaṅkēswaraṉ reverses the role of the story’s disseminator. After he has learned Rama’s story from Narada, Valmiki carries out that task according to the Rāmāyaṇa. In contrast, in Ilaṅkēswaraṉ, Narada promises Ravana that, after hearing 278

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his account, Narada will return to earth and give piracaṅkam (a term for religious or political discourse presented before a group of listeners) to explain to them the Lord of Lanka’s true story (NT 1/4). Ilaṅkēswaraṉ thus proposes to provide accurate narration of a story previously misunderstood by Narada, Valmiki’s source. After learning the correct version, Narada should propagate the true story. Narada’s surprise upon learning that Rama is Ravana’s son-in-law not only reveals his ignorance of a pivotal marital link between the alleged hero and alleged villain of the story. It also insinuates that religious texts are subject to misunderstanding. For example, Ravana asks Narada why human beings say he has ten heads. Narada replies that Ravana possesses ten good qualities (honour, a good lineage, learning, firmness, good sense, generosity, tapas, effort, sovereignty, and passion) and suggests that his ten heads symbolize these qualities (NT 1/4-5). Ravana points out that such poetic imagery can be easily misunderstood so it is crucial for Narada to correct such misunderstandings by telling the story accurately.

Ravana begins his account by telling Narada about his early rule as monarch of Lanka. With the boon that granted him invincibility from deities and demons, he won battle after battle and returned with war booty to enrich Lanka; the city’s wealth grew so great that even the outsides of its buildings were decorated with glittering gems. Arts flourished and people prospered. Most crucial, since Ravana never deviated from the path of justice (nīti), truth flourished, and Lanka remained free of hunger, natural disasters, and human treachery. The script notes that, “Both ruler and those ruled lived in bliss (āṉantam)” ... “without iṉa-paṟṟi (attachment to iṉam)” (NT 1/5), a statement in accord with Dravidianist claims that ancient Lanka lacked both the four-varṇa system and conflicts that ensued from it. In narratives that begin with a golden age, something inevitably causes that perfect era to wane.37 Ravana blames Lanka’s decline on the jealousy of the gods, telling Narada that their winds of envy blew over Lanka and caused him to tell a lie. Consequently, dharma, justice, and truth began to decrease in Lanka. Ravana credits the loss of justice with causing Lanka’s defeat in his war with Rama, declaring that its decline led Rama’s bow to “enter my heart and destroy Lanka” (NT1/5). After the war, Rama returned to Ayodhya and established his ideal rule there.

Ravana’s interactions with Sita

After the prologue, Ilaṅkēswaraṉ’s 34 scenes that deal with the main plot fall into two categories. The play’s audience would be familiar with events in the 17 scenes set in Mithila, Ayodhya, and the forest (‘expected scenes’) since they follow the core plot of Valmiki and Kamban. In contrast, much of what occurs in the 17 scenes set in Ravana’s palace (mostly in his inner chambers) would be unfamiliar because it has 279

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been imagined and scripted specifically for Ilaṅkēswaraṉ.38 My analysis below focuses on examples from the other 17 scenes, all relating to Sita as Ravana’s daughter: her birth and abandonment, her departure for the forest, Ravana’s abduction of Sita, and Ravana’s last deeds.

The motif of Sita as Ravana’s daughter first appeared in a 5th century Jaina text but Hindu texts did not incorporate it until much later, in the Sanskrit text titled Ānanda Rāmāyaṇa, dated ca. 15th century (Smith 1995: 21).39 Manohar cites Ānanda Rāmāyaṇa as a source for Ilaṅkēswaraṉ. In both texts, Ravana orders that infant Sita be placed in a box and sent out to sea, even though the two differ in how Sita ends up in Lanka. In Ānanda Rāmāyaṇa, Ravana attends the bow contest in Mithila and brings home a box that contains Sita.40 In Ilaṅkēswaraṉ, Queen Mandodari goes into labour and gives birth to Sita. Although Ānanda Rāmāyaṇa was accessible to those versed in Sanskrit, its plot was not familiar to most non-Brahmins in Tamil country, especially compared to the texts by Valmiki and Kamban.41

Ilaṅkēswaraṉ depicts how Sita’s birth unsettles palace life in Lanka. In the first postprologue scene, a palace guard remarks that Queen Mandodari has gone into labour and, in the next scene, a royal proclamation states that a girl has been born. Ravana takes delight in his new daughter, referring to her as ‘Sridevi,’ goddess of good fortune (of whom Sita is an avatāra) (NT 3/2).42 After casting the infant’s horoscope, however, the royal astrologer declares that she will cause Lanka’s destruction. Kumbhakarna, Shurpanakha, and Vibhishana demand that Ravana kill Sita. Ravana refuses and threatens to renounce the throne and live in exile with his wife and Sita. Since Sita poses such danger to Lanka, his siblings insist that Ravana slay her or send her away. Manohar plays Ravana as a father who wants the best for his daughter but also as a king who recognizes that her presence threatens the welfare of his realm. Bowing to family pressure but determined not to commit female infanticide, Ravana finally agrees to put Sita in a box, with a tiny bow to mark her as a kṣatriya and place the box in the sea.

When the queen awakens from her post-labour sleep, Ravana accounts for the absence of their daughter by saying that she was stillborn. When he utters this falsehood, Ravana’s moral authority begins to erode, as does his peace of mind. He worries constantly about Sita’s fate, falls into melancholy, loses his appetite, and feels overcome with guilt at abandoning her. Only when he learns that King Janaka has adopted Sita does he recover, pleased at her new home worthy of her royal birth. Later, Ravana rejoices when Sita marries Rama.43 The play then shifts to expected scenes such as the events that lead to Rama’s exile in the forest. When Ravana learns that Sita will accompany Rama to the forest, he is appalled at the idea that his royal daughter must live in the harsh forest, bereft of the amenities of 280

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the palace.44 He quickly orders his army to mobilize for war, planning to raze Ayodhya because the city’s residents did not prevent Sita from going to the forest. Vibhishana, troubled by Ravana’s rash plan, condemns punishing an entire city for the misdeeds of its king and queen. Kumbhakarna too objects, warning against interfering in the domestic affairs of another kingdom. Both brothers fear that Ravana’s recklessness could bring disaster to Lanka. Finally, dissuaded from attacking Ayodhya, Ravana threatens to reveal publicly that Sita is his daughter. He backs down only when he realizes that, by doing so, he would reveal to all that he lied about Sita’s birth. Then, the play moves to expected scenes such as Guha’s hospitality and the crossing of the Ganga river.

When the play returns to Ravana’s chambers, Mandodari observes that, since their daughter’s stillbirth, the king’s mind has been unsettled; recently, she has heard him utter “Sita” aloud (NT 23/2). Mandodari assumes that the king has fallen in love with another woman and demands to know her identity. Enraged that his wife would demand that a king account for his actions, Ravana begins to beat her. Vibhishana rushes in to protect his sister-in-law and explains that Sita is her daughter. Ravana throws Vibhishana out, Mandodari leaves weeping, the king orders his servant to bring wine and then imbibes while brooding furiously about the situation.

Ilaṅkēswaraṉ’s script alters the next key episode, Sita’s abduction, to reflect Sita’s status as Ravana’s daughter and, in doing so, supplies an innovative explanation for Shurpanakha’s offer to marry Rama. The play portrays Aunt Shurpanakha as worried about whether Rama will remain a faithful husband to her niece, Sita, since Rama’s father married three wives. To test Rama, Shurpanakha assumes a beautiful form and tries to seduce him.45 Rejecting her advances, Rama orders his brother to deal with her and leaves for his morning ablutions. When Khara arrives, he finds Lakshmana and Shurpanakha arguing. She pretends that Lakshmana is harassing her, so Khara attacks him. Lakshmana then kills Khara and disfigures Shurpanakha, who flees to Ravana’s court. She urges him to abduct Sita and bring her to Lanka, in the hope that Rama will follow to rescue her. Then Shurpanakha, who has fallen in love with him, can meet him again. The play then shifts to the arrival of the golden deer in Panchavati. There Ilaṅkēswaraṉ depicts Ravana’s encounter with Sita in a manner virtually unprecedented in Hindu Rāmāyaṇa tradition. When Ravana meets his daughter for the first time since infancy, emotion wells up in him. Sita does not know that he is her father, yet she feels inexplicably drawn to him. After she returns from the cottage with food as alms, Sita finds Ravana weeping. He explains that the exile was unjust and he finds it painful to see the hard life she has encountered in the forest. Touched by his sympathy, Sita asks him to stay and meet Rama. In explaining that he cannot, he inadvertently alludes to 281

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pressing royal duties in Lanka. Sita, realizing his real identity, loses consciousness. He quickly takes her to Lanka in his aerial chariot. The next scene’s song briefly recounts Rama’s deeds in Kishkindha.

Back in Ravana’s chambers, Mandodari condemns Sita’s kidnapping because it brought Hanuman to Lanka, which he set aflame, causing many rākṣasas to die. When Mandodari begins to criticize Sita, Ravana strikes her. Vibhishana also criticizes Ravana for abducting Sita and urges the king to greet Rama and his approaching army, apologize, and return Sita. Outraged, Ravana declares that a great king never apologizes. Vibhishana then decides that he can no longer remain in his brother’s court and leaves to join Rama’s side. Ravana, a devotee of Śiva, venerates the Lord’s liṅgam and beseeches the deity to end his sorrow. By the time that Rama’s army reaches Lanka, Ravana has descended into madness. He starts to converse aloud with his maṉam (‘heart,’ or ‘mind’), which condemns him for deviating from truth (NT 1956: 37/3). The war begins and gradually all his champion archers die in battle, including his beloved son Indrajit. His maṉam declares that Ravana too will die. As Ravana dons his war gear, he loses his mental balance altogether, blames Sita for the war, and orders that a subordinate kill her. When he refuses, Ravana murders him and sets out for battle. In the next scene, a song recounts Ravana’s death and Mandodari’s grief. The play concludes by depicting great festivities in Ayodhya in celebration of Rama’s coronation.

Negotiating Dravidianism

Manohar staged Ilaṅkēswaraṉ in Tamil country after Dravidianists had attacked the story of Rama and Sita for more than two decades. After these critiques, many Tamil non-Brahmins would never view the story of Rama and Sita in the same way again. They interpreted Ravana as a learned and cultured king whose treacherous brother, Vibhishana, collaborated with Rama’s Aryan conquest of Dravidians and the imposition of Brahminical culture there. Were Manohar to present a purely devotional play about Rama, it would alienate most Dravidianists. Rather than doing so, the play spotlights Ravana’s excellent rule during his early years as king, attributes Lanka’s decline to the impersonal and vague “envy of the gods,” and portrays his admirable affection for his daughter and his efforts to protect her from hardship.

On the other hand, were Manohar (who was himself a Brahmin) to portray Rama in a disrespectful way, he would upset pious Hindus who resented and condemned Dravidianist critiques of Hindu beliefs and rituals. One such group included Brahmins (many of whom had moved from other Tamil-speaking areas to the city) who played a prominent role in the judicial professions, media, cultural spheres, and the nationalist 282

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movement. Many looked forward to the annual Madras debut of the new play staged by National Theatres of that year. They awaited each new production partly out of affection for and familiarity with mythological dramas, whose plots were drawn from purāṇic narratives. In addition, Tamil Śaiva groups had a different kind of link to Ilaṅkēswaraṉ. In Tamil devotional songs, Ravana appears as a great devotee of Lord Śiva, as well as a master veena player. His musical talent and devotion to Lord Śiva were well-known in the heartland of Carnatic music. Ilaṅkēswaraṉ plays on this theme by depicting Ravana worshipping Lord Śiva at a charged moment in the play.46 Furthermore, Ilaṅkēswaraṉ concludes with the same triumphant ending of most devotional plays that depict Rama’s deeds, culminating in Rama’s coronation. Indeed, Ilaṅkēswaraṉ walks a careful line that includes elements in the play dear to orthodox Vaiṣṇava Hindus, Tamil Śaivas, and those who identified with Ravana as unfairly treated. Although Ravana slowly loses his mental balance toward the play’s end, none of the monstrous behaviour attributed to Ravana by Valmiki features in Ilaṅkēswaraṉ.47 The play portrays him neither as an evil lecher nor as an eater of raw human flesh. Instead, Manohar interprets him as a remorseful father forced to abandon his daughter. Even Sita’s ‘kidnapping’ only returns her to her natal home. Moreover, Ravana’s warriors die in war not due to lack of courage but because Vibhishana reveals Lanka’s military secrets to the enemy. While many devotional treatments of the story attribute Ravana’s misdeeds to lust, greed, and the lack of control ‘typical’ of rākṣasas, Ilaṅkēswaraṉ represents Ravana as a tragic victim of circumstances.

At the same time, however, while Ilaṅkēswaraṉ presents Rama’s deeds in a highly conventional way, it also lacks or minimizes most of Rama’s alleged deviations from dharma cited by critics. Rama has already left when Lakshmana mutilates Shurpanakha and Vali is mentioned only briefly in a song about Kishkindha. And since the play ends with Rama’s coronation, his banishment of Sita does not appear in it. In Madras, a rumour circulated that, before staging Ilaṅkēswaraṉ, Manohar took the script for approval to the Shankaracharya of Kanchipuram, the most prestigious Hindu leader in Tamil country. Whether true or not, the rumour signals Ilaṅkēswaraṉ’s potentially volatile subject matter and the care and narrative negotiations that preceded its staging.

Although the play depicts ancient events, Ravana’s history and identity gained new topicality as interpretations of him became polarized between 1930 and the 1950s. In the prologue, where Narada informs Ravana about debates on earth about him, Ilaṅkēswaraṉ refers directly to ongoing Tamil political debates in the political discourse of the day. In dramatizing Ravana’s denial about him being Aryan or Dravidian, Manohar steps outside the ancient story and imagines what Ravana would have said, were he alive at that moment. When Narada and Ravana discuss how Tamils have ‘changed 283

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his story,’ their exchange functions as a meta-narrative about differing views of the story. It also demonstrates what was at stake in telling Ravana’s story at that time.

Conclusion

The absence of Rama in Rāvaṇodbhavam and the conventional treatment of Rama in Ilaṅkēswaraṉ enable their playwrights to turn their creative energy away from Rama’s well-known deeds and bring Ravana’s life to centre stage. When a playwright focuses not on Rama as paradigm of dharmic action but instead on Ravana, some theological limits within which he must manoeuvre are less constrained. In such plays, modern playwrights select which of Ravana’s deeds to emphasize and how to present the motivations that impelled those deeds. Pisharoty represents Ravana as a marginalized son whom others consider inferior; his mother’s concerns motivate him to overcome his disabilities through fearless and persevering tapas. Manohar portrays Ravana as a king whose reign initially brought prosperity to all strata of society but whose lie about Sita’s birth and misguided attempts to protect her motivated him to perform rash deeds, mistreat his wife and descend into madness. In both plays, more facets and phases of Ravana’s life are illuminated because he is portrayed as neither a static figure nor a stock villain. Both plays depict him as changing over time: in Rāvaṇodbhavam, he re-fashions himself from an underdog into a powerful monarch; in Ilaṅkēswaraṉ, he begins as the ruler of a golden age and ends as a man bereft of balanced judgement. Also, both plays shed light on phases of Ravana’s life not generally emphasized in devotional treatments of the story of Rama and Sita. The events depicted in Rāvaṇodbhavam occur more than 10,000 years before Rama’s birth, showing that Ravana performed most of his admirable deeds long before Vishnu’s descent as Rama. At the opposite end of the temporal spectrum, Ilaṅkēswaraṉ’s prologue unfolds in heaven after Ravana has attained mokṣa. Most pious dramatic productions depict Ravana largely in relation to Sita’s abduction or the war. The plays analyzed here dramatize Ravana’s youth and afterlife, which have received relatively little attention in earlier theatrical productions, so playwrights can bring fresh interpretations to these phases of Ravana’s life.

Each play elevates Ravana to a starring role and omits or depicts Rama quite conventionally during a time when long-standing local configurations of power are facing a threat. Narayanan shows how Rāvaṇodbhavam parallels Sakthan’s appropriation of centralized decision-making to mobilize troops quickly if attacked by foreigners. Manohar stages Ilaṅkēswaraṉ in Tamil country when internal challenges by non-Brahmins threaten the near monopoly over political influence and privilege gained by Brahmins. When the political status quo has become less acceptable to its 284

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citizens, Rama is less likely to be viewed as an ideal ruler, especially since his reign is characterized by his protection of varṇa-based hierarchy. In such times, the rule of Ravana seems to offer alternative political visions to the status quo: in Rāvaṇodbhavam, centralized rule; in Ilaṅkēswaraṉ, more egalitarian rule.

Endnotes

1. This chapter uses diacritical marks for the names of texts and technical terms. Readers of the volume will be familiar with names of the Rāmāyaṇa characters, so I eschew diacritics for them.

2. Initially (ca. 1500-1600), Kottarakkara Thampuran from the royal family in southern Kerala established the dance form by composing eight plays about Rama’s deeds and naming it Rāmanāṭṭam (“Rama’s play”). In the late 17th century, Kottayam Thampuran expanded the genre’s content by writing āṭṭakkathas drawn from Mahābhārata incidents. To reflect the expanded content, its name was changed to the broader term, Kathakali (“story play”). In addition to featuring the first āṭṭakkatha whose central character was an anti-hero, Rāvaṇodbhavam is the first āṭṭakkatha in which the anti-hero does not die at the end. 3. Those familiar with Kathakali may move to the next paragraph. For further readings in English on Kathakali, Jones and True Jones 1970; Zarrilli 1984; True Jones 1982; Nair and Paniker 1993; Zarrilli 2002; Bolland and Singh, ed. 2006. 4. Valmiki’s Uttara-kāṇḍa 7-8 recounts the attack of Mali, Sumali, and Malyavan on heaven (Goldman and Sutherland Goldman 2016: 241-246).

5. Later, they produce the sons Kumbhakarna and Vibhishana and a daughter, Shurpanakha. 6. Days are divided into time slots categorized by auspicious or inauspicious times. One should avoid starting an endeavour (e.g., marriage, conception) during an inauspicious muhurtam.

7. I use the term ‘he’ because until the later 20th century, all Kathakali performers were men. 8. Tapas is usually undertaken for one of two goals: some perform acts of self-mortification to burn off past karma, attain equanimity of mind, and achieve mokṣa; others, especially rākṣasas, perform tapas to gain extraordinary powers. 9. The puranas abound with stories of deities, rākṣasas, and humans who perform tapas to win special powers (Doniger O’Flaherty 1978). Those who perform tapas (from the Sanskrit verb root tap, to heat) generate heat; when tapas grows so intense that the heavenly thrones of deities become hot, they send Brahma to offer a boon to the ascetic, who then ceases his tapas. Most ascetics are men, but a key exception is Parvati, who did tapas to win Siva as husband.

10. Mandodari is the daughter of Maya, an architect, and Hema, an apsara. When Ravana was passing through the forest after winning a battle, he visited Maya and fell in love with his daughter, whom he married according to Vedic rites. She became his chief queen.

11. In those days, Kathakali productions began at dusk and ended at dawn, leaving Nambudiri only a short time to revise. Narayanan gives a slight variation on the legend: the prince asked Nambudiri “to contribute something of his own to the performance of the play” (2009: 209).

12. Iḷakiyāṭṭam is often translated as ‘improvization.’ Although it is an improvization when performed for the first time, if it wins approval from audiences it becomes an integral part of the play and future students learn it from their guru along with the āṭṭakkatha. 285

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13. My account of ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ by Kapalingattu Nambudiri draws from watching it performed three times by soloist Kalamandalam Shanmukhan [C Shanmukhadas] (2010, 2011, 2014). During a residency at Oberlin College, Shanmukhadas (dancer), T R Sukumaran (Kathakali makeup artist) and V Kaladharan (dance critic and translator) in 2010, they and I used a method developed earlier when performing operas in European languages for English audiences. We translated (or de-coded) Shanmukhan’s mudras into English for audience members with no previous exposure to the mudras and projected them several feet above stage center, while the soloist danced. An account of a ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ performance also appears in Nair and Paniker (1993). 14. Only the second Brahmin to contribute significantly to Kathakali’s aesthetic, Nambudiri intensified Kathakali’s drama by enhancing the aesthetics of costumes, makeup, rhythm, and choreography. He also expanded its mudras by incorporating new ones from Kudiyattam and refined makeup and costumes (True Jones 1982: 31; Menon [rpt. 1957] 1986: 30-49).

15. Kubera’s chariot in the sky, Kaikasi’s weeping, and Ravana’s tapas are portrayed elsewhere in Rāvaṇodbhavam but, in ‘Tapasāṭṭam,’ they are linked and refracted through Ravana’s retrospective lens.

16. ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ differs in two ways from the account of Ravana’s tapas found in Valmiki’s Uttara-kāṇḍa (VII:9-10; 246-253). First, Valmiki depicts Kaikasi urging Ravana to surpass Kubera’s achievements (VII.9:33-35; 248). Nambudiri depicts Kaikasi weeping because her son lacks the privileges enjoyed by Kubera and Ravana finds her sorrow so upsetting that he vows to undertake tapas to improve the situation. Second, in Valmiki’s Uttara-kāṇḍa, Ravana is granted one boon: invulnerability to giant birds, mighty serpents, yakṣas, daityas, rākṣasas, and gods (VII.10.17; 250). In ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ Brahma gives Ravana three boons and then a final one. 17. In ‘Tapasāṭṭam’, a soloist plays Kaikasi, Child Ravana, and Ascetic Ravana in sequence.

18. The others are Indra (king of the gods), Varuna (god of the sea), and Yama (god of death). 19. A rough equivalent in today’s world would be a CEO equipped with a private jet plane. 20. The term pratāpam denotes both physical power and social status.

21. Vibhishana and Kumbhakarna also perform tapas but modern solos of ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ often omit Ravana’s interaction with them before he sets out and after he gets his boons. For an account that returns these often-omitted incidents, see Nair and Paniker (1993: 188-197). 22. Narayanan (2009: 261n25) identifies the five fires as symbolizing anger, passion, greed, attachment and jealousy—all of which can be subdued through tapas.

23. The Kathakali dancer’s costume lacks artificial heads so Ravana mimes cutting off his heads. 24. Mānakkedu is ‘shame’ or more literally, ‘loss of pride.’

25. The ending of ‘Tapasāṭṭam’ could be interpreted as depicting Ravana’s overweening pride or as portraying his satisfaction at finally receiving the boons that he had performed tapas to earn. 26. He ruled de facto from 1770-1789 and de jure from 1789-1805.

27. The legends appear in Aithyamāla [Garland of Legends] by Sankunni Kottarathi (Kottayam: Current Books, 1982), p. 250 and are summarized in English by Narayanan (2007: 239). 28. V Kaladharan, dance critic and Kerala Kala Mandalam’s press officer, recalled seeing Rāvaṇodbhavam performed in full during the 1970s (personal communication). As condensed performances and programs of excerpts from several āṭṭakkathas became common, Tapasāṭṭam has remained a popular item in both (Bolland 2010:73; Narayanan 2009: 261-262n27). 286

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29. The famous Malayalam poet, Vallathol Narayana Menon, and the nephew of a royal house near Trissur, Sri Mukundu Raja, founded Kerala Kala Mandalam [Kerala Center for the Arts] in 1930 to train new generations of performers. All advanced students in Kathakali who enrolled in the Mandalam’s regular six-year course were required to learn Rāvaṇodbhavam (Zarrilli 1984: 86). 30. After playing the role of ‘Manohar’ in a college social drama, he took it as his stage name.

31. Bharat Dabholkar served on a World Bank team that sought to improve nutrition in developing nations. The quotes come from http://www.thehindubusinessline.com/todayspaper/tp-life/dramatic-moments/article1758810.ece. Accessed 12 September 2016. 32. According to www.filmibeat.com/celebs/rsmanohar/biography.html, MGR bestowed this sobriquet upon Manohar. Accessed 13 Oct 2016.

33. In written Tamil, ‘L’ cannot begin a word so an initial ‘I’ is added: the Tamil typescript bears the title Ilankeswaran. In speech, however, ‘I’ drops out so it is known as Lankeswaran.

34. All quotations from the play’s 1956 Tamil typescript are cited as NT [National Theatres] since no author’s name appears on the script and it is identified only as property of National Theatres. I cite the scene number, slash, and page in the scene (so 3/2 refers to the second page of scene 3), following usage in the top right-hand corner of the script’s pages. Henceforth, immediately after a quote from the script, I cite its page number in parentheses in the body of the chapter. I thank Srilata Raman for letting me consult the typescript, which Manohar gave to her in 2001.

35. Tamil terms for rākṣasa are arakkaṉ or rāṭcataṉ. In modern Tamil, arakkaṉ also has an extended sense as a person who is inhumane, cruel, or monstrous. On the other hand, the Tamil phrase rāṭcataṉ vēlai (literally ‘rākṣasa work’ refers to a task so huge that only a rākṣasa could complete it. The phrase ‘Ten Heads,’ refers to a genius (ten times as intelligent as ordinary people). I translate kulam (NT 1/1) as lineage but ‘clan’ is also accurate: the term refers to a tightly-knit community that shares blood ties. 36. Iṉam is a type, group, or superclass. Depending on context, it can refer to race, ethnic group, class, caste, or community. Examples of compound words using ina(m) in modern Tamil show the term’s range of usage: iṉaveṟi means ‘racism;’ iṉa-paṭukolai means ‘genocide.’ 37. ‘Rāvaṇa-rājya’ rarely, if ever, has been used to describe good rule. The compound retains the notion of ideal rule but decouples it from King Rama and his protection of the four-varna system. 38. Remaining scenes deal with a sub-plot about two palace guards. Santhanam (2007) points out that similar subplots appear in Shakespeare’s plays (2007). Intriguingly Ilaṅkēswaraṉ and King Lear deal with a decision about a daughter that leads each king to madness and death.

39. Saṅghadāsa’s 5th century Jaina Vāsudevahiṇḍi depicts Sita as born to Ravana and Mandodari and abandoned when astrologers predict she will cause Lanka’s defeat; Guṇabhadra’s 9th century Jaina Uttara-Purāṇa portrays Maricha burying Sita in Mithila, where Janaka finds and adopts her (Singaravelu 1982: 236). In Kannada, ‘Sita’ means ‘sneeze,’ and a Kannada folktale tells how Ravana became pregnant with Sita, who was born when he sneezed (Gowde et al. 1973: 150-151; Ramanujan, trans. 1991: 36). Ravana is Sita’s father in many Southeast Asian tellings (Singaravelu 1982: 237-239). 40. In Ānanda Rāmāyaṇa, disgruntled suitors who failed to lift Śiva’s bow attack King Janaka. Sita jumps into a fire. When Ravana quenches it, he finds five gems, which he places in a box. Soon, the box grows heavy. When Ravana opens it, he finds Baby Sita. Fearing that she will bring ill-fortune, Ravana orders the box taken away. From inside, Sita shouts that she will cause his death (Raghavan 1998:75). 287

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41. In Adbhuta Rāmāyaṇa (ca. 16th century), Sita is also daughter of Ravana and Mandodari. In it, Ravana does tapas and Brahma grants immunity from death except at his daughter’s hand (Raghavan 1998: 7-8). 42. Most kings want male offspring, so Ravana’s joy at a daughter’s birth is noteworthy.

43. Ilaṅkēswaraṉ provides a prequel to the story of King Janaka adopting Sita. The prequel explains why Janaka decides her husband must string the bow: Sita arrived accompanied by a toy bow. 44. That Sita wants to accompany Rama into exile is irrelevant to Ravana in Ilaṅkēswaraṉ.

45. Valmiki portrays Shurpanakha approaching Rama in her rākṣasa form, but Ilaṅkēswaraṉ follows Kambar’s account in having her take on a beautiful form to meet Rama. Shurpanakha tests Rama’s fidelity to Sita, a reversal of Rama’s testing of Sita’s fidelity to him.

46. See Hospital (1985: 359-361) for puranic references to Ravana as a devotee of Śiva.

47. While Valmiki’s Uttara-kāṇḍa tells of thousands whom Ravana kills during his conquest of the three worlds, Ilaṅkēswaraṉ does not depict such incidents.

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16. The Ramayana of the Malay Shadow Play, Wayang Kulit Kelantan, and its possible Parallels and Connections with Versions of the Epic in Northern Southeast Asia Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof

South Asian religious, aesthetic, and literary impact upon Southeast Asian traditional performing arts has been considerable and pervasive, with the two epics, Ramayana and Mahabharata being by far the most important. While the Mahabharata holds a special place in Indonesia, the Ramayana is dominant as a whole, its most important Southeast Asian versions being the Javanese Ramayana Kakawin, the Malay-Indonesian Hikayat Seri Rama, the Thai Ramakien, the Burmese Rama Yagan and Rama Vattu, and the Lao Phra Lak Phra Lam (Yousof 1994). It is from these as well as from lesser retellings that the bulk of the dramatic repertoire for the region’s traditional theatre derives. Also notable are the remarkable sculptures as well as bas reliefs based on the Ramayana that grace many a temple monument in Southeast Asia.

In Southeast Asia, the principal events of the epic remain more or less consistent with those depicted in versions of the epic by Valmiki and Kamban, with some influence from Tulsidas’ Shri Ramcharitmanas (late 16th century), as well as from an even earlier work, Krttivasa’s Ramayana of the 15th century. It may be noted that significant changes came into the epic in its transition from South Asian to Southeast Asian locations due to shortening of the epic, local adaptations, removal or addition of characters, and elimination or modifications of religious or spiritual teachings.

The concerns of the following discussion will be firstly, the manner in which principal characters and some of the vital themes of the Ramayana have been revised in continental Southeast Asia; and secondly, possible inter-relationships within these regional versions, with particular reference to the story of Rama as presented in Wayang Kulit Kelantan.

I. Development of principal characters Gods and Maharishi Characters: It is reasonable in any discussion of the Ramayana characters, to begin with the principal gods (dewa) and sage (maharishi) figures, 290

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whose presence is felt throughout the epic even if their direct involvement is limited. In Southeast Asia, in keeping with overall revisions to the epic, the gods have been considerably reduced in number, and their roles highly limited, to the extent that even the core motif of Vishnu’s reincarnation as Rama has been considerably downgraded while Brahma and Indra gain some importance in the northern countries. The major gods in the Malay shadow play are Betara Guru and Sang Kala while Betara Narada makes minor appearances. The most interesting god figures are Sang Yang Tunggal and Semar, highly important in Javanese mythology and thence borrowed into the regional Malay culture of Kelantan.

In Indian versions of the Ramayana, the presence of maharishi figures is ubiquitous. In Southeast Asia, as in the case of the god figures, the number of maharishi characters is small. They have also been refashioned in interesting ways. In the Khmer nang sbek thom shadow play, which uses large multi-character puppets, Preah Muni Eysi, a great ascetic, teacher and judge appears, from whose teachings the popular performing arts are believed to have been derived (Phim and Kem 1995: fig. 1). Essentially, this maharishi figure resembles, in appearance and design, the smaller puppets of the sage (ruesi) Mahasikul in the southern Thai nang talung (Broman 1996: 63) and the maharishi figures of Wayang Kulit Kelantan. The invocations texts (mantra) used by these figures in the opening sections of performances in both of these forms are not only near-identical but are also recited in the southern dialect of the Thai language. Moving into Wayang Kulit Kelantan, it is noteworthy that in the totally unscripted and improvized performances of the Ramayana, its many rishi characters are merged into just a couple of ‘generic’ figures, all represented tellingly by the same puppet. Maharishi Burung Jerejit plays a dual role. In one capacity, as a non-Ramayana figure, he appears in the dalang muda prologue to a performance to cleanse and bless the theatre following theatre consecration (buka paggung) rituals. He then ‘brings down’ a pair of minor flying gods with arrows, Dewa Panah, who engage in battle with each other and then go off-screen. The battle foreshadows the conflict between positive and negative forces represented respectively by Rama and Maharaja Wana (Ravana). In his second capacity, this time as a character within the Ramayana, Maharishi Burung Jerejit is near-identical to the sage Gautama, his story echoing the seduction of Ahalya, Gautama’s wife, by Indra (Ayyangar 2013: 121-124; Nagar and Nagar 1997: vol 1, 8182). In this capacity, Maharishi Burung Jerejit is a meditating saint who, persuaded by a pair of honey birds (burung jerejit) nestling in his beard, creates for himself a wife out of sandalwood, appropriately naming her Puteri Cendana. Puteri Cendana has affairs with both the sun god (Dewa Sinar Matahari) and the moon god (Dewa Sinar Bulan) resulting, respectively, in the birth of Raja Bali (Subali) and Sugriva. As punishment, the maharishi reverts her into sandalwood. 291

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The second, unnamed, maharishi replaces Vishvamitra. He visits Sirat Maharaja (Dasharatha) to summon Rama and Lakshmana to destroy demons causing a nuisance at his hermitage. Eventually, he takes Rama and Lakshmana along with him on a visit to Wat Tujuh Kedi Bermas where Rama participates in the marriage contest (swayamvara) for Sita’s hand. This is where the third such figure, Maharishi Mata Api, is encountered; he is Sita’s adoptive father, replacing King Janaka. During her exile, Sita finds refuge with Maharisi Mata Api, this time the maharishi representing Valmiki. Thus in a single character, Maharisi Mata Api, Sita’s father and Valmiki are fused.

Ravana, Rama, Sita and Lakshmana

When it comes to the origins of Ravana, the more or less standard Indian versions, which have him as the son of Visvasrava (Nagar and Nagar 1997: vol 2, 264-265) and scion of an established dynasty of rulers in Lanka, are unknown in Southeast Asia. Instead, four different stories serve to indicate Ravana’s origins, as follows: (a) as the reincarnation of Nontok (in Thailand) and Bota Serajuk (in Malaysia); (b) as the grandson of Raja Berma and son of Chitrabaha (Malaysia); (c) his birth as well as those of his siblings taking place following the offering of mangoes to Brahma (Myanmar); (d) his birth from a demon’s blood (Malaysia-Indonesia). Of these, only the first two are relevant to any discussion of the Kelantan shadow play.

In Ramakien, the story of Nontok appears in the Prelude. On Mount Kailas, there is a loyal slave giant, Nontok, who washes the gods’ feet when they visit Phra Isuan (Shiva). Bullied for millions of years, Nontok visits the god, protesting. Shiva grants him a miraculous diamond finger to protect himself.Whoever Nontok points his finger at will instantly fall dead. Having got the weapon, Nontok unleashes his hatred and anger, massacring many in this madness. Shiva orders Phra Narai (Vishnu) to subdue Nontok. Vishnu transforms himself into a beautiful angel. Using her charms, she encourages Nontok to imitate her as she dances. In one of the poses, imitating her, Nontok points absent-mindedly at his own leg, shattering it. Vishnu, back to his original form, is ready to cut off Nontok’s head with a powerful chakra. Furious, the giant taunts the god, “You are the great Narai. If you are not a coward, why don’t you fight me face to face? If I had great power like yours, I would not lose this battle. Instead, you would lie on the ground.”

Angry at those words, Vishnu utters, “In this life you have two hands. When you are reborn you will become the strongest of all giants with ten mighty heads, twenty arms to hold great weapons, and the power to fly as far as you wish; and I will be born a mere human being, with two hands, to face you.” Vishnu then cuts off Nontok’s diamond finger as well as his head. 292

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In Kelantan, a similar episode, unconnected with the origins of Ravana but known to puppeteers, involves Dewa Berembun, teacher of gods’ children in Kayangan. This will be presently discussed in connection with the origins of Rama. In so far as the parallel with the story of Nontok goes, a slightly different version is known in Kelantan. Dewa Sang Yang Kenung is Dewa Berembun’s best pupil. Dewa Kemang, a less intelligent student abused by others, receives a set of magical fingernails (changgai api) from Dewa Berembun to protect himself. The changgai api produce flames. Excited by his new weapon, Bota Kemang uses it indiscriminately, killing many and causing destruction in Kayangan. Sent to solve the problem, Sang Yang Kenung assumes a female form and, through a dance that Bota Kemang is encouraged to imitate, the latter destroys himself.

Accounts of Wayang Kulit Kelantan performances in the 1970s indicate that Seerachak or Serechuk, a character also known as Notok, appeared in certain episodes (Sweeney 1972: 161, 179-180). This serves to establish that the story was widely shared by dalang in southern Thailand and the northeastern Malaysian states of Kelantan and Terengganu. As far as origins go, this story may be traced to that involving the enchantress Mohini and the demon Bhasmasura, narrated in the Mahabharata and Vishnu Purana. The fourth version has it that the Sky kingdom of the Jin, ruled by Raja Berma, is threatened with invasion by the neighbouring king of ogres, Dati Kuacha. Chitra Baha, one of Berma’s sons, forestalls the invasion, kills Dati Kuaca and marries his widow, Raksha Gandi. Chitra Baha and Raksha Gandi become the parents of Ravana and his siblings. Following misconduct in Kayangan, Ravana is banished to earth; he lands on the deserted island of Lanka, where he does penance. The prophet Adam, who is also sent down to Lanka by Allah, comes across Ravana. He obtains Allah’s permission to forgive Ravana and allows him to become the ruler of three parts of the world, with the fourth reserved for Adam’s own descendants. Ravana founds a new kingdom, with the ogres in Lanka as his subjects, marries numerous creatures from various species, and fathers a large mix-breed family. Sometime later, hearing of Dasharatha’s wife, Mandodari, he demands that she be surrendered to him. Ravana is given a clone named Mandodaki. In northern Southeast Asia, three stories tell of the origins of Rama: (a) that Vishnu consents to be reborn as Rama; (b) that the bodhisattva Indra reincarnates as Rama; and (c) that Rama is a reincarnation of Dewa Berembun.

The first of these stories, familiar from Indian sources, has been borrowed into the Ramakien. When it comes to the idea of the bodhisattva, interestingly there is the active involvement of the Vedic god Indra. According to Mahayana Buddhism, Indra 293

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lives in Tusita heaven and is identified with Sakra, the lord of that heaven (The Seeker’s Glossary 1998: 293). His considerable importance in Southeast Asian versions of the Ramayana, best seen in Rama Vattu, (Toru 2000: 47), comes from the view that he manifested as Rama, another bodhisattva (The Seeker’s Glossary 1998: 68-71). Indra does not appear in Malay versions of the Ramayana, nor is the bodhisattva concept evident in them. With the near-elimination of Hindu mythology, Vishnu is substituted in Malay versions of the Ramayana by Dewa Berembun, already mentioned above. A demon, Bota Serajuk immensely desires Dewa Berembun’s wife, Siti Andang Dewi, to the extent that he is prepared to leave Kayangan if he can but possess her once. Bota Serajuk succeeds in his mission by impersonating Dewa Berembun (Sweeney 1972: 89-90). He then descends to the earth voluntarily. With that, Dewa Berembun and his wife also leave, separately, out of a sense of shame and disgrace. On earth, Serajuk is reborn as Ravana, Berembun reincarnates as Rama, son of Dasharatha and Mandodari, while Siti Andang Dewi is reborn as Sita, daughter of Ravana and Mandodaki. Neither Berembun nor Siti Andang Dewi is regarded as a divine being.

Lakshmana in Wayang Kulit Kelantan is a vastly different character from his Indian original. One dalang version has it that he was created out of a piece of wood (kayu lat). Such an origin explains his aversion towards women; Lakshmana does not marry. Another has it that he is the male incarnation of a heavenly nymph in love with Rama. Unable to marry him, she prays to be reborn as Rama’s brother. Overall, in the Kelantan shadow play, Lakshmana is a much stronger and more intelligent character than Rama himself. This is demonstrated many times through particular incidents. As an example, Lakshmana is behind Rama’s success in the marriage competition. Upon arrival at Wat Tujuh, Lakshmana ‘tests’ the bow and is able to lift it but does not become a contestant in deference to his brother. Lakshmana also goes underground to straighten the serpent (naga) on whose back the 40 palm trees planted by Sita’s father stand, so that Rama can drive a single arrow through them. Lakshmana also plays many a role as counsellor and strategist during the final battles of the epic.

When it comes to Sita, the Valmiki version that she is a reincarnation of Lakshmi, Vishnu’s wife, is found only in the Ramakien (Cadet 1982: 40). The Lao version has it that the wife of Indra reincarnates as Sita following her seduction by the future Ravana (Gvay Dvorahbi 1976: 9) In Rama Vattu, she is the daughter of a gandharva king, who, raped by the future Ravana, jumps into the fire after cursing him and is burnt to death. She is reborn as Ravana’s daughter (Toru 2000: 40). These two versions of Sita’s origin are close to that in the Wayang Kulit Kelantan, except that it does not involve self-immolation. 294

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II. Select episodes from the Ramayana Having outlined the development of its principal characters, our attention will now be devoted to several episodes of the Ramayana, with a view to assessing the nature and extent of shifts in the events as known in mainland Southeast Asia.

Encounter with demons and visit to Janaka

The visit by the sage Vishvamitra to seek the assistance of Rama and Lakshmana to fight demons disrupting sacrificial rites at his hermitage is found in Indian versions including the Krttivasa Ramayana. Dasharatha nominates Bharata and Shatrughna to go with the sage. They are, however, soon disqualified, due to their wish to avoid the risky encounter with the demons, including Tataka (Nagar and Nagar 1997: vol 1, 79). Dasaratha then reluctantly allows Rama and Lakshmana to go with the sage. This exact motif is found in Wayang Kulit Kelantan, with the maharishi remaining unnamed. Rama and Lakshmana reach the hermitage by the shortest of three routes after overcoming three obstacles. Following the killing of Tataka and other demons, they visit Wat Tujuh Kedi Bermas with the maharishi. There they have the opportunity to see Shiva’s great bow in Janaka’s keeping. Shiva had handed the bow to Parashurama, to be given by him to Janaka (Nagar and Nagar 1997, vol 1: 70). Interesting variations in details occur in Southeast Asia. The Rama Vattu and the Gvay Dvorahbi have it that the bow had been transferred from Shiva to Indra, who then gave it to Janaka. (Toru 2000: 40; Sahai 1976: 10.) In the Hikayat Seri Rama, the bow is specially created for Rama from a wooden staff which came from Vishnu himself (Ziesensis 1963: 20).

The marriage contest and its aftermath

There are also different situations with regard to the marriage competition. The most important issue is whether or not Ravana is involved in the contest. In the Phra Lak Phra Lam as well as in the Wayang Kulit Kelantan, Ravana is a participant. In the former, a rarely performed scene depicts an encounter between Rama and Ravana en route to the competition. Ravana asks Rama for directions to Wat Tujuh Kedi Bermas. Rama indicates that he himself is on his way to take part in the competition. At this Ravana insults Rama. They end up in a skirmish without any of them overcoming the other. At Wat Tujuh Kedi Bermas, Ravana, confident of victory in the competition requiring participants to lift the bow and to shoot a single arrow through 40 palm trees, insists upon priority in making the attempt. Maharishi Mata Api allows this; Ravana fails, while Rama is the winner. Both of them claim victory, and with that, Maharishi Mata Api declares a second test. This involves the uprooting of the selasih jawa tree. Rama 295

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defeats Ravana again. Utterly ashamed and disgusted, the demon king leaves Wat Tujuh Kedi Bermas with the other 44 royal contestants.

In the Wayang Kulit Kelantan, Rama does not see Sita before the marriage contest, nor does he meet her following his victory, as Maharishi Mata Api decides to hide her among several identical statues in a locked shrine while he goes to invite guests to the wedding. The impatient Rama seeks Lakshmana’s assistance, and once he locates Sita, Rama persuades her to elope with him. Maharishi Mata Api, greatly upset at the turn of events, has no choice but to call off the reception. He predicts trouble for Rama and Sita who, together with Lakshmana, enter a forest instead of returning home to Ayodhya.

Several core elements of the established Ramayana story are missing in most Southeast Asian versions of the epic. In the Wayang Kulit Kelantan, which seems to be unique in this respect, there is no scene involving Rama’s appointment as crown prince, no ‘official’ exile of Rama, and Dasaratha does not die. As they enter the forest, Rama’s entourage is attacked by the 44 disgruntled kings and princes. Ravana is not involved at this point, but he does create serious trouble for the trio later on.

The birth of Hanuman

Most versions of the Ramayana under discussion do not discuss the birth of Hanuman. Malay puppeteers tell that soon after Rama and Sita enter the forest, they are transformed into a pair of monkeys when they jump into a magical pond created by Ravana. Sita becomes pregnant and her foetus, removed by Lakshmana, is sent flying into the air. It enters the open mouth of Dewi Anjani, Maharisi Burung Jerejit’s daughter, who was cursed by her mother for revealing her affairs with the sun and moon gods to stand frozen. Dewi Anjani now becomes pregnant as the foetus from Sita goes into her mouth, and she eventually gives birth to Hanuman. Rama and Sita are thus Hanuman’s real parents.

Causeway romances and final battles

To ensure that the causeway gets completed, in the Tamil Kamba Ramayana, Rama secures the assistance of Varuna, the sea-god. No Southeast Asian version mentions this. Active efforts to prevent the completion of the causeway also occur in the Rama Vattu as well as in two Malaysian versions of the epic in which a giant crab disturbs the construction. Hanuman captures him, and after cutting off his claws, Rama sets him free. In an anonymous Indian version, Hanuman has a son, Makardhwaja, with a shark or crocodile without even being aware of it (Shyam 2009: 88-94).In the Gvay Dvorahbi, 296

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a fish gives birth to a son after swallowing Hanuman’s sweat (Sahai 1976: 59). The most interesting of such encounters involving Hanuman take the form of exciting romances. In the Ramakien, investigating the non-completion of the bridge, he encounters the fish princess Supanna-Matcha, in the form of a stunningly beautiful mermaid. The sea creatures under her command are focussed upon the completion of the causeway. Attracted to each other, Hanuman and Supanna-Matcha get married. The causeway gets completed and eventually, a son, Matchanu, is born (Cadet 1982: 156).

In the Malay version of this romance, the fish princess, Tuan Puteri Ikan, interrupts the construction of the causeway. She and Hanuman fall in love and get married with the consent of her father, Sepit Bentala, king of sea serpents (nagas). This leads to the completion of the causeway. Puteri Ikan gives birth to a powerful son, named Hanuman Ikan. A return visit by Hanuman to the undersea results in the birth to Tuan Puteri Ikan of another son, Hanuman Tergangga. Hanuman’s final noteworthy liaison occurs with Tuan Puteri Bongsu, Indrajit’s widow, resulting with the birth of a son, Hanuman Bongsu. All of Hanuman’s sons play significant roles in the great final war of the epic.

Kidnapping of Rama and Lakshmana

Among major Indian versions of the epic, the abduction of Rama and Lakshmana during the final war occurs only in the Krttivasa Ramayana (Nagar and Nagar 1997, vol 2: 163-166). Ravana enlists his son Mahiravana, the powerful king of Patala, magician and master illusionist, who comes up with a plan to kidnap Rama and Lakshmana and to sacrifice them to the goddess Mahamaya or Chandi, whom he has imprisoned. After many failed attempts, Mahiravana succeeds in kidnapping the sleeping Rama and Lakshmana. Hanuman goes to Patala on a rescue mission and kills Mahiravana, who, freed from a curse, regains his gandharva form. Mahiravana’s newly born son, Ahiravana is also killed in battle and Mahamaya is rescued (Nagar and Nagar 1997, vol 2, 172-173).Another version of the story involves Makardhwaja, who comes to the assistance of Hanuman in the killing of Mahiravana.

In the Ramakien, Maiyarab assists Ravana through his considerable magical powers. As a precaution, Hanuman places Rama and Lakshmana in his mouth. Maiyarab causes the time to change to give the impression that the night is not over so that the monkey soldiers remain asleep. He then kidnaps Rama and Laksmana, who are to be boiled alive. On his rescue mission, Hanuman encounters his son, Matchanu, with whose assistance he brings the royal brothers back to camp (Cadet 1982: 186). 297

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This scene, as presented in the Malay shadow play, involves an underworld Jin, Raja Lebis, a son of Maharaja Wana and Puteri Maya Bumi. Following a warning by Vibhishana that Raja Lebis will use sleep-inducing magic, Hanuman swallows Rama’s shelter together with Rama and Lakshmana. However, entering Hanuman’s stomach, Raja Lebis succeeds in kidnapping the royal brothers, who are to be boiled and eaten the next day. On his rescue mission, Hanuman meets Hanuman Ikan, guardian to the entrance to the underworld. Following a battle with each other, they realize their relationship. Hanuman Ikan had, in fact, been adopted by Raja Lebis after being told that his father, the mighty warrior Hanuman, had been killed in the Great War. Hanuman Ikan directs his father to the underworld. Killing Raja Lebis by tearing him apart, Hanuman carries Rama and Lakshmana back to their camp (Yousof 2015: 100-101).

Ravana’s end

The great battles leading to Ravana’s death found in all major Indian versions of the Ramayana are very much simplified in Southeast Asia. In the Ramakien, following Indrajit’s death, Hanuman defects to Ravana’s side. He is appointed crown prince and married to Indrajit’s widow. Hanuman fights a fierce battle against Lakshmana, and then goes off to recover Ravana’s soul from a hermit (Cadet 1982: 238). Having done so, he rejoins Rama. As a last, desperate effort to stay alive, Ravana assumes the form of Indra, but that does not deceive Rama or Laksmana. Ravana’s soul is released when Rama shoots his arrow into Ravana’s chest (Cadet 1982: 239-240). A similar scene in Wayang Kulit Kelantan strangely has Maharisi Mata Api as keeper of Ravana’s soul. Sugriva and Hanuman go to his hermitage, claiming that they have been driven away by Rama. They stage a mock quarrel, and the upset maharishi drives them out. They leave after stealing the container which holds Ravana’s soul. With that they rejoin Rama, who himself releases Ravana’s soul, bringing about the demon’s death.

Ravana’s portrait, Sita’s exile and her reconciliation with Rama

In Indian versions of the Ramayana, the incident involving Sita drawing Ravana’s portrait occurs in Krttivasa’s version of the epic (Nagar and Nagar 1997: vol 2: 326) as well as in Tulsidas’ Ramcharitmanasa. The final section of the epic, ‘Lava Kusha Kanda’, also contains Sita’s banishment by Rama, the birth of Lava and Kusha, and the deaths of Rama and Sita. These episodes are known in the Thai, Mon, Myanmar, Laotian and Malay versions of the epic. In the Ramakien, Rama, Sita and Lakshmana return to Ayutthaya, where Rama is crowned king (Cadet 1982: 241). Soon afterwards a portrait of Ravana, done by one 298

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of Ravana’s relatives, causes a fire in the palace. Upon its discovery, Rama sentences Sita to be killed by Lakshmana. Lakshmana makes an attempt, but his sword turns into a garland of flowers following the intervention of the gods. Sita goes to live with a hermit, Watchamarik (Cadet 1982: 242).

The region’s most elaborate versions of this episode are found in the Lao Gvay Dvorahbi and in Wayang Kulit Kelantan. In the first, the most unusual thing is that palace maidens claim to have heard that Ravana had “supernatural powers, prowess, and a most beautiful form.” Sita confirms that, indeed, Ravana had those positive qualities. Upon the maidens’ request, Sita then draws “a fascinating portrait” of the demon king on a stone slab with a fragrant surface. With Rama’s arrival, the portrait is concealed under the royal seat. When Rama takes his place on the seat, Ravana’s portrait utters the following words: “We belong to the royal lineage alike. Why are you sitting on my head?” With the discovery of the portrait and the confirmation that it was indeed drawn by Sita, Rama immediately orders Sita to be taken away for execution. Lakshmana, who volunteers to be her executioner lets Sita go (Sahai 1976: 67-68).

Two versions of this episode are known in Malaysia. In the Hikayat Maharaja Ravana (Overbeck 1933: 129), Sita draws the portrait on the instigation of Berkegan Dewi, Ravana’s daughter. Laksmana, who is ordered to kill her is unable to do it; he sends Sita off to her father’s place in a boat. In the Hikayat Seri Rama (Zieseniss 1963: 97), when discovered with the portrait, Sita is ordered to leave. No other punishment is indicated. In the Wayang Kulit Kelantan episode, Sita Dewi Dihalau (Siti Dewi Foresworn), Ravana’s portrait is drawn upon the instigation of a demon disguised as a palace servant. Rama, who is in Taman Banjaran Sari garden taking his ritual bath to cleanse malicious influences (badi), suddenly falls ill and is brought back to the palace. The portrait is discovered and Rama accuses Sita of holding fond memories of Ravana and disloyalty to him. Lakshmana, ordered to be her executioner, is convinced of Sita’s innocence. Bound by Rama’s orders, he tries, very reluctantly, to execute his sister-in-law thrice but fails. Sita’s innocence is thus supernaturally established. Lakshmana sends her off to Maharishi Mata Api’s house. This episode is rarely performed in Kelantan and, that too, during special ritual (berjamu) performances intended for the initiation of puppeteers, for healing purposes or for vow-fulfillment.

Ruse and reconciliation

In at least two versions of the epic, the Ramakien and that used in Wayang Kulit Kelantan, once Rama comes to know that Sita is still alive, he tries to win her back. As a last resort, he sends out a message that he is dead. In the Ramakien, Sita, realizing his trick, goes off to the underworld kingdom of the snake-king Wiroon Nakarat. At a 299

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heavenly council, the gods intervene, with Rama and Sita presenting their arguments. Finally, Phra Isuan (Shiva) passes judgment that they reconcile their differences, forgive each other and reunite. A banquet is held to honour Rama and Sita as well as to celebrate the reconciliation (Cadet 1982: 242).

Similarly, in the Wayang Kulit Kelantan, after many failed attempts to persuade Sita to return, Rama uses the ruse of his ‘death’. Sita goes to the palace, but when with the removal of his shroud, Rama suddenly tries to embrace her, she runs off. A series of highly dramatic chases involving Hanuman and other warriors follow, but Sita escapes by changing into a fish as well as a bird before returning safely to Maharisi Mata Api’s hermitage. Sita does, finally, agree to return to Rama, but on her own terms. The demands include the sending of gifts (hantaran) as done during traditional Malay weddings (Yousof 2015: 82).

Summary of salient differences

When it comes to the Ramayana in Southeast Asia, full texts of certain versions have not been available until very recently. Comparative studies of local versions currently underway suggest: (a) the arrival of several different versions of the Ramayana into Southeast Asia from different regions of South Asia; (b) that there may have been intra-borrowings within Southeast Asian countries; and (c) that greater or lesser alterations or liberal interpretations took place for specific purposes. Folk as well as literary versions of the epic have had a remarkable impact upon the way of life and culture of the region’s communities through multiple tangible and intangible forms of expression – temple sculptures, paintings and frescoes, and performances in courts as well as outside. These forms of expression give clear indication of non-homogeneity in even some of the principal episodes. Taking these factors into consideration, the present chapter has approached the Ramayana in northern Southeast Asia, with a view to tracing possible derivations of specific themes from established versions, as well as links between those and versions encountered in the Kelantan shadow play through a two-pronged examination of characters and selected episodes. Such a process has shown that gods, sages, protagonists, and even lesser figures have undergone substantial shifts in character in comparison to their Valmikian counterparts in particular. The introduction of the Mahayanist bodhisattva concept into Buddhism in Myanmar, Laos and Thailand as well as the near-total elimination of Hindu gods in the Malaysian shadow play are indicative of attempts at localizing the epic and making it relevant and noncontroversial. Also noteworthy are the intra-regional influences within the Southeast Asian versions. These came about, in all likelihood, through the spread of performances. 300

The Ramayana of the Malay Shadow Play, Wayang Kulit Kelantan, and its possible Parallels...

A striking instance is the appearance in theatre rituals of the ancient indigenous name, Dewata Mulia Raya, for God, suggestions of Javanese influence through the divine or semi-divine punakawan characters, while popular Islam too echoes in the Malay versions of the epic, as seen in the Lankan encounter between Adam and Ravana.

Beyond characterization, such shifts are prevalent too in the plot itself. In Wayang Kulit Kelantan, the context for the hand of Sita contains several new elements. The crucial test involves the shooting of a single arrow through 40 palm trees; a second test is to take place in case of dispute. The idea of the contest is standard, but that of the palm trees is unique to the Malay shadow play. Also unusual is Ravana’s participation in the contest, the dispute following the contest, with both Ravana and Rama claiming victory. In the aftermath of the competition comes the direct departure of Rama, Lakshmana and Sita from Wat Tujuh Kedi Bermas to the forest instead of returning home to Ayodhya. This results in the omission of several of the epic’s vital events, and a consequent reorientation of the entire plot of the Ramayana. A significant change comes in connection with Hanuman’s birth, as the son of Rama and Sita. Rama’s acknowledgement of this relationship gives a substantial twist to the plot, as well as a new meaning to Hanuman’s rescue mission. Still connected with Hanuman, his romantic liaisons with the ‘fish princesses’ or mermaids Supanna-Matcha in the Ramakien, and Tuan Puteri Ikan in Wayang Kulit Kelantan are highly innovative. Two further crucial incidents—the kidnapping of Rama and Lakshmana by Mahiravana, and the drawing of Ravana’s portrait by Sita are noteworthy for the manner in which they, like other episodes cited, possibly originating in non-Valmikian sources in the first instance, have undergone significant adaptation locally.

Conclusion

This preliminary investigation has confirmed the likelihood of several Indian versions of the Ramayana contributing to regional and local versions in mainland Southeast Asia, with certain crucial episodes coming not from Valmiki but from Tulsidas as well as Krttivasa Ramayanas. In this respect, Krttivasa Ramayana emerges as a key source, while the Burmese Rama Vattu holds a vital position as a likely agent of transmission. Yet, even though a new beam of light may have been cast on the complexity of the epic within the region, as well as on the distinctiveness of certain characters and episodes, it is abundantly clear that further detailed investigations are called for to deepen as well as strengthen the findings presented here, towards a fuller appreciation of the Ramayana in Southeast Asia’s diverse landscape. 301

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Bibliography Ayyangar, R Sreenavasa. trans. 2013. The Ramayana of Valmiki. Chennai: Lifco Publishers Pvt Ltd.

Broman, Sven. 1996. Shadows of life: Nang Talung: Thai Popular Shadow Theatre. Bangkok:

White Orchid Press.

Cadet, J M. 1982. The Ramakien: The Stone Rubbings of the Thai Epic. Tokyo: Kodansha

International.

Iyengar, Srinivasa K R. 1983. Asian Variations in the Ramayana. New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi. Krishnan, A. trans. 2003. Srimad Valmiki Ramayana. Mylapore.

Nagar, Shantilal, and Suriti Nagar. 1997. Krittivasa Ramayana. 2 vols. New Delhi: Eastern Book

Linkers.

Overbeck, Hans. 1993. “Hikayat Maharaja Ravana.” Journal of the Malayan Branch of the Royal

Asiatic Society 11, no. 2: 111-132.

Phim, Thayro, and Sos Kem. eds. 1995. Sbek Thom: Khmer Shadow Theatre. Cornell: Southeast

Asia Program and UNESCO.

Ramakrishnan, R K. 2003. Ravana and Lanka. Delhi: Global Vision Publishing House.

Rutnin, Mattani. 1975. The Siamese Theatre: Collection of Reprints from Journals of the Siam Society. Bangkok: The Siam Society.

Sahai, Sachchidanand. trans. 1976. Lao Ramayana: Gvay Dvorahbi. New Delhi: B B Publishing Corporation. Shyam, Duam. 2009. Best of Hanumana Tales. Delhi: Tiny Tot Publications.

Singaravelu, Sachithanantham. 2004. The Ramayana Traditions in Southeast Asia. Kuala Lumpur: University of Malaya Press. Sweeney, Amin. 1972. The Ramayana and the Malay Shadow Play. Bangi: National University of Malaya Press. The Kamba Ramayana. trans. P S Sundram, ed. N S Jagannathan. New Delhi: Penguin Books.

The Seeker’s Glossary of Buddhism. 1998. 2nd ed. New York: Sutra Translation Committee of the

US & Canada.

Tilakasiri, Jayadeva. 1990. The Asian Shadow Play. Ratmalana: Vishva Lekha.

Toru, Ohno, trans. 2000. Burmese Ramayana. Delhi: B R Publishing Corporation.

Tulsidas. 1999. Shri Ramcharitmanasa: The Holy Lake of the Acts of Rama. ed. and trans. Ram

Chandra Prasad. Delhi: Motilal Banarasidass Publishers. Yousof, Ghulam-Sarwar. 1994. A Dictionary of Traditional Southeast Asian Theatre. Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press.

Yousof, Ghulam-Sarwar. 2015. Indian and Southeast Asian Themes in Traditional Theatre, Bengaluru: Pragati Graphics.

Zieseniss, Alexander. 1963. The Rama Saga in Malaysia. Singapore: Malaysian Sociological Research Institute.

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17. From Palace to Streets: Many Rāmāyaṇas from the Bylanes Krishna Murthy Hanuru

(tr. from Kannada by K Aravind Mitra)

Nandalike Lakshminarannappa’s (1870–1901) Adbhuta Rāmāyaṇa begins the tale of the Rāmāyaṇa with an interesting anecdote: as Vālmīki was narrating The Rāmāyaṇa to his disciples, Bhāradwaja, one of his students, raised several questions. “The Rāma Kathā that you recited was overwhelming. Please, can you recount the same? Once you had informed us that in the World of Brahma, there are 100 Crore versions of the epic and among these only 25,000 have descended onto the earth. Who are the prime characters in the Rāmāyaṇa that has just been related? Which event has got the maximum embellishments and which version of the available epics is the most popular among the masses?” (Bhatta 1951: 12).

The question delighted Vālmīki and his reply was also interesting; to quote him in translation, “I have listened to almost all the versions of the Rāmāyaṇa. But one cannot render the epic the way one hears. Just as a few droplets fell from the braided hair of Śiva to become the holy Ganges, similarly, we have been blessed with the Rāmāyaṇa, which is like a drop of nectar from a vast sea called the Hundred Crore Rāmāyaṇas. Those versions that found their way to the earth lost their divinity and the essence of the earth have got imbibed in them. But, in the Rāmāyaṇa that we have received, one cannot fully perceive Sītā’s character. To compensate that, listen to the stories related to Sītā,” (Bhatta 1951, 13). Saying so, he started narrating the Adbhuta Rāmāyaṇa which has hailed the supremacy of Sītā.

First, let us understand the idea of twenty-five thousand Rāmāyaṇas which indicates that there are many versions of the epic. A K Ramanujan’s article “Three Hundred Rāmāyaṇas..,”, which deals with the structure and texture of the different versions of the epic, begins with an interesting anecdote. When Rāma is seated on his throne, one of his finger rings falls and it goes into the underworld. Knowing that it is only Hanumān who has the strength and vigour to get the ring out of the underworld, he sends him to accomplish the task. In his tiniest incarnation, Hanumān enters the underworld only to see a plate full of rings to choose from offered by the king of the 303

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underworld (pātāla rāja). Every ring looked like Rāma’s (Swamy 2012: 67). This story suggests the patanthara nature of the epic that other narratives do not have. Second, one cannot render the epic in the way one hears it. This applies to the entire gamut of India’s ancient and medieval literature. Be it oral or scribal; any successive rendering of the epic is different from its previous one and is directly influenced by an individual’s understanding of the world. That is why each version is similar yet different from the other. The Jain versions of the same epic are drastically different from that of Vālmīki’s and the folk versions bring in a lot of variations within their depiction. Along with these, the legends, riddles and historical stories based on the epic are not similar to one another.

Third, the Rāmāyaṇas as they descended into the realm of flesh and blood from the World of Brahma, transformed into a story of mortals, obscuring the divine attributes. Nobody knows about the nature of the countless epics that originated in the World of Brahma. It is a hyperbolic statement. But, the moment the epic reached the earth, it became a story of worldly affairs. The characters were explained on the lines of human nature and flaws. As one can understand this in the context of Vālmīki’s Rāmāyaṇa, the same logic suits better to its versions construed in the folk world. An example that I can give in just a sentence is that a folk informant located in Tarikere while narrating the Rāmāyaṇa says that Hanumān starts his journey to Laṅkā from Tarikere (Byatanala 1981: 64). Fourth, one cannot conceive Sītā’s character completely. In the earlier stories, it might have been due to the excessive importance given to Rāma; Adbhuta Rāmāyaṇa not only throws light on Sītā delivering her children and her stay in the forest but also portrays her as an incarnation of Goddess Shakti by triumphing her in her chastity test. In this version, it is Sītā, who puts an end to Rāvaṇa’s life. Kannada folklore has depended mainly on the Adbhuta Rāmāyaṇa. Similarly, the opening lines of the folk versions offer prayers to Sītā: “Only one among many the chaste Sītamma/If one remembers her golden foot/the darkness goes away,” (Puttaswamy 2003: 90). But Vālmīki’s Rāmāyaṇa begins with uttering the name of Rāma as an answer to the queries like who is the supreme being on the earth, in reference to his qualities, features and his personality.

Fifth, which of the available versions of the Rāmāyaṇa is the best is an intricate question that remains unanswered. According to scholars, the Rāmāyaṇa that I have discussed till now has become a national discursive practice. Over the years, the story seeped into the conscience of the people. When it spread across the nation from one generation to the other, the 304

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Rāmāyaṇa was rendered again and again in the contexts of the person’s village, town and in accordance with his or her thinking.

Vālmīki may have given an epic framework for the stories that were popular among the people. The notion that the Rāmāyaṇa had a source also applies to the personality of Vālmīki as described in the epic. Vālmīki hailed from a tribal community. The oral lore that was in the minds of people took the shape of an epic and then came back to the common folk in different forms.

As there is a relationship between the huntsman and Vālmīki, even his version of the epic and its folk counterpart have similarities and differences in terms of nature, scope and structure. In this context, no other epic is as popular as the Rāmāyaṇa. Even the Pañcatantra is based on popular folk stories. But the difference between the Pañcatantra and the epic is that the latter has achieved devotional status across the world. Due to this devotion, people have adapted the story of the epic in accordance with regions and context.

If the Mahābhārata is the story of man’s physical prowess and weakness, the Rāmāyaṇa is the story that upholds the ideals that men could follow. The world of the common folk, though it finds it difficult to follow the ideals that the epic upholds, always desires to involve them in their stories. Over the years, the Rāmāyaṇa became a text that is recited every day and the Gītā which appears in one of the sections of the Mahābhārata became a book of worship. Another important feature of the epic is that many of the characters of the Rāmāyaṇa became the ideals of worship.

One of the ways in which the Rāmāyaṇa reached the folk world in the form of an epic was when the common folk who had heard the Rāmāyaṇa from the raconteurs who knew Sanskrit started adapting it into different forms of performances. Among all the folk forms, it was first adapted into the Bayalāta.1 It is performed in two ways, the first one is Togalu Gombeyāta and the second one is Sūtrada Gombeyāta (Figs. 17.1, 17.2, 17.3). There is also another way in which the folks selected different scenes from the Rāmāyaṇa and adapted the same into a one nightlong play. These performances in the rural areas not only served as the modes of entertainment but also as subtexts of ideals and morality. Innumerable performances of these types are available in and around Karnataka. If there are written texts of these ātas available, then they are not anything other than handwritten scripts. In the last century, most Bayalāta performances were oral in nature. A master who had the Bayalāta by heart used to roam around villages and stop by places where people would request him to teach them the performance. Once he was finished, he would move on to the next destination. 305

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Fig. 17.1: String Puppets of Rama, Sita and Anjaneya. Mysore University Museum, Mysore. Photograph courtesy: Hanuru, Krishna Murthy.

Fig. 17.2: Leather Puppet of Ravana. Mysore University Museum, Mysore. Photograph courtesy: Hanuru, Krishna Murthy. 306

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Fig. 17.3: Leather Puppet of Anjaneya. Mysore University Museum, Mysore. Photograph courtesy: Hanuru, Krishna Murthy.

In the context of these modes of adaptation, there is an important thing that catches our notice. When the common folk adapt the epic for Bayalāta they do not tweak the text in any way. But the same folks while composing songs alter the epic stories and plots. In these songs, the themes and contents of other epics may also appear. In the folk version of the Rāmāyaṇa, the 12th-century Vacahanakara Sharana Madivala Machaiah appears. In the story of Maleya Mahādeswara, “Nilegowda and Sankamma”, a story from the epic appears. Madivala Machaiah, who goes out to wash clothes on the banks of the river, doubts his wife, who comes late with food and teases her citing the loyalty of Sītā. In Mahādeswara Kāvya, Soliga Nilegowda while going on a hunting expedition says that his venture may take around nine months and says that in his absence his wife may be abducted by a demon-like Rāvaṇa. In the epics of India, an allegation is an aspect that gives a tragic angle to the stories. In the epics, it is the protagonists who face an allegation. The allegations are often linked to death, loyalty, chastity, and these allegations are context-sensitive. Both the Mārgī (formal or stylized) and Desī (popular or folk) poets accept bravery and chastity as the universal values for men and women, respectively. In the Bayalāta called Sitā Svayamvara, Sītā as a character becomes crucial. Rāma, in order to marry her, breaks a bow called ‘Shiva Dhanassu’. Rāvaṇa, who represents 307

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evil, fails to break the bow. In these stories of loyalty, women should not have communication with other men. But the men have the privilege to own as many wives as they want. Though polygamy was the then sociological condition, Rāma stands for monogamy and absolute morality. Idealization of his character moves to an extent that even the pious and obedient Sītā, in order to prove her loyalty stands in the test of fire in Vālmīki’s and the folk versions of the Rāmāyaṇa. In the folk versions, Sītā brings water in a pot made of sand. Even her flowers do not shrivel and burn when she stands in the test of the fire. The story that begins with Rāvaṇa failing to break the bow, takes an ethical turn as Rāvaṇa reaches his end because of abducting a chaste woman. A sub-story of Ahalyā reiterates the same sense of morality. Since the last century, the Bayalātas that are performed are the ones concerning other’s wife: Valivadhe, the ideal brethren Hanumān’s Hanumadvilasa, Paduka Pattabhisheka, Kausalya Parinaya, Putrakameshti, Shri Rama Pattabhisheka, Ahalyodhara, Sitapaharana, Sethu Bandhana, Choodamani Prasanga, Atikaya kalaga, Angada sandhana and Bhoo kaylasa. All these folk performances were inherited orally.

In the background of perceiving and listening, even Vālmiki’s Rāmāyaṇa is a story recounted in front of Lord Rāma. This is the situation that occurs in the Uttara Kāṇḍa. Rāma’s own children, Lava and Kuśa, sing 20 sargas of the epic. Rāma is bewildered as to who taught the kids his own story. In folklore, it is a narrative technique to render a story in front of a person who is responsible for the tragic error. On a false account, the king (Rāma) sends his wife away to a forest. The queen succumbs to a lot of difficulties and finally gets shelter to give birth to her sons. The sons grow up as courageous young men who narrate their story in front of their father’s palace. It is the children who reflect on the deeds of their father in the presence of Sītā and all this becomes an organic component of the narrative technique. Lava and Kuśa tie up the horse that Rāma has left free for the purpose of Aśvamedha. They defeat Rāma who comes following the horse. Sītā accuses her own children that those who defeat their own father may not even spare the life of their mother’s. At the same time, the folk songs also highlight how Sītā endures violent circumstances in order to prove her chastity.

Junjappa is one of the popular folk tales of central Karnataka. In the tale, Junjappa is Chinnamma’s son and he tests his mother’s chastity. He says, “If you have been loyal to my father, then tie seven curtains between us. You stand on the other side. If the milk that oozes out of your breast reaches me, then you are my mother. If not, then I am not born of a chaste woman” (Shankaranarayana 1982: 45). In folk stories, women are often tested to show their loyalty to men. In folk tales, men going to other states for the purpose of war or trade, and a demon or an evil-minded character abducting 308

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woman during that time are a few popular instances of putting women’s loyalty to test. The older folk tradition appears to be of the view that it is the woman’s duty to be loyal to her husband in his absence. If her husband dies, the only way of showing her loyalty is to immolate herself as sati. These instances are sung in different parts of Karnataka and there are also a lot of references in the inscriptions.

Several stories that were popular in the folk world took a different shape in the Mārgī world and again came back to the world of Desī as tales of morality and chastity. To summarize, the common pattern for these stories follows a man who had gone out for the purpose of trade, who comes back to meet his wife, and then goes back. As a result of the meeting, the wife gets pregnant and draws criticism from the entire village as they remain oblivious to the man’s visit. On this account, she is humiliated and abandoned in the forest. These allegations are often succeeded by tests to prove the woman’s innocence, and fire and water are the popular modes of testing. These tests are the ultimate tests of loyalty, which could cost a woman’s life, and with the intervention of caste and religion, these practices have become a part of the tradition. In these tests, those who immolated became goddesses. For instance, Sītā’s immolation leads to the worshipping of her image. Hence, the Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki seems to have followed the folk life.

As Vālmīki’s Rāmāyaṇa is the urtext, ādikāvya, may have got its inspiration from the world of folk. Another important aspect is that the world of folk has accepted Hanumān even more than Rāma. In the folk stories, this is the recurring theme. If Mārgī kāvyas have seen animals as the prey to be hunted, the folk world looks at the animals as fellow beings that come to aid when human beings are in distress. Heroes who are worshipped in the palace emerge weak when time tests their courage. In these situations, animals are used as tropes rescuing men. In one of the folk stories, when a ferocious lion gets trapped in the hunter’s net, it is a rat that comes to his rescue. A passer-by who is attacked by a tiger is saved by a fox that sends the tiger into a cage. In order to evade the death sentence, kings, queens, and even the poverty-stricken have to perform the task of picking pulses out of a heap. It is not the victim but hundreds of ants who perform this arduous task and rescue helpless human beings. In the story of Kumāra Rāma, if the protagonist is conceived as the hero of Kannadanadu, the world of folk has a lower caste character called Mādigara Hampa, a soldier, and narrates a story that conveys that without the latter, Kumāra Rāma has no existence at all. Even Vālmīki’s Rāmāyaṇa has similar themes. The epic starts by describing Rāma as the truthful and the most powerful. In the end, he becomes helpless and needs the aid of a bird. The lines: 309

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A bird lying like a hillock, Having its wings broken, suffering, and rolling, The merciful Rāma asked, With whom did you fight and have your wings broken, When he requested to utter a word, A demon took your Sītā away, It ceased living (Krishna Murthy 1975: 111).

Like this folk song, just after meeting Jaṭāyu, he meets Hanumān. Vālmīki portrays Hanumān as a human-animal in Kiṣkindhā. He is the head of the monkey clan, the son of Anjani, the son of Vāyu and possesses all the supreme qualities of human beings. He is Vajrakāya, Anu Svarūpī, Virāṭ Svarūpī, the master of grammar and one who practices celibacy. Along with these, a duty-bound Hanumān helps Rāma, who could not find Sītā, by crossing the sea and finding her. Folks call this act as Hanumadvilāsa.

It is necessary to observe the way Vālmīki classifies his kāvya: Rāma’s childhood is part of Bāla Kāṇḍa, his ascension to the throne and other episodes are in the Ayodhyā Kāṇḍa, Araṇya Kāṇḍa and Kiṣkindhā Kāṇḍa; the entry of Hanumān in Laṅkā is in the Sundara Kāṇḍa. Hanumān has been more widely received in the villages. Kiṣkindhā’s simple animal-human figure is a god who protects the villages throughout India. There are a lot of beliefs about Hanumān in the folk world. Living practices in Karnataka to take vows in the name of Hanumān to have children get his qualities are known. There are practices of worshipping, taking oaths in the centres of Niyoga, Shakthi Devate and the places of Naga Bana. A faith that is strongly rooted among the people is that Shani (Saturn) never comes into the abode where Hanumān resides. It is said that if one worships Hanumān, then one will not be troubled by Lord Shani.

Hanumān’s temple, often located on the outskirts of the villages, attracts a lot of female devotees as he is considered to be the protector of the territory; within the villages, for wrestlers, he is Vajrakāya. A belief prevails that after Indra, Hanumān is the only one who can climb upon Uccaiśravas.2 A triplet that is famous in the central part of Karnataka has a popular line praising the lord, “Hanumān will arrive on Ucharaya (Uccaiśravas)...” (Hanuru 2010: 201). Symbolizing this, in the entire state of Karnataka, there is a practice of carrying Hanumān on a wooden horse. The beginnings of Kannada folk songs usually start with remembering Benaka (Gaṇeśa) and Hanumān. Words like “Benaka with protruding stomach” and “Hanumān with enlarged teeth” appear in these songs. 310

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Vālmīki sees unparalleled qualities in an animal; he imposes some human qualities onto it and creates the section Sundara Kāṇḍa. Common folk have accepted this.

Though Ānjaneya is without adornments, he wears a garland made of pearls. Women believe that it was given to him by Sītā during Rāma’s coronation. In the southern part of Karnataka where the River Cauvery crosses over, Sītā’s nose ornament falls. Hanumān takes a dip into the depths of the river and retrieves the ornament. All these legends are regional. The local and regional natural resources and topography are often identified with the Rāmāyaṇa to construe legends and stories. Common folk believe these stories to be true accounts. According to folk tradition, war never occurs between Rāma and Rāvaṇa. The fire that is lit by Hanumān burns Laṅkā. When Rāvaṇa realizes that what he did to Hanumān was wrong, Rāma shoots an arrow aiming at Rāvaṇa. The courage and bravery of Rāma and Rāvaṇa are not a significant part of the folk songs. Folklore’s uniqueness is formed by features associated with its orality. The plots of folklore do not flow like interconnected stories. The informants select any relatable events that they are interested in and weave it into the narrative structure. No rule guides them to have any text as the original and the incidents that are woven into the songs are rendered in local dialects. As these renderings do involve a lot of local incidents, the ones that received importance by the epic poet may not be crucial for the folk informants.

One of the best-suited examples to illustrate this is that in the Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki, when Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa attain youth, sage Viśvāmitra arrives in Ayodhyā to test their strength. His concern is that many demons are obstructing a sacrifice that he is about to perform and only Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa can help to prevent their threats. Not only in the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa but also in many later versions of the epic one finds incidents like these emphasizing more on violence and courage. In accordance with this, the svayamvara scenes appear in the next few chapters of the Kāṇḍa. In this, the bride is not tested but the groom is. In the epics of India, these svayamvaras indicate the protagonist’s strength and these ‘bravery scenes’ induce rivalry among different groups of warriors.

In the Janapada Rāmāyaṇa, there are no scenes of Viśvāmitra seeking the help of Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa to prevent threats to his ritual. Instead of portraying a svayamvara scene depicting Rāma winning Sītā’s hand, in the folk versions, he falls for her when he is going around for alms. In these contexts, in the creation of folk versions of the epic, one has to observe that it has nothing to do with such rituals. The world of the common folk does not give a lot of importance to war-related details. Their life is related to agriculture and so war is not of much importance. Even in folk stories, kings and 311

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queens are abandoned in the forest within a line or two. In Piriyapattanada Kālaga, a few songs related to the Palegāras of Chitradurga give no big account of the war. Most folk songs are women-centric as well: Only one among many, the chaste Sītamma For Rāma, there is only one Sītā, who is truthful If one remembers her holy feet The night escapes The lightning stops, Thunders hide Crabs and snakes have forgotten to bite, As rain pearls would fall And the rivers will flow (Puttaswamy 2003: 24)

Citing elements of the Rāmāyaṇa, the following observations help us to understand the ways in which the epic became popular in the folk world. When Sītā was born, her father Rāvaṇa left her in a box to float on the river. When King Janaka was bathing, the floating box struck his back.

Rāma, who comes for alms to Sītā’s place, woos her and marries her. He informs her that he would take her home once he finishes his fourteen years of sojourn in the forests. But a stubborn Sītā says that she wants to follow him. In the words of Sobane, Janaka, the king, gives words of advice to Sītā about how to behave in the home of her husband. Rāvaṇa, in the guise of Rāma having killed the magical deer, asks Sītā to open the door. But Sītā asks him about Lakṣmaṇa who had accompanied Rāma into the forest. Hanumān who comes to Laṅkā looking for Sītā sits in front of Rāvaṇa and utters “It’s me, a lord for many/Master of Kumbhakarṇa / A servant of Rāma and your girl’s (huḍugi) man” (Byatanala 1981: 78)

When Rāma abandons Sītā in a forest, she tries to end her life by committing suicide. Then she is saved by Kushcya and Lava fish. Hence, she names her sons as Lava and Kuśa.

Rāma performs Aśvamedha to know if there is someone who overpowers him in strength. Kuśa and Lava tie the Aśvamedha horse as they think that it is suitable to play with.

They tie Ānjaneya around his neck and drag him. When Lava and Kuśa tie the rope, he takes the simian avatāra! 312

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When Kuśa and Lava dragged Hanumān towards Sītā, who was residing in the hermitage, he prostrates in reverence.

Sītā loses her temper on her kids, concerned that children who ended the life of their father may even kill their mother. By taking a devotional perspective from the world of the scribe, the Rāmāyaṇa started spreading in the folk world in different ways. The Rāmāyaṇa, before becoming a part of the Bayalāta, got its importance through Togalu Gombeyāta.3 Carving the images of Rāma, Lakṣmaṇa, Sītā and Hanumān on animal skins and painting them with suitable colours, setting up a dais, and musicians, and one who controls the dolls/puppets while being seated behind them, performances took place. Togalu Gombeyāta was performed by Shille Kytha or Gombe Rama communities.

After Togalu Gombe, Sūtrada Gombe4 came into vogue. The same characters were made of wood and then they were painted with colours, and then a screen was tied, and along with dialogues the acts were performed. The livelihood of these performers was dependent on the alms given by the villagers. For many folk troupes, performing the Rāmāyaṇa is also a source of livelihood. One of the popular communities is Hagulu Veshadhararu. Veshadhararu often perform in the streets and in the daylight. In some places, an entire family would perform all the characters of the Rāmāyaṇa, changing their attires symbolically. If Sīta wears a crown made of the wrapper, the same woman would become Mandodarī for Rāvaṇa wearing a different attire. The one who performs as Lakṣmaṇa gets a tail and a monkey mask to become Hanumān. If the elderly woman of Hagalu Vesha becomes Sītā or Mandodarī, her own daughter acts as Tataki and asks Rāma’s and Lakṣmaṇa’s hand in marriage. Once they are done with their performances, the same troupe also begs for alms in the city. As these communities perform in public places, the sub-stories of the Rāmāyaṇa have become very popular among the masses. In this way, performing the epic devotionally has become a source of livelihood for many communities. As already mentioned, if the Mahābhārata is perceived by the common folk as a worldly story, the Rāmāyaṇa has been conceived and rendered by the common folk as a story that is embedded in the particular ideals related to specific regions. But, in the 12th century, when the Vacana movement became popular, the epics were called Vedic and ignored for a long time. Even the folk world, where the epics were an emotional part of the life, was supplanted by Vacanas ridden with Śaiva philosophy and Tatva Padagalu. It was in the 14th and 15th century that the Rāmāyaṇa story became popular again. If Tatva Padakaras rendered Vacanas rhythmically along with a string instrument, those who sang Kīrtanas (devotional songs) popularized the epics with 313

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musical instruments. After the 15th century, the Rāmāyaṇa, which became popular through Sūtrada Bombe (string dolls or puppets), Bayalāta and Kīrtana influenced not only the rural folks but also the tribes. Hence, in these tribes, one can identify the confluence between Śaiva and Vaiṣṇava cults.

One of the interesting ways that folks use the Rāmāyaṇa epic is for predicting their future. Precisely, the events of the Rāmāyaṇa help to decide one’s horoscope. In this way of predicting the future, the most sought-after character is Rāma, followed by Hanumān. This horoscope reading is often conducted in public places like fairs or on the temples’ pavements. A needle will be used to select a page that would have an incident from the epic. If that page has an incident from the life of Kumbhakarṇa, then the desire of the person who has opened the page will not be satisfied. If it is the page that has Sītā getting imprisoned by Rāvaṇa, that means there are impending dangers to the life of the one who has asked questions. If the page has Rāvaṇa getting killed by Rāma, then the problems of the onlookers will be solved. If there is Ānjaneya bringing in the Sanjīvani herb to save the life of Lakṣmaṇa, then the onlookers will be rescued even if they are in grave danger. The book that has these incidents, helping to predict one’s horoscope is the Rāma Prashna Chintamani. In a Hanumān temple, it is a practice throughout Karnataka that people predict their future based on the falling of the flower from either the right or the left side, signifying positive or negative results, respectively. They trust Hanumān, thinking that if he gives the boon, their problems will be solved. All over Karnataka, a group called Kavalletthu, having ox used for ploughing, roams around performing the events of the Rāmāyaṇa. They have meanings for their ox’s expressions and name them, like Rāma–Sītā Kalyāṇa. The group that performs Kothiyāta make their monkeys perform the Rāmāyaṇa in fairs. Their exploits include having a box full of pebbles and shaking it to create noise and making a monkey jump off and calling it as Ānjaneya crossing the sea to reach Laṅkā, reminding the audience about Hanumān visiting Sītā, and Sītā feeling coy seeing Rāma in her svayamvara, etc. Through the performances of such scenes, the artists make people remember the epic. The epic has spread across the country simultaneously as a symbol of devotion and as a source of livelihood. If, in the stories related to land, the rivers and regions, the Rāmāyaṇa appears as a legend, historical incident, and an exemplar, in the Bayalātas, plays, and performances involving animals, the epic helps to earn a living. In these contexts, the Three Hundred Rāmāyaṇas, that A. K. Ramanujan perceptively mentions, is only a beginning.5 314

From Palace to Streets: Many Rāmāyaṇas from the Bylanes

Endnotes 1. Bayalāta is a form of Yakṣagāna performance found in the southern Indian region of Karnataka, featuring stories from Indian epics and the Purāṇas as dance and drama.

2. Divine horse that emerged from the churning of the milky ocean in Hindu mythology. 3. This refers to the leather puppet tradition in the Deccan/Karnataka.

4. Suthrada Gombe refers to puppets handled with threads and Shalake Gombe refers to puppets handled with rods during these performances.

5. The spread of this epic is so wide that in Kolkata, I met a couple, Montu and Bhava Chitrakar, who paint different scenes of the epic and also sing. The water colour paintings were also available for sale.

Bibliography

Byatanala, S S. 1981. Torave Rāmāyaṇa. Bengaluru: Kannaḍa Sāhitya Pariṣattu.

Kambara, Chandrashekara, ed. 1985. Kannada Janapada Vishwakosha. vol. 2. (2 vols). Bengaluru: Kannaḍa Sāhitya Pariṣattu.

Karanth, Shivarama, ed. 1965. Bathaleswara Virachita Kaushika Rāmāyaṇa. Putturu: Harsha Prakatanalaya. Hanuru, Krishna Murthy, ed. 2010. Sāvirada Siri Belagu. Hospete: Hampi University.

Krishna Murthy, Mathighatta, ed. 1975. Gitegaḷu. vol. 1. (2 vols). Bengaluru: Gurumurthy Prakashana.

Lakshminaranappa, Nadalike, ed. 1951. Adbhuta Rāmāyaṇa. ed. S V Parameswarabhatta. Mysuru: Usha Sahitya Male.

Puttaswamy. 2003. Kannada Janapadadalli Rāmāyaṇa Mahābhārata. Mandya: Lohith Prakashana.

Ramanujan, A K. 2012. “Three Hundred Rāmāyaṇas: Five Examples and Three Thoughts on Translation.” In Many Rāmāyaṇas: The Diversity of Narrative Tradition in South Asia, ed. Paula Richman, Berkeley: University of California Press, c1991 1991. http://ark.cdlib. org/ark:/13030/ft3j49n8h7/. [Trans. O L Nagabhushana Swamy]. Dharwad: Manohara Grantha Mala]. Ranganatha Sharma, N. 1966. Srimad Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. vol. 1. (7 vols.) N p.: Rāmāyaṇa Prakashana Samsthe. Shankara Narayana T N. 1982. Kadugollara Nambikegalu Mathu Acharanegalu. Mysuru: Prasaranga, Mysore University.

Shankara Narayana Bhatta, S, ed. 1973. Hosagannda Adbhuta Rāmāyaṇa. Mysuru: Usha Sahitya Male.

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18. The Making of Ramayana in the Yakshagana of Coastal Karnataka Purushottama Bilimale

Yakshagana has emerged in the present times as a unique art form and is immensely popular in coastal Karnataka, India, which includes the districts of Dakshina Kannada, Udupi, Shimoga, Chikkamagalur, Coorg, and the adjoining areas like Kasaragodu in Kerala State. The coastal Yakshagana has two main variations called tenku tittu (i.e., Southern style) and Badagu tittu (Northern style). Both styles have eight hours nightlong stage performances with music, dance, costumes and extemporized dialogues. Talamaddale is another form, which has only the spoken word (See also, Karanth 1963; Ashton 1997). There are about 36 professional troupes performing more than 400 Rama-centred Yakshaganas per year, and more than 200 amateur troupes perform an average of 400 Ramayana episodes in a year. We could also listen to more than 1000 Talamaddale performances over a year. At an average of 300 audience per performance, about 6,00,000 people watch the Ramayana every year in a small area of coastal Karnataka. The Ramayana re-creation process happens mainly at four levels:

Firstly, there is a creation of prasanga (episode) texts by various authors. Currently,

48 Ramayana episodes are available, written by 60 authors. These texts are flexible

and are adjusted to the needs of time, space, community and the talent of the artists.

Thus, a lot of literature is created in Kannada and Tulu languages.

Secondly, there are musical texts, selected by the Bhagawat (main singer) during performances, which are intricately produced lyric-compositions based on these episodes in various metres, set to different rhythmic cycles or talas. Thirdly, there are verbal and visual texts, which elevates the first text into a third text via the second text. The performances of visual and verbal arts in Yakshaganas are something more than imagination. It includes several things, for instance, the actor is independent to use all his resources like scriptures, plays, literature, experience, caste, politics, etc. His makeup and dance style visualizes the Ramayana on a tiny stage. It creates an interesting pattern of the Ramayana, which is very special to each performance, thus attracting the same audience again and again. 316

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And finally, the audience text, where various levels of audience create or interpret their own Ramayana during and after performances.

The relationships between all these texts are again multiple and complex in nature.

Through this chapter, an attempt has been made to illustrate how performances of

the Ramayana in Yakshagana are being recreated, redefined, recoded, communicated, and re-appropriated in one of the most popular art form-Yakshagana.

Prasanga texts

The prasanga is a written text of Yakshagana; it contains only poems (250-300) which are neither divided into scenes nor even into dialogues of the various characters. The prasanga thus has the appearance of a long poem or sequence of poems, though it is specifically written for performance as a dance-drama. We could say that it is a special kind of poetry that has all the elements necessary for a performance. The songs contain a description of the action, the hint towards the generation of dialogue, as well as the detail about who speaks the dialogue, as the following example from Panchavati, will make it clear: ‘Rama Laksmana and Sita Finding a clear stream of water Built a hut of leaves and twigs In the Panchavati forest Making it their home’ (Chaudhuri and Bilimale 2000)

As the Bhagawat sings the song, the scene that is described in the song is enacted on the stage. The audience thus not merely see the visual representation but also hear the verbal description. However, the selection of songs from a particular text varies from – 1. Bhagawat to Bhagawat 2. Artists to artists 3. Place to place and time of the performances.

For example, during the entry of Rama, Lakshmana and Sita to the Panchavati forest, the Bhagawat may select one or two or three or four songs depending on his mood, style, the raga he is choosing to sing, artists on stage and the availability of the time for that particular performance on a particular day. This selection varies from Bhagawat to Bhagawat, artists to artists, place to place and the time of the performance. Hence, selecting songs for a particular performance works as a base for the recreation of literature on stage during every performance. The following prasanga texts on Ramayana are currently available in Kannada and Tulu Ramayanas: 317

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Prasanga 1. Putrakameshti and Sita Kalyana 2. Putrakameshti 3. Seetha Kalyana 4. Kaushika Charitre 5. Ahalyoddhara 6. Paduka Pattabhisheka 7. Pattabhisheka 8. Rama Pattabhisheka 9. Panchavati Ramayana 10. Seethapahara 11. Khara Dushanara Kalaga 12. Panchavati - Vali Sugrivara Kalaga 13. Panchavati (In Tulu) 14. Yakshagana Vali Sugriva 15. Sethu Bandhana

16. Ravanodbhava 17. Chudamai or Ungura Sandhi 18. Hanumadvilasa

19. Angada Sandhana

20. Atikaya Kalaga 21. Makaraksha Kalaga 22. Marimukha Kalaga 23. Indrajitu Kalaga 24. Kumbhakarna Kalaga 25. Nagastra, Kumbhakarna Kalaga 26. Prachanda Lankeshwara 27. Bhukailasa 28. Ravanodbhava

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Author : Parti Subba (1620) : Geresoppe Shantapayya (1840) : Lakshmi Narasimha : Unknown author : Aliya Lingaraja : Giriyamma : Halasinahalli Narasimha Shastri : Aletti Ramanna Shagrittaya : Kadandale Rama Rao : Parti Subba (1620) : Puttige Ramakrishna Bhagawat : V. Puttanna : Aliya Lingaraja : Narasimhana Bhakta : Parti Subba : Aliya Lingaraja : Badakabail Parameshwarayya : Venkappa Shetty : Parti Subba : Aliya Lingaraja : Nagara Subbayya (1840) : Parti Subba : Aliya Lingaraja : Subbanna : Tippanarya : Parti Subba : Aliya Lingaraja : Hattiyangadi Rama Bhatta : Aletti Ramanna Shagrittaya : Someshwara Bhakta : Hattiyangadi Rama Bhatta (1920) : Parti Subba : Madhupureshana Bhakta : Murur Devara Heggade : Mudradi Venkappayya : Subba

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29. Ravana Vedavati 30. Ravaneshwara Kalaga 31. Ravanasura Kalaga 32. Kalanemi Kalaga 33. Mairavana Kalaga 34. Marimukhana Kalaga 35. Ramapattabhishekha and Ravana Samhara 36. Kusha lavara Kalaga 37. Lavakushara Kalaga 38. Shrirama Nija Pattabhisheka 39. Sampurna Ramayana 40. Ramashwamedha 41. Ramodaya 42. Ram Katha Prasanga 43. Ramanjaneya Yuddha 44. Rama Nija Pattabhisheka 45. Valmiki Vijaya 46. Shatasya Ravana Kalaga 47. Yakshagana Mairavana Kalaga 48. Lavanasura Kalaga

: Shant Kavi : Kasaragod Subbaraya : Kordela Venkata Rao : Sripati : Venkata Kavi : Unknown : Puttige Ramakrishna Bhagawat : Parti Subba : Aliya Lingaraja : Tippanarya : Hattiyangadi Rama Bhatta : Bhalaksha : Giriyamma : Aletti Ramanna Shagrittaya : Janakai Timmappa Hegade : Gundu Seetharamayya : Belasalige Ganapathi Hegade : V Puttanna : Aliya Lingaraja : Ramakrishnayya : Unknown : Aletti Rama Shagrittaya : Vasudevachar : Vishnu Sabhahita (1800?) : Brahmavara Venkata (1720) : Puttige Ramakrishna Bhagawat

Thus, 60 authors have written 48 prasangas and covered almost all of the Ramayana story. As far as the texts are concerned, Putrakameshti, Lavakushara Kalaga and Sampurna Ramayana are the most popular episodes written by more than one author. The largest part of these texts is based on the Ramayana written by Kumara Valmiki, a medieval Kannada poet.

However, we should note that both Putrakameshti and Sampurna Ramayana are not popular prasangas on the stage. Instead, Panchavati and Indrajitu Kalaga are the most performed texts on stage. Vali-Sugrivara Kalaga and Angada Sandhana are the most used texts in Talamaddale as it gives abundant scope for arguments. 319

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The duration of a given Yakshagana performance will be eight hours. It spreads from sunset to sunrise. The above-listed prasangas are for 3-4 hours. Hence, for the whole night performance, the artists or organizers select two prasangas. The popular combinations of such prasangas are as follows: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Paduka Pattabhisheka - Atikaya Kalaga Paduka Pattabhisheka - Indrajitu Kalaga Panchavati-Atikaya - Indrajitu Pachavati - Lavakusha etc. Chudamani - Iravana, Mairavana Kalaga etc.

Generally, the first episode will be slow and the second would be fast involving scenes of battle, perfectly fitting into the whole night cycle. If it is seen as a symbolic representation of the fight between order and disorder, these scenes of battle, just before sunrise represent the ritualistic victory of order over chaos. Order will be restored again with the approach of daylight. The artists skillfully fill the gaps and carry the story further. For example, if the episode for the performance selected was Vali-Sugriva, then in the entry Rama will narrate the earlier story in a nutshell and allow the story to continue. Hence, the audience will understand the Ramayana till the current episode begins. Thus, each prasanga cluster creates a unique Ramayana for the performances.

Musical text

The Yakshagana music is a distinct style of music that is in many ways different from the two schools of classical music in India - Karnatak and Hindustani. It is an independent musical tradition, developed as a powerful theatrical medium capable of expressing the whole gamut of human emotions. A particular Ramayana episode contains more than 250 songs, which are intricately, produced lyric compositions in various meters set to different talas. For three hours of performance, the Bhagawat needs only 45 to 50 songs. Based on his assessment of the artists on stage and the audience sitting in front of him he makes on spot selection of the songs. In some songs, the lines are repeated several times by the singer. Especially when the song is elaborated through dance and the words are represented through gestures, the lines are repeated several times. When characters like Rama, Lakshmana, Hanuman, and Indrajit appears on stage, the Bhagawat repeats a few lines to establish the importance of such characters. Thus, each Bhagawat creates his own Ramayana text for each performance. It is very interesting to note that the raga and talas are also not fixed. These are basically divided into the Northern style that is Badagu tittu and the Southern style that is 320

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tenku tittu. Furthermore, in each style, the Bhagawat will choose the raga and the tala as per his choice of the day. Thus, musical texts help in creating and communicating with the audience.

Along with music, dances in Yakshagana Ramayanas are used as one of the chief means of expression and not as mere embellishment. Rama’s oddolaga (great assembly) is a highly choreographed piece involving elaborate and intricate dance sequences. The entry of Ravana, Kumbhakarna, Tataka, Sugriva and Shurpanakha creates a powerful impact on the audience. The entry of Hanuman is very special and very unique for the character. The Ramayana dances are broadly divided into eight styles: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

Dances of Kings like Dasharatha and Rama Dances of Pundu vesha (young characters) like Lakshamana, and Angada Dances of Stree (lady) characters like Sita, Tara, and Mandodari Dances of demons like Ravana, Kumbhakarna, Tataka and Shurpanakha Dances of Monkey characters like Hanuman, Vali and Sugreeva Dances of antiheroes like Atikaya and Indrajit Dances of birds like Jatayu and Sampati Dances of Vidushaka (clown)

These further highlight the multiplicity through the dancing styles of each artist. So, the effect of dances varies from artist to artist.

Verbal text

The actor who creates a verbal text on stage actually adjusts the text to the audience’s capacity to decode it. The dialogues spoken by the artists are not written down or fixed. The written text, as we have seen contains only the songs sung by the Bhagawat. After completing the song-dance sequence, the actor creates his dialogue during the performance itself, basing it on the song just sung. This dialogue is totally an impromptu creation by the actor. It is no doubt based on the song, but the words of the song, most often provide only the barest outline of the narrative. The actor depending on his talent, his conception of the character he is representing, his knowledge of the epics and puranas and of course the oral conventions, develops his dialogues. The set of cultural themes and social organizing principles also govern the conduct of the actor. Because of the freedom provided by the improvized text, each day’s performance becomes a new creation. It depends on the mood of the actor, the performative context, the interaction with fellow artists and most importantly, the rapport that develops between the actor and the audience. With the entry of scholar artistes (like Shri Sheni 321

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Gopalakrishna Bhat, Polali Sankaranarayana shastra, Ramadasa Samaga, Perla Krishna Bhat, Kolyur Ramachandra Rao, Siddakatte Chennappa Shetty, Keremane Shambhu Hegade, Dr Prabhakara Joshi, etc) into Yakshagana, the ‘verbal world’ attained new dimensions. The actors do not take the concept of being loyal to the written text, or the text the Bhagawat creates on stage seriously. The actor has to create his own dialogue; the interpretative facet of acting gets highlighted. The interpretative performer in reality creates a new text, which is very unique to him. In each performance, he adds, deletes or alters the text handled by other actors in the past. A working knowledge of different branches of knowledge of ancient India like philosophy, religious practices, the political and social systems etc are also necessary for the artists. Without such knowledge, the actor would find it very difficult to elaborate on the song and its theme through his dialogue. In addition, sharp exchanges of dialogues often ensue between the characters and anyone who does not have sound knowledge in these fields, will find it difficult to justify his stand. For example, Rama has to develop a defensive argument for killing Vali by standing behind a tree. Thus, the Yakshagana Ramayana actors are not translators, but re-creators of the episodes. For example, Ravana in Yakshagana, often questions the propriety of Rama’s behaviour at Panchavati and accuses him of colonizing the asura territory. Vali and Ravana are portrayed as champions of the downtrodden, fighting for equality and questioning the credentials of the kings of Ayodhya, including Rama. Individual performers and the changes in their performance over a period could tell a great deal about the factors influencing the development of the Ramayana in Yakshagana.

Audience text

The audience watches many Ramayana episodes on stage performed by different groups and different artists in various places at different times. Hence, they have their own understanding of the Ramayana. Each performance as a social interaction has major implications for audience interpretation. Here, questions of context, as shown in the drawing D.1 become paramount as one considers how performances are socially situated and what socio-cultural functions they serve. The performance centered around the Ramayana texts made from such everyday performances as anecdotes, jokes, parables, and personal narratives; from ceremonial performances such as weddings (wedding songs describe new wedded couples as Rama and Sita), funerals (people say Rama…Rama when they carry dead body for burying), initiations, and from performances in such institutional settings as in the classroom, could enlarge our conception of how Rama katha functions in social life. 322

The Making of Ramayana in the Yakshagana of Coastal Karnataka

Region

Time

Prasanga texts

Audience

Individuals

Community

D.1: Yakshagana: Performance and context influencing each other. Courtesy: P Bilimale.

Discussion

Perhaps one of the greatest contributions of the Ramayana performance in Yakshagana could be their role in the development of the aesthetics of artistic stage performances. Costumes and make-up constitute an important aspect of the visual, non-verbal communication in Yakshagana Ramayana. The audience recognizes distinctions within the costumes and make-up worn by various characters on the stage. This points to another level in which the colours work as a sign – they project different categories within the new world created on the stage.

One of the fundamental features of these costumes and make-up are its symbolic nature of representation. The very nature of the theme that Yakshagana deals with – the epic world populated by gods, asuras and super human characters, would preclude any possibility of realistic presentation. The various colours project different categories to which these characters belong. As brothers, Rama and Laksmana will have the same red colours with kingly headgears (Fig. 18.1), monkeys have ash and green colours with round-shaped headgears (Fig. 18.2). Ravana has gorgeous, red-based colour, for his quick-tempered cruel personality (Fig. 18.3). Young Indrajit has sharp black colours; Atikaya and Vibhishana will have heroic colours with demonic blue lines. Jatayu – a bird, is represented with the help of elaborate make-up.

One of the most obvious developments of Yakshagana Ramayana in the last two decades has been a movement away from ritual towards entertainment. This process of deritualization with the decreasing religious appeal, the change in the context, theme 323

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Fig. 18.1: Yakshagana Rama. Photograph courtesy: P Bilimale.

and message has secularized the Ramayana. This change gets expressed in the way characters like Shurpanakha (Fig. 18.4), Vali, and Ravana are delineated now. These characters are no longer just wicked and evil but are recognized as pratinayakas (antihero). The learned artists, through a process of reinterpretation radically altered the traditional meaning, and emphasis is being laid on humanizing the wicked characters. Thus, Ravana is sometimes portrayed as the champion of downtrodden, Shurpanakha speaks about the liberation of women, and Vali as a protector of forests. The artists highlight their worthy qualities and even provide justification for their wicked deeds. As a result, instead of highlighting the religious message, which is the main theme 324

The Making of Ramayana in the Yakshagana of Coastal Karnataka

Fig. 18.2: Yakshagana Hanuman. Photograph courtesy: P Bilimale.

Fig. 18.3: Yakshagana Ravana. Photograph courtesy: P Bilimale. 325

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Fig. 18.4: Yakshagana Shurpanakha. Photograph courtesy: P Bilimale.

of the written text, the emphasis in the performance text reflects upon the tragic predicament of some of the characters.

Through this study, an attempt has been made to show how Ramayanas are being recreated, redefined, and recoded to reflect the emerging social and political ideologies.

Bibliography

Ashton, Martha Bush and Bruce Christie. 1997. Yakshagana. New Delhi: Abhinava Publications.

Ashton, Martha Bush and Bruce Christie. 2000. “Enchantment of Yakshagana.” In Shubha Chaudhuri and Purushottama Bilimale, ed. 2000. Seagull Theater Quarterly 25/26: Special Issue: Yakshagana. Kolkata: Seagull Theatre. Bapat, Gururao. 2002 [1998]. Semiotics of Yakshagana. Udupi: Regional Resources Centre (RRC) for Performing Arts.

Bilimale, Purushottama. 2000. “The Changing Profile of Music.” In Shubha Chaudhuri and Purushottama Bilimale, ed. 2000.

Chaudhuri, Shubha and Purushottama Bilimale, ed. 2000. Seagull Theater Quarterly 25/26: Special Issue: Yakshagana. Kolkata: Seagull Theatre.

Chaudhuri, Shubha and Purushottama Bilimale. 2000. “From a Prasanga text: Panchavati.” In Shubha Chaudhuri and Purushottama Bilimale, ed. 2000. 326

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Iyer, Padma. 1998. History of Music. New Delhi: Vishwabharati Publications.

Joshi, M Prabhakara. 2000. “Talamaddale: Text, Context and Performance.” In Shubha Chaudhuri

and Purushottama Bilimale, ed. 2000. Karantha, Shivarama. 1963. Yakshagana Bayalaata. Putturu: Harsha Publications.

Someshwar, Amrith. 2000. “Regional Variants of Yakshagana.” In Shubha Chaudhuri and Purushottama Bilimale, ed. 2000.

Uppura, Sridhara. 1998. Yakshagana and Natak. Mangalore: Diganta Sahitya Publications.

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19. Reamker Performance in Khmer Society Sirang Leng

In Cambodian society, there are different performances in different roles and contexts. Some performances cherish happy moments or entertain audiences in certain circumstances, for instance, various stories in literature, folklore, social contexts, and sometimes ancient myths. Of the other type, is ritual performance for a divine purpose, which is not usually for entertainment. Generally, the latter is the Reamker story. In this chapter, I will discuss religio-ritualistic performance in the forms that the Cambodians perform, to understand more about the influence of the Reamker story upon the perspectives and strong beliefs of all Cambodian classes, from ordinary to high-ranking people. Additionally, I will also present how people in Cambodian society adapt the Reamker story to their personal needs.

Reamker belief in ancient Khmer society

Reamker story, that Khmer people have presently known, has its origins from Indian Ramayana by the author Valmiki which was brought to Cambodian in Pre-Angkor period (Pou 2003: 415). The arrival of the Indian Ramayana in the Khmer land has not been clearly stated in terms of an exact period of time. However, many researchers had agreed that the Ramayana was at least present in Khmer society since the 6th or 7th century in the Pre-Angkor period. The source of this information is mostly from ancient inscriptions, temple wall carvings and sculptures. About the change from Ramayana to Reamker, we only know that Reamker had been in vogue since the 16th century (Phalla 2010: 62). An important inscription that researchers have often discussed is the Veal Kontel inscription, K.359, which is about the adaptation of the Ramayana as an offering to temples and daily Ramayana story recitation in a religious place (Bizod 2005: 264­ 265). This inscription was found in Thala Borivath district of Steung Treng Province and was engraved in the 7th century. The use of the Ramayana story as an offering to god in a temple obviously expresses the importance of the Ramayana story in Khmer belief. According to this inscription’s information, the Ramayana had arrived in the ancient Khmer society by the 7th century. 328

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Besides this inscription, there is also further evidence that illustrates Khmer belief in Reamker in ancient times. Researchers have also found a sculpture of Reamker characters at the temples for worship. In fact, a sculpture of Rama, stylistically similar to sculptures of an eight-armed Vishnu, Balarama, and the torso of another god was discovered in Phnom Da of Takeo province in Cambodia. It is made up of muddy stone, datable to the 7th century, standing at 189 cm, for the purpose of worship in the temple (Fig. 19.1). In the present day, this standing Rama statue is positioned in the Phnom Penh National Museum. The discovery of a Reamker character statue in the temple is

Fig. 19.1: Sculpture of Rama from Phnom Da Temple, 7th century, Phnom Penh National Museum, Photograph courtesy: Sirang Leng. 329

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considered as another important evidence to prove the importance of the Ramayana story for the Khmer people. Until the Angkor period, we see sculptures of Ramayana characters for the purpose of worship only. Take, for example, the evidence of the substructure of a sculpture (late 12th century) in Preah Khan temple, where there is an inscription about the three main characters of the Ramayana: Rama, Laksmana and Sita (Fig. 19.2). Based on the inscription, it is understood that these three main characters are glorified as gods for worship (Vireak and Chanmara 2014: 9-10).

Fig. 19.2: The inscription that mentions the name of Rama, Laksmana and Sita at Preah Khan Temple, late 12th century, Photograph courtesy: Sirang Leng.

Besides temple sculptures, there are relief carvings of the Ramayana on many ancient temples from the Pre-Angkor to Angkor period. In fact, alongside of Sambor Prei Kuk temple wall (7th/8th century), there are summarized parts of carvings on the wall of the temple. There are more Ramayana sculptures on the walls of many temples like the sculpture of the battle between Sugriva and Valin on the pediment of Banteay Srei, and Ramayana storyline on Prasat Baphoun, Angkor Wat, Banteay Samre and Bayon. The intricate carving of Ramayana scenes on the temples that are highly respected as sacred illustrates that Ramayana was considered a sacred story. As mentioned above, in the 16th-17th century, Ramayana was known by Khmer people as Reamker, which evolved from Valmiki’s Ramayana, according to the study 330

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of Saveros Pou (1997; 2003). The new version, Reamker was widespread and had a significant influence on Khmer society by its presence in literature, fortune-telling, story-telling, painting, and especially some sort of ritual performances (Samut 2007: 16-17).

Reamker in performances in present times

Reamker had a strong influence on Khmer society, which included royalty as well as people from all strata of society. Until the present day, we see many forms of performance including Reamker which are not just for entertainment, but are part of the people’s beliefs. A summary of a Reamker performance as it takes place in Khmer society is given below:

The Royal Ballet

The Royal ballet in other words is the Royal Opera or the Classical Opera (Phalla 2010: 68-73) and this kind of performance included all-female groups. Researchers have concluded that the origin of the Royal Ballet was since the Pre-Angkor period. From inscriptional evidence, we know that the Pre-Angkor period kings had offered dancers as gifts to temples in their reign. In fact, Lolei inscription K.324 mentions the offering of three ballet dancers to this temple (Sotheara 2012: 36-46). That is why researchers think that female ballet dancers in religious ceremony probably are under the supervision of the royal palace, hence garnering the name; the Royal Ballet (Chanmara 2012: 61-62). These ballet dancers evolved in Khmer society and religion which made others put a high value on them, especially in the period of King Jayavarman the XII (Chemburkar 2015: 514-536). Until the Post-Angkor period, we noticed that the Royal Palace, normally the Royal Family, managed the Royal Ballet Dance and it was also performed only during special occasions and religious ceremonies. On 8th January 1909, King Sisovath prepared a group of Royal Ballet Dance performing Reamker story, particularly on the theme of the ‘Monkey Battle’ scene in the Royal Palace on the occasion of Prince Monivong and Prince Sophanovong’s return from France (Soirée Offerte Par S M Préa Bat Samdach Préa Sisowath, 1909). The Royal Ballet Dance has four main characters: female, male, giant and monkey , all performed by female dancers (Fig. 19.3).

The Royal Ballet Dance requires all the performers to use body gestures to create a communication language; this is followed by a singer who describes the meaning of the dialogue. About dancers’ costumes, the colour of the clothing is according to their characters. For example, the clothing for Rama is blue, for Sita is white, and for Lakshmana is golden. About the music background for dancing, they use the Khmer 331

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Fig. 19.3: Royal Ballet of Her Royal Highness Samdech Reach Botrei Preah Ream Norodom Buppha Devi. Photograph courtesy: Sao Manut.

traditional music instrument called Pen Peat, which originated from a combination of Harp Orchestra and Kong Peat Orchestra (Narom 2005: 46-47).

Mask theatre or Lakhaon Khaol

Mask Dance is another form of ritual dancing that narrates only the Reamker story. There are differences from the Royal Ballet because Mask Theatre requires all male performers, even when performing female characters (Figs. 19.4 & 19.5). Moreover, all performers require wearing a mask, excluding the female characters who need to wear heavy makeup similar to wearing a mask. This performance does not require dancers singing to communicate, but it has a narrator narrating the flow of the story for the performers (Kravel 2006: 38-39). Hence, story narration is very important for Mask Theatre. The story narration is reminiscent of ritual recitation of the Ramayana since an earlier period.

About the origin of Mask Dance, Khmer experts have surmised that it was probably practised since the 10th century. Saveros Pou had concluded this, based on an inscription K.99 describing a performance called, “Bhanni” (Pou 1997: 229-248). Bhanni performance consists of all male performers, even including the musical performers. The term Bhanni means story narration, story tale or story reading. All Mask Theatre performers perform on the story narration and all Mask performers are male (Kravel 2006: 30), hence experts believe that Mask Theatre is a revolutionized form of Bhanni performance. 332

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Fig. 19.4: Mask Theatre at Vat Svay Andet. Photograph courtesy: An Sopheaktra.

Fig 19.5: Mask Theatre of Her Royal Highness Samdech Reach Botrei Preah Ream Norodom Buppha Devi. Photograph courtesy: Sao Manut.

Mask Theatre is of two types: The first type was created in the Royal Palace and managed by the Royal institution and the second type belonged to the countryside (Chanmara 2009: 1-2). However, they both perform only the Reamker story. Mask Dance created in the Royal Palace is performed on special occasions and only for the king. On the other hand, countryside Mask Theatre is performed at a certain period annually with the aim of worship and making offerings to local sacred spirits. In fact, 333

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the Mask Theatre in Svay Andet Pagoda of Keansvay, a district of Kandal province, has annual performances and they are not professional performers. They are just local residents doing farming and have only ordinary training, passed from one generation to the next (Narom 2015: 28-30). The Reamker story performance in Svay Andet is compulsory for local people residing in that particular area because they have a strong belief that if they miss the performance for their sacred spirits, their village will face many disasters, like drought.

Khmer Shadow Theatre

Khmer shadow theatre is another performance which Khmer people consider as ritual performance and only perform the Reamker story. In Khmer shadow theatre, they use the cow leather to form different shapes of Reamker characters and the performance is shown as a shadow on a big white screen. Because Reamker is a long story, the number of shadow theatre panels are many. The background music of Khmer shadow theatre is Pin Pet, with story narrators. This performance is a type of worship performance which they perform only during big festivities for praying or preaching, or even when offering the fire for the King or the chief of priests in Buddhism. There is no particular source citing the origin of this Khmer shadow theatre, but we know that Khmer shadow theatre has been present since the late 19th century (Vireak and Chanmara 2014: 11). Experts have concluded that Khmer shadow theatre has relevance to a term in Pre-Angkor period inscription, which is Tukta or Tukata. This term perhaps refers to the present term, which is Tukatar, an object that can be held or carried. But, from the term Tukatar, we cannot precisely assume that Khmer shadow theatre has its origin from the Pre-Angkor period.

Recently, there is an interesting comparative study about Reamker story in Cambodia by Vittorio Roveda. In this study, he infers that Khmer shadow theatre had been happening at least since the 12th century (Vittorio 2015: 220-221). He also analyzed the Reamker story in The Lpoek Angkor Wat, which was written in the 17th century with the remaining leather panels from ancient times. He assumed that Reamker in Lpoek Angkor Wat is possibly the Reamker for Mask Dance, Royal Ballets and Khmer shadow theatre in Angkor of 12th century. This case could prove that Khmer shadow theatre has been present since at least the 12th century.

Reamker narration

Reamker story narration is not a typical performance. It does not require as many performers as other performances, but the narration has one narrator, and sometimes the narrator either has some movements alongside their story narration. In fact, the 334

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Mask Dance story narrator sometimes also can be a Reamker story narrator. The Reamker story narrator has a profound connection with the Reamker worship ritual in ancient times because to produce a satisfactory quality in story narration, the story narrator has to memorize and pray the whole storyline to gain full attention of the audience. Regarding Reamker story narration, it began to appear in the written format only during the French Colonial period, through the utilization of voice-recording tools from France. After using the voice-recording tool, they could transcribe the words from voice into script. During that period, there were two famous narrators: Grandpa Chok and Grandpa Krud, they both were well-known because they beautifully narrated the Reamker story. Additionally, they had good movements along with their story narration (Kravel 2006: 24).

The story of performing Reamker

Reamker is a mythical story and that is why performers normally do not perform from the start until the end. The performers only select some scenes of the Reamker as they prefer or sometimes, they summarize the whole story for an easy performance. Hence, there are two types of Reamker performance: a summarized performance and short-scene performance. The Reamker performance mostly starts when Rama, Lakshmana and Sita go into the jungle as per Kaikeyi’s wish. In the middle of the journey during a break in the jungle, Ravana sees the beauty of Sita and falls in love with her. Ravana orders Maricha to transform into a golden deer to trick Sita. When Sita sees the golden deer, she wants it and persuades Rama to catch it for her, and Lakshmana helps Rama. With Rama and Lakshmana gone, Ravana kidnaps Sita and takes her to Lanka. After realizing Ravana’s trick, Rama and Lakshmana go back to find Sita but they cannot find her. Rama finds out that Ravana had kidnapped Sita as an injured Jatayu narrates the event to Rama. Rama decides to battle with Ravana in Lanka, with a very powerful white monkey known as Hanuman supporting him for the battle in Lanka. Additionally, Sugriva’s troops assisted Rama in this battle. Rama told Hanuman and the other monkey troops to prepare the stone bridge to Lanka. However, the preparation was destroyed because Sovann Maccha moved the stones, but Hanuman persuaded her until the process of building the bridge was done successfully. Eventually, Rama with his troops crossed the ocean and reached Lanka and the battle between Rama and Ravana began. Rama kills Ravana with the pointed arrow and goes to get Sita back. When she first meets Rama, she does not believe that he is Rama but that perhaps this was Ravana who transformed himself to trick her. Rama immediately shows her the ring that she had given to Hanuman to give to Rama. Sita then believes that it is Rama who has come to rescue her. However, Rama tells her to express her honesty and integrity during 335

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her stay with Ravana by forcing her to undertake the fire ordeal. The fire does not hurt her and then Rama, convinced that she is honest and faithful, orders his troops to arrange a parade to get Sita back to Ayodhya (Heywood 2008: 101).

Besides the summarized version above, performers also select scenes based on their preference. For example, in case of the Mask Dance crews of Svay Andeng pagoda, annually after Khmer New Year Festival, the villagers gather for discussion to select a scene of Reamker to perform as a local tradition. For instance, the villagers mostly select the scene “Kumbhakarna Blocks the Water” (Chanmara 2009: 29) because they have a belief that this scene will help them to have rain that is good for their irrigation system and plantations. In the present day, local people name this scene as traditional performance. In this scene, there is a story that Kumbhakarna, who battled with Rama, had stopped the water so that Rama’s troops would not able to access water. Rama had ordered Hanuman and Angkut to damage Kumbhakarna’s strategy and ordered Hanuman to transform into a crow and Angkut into a smelly dead dog and float on the water. The unpleasant smell caused a distraction to Kumbhakarna and the dam that he tried to build was damaged. This is the main reason that causes villagers to believe that this scene will help them to have enough rain for daily usage. Some Reamker scenes are not selected for performance, for example, Jatayu trying to stop Ravana’s abduction of Sita. In that place, Rama takes the ring from Sita and throws it towards Jatayu who dies after facing Rama. Khmer people and performers do not perform this scene in the original as it could bring bad luck (Kravel 2006: 100). This clearly shows that episodes are selectively chosen as per local concerns and every scene of the Reamker does not have a strong influence on Khmer belief, customs, and traditions.

Performers’ Reamker belief

Khmer people have strong belief and respect for Reamker and often select Reamker to perform in a sacred or significant ceremony. Additionally, characters in the Reamker are mostly valued by Khmer people as God, especially among performers. Every performer considers all Reamker characters as equal to their teacher (guru) and they always arrange a gratitude ceremony to their teacher before they perform. On the other hand, in some villages, Reamker characters are considered as god or sacred to their local village.

Talking about Royal Ballet and Mask Dance, we always notice that pre-performance, all artists prepare gratitude ceremony (Sampeak Kru) for their teacher. During gratitude ceremony, we can see the face masks of the characters in the Reamker story for praying; they have guru in the middle, and on the right side, there are Rama’s, Lakshmana’s, and 336

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Sita’s crowns, as well as Hanuman’s and Sukrip’s (Sugriva’s) masks. On the left, there are Ravana’s, Indrajit’s, and Montolkiri’s (Mandodari’s) crown and other giants’ masks (Fig. 19.6). In addition, all the performing artists believe that if they do not celebrate the gratitude ceremony for the teacher before performing, their performance will not go smoothly and their learning process will not grow either. That is the reason why all performers always pay extra attention to the gratitude ceremony (Narom 1995: 199). Besides, the Khmer Shadow Theatre also selects Reamker characters for praying during pre-performance. During Reamker story narration, the narrator also has a set of worship materials for praying to the teacher as gratitude before the narration..

Fig. 19.6: Sampeak Kru Ceremony at Vat Svay Andet. Photograph courtesy: Sirang Leng.

If we look at countryside performing artists, we can notice that the characters of the Reamker story have been integrated into Khmer society. Local residents look up to Reamker characters as their local gods and they frequently pay respect and pray whenever they encounter any problems. The most respected and popular characters of Reamker story are Ravana and Hanuman whom villagers address as Lok Ta Tosakmuk and Lok Ta Kamheng. Lok Ta Tosakmuk is ranked the highest in every festivity annually, especially in the gratitude ceremony for the teacher before a Mask dance performance in the pagoda. They need to conduct that ceremony in front of the shelter of Lok Ta Tosakmuk before the performance on the main stage (Sophaktra 2016: 70-79). Hence, we may conclude that the respect of current Khmer people towards the characters in the Reamker story is similar to ancient times, especially for the Reamker character performers. 337

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Conclusion Cambodian people have continued to value Reamker as a sacred story since ancient times until the present. According to the evidence, Khmer people look up to the Reamker characters as gods to respect or worship, based on their belief. Furthermore, the Khmer people have adapted the Reamker story for various types of performances, which have a deep connection with Cambodian beliefs. The Reamker story is performed in religious ceremonies and rituals. We can thus see that it has a social significance from royalty to laity, and this clearly indicates that the Reamker story still has a strong influence in Khmer thought, beliefs, customs, traditions, and the daily life of Khmer people. In short, the Reamker story performance has been widely integrated into Khmer ideals at every level.

Bibliography

Bizod, F. 2005. “The Reamker”. In Asian Variations in Ramayana, ed. K R Srinivasa Iyengar. 263­ 275. New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi, Chanmara, Preap. 2009. Lakhon Khol Vat Svay Andet. Phnom Penh: Reyum. Chanmara, Preap. 2012. “Classical Dance”. Khmerenaissance 7, December 2011 – December 2012. Chemburkar, S. 2015. “Dancing architecture at Angkor: ‘Halls with dancers’ in Jayavarman VII’s temples”. In Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 46(3), 514-536. Heywood, Denise. 2008. Cambodian Dance Celebration of God. Bangkok: River Books. Kravel, Pich Tum. 2006. Khmer Mask Theater. Phnom Penh: Toyota Foundation. Narom, Keo. 1995. Music and Khmer. Phnom Penh: Toyota Foundation. Narom, Keo. 2005. Cambodian Music. Phnom Penh: Reyum. Narom, Keo, Siphantha Prom & Buntheurn Aok. 2015. Living Heritage, Mr. YIN Sarin. Phnom Penh: NP. Phalla, San. 2011. “Royal Ballet.” Khmerenaissance 6, December 2010 – December 2011. Phalla, San. 2012. “Ravana in Painting in Wat Prah Keo Morakot at Royal Palace in Phnom Penh and Grand Palace in Thailand.” Khmerenaissance 7, December 2011 – December 2012. Pou, Saveros. 1997. “Music and Dance in Ancient Cambodia as Evidenced by Old Khmer Epigraphy”. In East and West, IaIAO, vol. 47, 1-4. Pou, Saveros. 2003. Selected Papers on Khmerology. Phnom Penh: Reyum. Roveda, Vittorio. 2015. In the Shadow of Rama: Murals of the Ramayana in Mainland Southeast Asia. Bangkok: River Books. Samut, Saku. 2007. Reamker Story. Phnom Penh: Angkor Bookstore. Sophaktra, An. 2016. “Reamker in Religious Ceremonies in the North Part of Phnom Penh” Bachelor of Archeology, Royal University of Fine Art, Cambodia. Sotheara, Vong. 2012. Angkor Inscriptions of Cambodia. Phnom Penh: History Department. Vireak, Kong & Preap Chanmara. 2014. Sbek Thom. 3rd edn. Phnom Penh: UNESCO.

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The Contributors

Purushottama Bilimale is a folklorist and literary critique who was born in Sullia, Karnataka, India. He earned his MA degree from the University of Madras and PhD from Mangalore University. Dr Bilimale has written extensively in Kannada on Indian folklore and modern Kannada literature. He is also known for his thematic and formal engagement with Yakshagana. His major publications are Karavali Janapada (1990), Shista Parishista (1992), Kudu Kattu (1998), and Bahurupa (2015). He has received the Karnataka Folklore Academy award (2008) and Karnataka State award (2011) for his contributions to Kannada language, literature and cultural studies. For much of his career, Purushottama Bilimale taught at Mangalore University and Kannada University. Later, he was Director (Programs) at the American Institute of Indian Studies, after which he was heading the Kannada Language Chair at the Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. Email: [email protected] John Brockington is emeritus Professor of Sanskrit at the University of Edinburgh, UK, a Vice President of the International Association of Sanskrit Studies, and the author or editor of several books and numerous articles, mainly on the Sanskrit epics and the history of Hinduism. He is the author of The Sacred Thread: Hinduism in its Continuity and Diversity (1981; 1996), Righteous Rāma: The Evolution of an Epic (1985), Hinduism and Christianity (1992), The Sanskrit Epics (1998), A Descriptive Catalogue of the Sanskrit and other Indian Manuscripts of the Chandra Shum Shere Collection in the Bodleian Library, Part II, Epics and Purāṇas (1999) and Epic Threads: John Brockington on the Sanskrit Epics (2000); he is the translator with Mary Brockington of Rāma the Steadfast: An Early Form of the Rāmāyaṇa (2006) and editor with her of The Other Rāmāyaṇa Women (2016). Email: [email protected] Mary Brockington is an independent narrativist, working chiefly on the Rāmāyaṇa, but also more widely on international traditional literature. She is a Research Fellow of the International Association of Sanskrit Studies, and a Fellow of the Oxford Centre for Hindu Studies. Mary is currently engaged, with John, on a long-standing, long-term 339

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project to study and analyze the development of the narrative elements employed in the pre-modern Rāma tradition in all its diverse forms, verbal and visual, in all genres, languages, cultures and religions. It is hoped that exploring the motives of the authors of each new telling, the constraints acting upon them, and the opportunities afforded by their new context will shed light on the process of transmission. She has published many articles and is the co-translator of Rāma the Steadfast: An Early Form of the Rāmāyaṇa. Email: [email protected]

Parul Pandya Dhar (Editor) is an art historian and professor in the Department of History, University of Delhi. After graduating with honours from Delhi University (1986) and Kalakshetra, Chennai (1989), she earned her masters and doctoral degrees in History of Art from the National Museum Institute, New Delhi, where she also taught for many years. In 2007-08, she was a Humboldt post-doctoral research scientist at the Freie Universität Berlin. Her writings focus on Indian and Southeast Asian art history, Indian art historiography, and connected histories of premodern Asian cultures. She has authored The Toraṇa in Indian and Southeast Asian Architecture (2010), edited Indian Art History: Changing Perspectives (2011), and co-edited Temple Architecture and Imagery of South and Southeast Asia (2016), Asian Encounters: Exploring Connected Histories (2014), and Cultural Interface of India with Asia (2004). She is currently writing on art and mobility, visuality and collective memory, and epic encounters across the Indian Ocean. Email: [email protected] Valérie Gillet is a member of the École française d´Extrême-Orient (EFEO). Her research focuses on material mostly found in the religious monuments excavated or built on the territories of the three main early medieval South-Indian dynasties, the Pallavas, the Pāṇḍyas, and the Cōḻas. For the past few years, her research particularly explores the social and political functioning of specific sites and the artistic and religious production of the minor dynasties of the Tamil country between the 8th and the 10th centuries. She also attempts to map the emergence and the development of the cult of the deity called Subrahmaṇya/Murukaṉ in the medieval Tamil-speaking South and, more recently, in the Andhra country. Between 2007 and 2016, she was posted at the Pondicherry Centre of the EFEO, of which she was Head from 2011 to 2016. Since January 2017, she is posted in Paris. Email: [email protected] Sudha Gopalakrishnan is Executive Director, SAHAPEDIA, an open, online encyclopaedia of Indian cultures and histories. She has over 30 years of experience 340

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in areas relating to policy, management, documentation, and research pertaining to multiple aspects of Indian arts and heritage. She received her PhD in Comparative Drama and a Master’s degree in English Language and Literature. She was Mission Director, National Mission for Manuscripts, from 2003-2007. She has prepared three successful nomination dossiers for the recognition of three heritage expressions— Kutiyattam, Vedic Chanting, and Ramlila—as UNESCO Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity. She has published 8 books (including original writing, translations, and edited volumes) and contributed papers in national and international publications. Email: [email protected]

Krishna Murthy Hanuru is an eminent Kannada novelist and a noted folklorist. His academic career spans four decades of teaching Kannada in the Chitradurga and Mysore regions. The Encyclopaedia of the Folk Culture of Karnataka is his first major foray into the field of folklore that he edited for the Institute of Asian Studies, Chennai. Since then, he has edited and published several collections of folk songs from the regions of Chitradurga. With his diverse experience as a researcher of folk songs and as an academician teaching at the varsities of excellence, he has three novels to his credit, and his recent Agnyathanobbana Athmacharitre that traces the life of an unknown commander who served for Haider Ali Khan and Tipu Sultan received excellent reviews. At present, he is immersed in writing about Kumaravyasa’s Karnata Bharatha Katha Manjari. Email: [email protected]

Thomas M Hunter lectures in Sanskrit and South-Southeast Asian Studies in the Department of Asian Studies of the University of British Columbia (UBC), Vancuover. Prior to joining UBC, he worked for over 20 years guiding students from North America in their study abroad programs in Indonesia and India. He has been a Fellow of the National Endowment for the Humanities (1996), the Institute for Advanced Study at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem (2003-4), and the Wissenschaftskolleg zu Berlin (2006-7). His many publications focus on the ancient literature of India and Indonesia, especially works in the Kawi, or Old Javanese, language. Email: [email protected] Gauri Parimoo Krishnan is an art historian, curator, and museum consultant. Her major contribution in recent years to South Asian Diaspora Studies and Museology is the development of the Indian Heritage Centre (IHC) from inception to fruition (2007­ 2015). She planned its storyline, led teams of curators, consultants, and designers in collection development, gallery and media design as its lead curator and centre director. 341

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She was the lead curator of the South Asian collection from its inception (1993-2003) and developed the South Asian galleries of the Asian Civilisations Museum (ACM) and the National University Museum (2002), Singapore. She has curated two major Asian Ramayana exhibitions between 1997 and 2010. She has edited Ramayana in Focus: Visual and Performing Arts in Asia and organized an international conference on the same theme. Gauri is a recipient of the Singapore Government’s Commendation Medal (2008) and Public Administration Medal (Bronze, 2015). Email: [email protected]

Sirang Leng is a PhD candidate in the Art History Department, Faculty of Archaeology, Silpakorn University, Thailand. His research interests focus on Khmer and Thai Art History, especially the connections between Khmer and Thai Art during the middle period of Cambodian history. His recent publications are “Royal Cremation of Cambodian King” (2017) and “The Art of Vihara and Ubosotha in Battambang under Siam Territory, from early 19th century to early 20th century” (2018). He also works as a lecturer in the History Department at the University of Heng Samrin Tbong Khmom, Cambodia. Email: [email protected]

Rachel Loizeau is an art historian and specializes in Indian art. She has also conducted research on Hindu iconography in Cambodia from 2007 to 2010. Her publications cover Hindu iconography in South Indian and Khmer art. She has published a book on narrative traditions in Karnataka - Epics, Kṛṣṇa childhood and other Vaiṣṇava myths in Hoysaḷa temples (2017). She has taught ancient and contemporary Indian art at Université Catholique de l’ouest at Angers. Email: [email protected] Chirapat Prapandvidya is presently a member of the Board of Management of Sanskrit Studies Centre, Silpakorn University; Fellow, Royal Society of Thailand; and has been re-employed by the Silpakorn University as a knowledgeable person since his retirement in 2001. He has earlier held several important positions such as being the Head, Department of Oriental Languages, Faculty of Archaeology, Silpakorn University, 1994-1997; Director of Sanskrit Studies Centre, Silpakorn Faculty of Archaeology, Silpakorn University, 1996-2001, and Chair of the 16th World Sanskrit Conference, Bangkok, 2015. He was awarded the Honorary Doctorate Degree from Mahachulalongkornraja-vidyalaya University, Bangkok (2010); Vidya Vacaspati (D.Litt.) (Degree Honoris Causa), Rashtriya Sanskrit Sansthan (Deemed University), New Delhi (2012); and Honorary Doctorate Degree from Mahamakutaraja-vidyalaya University, Bangkok (2014). He has received the Presidential Award of the Certificate of Honour 342

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

(Sanskrit International, 2017), and the Certificate of Honour from the Government of Uttar Pradesh, India (2019). Email: [email protected]

RKK Rajarajan is Assistant Professor in Fine Arts, the Gandhigram Rural University, Gandhigram. He has worked as Associate Professor in the School of Arts and Aesthetics, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. He was an Alexander von Humboldt Post­ doctoral Fellow, in the Institut für Indische Philologie und Kunstgeschichte, Freie Universität, Berlin, Germany. He is a prolific contributor to international journals and published works from the Netherlands, Los Angeles, Helsinki, Cluj-Napoca, Cracow, Rome, Naples, Berlin, Reinbeck, Oxford & IBH, Routledge, Bangladesh and several more. He has presented 40 papers and delivered several lectures, in both national and international arenas. His works on Samāpti-Suprabhātam–Reflections on South Indian Bhakti Tradition in Literature and Art (2017), Masterpieces of Indian Literature and Art - Tears of Kaṇṇaki: Annals and Iconology of the ‘Cilappatikāram’ (2016), MīnākṣīSundareśvara: Tiruviḷaiyāṭaṟ Purāṇam in Letters, Design and Art (2012), and Art of the Vijayanagara Nāyakas: Architecture and Iconography (2006), are norm-setting. Email: [email protected] Paula Richman is Danforth Professor of South Asian Religions, Emerita, at Oberlin College in Ohio, USA. She has published widely on Tamil poetry, most recently Extraordinary Child: Poems from a South Indian Devotional Genre and edited four volumes on the Ramayana tradition: Many Ramayanas, a Narrative Tradition of South Asia; Questioning Ramayanas, a South Asian Tradition; Modern Ramayana Stories: An Anthology; and Performing the Ramayana Tradition: Enactments, Interpretations, and Arguments (the last co-edited with Rustom Bharucha). Currently, she is completing an analysis of modern retellings of the story in South India. In addition to holding research fellowships at Jawaharlal Nehru University’s Institute of Advanced Studies and Harvard University’s Centre for the Study of World Religions, she has received research grants from the American Institute of Indian Studies, the National Endowment for the Humanities, and the Guggenheim Foundation. She has lectured at academic institutions in the United States, the United Kingdom, India, Europe, Trinidad, and South Africa. Email: [email protected]

Malini Saran is an independent researcher based in New Delhi, India. Her research on the Indian epics, Ramayana and Mahabharata, in Southeast Asia was completed during a period of 12 years when she lived in Indonesia, Malaysia, and the Philippines. Her several publications include an article co-authored with Vinod C Khanna, “The 343

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Ramayana Kakawin: A Product of Sanskrit Scholarship and Independent Literary Genius’ in BKI 149 (2e) Leiden, KITLV Press, published in 1993, as well as a book, The Ramayana in Indonesia, published in 2004 by Ravi Dayal. The translation with co-author Vinod C Khanna of Camille Bulcke’s Ramakatha: Uttpatti aur Vikas from Hindi into English is nearing completion. Email: [email protected] Sharada Srinivasan, Professor, National Institute of Advanced Studies, Bangalore and Padmashri awardee, has worked in technical art history, archaeomaterials, and archaeometallurgical research, particularly with respect to southern India and its metal icons. She is Fellow of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland and the World Academy of Arts and Sciences and Honorary Exeter University Fellow. She is the recipient of Dr Kalpana Chawla Young Women Scientists Award, Indian Institute of Metals Certificate of Excellence award, Materials Research Society of India Medal, and Flinders Petrie Medal. Her recent publications span Journal of Metals, Materials and Manufacturing Processes, ‘Ecstasy of Classical Art’ (National Museum, Delhi), her book India’s Legendary Wootz Steel, and co-edited volume, Digital Hampi. She has been a co-recipient of international grants from UKIERI-I, UKIERI-II and AHRC, UK, and SSHRC, Canada. She has a PhD from the Institute of Archaeology, UCL, London and BTech from IIT-Mumbai. Email: [email protected] Cheryl Chelliah Thiruchelvam is currently attached to the Advertising Department, Faculty of Arts and Social Science in Universiti Tunku Abdul Rahman, Perak, Malaysia. She is pursuing her PhD in Art History with the Schools of the Arts, Universiti Sains Malaysia, on a part-time basis. She is passionate about her research on the Ramayana Epic in the Malaysian context and Southeast Asia in general, as well as intrigued with the influence of Indian/Hindu arts in this region. In October 2018, she was provided with a travel grant to attend the “International Conference on Northeast India and Southeast Asia: Exploring Continuities” at Ambedkar University Delhi. Recently, she has been invited to contribute for the “Global Ramayana Encyclopedia Project,” which is organized by the Ayodhya Research Institute, Uttar Pradesh. She is also keen and interested in writing critiques, reviews, and commentaries within the Malaysian art scene. Email: [email protected]

A J Thomas is an Indian English poet, fiction writer, and translator. He was Editor, Indian Literature, and also its Guest Editor for more than seven years, the latest tenure completed in 2020. He taught English in Benghazi University, Ajdabiya Branch, Libya 344

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

(2008–2014). His contributions include Germination (Poetry, 1989), Aagami Pal Ka Nirman (Hindi translation-2010), Bhaskara Pattelar and Other Stories, (Manas, 1993), Reflections of a Hen in Her Last Hour and Other Stories (Penguin India), both Paul Zacharia´s stories in translation, ONV Kurup’s verse-novel Ujjayini, (Rupa), a poetry collection he edited, This Ancient Lyre (Sahitya Akademi), and Best of Indian Literature, that he co-edited. He has several anthology appearances in international publications and was a Senior Consultant at IGNOU. A recipient of Katha Award, AKMG Prize (1997) and Vodafone Crossword Award (2007), and Senior Fellow, Department of Culture, Government of India and Honorary Fellow, Department of Culture, Government of South Korea; he has been invited as a Guest Speaker in conferences and readings in South Korea, Australia, Thailand, Hong Kong, and Nepal. Email: [email protected]

Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof obtained his BA in English from the University of Malaya, Kuala Lumpur and PhD in Asian Theatre from the University of Hawaii. He has served at the Science University of Malaysia, Penang. where set up Malaysia’s first Performing Arts programme at the International Islamic University Malaysia, and at the University of Malaya, Kuala Lumpur, where he is currently Adjunct Professor in the Cultural Centre. He has also served as visiting professor at the University of the Philippines in Manila and the Mindanao State University in Marawi City. Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof’s research interests include traditional Southeast Asian theatre, and Asian literature and epics. He has written widely on these subjects. In addition, he has published poetry, drama, as well as short stories in the English language. Email: [email protected]

345

Index

A abduction 5, 25, 28, 29, 31, 32, 38, 45, 51, 52, 55, 61, 85, 86, 87, 90, 103, 127, 129, 132, 194, 280, 281, 284, 297, 336 abhinaya 15, 16 Adbhuta Rāmāyaṇa 197, 288, 303, 304, 315 Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa 37, 41, 45, 47, 217, 218, 224, 225, 226, 227, 289 Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇaṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu xvi, 8, 9, 217, 220, 221, 224, 226, 227, 228, 230 Ādivarāha cave-temple 4, 67 āhārya 15, 16 Aihoḷe 20, 26, 27, 41, 42, 44, 46, 135 Aksara Bali 248, 252 Aḻakar 6, 135, 152 Aḻakarkōyil 6, 135 alaṃkāra 179 Allah 11, 293 alus 247 Āḻvār 5, 6, 13, 16, 17, 136, 137, 149, 150, 152, 154, 155, 156 Amṛtapura 35, 38, 39, 40, 42, 47, 153 Amṛteśvara 35, 38, 39, 40, 42 Andhra 65, 66, 104, 108, 226, 340 Aṅgada 30, 45, 54, 87, 91, 92, 93, 98, 100, 179, 199, 200 āṅgika 15, 16 Angkor/Angkorian 4, 5, 6, 12, 50, 51, 52,

54, 55, 59, 63, 64, 86, 88, 89, 91, 92, 93, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 126, 129, 153, 171, 328, 330, 331, 334, 338

Angkor Wat (Angkor Vat) 5, 6, 54, 63, 64, 86, 88, 89, 91, 92, 93, 95, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 126, 129, 171, 330, 334 Anjaneya 306, 307 antagonist 10, 13, 14, 37, 43, 161, 168 Āṇṭāl 6, 135 Araṇyakāṇḍa 17, 25, 28, 38, 47, 84, 85, 145 archaeometallurgical 5, 105, 108, 109, 111, 113, 116, 344 Arjunawiwāha 211, 252, 253 arthālaṃkāra 179, 186 āśrama 9, 61, 145 assimilation 2, 3, 5, 9, 14, 15, 42, 43, 159, 166 aṣṭabrata 7, 16, 180, 186, 189, 190 Atimārga 250 āṭṭakkatha 269, 271, 272, 275, 285 audience-text 12 avatāra x, 3, 4, 13, 14, 41, 77, 100, 280, 312 Ayodhyā 7, 9, 24, 33, 39, 42, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 146, 147, 149, 151, 154, 180, 195, 212, 310, 311 Ayutthayā (Ayuthayā) 7, 57, 153 B

346

Bādāmi x, 20, 23, 24, 25, 26, 32, 41, 44, 47, 135 Bakong 52, 93, 95 Bālakāṇḍa 2, 17, 32, 34, 39, 47, 68, 85, 136,

142, 143, 151, 152 Bali/Balinese xvi, 9, 58, 124, 129, 159, 171, 177, 178, 179, 184, 189, 190, 198, 216, 247, 248, 252, 253, 254, 256, 257, 258, 259, 263, 266, 291

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

50, 54, 61, 63, 64, 83, 85, 87, 90, 91, 101, 102, 126, 129, 159, 193, 194, 206, 213, 329, 334, 338, 342 Campā 4, 13, 49, 50, 51, 61, 62, 63 Central Java 5, 6, 14, 61, 125, 126, 176, 248, 249, 251 Chakri dynasty 7, 57 change and continuity 13 characterization 10, 14, 165, 166, 208, 213, 268, 301 Chau Say Tevoda 52, 54, 98, 101 Chenla (Zhenla) 49, 193 Chera 106 Cheranmadevi Temple 110 Cintāviṣṭayāya Sītā xvi, 9, 232 Coastal Karnataka xvi, 316 Cōḻa (also, Chola) xv, 4, 5, 51, 75, 78, 80, 82, 152, 153 composer 14, 15, 227 copper-plate 3, 21, 61 counterfeit 8, 204, 208, 209, 210, 211 creative translation 14, 217 cult deity x, 14 cultural convergence 2, 13, 15

Bangkok 8, 57, 58, 59, 62, 64, 101, 102, 129, 130, 131, 134, 198, 203, 213, 214, 215, 216, 302, 338, 342 Banteay Chhmar 54, 62, 64, 98, 100, 194 Banteay Samre 52, 53, 91, 98, 100, 330 Banteay Srei 52, 53, 85, 87, 100, 101, 126, 129, 134, 330 batik 165, 167, 168, 169 Battambang 54, 59, 213, 342 Bayalāta 305, 307, 313, 314, 315 Bengal 4, 57, 60, 83, 124, 127, 130 Benjakai (Benyagai) 8, 61, 205, 206, 207, 210, 211, 212, 213 Bhagavadgītā 211 Bhāgavata 11, 36, 47, 153, 197 Bhāgavataṃ Kiḷippāṭṭu 220 bhakti 8, 9, 14, 217, 219, 220, 224, 225, 226, 227, 228 Bhāradvāja 194 Bharata 7, 16, 116, 119, 133, 138, 140,

144, 145, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 186, 187, 240, 261, 295 Bhatti 7, 14, 214 Bhaṭṭikāvya 7, 14, 177, 178, 179, 180, 183,

186, 188, 189, 207, 212, 213 biography 9, 287, 289 Brahman 149, 229 bronze 5, 57, 61, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 111, 113, 114, 115, 116, 119, 120 Buddha 7, 8, 63, 123, 127, 129, 131, 132, 134, 203 Buddhist vii, viii, xi, 2, 5, 14, 17, 44, 50, 51, 55, 56, 58, 60, 63, 93, 104, 107, 123, 127, 129, 132, 153, 160, 171, 176, 181, 183, 189, 190, 198, 200, 203, 216, 221, 249, 250 bylane(s) 11

D

dalang 163, 164, 165, 168, 169, 186, 255, 291, 293, 294 Daśaratha xi, 2, 22, 24, 25, 32, 33, 50, 57, 138, 139, 142, 144, 152, 195, 197 Daśaratha Jātaka xi demonization 11 Deogarh 25, 43, 45, 103 Deśī 16, 307, 309 Devī Bhāgavata 197 devotion 9, 16, 46, 70, 71, 72, 116, 162, 185, 218, 224, 225, 226, 227, 228, 239, 276, 283, 305, 314 divine hero 67 Dorasamudra 20 Dośakaṇṭh 196, 197, 200, 201, 202 Dośaroth 195, 197 Dundhubi 89, 90, 100 Durga Temple 26, 135

C

Calicut 8 Calukya 3, 16, 20, 22, 28, 33, 34, 38, 44, 45,

46, 135, 152 Cambodia viii, xi, 4, 6, 7, 12, 13, 14, 17, 49,

347

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

E

203, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 211, 213, 214, 255, 303, 304, 308, 309, 310, 311, 312, 313, 314 Hariwangśa 252 hermitage (see, āśrama) 9, 143, 200, 232,

233, 234, 237, 238, 292, 295, 298, 300, 313 Hikāyat Mahārāja Wana 2, 10 Hikāyat Seri Rāma xi, 2, 6, 8, 15 Hindu 2, 5, 11, 14, 46, 63, 107, 111, 121, 124, 125, 127, 131, 132, 153, 154, 159, 162, 167, 171, 172, 173, 178, 181, 190, 216, 268, 278, 280, 281, 282, 283, 289, 294, 300, 315, 339, 342, 344 historiography 5, 13, 15, 172, 340 Hoysaḷa x, 3, 20, 23, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 43, 46, 47, 153, 155, 342

early modern 10 Eastern Java 62, 209 East Java 6, 51, 63, 126, 134, 211, 251 eclecticism 14 Emerald Buddha 129, 131, 134, 203 epic performance 11 episode-text 11 ethics 7, 14, 177, 178, 180, 188, 189, 190 exile 9, 26, 27, 90, 103, 116, 144, 280, 281, 288, 292, 296, 298 ezhuthukaḷari 217 F

floating maiden 8, 216 folk 1, 8, 10, 11, 14, 15, 16, 36, 124, 130,

131, 132, 133, 135, 136, 149, 169, 170, 182, 196, 216, 239, 277, 304, 305, 307, 308, 309, 310, 311, 312, 313, 341 forest 9, 24, 25, 42, 87, 99, 116, 138, 140, 142, 144, 145, 179, 180, 182, 204, 232, 233, 236, 237, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242, 243, 244, 270, 272, 273, 278, 279, 280, 281, 285, 296, 301, 304, 308, 309, 312, 317

I

Iconometric analysis 118, 120 Idealization 308 Ilaṅkēswaraṉ 10, 268, 276, 277, 278, 279, 280, 281, 282, 283, 284, 285, 287, 288, 289 incarnation (see, avatāra) 3, 5, 36, 41, 49, 66, 67, 80, 103, 104, 105, 132, 138, 177, 178, 181, 189, 197, 199, 203, 225, 226, 294, 303, 304 Indian Ocean ix, 2, 13, 258, 340 Indrajit 5, 26, 56, 91, 92, 93, 98, 129, 193, 204, 210, 237, 277, 282, 297, 298, 320, 321, 323, 337 interpolation 14, 180, 214, 271, 275 Interpretive frames 12 intrinsic and extrinsic 12, 13 inversion 14 Irāmāvatāram 6, 135, 136, 151, 154 Islamic xi, 2, 6, 7, 14, 15, 128, 146, 160, 161, 171, 173, 190, 345 isotope ratio analysis 108

G

Gaṇḍavyūha 250 Garuḍa 72, 73, 76, 78, 79, 80, 81, 83, 91,

92, 93 gěguritan 248, 260 Gombeyāta 305, 313 gopura (gateway) 87 Governance xvi, 7, 176, 190 H

Haḷebīdu 35, 37, 38, 39 Hanumadvilāsa 310 Hanumān x, xv, 5, 6, 8, 11, 12, 14, 26, 37, 43, 51, 52, 54, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 82, 83, 85, 87, 90, 91, 92, 96, 97, 99, 100, 180, 184, 190, 199, 201, 202,

J

348

Jaina Rāmāyaṇa 43

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Janapada Rāmāyaṇa 288, 311 Jātakamālā 250 Jaṭāyu/Jaṭāyus 25, 28, 29, 31, 32, 33, 78, 79, 310 Java 4, 5, 6, 7, 10, 14, 49, 50, 51, 58, 61, 62, 63, 92, 124, 125, 126, 128, 134, 159, 176, 177, 180, 189, 190, 191, 208, 209, 211, 212, 216, 248, 249, 250, 251, 252, 254, 257, 259 jñāna 226

221, 222, 224, 227, 228, 229, 230, 231, 269, 271, 275, 285, 286, 287, 288, 289, 316 Khmer xiv, xv, xvi, 4, 5, 6, 8, 12, 50, 52, 54, 55, 57, 59, 60, 63, 64, 85, 86, 87, 88, 90, 91, 92, 93, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 126, 128, 129, 193, 204, 213, 215, 291, 302, 328, 329, 330, 331, 332, 334, 336, 337, 338, 342 kidung 248, 260 King Rama I 7, 130, 195, 197, 198, 200,

202, 203, 216 Kiṣkindhākāṇḍa 17, 25, 29, 37, 38, 48, 85, 88, 91, 146 krauñca 54 Krittivasa Ramayana 302 Krttivasa Ramayana 295, 297, 301 Kulacēkara Āḻvār 13, 17, 136, 149, 150, 152, 155 Kulacēkara-Rāmāyaṇa 13 Kumaran Asan xvi, 9, 232, 234 Kumāra Rāma 309 Kumārasambhava 212 Kumbhakarṇa 12, 25, 26, 51, 56, 91, 96, 97, 101, 179, 183, 185, 186, 187, 190, 195, 250, 251, 312, 314 Kuperan 195

K

Kacākūṭi copper-plates 80, 81 Kadamba 20, 21, 22, 23, 43, 44, 46, 47 Kailāsa 35, 45, 50, 52, 70, 72, 78, 81, 149, 153, 195, 196, 199 Kailāsanātha 4, 47, 65, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 75, 77, 78, 80, 81, 82, 154, 155 Kakawin Rāmāyaṇa 9, 10, 247, 248, 252, 253, 255, 258, 259, 260 Kākutstha 43 kalaga 58, 308 Kalaikoṭṭu Muni 197 kalāṃkari textiles 58 kalangwan 178 Kālidāsa 22, 47, 52, 211, 212, 215, 219 Kāmandakīya Nītisāra 181, 182, 189, 191 Kamba Rāmāyaṇa 47, 197, 203 Kampaṉ 6, 13, 14, 16, 17, 135, 136, 141, 151, 153, 154, 207, 213, 215 Kanauj xvi, 8, 204, 210 Kāñcīpuram 4, 65, 66, 67, 68, 82 Kannaḍa x, 11, 31, 315 Kanwa 211 Kapalingattu Nambudiri 269, 286 kasar 247 Kathakalī xvi, 10 Kavirājamārga x, 13 Kāvya 43, 216, 307 Kedāreśvara 38, 39 Kelantan xvi, 10, 158, 160, 161, 162, 290, 291, 292, 293, 294, 295, 296, 298, 299, 300, 301 Kerala 9, 106, 107, 155, 217, 218, 219, 220,

L

349

Lakhaon Khaol 12, 332 Lakṣmaṇa x, 5, 22, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29,

31, 32, 33, 40, 41, 42, 45, 51, 52, 54, 55, 56, 57, 59, 61, 76, 77, 86, 87, 92, 93, 96, 99, 138, 140, 142, 144, 145, 193, 201, 202, 204, 207, 208, 233, 236, 237, 250, 251, 311, 312, 313, 314 Lalitavistara 250 Laṅkā x, 10, 11, 22, 26, 28, 29, 32, 33, 42,

54, 63, 67, 78, 80, 81, 87, 92, 97, 98, 100, 136, 137, 139, 140, 147, 152, 153, 155, 178, 179, 180, 184, 192, 195, 197, 200, 201, 205, 206, 207, 213, 214, 233, 304, 310, 311, 312, 314 Laos xvi, 4, 8, 49, 58, 60, 63, 64, 92, 102,

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

131, 159, 160, 204, 216, 300 laukika 14 leather-puppet 6 life-cycle rituals 9, 260 literary cultures 15 localization 1, 2, 5, 11, 13, 14, 15, 123, 124, 125, 159, 162, 170 Loik Samoing Ram 205, 213 lokadharmī 14 Lok Ta Kamheng 12, 337 Lok Ta Tosakmuk 12, 337 Loo Foh Sang 163, 164 Loro Jonggrang 50, 63, 91, 92, 96, 101

Matarām 50, 51 Meghadūta 211 Mekong delta 12 mokṣa 226, 258, 284, 285 multivalence ix, 1, 12, 13, 14 musical text 11 Myanmar 4, 57, 58, 59, 60, 62, 64, 160, 205, 206, 292, 298, 300 N

Nācciyār Tirumoḻi 135, 154 Nāgapāśa 193 Nāgarakṛtāgama 190, 192 Nagareśvara 38, 39 Nagarjunakonda 104 Nang Loi (see, floating maiden) 8, 212, 213, 216 narrative elements 8, 207, 340 narrative motifs 14 nātyadharmī 14 Nāyaka 6, 135, 136, 149, 150, 152, 154, 155 Nik Zainal Abidin 160, 161, 170 Nirmala Shanmugalingam 165, 166, 167,

172 nīti 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 189, 190, 279 Nonduk 196, 197 Norma Abbas 165 Northern Southeast Asia xvi, 290 Nyāya 177, 179, 189, 191

M

Mabasan Rāmāyaṇa xvi, 9, 247 madhuchchhishtha-vidhana 107 Maḍikēri (Mercara) 21 madya 247 Mahabalipuram/Mamallapuram 104 Mahābhārata 49 mahākāvya 12, 176, 177, 178, 179, 188, 191 Maharishi 290, 291, 292, 295, 296, 299 Mahirāvaṇa 201, 202 mak yung 158, 160, 161 Malayalam xiv, 8, 9, 10, 140, 217, 218, 219, 220, 224, 225, 227, 228, 229, 230, 231, 232, 268, 269, 287, 288, 289 Malaysia viii, 6, 7, 49, 58, 60, 128, 134, 159, 160, 161, 163, 165, 166, 169, 171, 172, 208, 214, 292, 299, 302, 343, 344, 345 Māliruñcōlai xv, 6, 135, 136, 141, 142, 143, 144, 146, 147 Mālyavān 196, 200, 210 Manasollasa 107 Mandodarī 37, 197, 200, 201, 313 Maṇīmekhalā 198 maṇipravāḷam 136 Manohar 133, 134, 276, 277, 278, 280, 282, 283, 284, 287, 288, 289 Manusmṛti 186, 189, 191 Mārgī 16, 307, 309

O

Old Javanese Rāmāyaṇa xvi, 7, 8, 176, 207, 216, 247, 248, 250, 252 oral tradition 9, 129 P

350

pacca 270 palace 11, 26, 78, 80, 92, 130, 133, 200,

223, 237, 238, 270, 279, 280, 281, 287, 299, 300, 308, 309, 331 Pallava xv, 4, 5, 16, 21, 65, 66, 67, 68, 71, 72, 73, 75, 81, 82, 84, 104, 105, 108, 109, 122, 135, 151, 152

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

R

panasar 255, 258 Panataran 6, 51, 124, 126, 127, 128, 210 Pañcatantra 189, 305 pancha-loha 108 Pāṇḍya 135, 152, 196, 222 Panji 10, 159 Pāpanātha 28, 32, 33, 34, 35, 39, 42, 45, 135 parabaiks (paper manuscripts) 58 Paripāṭal 135, 154 parts and whole 13, 14 Paṭṭadakal x, 3, 20, 22, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 34, 35, 39, 41, 42, 44, 135 Paumacariu 2 pentatonic 247 Performance cultures 10 Perumāḷ Tirumoḻi 13, 136, 137, 142, 143, 149, 150, 155 Pesantian 247, 259, 260, 261, 265 Phimai 6, 8, 55, 56, 61, 63, 64, 91, 93, 96, 99, 100, 101, 102, 126, 193, 203, 204 Phiphek (Pipek, Bibhek) 197 Phnom Da 4, 12, 13, 16, 17, 50, 329 Phnom Rung 8, 55, 56, 64, 86, 87, 91, 93, 96, 100, 102, 194, 203, 204 Phra Buddha Yodfa Chulalok 7 Phra Isuan 195, 196, 198, 199, 292, 300 Phra Lak Phra Lam 131, 216, 290, 295 Phra Nārāyaṇ 195 Phra Viṣṇukarm 195 political anxieties 10 Prambanan 6, 50, 51, 63, 91, 101, 105, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 153, 171, 176, 210, 250 Prasanga 308, 317, 318, 319, 326 Preah Khan 52, 54, 63, 93, 97, 98, 100, 330 pre-Angkorian 12, 193 Pre Rūp 52 protagonist 13, 37, 161, 168, 178, 309, 311 Puppetry xvi, 267 Purāṇa 36, 45, 47, 151, 153, 156, 195, 197, 202, 203, 287, 288 putrakāmeṣṭi yajña 197 351

Raghuvaṃśa 22, 44, 52, 152, 212, 215 rāja-gurus 249 Rājaśekhara 8, 204, 210, 211, 212, 215 rākṣasa 24, 86, 87, 96, 97, 98, 100, 142, 177, 179, 184, 204, 205, 206, 207, 239, 269, 270, 274, 275, 278, 287, 288 rākṣasī 8, 91, 205, 207, 213 Rāma x, xi, xv, xvi, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10,

11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 36, 37, 38, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 71, 72, 73, 75, 76, 77, 80, 81, 82, 83, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 102, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 149, 150, 151, 152, 155, 157, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190, 193, 197, 199, 201, 202, 204, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, 216, 219, 220, 225, 226, 228, 232, 233, 234, 239, 240, 243, 246, 248, 250, 251, 252, 255, 261, 289, 303, 304, 307, 308, 309, 310, 311, 312, 313, 314, 339, 340 Rāma-cult 43 Rama Jataka 159, 216 Rāma Khamhaeng 7 Rāmakīen xi, xvi, 7, 8, 14, 16, 57, 58, 193, 195, 203, 204, 205, 206, 210, 212, 213, 215 Rāmakīrti 7, 195 Rāmāṣṭottaram 150, 151, 155, 156 Rāmasūr 198 Rama Vattu 290, 294, 295, 296, 301 Rama Yagan 290 Rāmāyaṇa Kakawin xi, xvi, 3, 7, 14, 16, 50, 176, 177, 179, 207, 211, 212, 214, 216 Rāmāyaṇa Māsam 228

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

Ramcharitmanas 290 Ramlilamrita 202 rasika 15 Rāṣṭrakūṭa 65, 135, 152 Rāvaṇa (Rāwaṇa) x, xvi, 3, 4, 5, 7, 10, 11, 12, 14, 15, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 28, 29, 31, 32, 33, 34, 36, 37, 38, 41, 43, 44, 45, 46, 50, 51, 52, 54, 55, 57, 58, 60, 61, 64, 65, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 77, 78, 80, 81, 82, 83, 87, 91, 92, 93, 96, 97, 98, 100, 140, 141, 145, 147, 151, 153, 195, 196, 197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 204, 205, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, 226, 228, 250, 251, 255, 262, 276, 287, 288, 304, 307, 308, 311, 312, 313, 314 Rāvaṇavadha 7, 14, 177, 207, 211, 250 Rāvaṇodbhavam 10, 268, 269, 270, 271, 272, 274, 275, 284, 285, 286, 287 Reamker xi, xvi, 12, 14, 89, 132, 159, 328, 329, 330, 331, 332, 333, 334, 335, 336, 337, 338 recitation 4, 7, 9, 12, 49, 51, 179, 184, 189, 216, 247, 253, 255, 260, 263, 328, 332 Royal Ballet 12, 331, 332, 336, 338 S

śabdālaṃkāra 179 Sage Janok 197 Sage Kalaikot 197, 198 Śailendra 176, 249, 250 saint-poets 5, 13 Śaiva 4, 23, 42, 46, 51, 54, 55, 60, 61, 65, 70, 71, 72, 75, 77, 81, 250, 251, 256, 283, 313, 314 Śaivāgama 250 Sa Kamphaeng Yai 8 Sang Parama Kawi 248 Sangut 255, 256 Sañjaya dynasty 50, 248 Sanskrit xiv, 7, 8, 10, 15, 16, 17, 46, 48, 50, 52, 54, 62, 65, 66, 103, 125, 127, 129, 133, 134, 136, 153, 154, 155, 160,

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176, 177, 181, 192, 195, 203, 204, 207, 208, 210, 211, 212, 214, 215, 217, 218, 219, 221, 222, 224, 225, 227, 229, 232, 249, 252, 268, 269, 272, 278, 280, 285, 289, 305, 339, 341, 342, 343, 344 Saptadewawṛtti 189, 192 śāstrīya 14 sāttvika 15, 16 Sekaha Bebasan 9, 10 Sěkar Alit 248 selective transference 14 Serat Kanda 159 Shadow theatre 254 Sīdā 197 Sītā x, xvi, 5, 8, 9, 11, 14, 22, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 31, 32, 33, 37, 38, 39, 40, 42, 43, 51, 52, 54, 55, 58, 60, 61, 78, 80, 85, 86, 87, 90, 91, 92, 98, 99, 100, 101, 136, 140, 142, 143, 144, 145, 147, 151, 178, 180, 189, 191, 194, 197, 201, 204, 205, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, 216, 226, 228, 232, 233, 234, 243, 244, 246, 248, 250, 252, 255, 289, 303, 304, 307, 308, 309, 310, 311, 312, 313, 314 Smaradahana 212, 253 social exclusion 8 sub-plot 14, 15, 287 śūdra 224, 227, 241 Sugrīva 29, 30, 31, 33, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 85, 87, 88, 90, 100, 136, 139, 140, 146, 198, 199, 255, 257 Sukhodaya 7 Sumāli 179, 185, 186 Sumanasāntaka 212, 215 Sundarakāṇḍa 17, 25, 26, 38, 42, 48, 85, 90 Śūrpaṇakhā 25, 28, 29, 31, 33, 45, 61, 85, 100, 213 Suvaṇṇamacchā 201 Suvarṇamatsyā 201 Svayamprabhā 39 svayaṃvara 85, 98, 99, 100, 210 Syed Thajudeen 162, 170

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

T Talamaddale 316, 319, 327 tālas 11 Tamiḷ (Tamil) xiv, 6, 10, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 65, 66, 67, 82, 83, 84, 105, 107, 109, 111, 113, 129, 130, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 140, 149, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 195, 196, 202, 213, 268, 276, 277, 278, 280, 282, 283, 284, 287, 289, 296, 340, 343 Tantric 126, 130 Tantri Kamandaki 189 tapas 152, 269, 270, 271, 272, 273, 274, 275, 279, 284, 285, 286, 288 Tapasāṭṭam 269, 271, 272, 273, 274, 275, 286, 288, 289 Ta Prohm 52, 54 Telugu 16, 140, 151 temple x, 4, 5, 6, 12, 20, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 38, 39, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 49, 50, 51, 52, 54, 55, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 63, 64, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 85, 86, 87, 90, 93, 94, 96, 98, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 109, 110, 111, 115, 116, 119, 122, 125, 126, 129, 131, 135, 136, 137, 141, 145, 147, 149, 150, 151, 152, 172, 176, 193, 194, 198, 247, 250, 255, 258, 275, 290, 300, 310, 314, 328, 329, 330, 331 terracotta 20, 51, 61, 103, 209 Thailand viii, xi, 4, 8, 49, 55, 57, 58, 60, 61,

64, 91, 96, 100, 101, 102, 129, 131, 132, 133, 159, 166, 193, 194, 202, 203, 204, 205, 216, 292, 293, 300, 338, 342, 345 Theekkadal Kadanju Thirumadhuraṃ 218 Thomannon 52 Tintoy Chua 167, 168 Tirukōkaraṇam 6, 135, 136, 144, 145, 146, 149, 150 Tiruvalangadu 109, 110, 120

Toṇṭaimaṇṭalam 65, 66 Tosakan 130, 131 Trà-kiẹ̆ u 4, 49 Translation xvi, 9, 17, 192, 215, 216, 229, 232, 289, 302, 315 Trijaṭā 180, 207, 208, 212, 213 Trowulan 61, 209 Tuan Puteri Leia 167, 168 Tunćat Ezhuttaććan xvi, 8, 217, 218, 230 U

Upper Śivālaya 20, 23, 24, 25, 26, 41, 46, 135 utsava-mūrtis 5 Uttarakāṇḍa 2, 3, 4, 18, 49, 70, 136, 145,

178, 212, 250 V

353

Vacana 313 vācika 15, 16 Vaikuṇṭhaperumāḷ 4, 65, 74, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83 Vaiṣṇava 3, 12, 13, 16, 20, 23, 42, 43, 46, 72, 75, 81, 226, 283, 314, 342 Valabhī 14 Vāli-vadha 30, 37, 45, 46 Vāli/Vālin 29, 30, 31, 37, 42, 45, 46, 139, 140, 146 Vālmīki xi, 2, 3, 4, 8, 9, 11, 13, 14, 15, 17, 18, 22, 32, 38, 43, 44, 47, 48, 49, 50, 54, 61, 63, 66, 67, 68, 83, 84, 86, 136, 140, 142, 149, 150, 151, 152, 155, 176, 177, 178, 180, 181, 182, 183, 188, 191, 192, 193, 194, 203, 204, 207, 208, 210, 211, 212, 213, 216, 217, 225, 226, 232, 233, 250, 288, 289, 303, 304, 305, 308, 309, 310, 311, 315 Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa xi, 2, 3, 8, 14, 15, 18, 22, 32, 38, 43, 44, 48, 50, 61, 176, 180, 188, 193, 194, 204, 207, 208, 210, 211, 212, 216, 217, 250, 311, 315 vānaras 33, 37, 38, 39, 42, 51, 56, 58, 213 Veal Kantel 4, 12, 49

The Multivalence of an Epic: Retelling the Rāmāyaṇa in South India and Southeast Asia

W

Vēḷāñcēri copper-plates 68 Vēlūrpāḷaiyam copper-plates 68 verbal text 49, 321 vernacular 2, 11, 140, 179, 211, 212 Vibhīṣaṇa 7, 24, 33, 51, 54, 60, 91, 92, 96, 97, 147, 195, 197, 201, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 210, 213, 261 Vietnam 4, 13, 49, 51, 61, 62 Vijayanagara x, xv, 3, 5, 6, 20, 41, 43, 103, 106, 108, 113, 114, 115, 116, 119, 121, 122, 136, 146, 149, 153, 155, 156, 343 vimāna 25, 29, 32, 36, 39, 45, 270 Virādha 5, 52, 54, 55, 85, 86, 87, 90, 99, 100, 194 Vīraśaiva 3 Virūpākṣa 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 42, 45,

200 Viṣṇu Purāṇa 151, 195, 203 Viṣṇu (Wiṣṇu) 4, 5, 13, 25, 41, 43, 54, 66,

67, 69, 71, 72, 73, 75, 76, 77, 78, 80, 81, 82, 83, 93, 100, 101, 121, 138, 140, 143, 149, 151, 154, 157, 195, 196, 197, 199, 200, 202, 203, 225, 226 Visual Cultures xv, 19 Viśvakarman 195 Viśvāmitra 33, 85, 142, 250, 251, 311 vyākhyā 10

wayang golek 159 wayang kulit 6, 7, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162,

163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 179, 186, 190 Wayang Kulit Gedek 160 Wayang Kulit Kelantan xvi, 10, 159, 161,

290, 291, 293, 294, 295, 296, 298, 299, 300, 301 wayang purwa 159 Wayang Wong 248, 255, 257 Western Calukya 3, 135 Western Deccan 4, 16, 46, 83, 153 Western Gaṅga 20, 21 Wonoboyo hoard 51 Y

Yakṣagāna 11, 12, 315 yamaka 21, 43, 179 Yuddhakāṇḍa xv, 4, 5, 17, 25, 32, 38, 39, 40, 85, 91, 93, 97, 98, 99, 178, 191 Z

Zamorin 8, 218, 220, 222, 223, 224, 228, 229

354