Kaikeyi’s Lament: Reimagining the Ramayana
This week in Daak:
Our returning intern, Fiza Mishra, writes a powerful piece about literature that gives voice to our supposed villains, fulfilling the greatest promise of any literary enterprise — perspective building.
Also, explore our new line of tote bags with quirky Kalighat paintings.
Finally, check out this week’s Daak Recommends for some rare delights!
1. Kaikeyi’s Lament: Reimagining the Ramayana
Memories of childhood in India are rooted in oral traditions — in proverbs and riddles, and stories told through song and dance. These stories are not confined by borders but travel every time they are told, constantly changing shape and form to say something unique, something characteristically local.
The dominant understanding of these myths, however, derives entirely from the Sanskritic myths, even though they are composed in Bengali and Tamil and every other language of the subcontinent. Beloved and revered by millions of people across South Asia, the Indian epic Ramayana is one such story. In the Tamil story of Mayili Ravanan, for example, Ravana cannot be vanquished by Rama. A thousand-headed Ravana rises in place of the ten-headed one, and it is Sita who finally defeats him in battle.
In 1861, the Bengali poet and playwright Michael Madhusudan Dutt undertook a daring exercise — he published a volume of poetry called Meghnād Badh Kāvya, famed both for adopting narrative elements from John Milton’s Paradise Lost and sparking rage and intrigue in equal measure for the way it retold the Ramayana with Ravana as the central protagonist.
Stories that are infused with nostalgia tend to leave behind infinitely complicated legacies. Is it possible that the veneration of our childhood heroes comes at the cost of acknowledging their mortality? Dutt’s approach was groundbreaking in the way he granted Rama frailty, and turned the Rakshasas into tragic heroes.
“The poem is rising into splendid popularity. Some say it is better than Milton—that is all bosh—nothing can be better than Milton; many say it licks Kalidasa; I have no objection to that. I don’t think it impossible to equal Virgil, Kalidasa, and Tasso,” he wrote in a letter to a friend.
The following year, Dutt went on to publish a collection of poems called Vīrānganā Kāvya, short pieces of blank verse written as an address from a woman from Puranic myth to her husband. We bring you an excerpt from one such poem from the perspective of Kaikeyi, who survives in collective memory as the woman who was the driving force behind Rama's exile to the forest for 14 years.
Kaikeyi to Dasharath
You see, the weight of my hips no longer makes me sway.
My thighs are no longer ripe like two banana stalks! That waist, alas, which you held
Within your palms (putting the lovemaking of lions to shame)
That waist is no longer slender, O lord! Those upright
Breasts now softly sag. My lips devoid of nectar.
…
But Jewel among Kings, remember times now gone,
I tended your feet in my early youth.
What solemn vow did you make to me then, O King
witnessed by Dharma? If it is lust which has inebriated you, then you
Tricked me with arid hope, so speak now;
Then in silence will I bear this great suffering.
…
Adherent of Dharma I have called you, O Lord, and praise you
As god among men – the conqueror of senses, and eternal lover of Truth!
Then why, tell me, why have you,
Blessed today as Crown Prince, Rama,
The son of Kaushalya? Where is your son
Bharat – the jewel of the country, the crown jewel
Of this race? Now do you remember words you
Have spoken in those bygone days? By what fault of hers
Is now your servant Kaikeyi an offender to you?
Translation by Ahona PandaHere, Dutt’s portrayal of Kaikeyi’s emotional turmoil is a searing critique of her being written off as a manipulative, destructive queen. Kaikeyi reminds Dasharath of her devotion to him, urging him to uphold his dharma as a husband and expresses her grief at no longer being valued by him once she lost her sexual appeal.
In a world tightly bound to patrilineal structures, her rightful demand from her husband to fulfill the promises he made to her for saving her life, is unacceptable. This poem also brings to light the conflicted nature of polygamous households, where female anguish is dismissed as silly fights between women.
For a language like Bengali, where the word for childhood is chhelebela, or boyhood, this is significant — through his poetry, Dutt centers the desire, grief, power and protest of women in a language whose otherwise gender-neutral grammar robs them of their girlhood. His verses embody the spirit of fearless intellectual inquiry and symbolize the evolving consciousness brought about by Bengal’s Renaissance Movement.
By Fiza Mishra
2. Carry Your Stuff in Style
Carry your stuff in style with our new line of tote bags inspired by the fun, quirky and colourful Kalighat paintings which are guaranteed conversation starters!
3. Daak Recommends
We have a special treasure for you this week — The Archive of Indian Music — which digitizes and preserves gramophone recordings across various genres including Hindustani classical, Carnatic classical, Theatre, Early cinema, Folk and more. Enjoy this musical exploration!