Once upon a time, a long time ago, before there were Harry Potters and Percy Jacksons for young people to dive into, there was the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, epics that read like romances, action thrillers, dramas, fantasy, sci-fi and even comedy, all rolled into one. Those were the epics one grew up on and while the Mahabharata with its cunning politics and journeys filled with many adventures was a favourite, there was something about Sita’s story that always drew one’s attention as a young girl. But it wasn’t necessarily attention that translated into admiration for her character. In fact, while words such as feminism were not even peripheral to one’s vocabulary, there was a lingering sense of unease about this woman who, after she had dutifully accompanied her husband on a fourteen-year-long exile, survived the trauma of being abducted and finally returned home to what should have been a happily-ever-after, was questioned, tested and humiliated by her husband. Even Sita’s decision to return to earth did not fully highlight a stance of resistance. Many years later, one had the privilege of watching Mallika Sarabhai’s powerful solo performance in her theatrical production, Sita’s Daughters. This was a production that presented Sita through a feminist lens and not through the prism of patriarchy, and that experience changed how one looked at Sita, or the epics, forever.
Lately, one has seen many retellings and reinventions of Sita, mostly feminist in their intervention. Some of these include Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s The Forest of Enchantments that not only puts Sita at the centre stage but also other characters such as that of Kaikeyi and Surpanakha who have been historically vilified, Volga’s The Liberation of Sita in which Sita’s journey of self-discovery is traced through her interactions with four marginalized women and Rama, Samhita Arni’s graphic novel, Sita’s Ramayana which presents a critique of the violence unleashed in the war to rescue her from Ravana, a reimagination of Sita as a warrior princess by Amish Tripathi in Sita: The Warrior of Mithila, and Sita’s Voice in the Assamese Ramayana by Tilottoma Misra which presents a rebellious and angry Sita who challenges Rama’s definition of ‘stree dharma’.
Joining these varied and interesting interpretations is Sahitya Akademi Award winner, poet and writer, Anamika’s Sita’s Veil—the story of Sita, told from her perspective, in her own voice, a story about a single mother of two boys, Luv and Kush, a scholarly woman who is invested in educating children, especially children of Adivasis and those who belong to the Rakshas tribe, who continues to live in Valmiki’s ashram surrounded by the beauty of nature. Like the Ramayana, Sita’s Veil comprises three volumes that are further divided into seven parts or ‘kaands’ and begins with a volume titled ‘Secret Correspondence’. This volume functions almost like a prologue in which Sita reveals that it was at Valmiki’s urging, necessitated by a need to give Sita a voice equal to that of Rama, that she took to writing her story. The volume is primarily epistolary in nature and concerns itself with exchanges between Sita and Rama and Sita and her boys, but certain issues that are developed further emerge immediately. Foremost amongst them is not just the physical distance between Rama and Sita but one that is compounded by seemingly irreconcilable differences in point of view. While Rama is projected as one who firmly believes that war is the way to tackle the sporadic and continuing attacks by the Rakshasas, Sita advocates abandoning violence and pursuing an alternative path of using education to instil humane values that would end the cycle of violence. Significantly, Sita reveals that underlying her faith in education is her understanding of the concept of Ram Rajya as a quest for perfection that is inherently dynamic and evolving in nature, a quest that could be fulfilled only through education. What is also clearly enunciated is Sita’s resolve to carry on with her intentions undeterred by Rama’s lack of support, saying, ‘I’ve never followed anyone blindly, not even Rama.’
The second volume, ‘Sitayan’, that consists of four ‘kaands’, is mostly a narration of events beginning with the episode of the breaking of the bow by Rama that wins him Sita’s hand in marriage and ends with Sita’s trial by fire, the continuing interrogation of Sita’s character by a washerwoman, Rama’s announcement of his wish to step down from his role as King after sensing a distrust about his morality and ability to rule and, finally, Sita’s decision to leave Ayodhya in spite of being with child. While the narrative barely deviates from the original, what becomes perceptible is the shift in focus from the exteriority of plot progression to one that is keenly interested in mapping the emotional landscape, especially of the female characters as they navigate through the twists and turns of the story. It is not details of fights and battles but the minutiae of daily living, during the exile in the forest, or at the palace in Ayodhya that get the attention. The male characters become peripheral to the stories, and women, previously consigned to the margins, such as Sunayana, Sita’s mother, or Mandodari, Ravana’s wife, reclaim their space in the epic story. Further, it is not Rama who is put forward as the role model worthy of emulation but women, especially women educators, who are presented as inspiring change and ushering in progress.
The third and last volume, ‘Uttarayan’, largely believed to be a later interpolation, serves as an epilogue that reflects on Sita’s life once she has left Ayodhya for good, the upbringing of Luv and Kush, and the years of Rama’s reign post the defeat of Ravana. It is a volume that is definitely more philosophical than the rest in its preoccupation but also serves to posit a tenuous resolution to the growing differences between Rama and Sita’s worldview, and brings a certain clarity about their individual decisions.
In the Introduction, Anamika states that the ideology which frames this version of Sita is guided by what she calls ‘integrated feminism’, or a ‘brand of deshaj feminism’, that does not view men as necessarily the binary of women or beyond redemption but men who can evolve and grow into feminists themselves. Also central to Anamika’s vision is a Sita who interrogates, constantly pushes boundaries and one who is fiercely independent. Sita’s Veil consistently upholds the author’s vision in its portrayal of Sita’s resoluteness in persevering with her ideals, her insistence on the importance of education and her championing of other women characters, at times even suggesting the radical possibility of viewing instances such as her abduction as one of abuse and therefore, viewing Sita as a survivor. However, one does note an element of essentialism too in the author’s suggestion of women being intrinsically connected to nature or the spiritual, and more disturbingly, in the detailing of women’s expertise in the kitchen or their natural aptitude at mothering. The other minor problem lies with an implicit superiority implied in Sita’s adoption of the role of an educator to the demon and Adivasi community and, while the argument for education to be a two-way process is finally made towards the end of the work, it fails to convince completely.
Finally, Nishtha Gautam’s translation needs to be appreciated because Anamika’s lyrical prose could not have been easy to translate. It’s impossible to ascertain for sure if the language of the original at times slips from the lyrical to the everyday, because there are intermittent phrases such as ‘green-lit’, or ‘my kiddo’, that are a bit jarring. Sita’s Veil is not a difficult read and worth one’s time but perhaps it will interest academics and those interested in tracing the reinventions of Sita in recent times, more than an average reader.
Shibani Phukan is Associate Professor in the Department of English, ARSD College, University of Delhi, Delhi. Her areas of interest include writing from the North East, women’s writing, and translation studies. She has published poems, articles and chapters in national and international journals such as Women’s Link, Fortell, and Writing.