Ritika Jain

Jeanette Bushnell
HONORS 211A Stories of Knowledge; Knowledge of Stories
11 March 2016
Final Project
(An Extremely Abridged Version of) A Mythic Story
A long time ago, Dasharatha, the king of a certain region of India, lived in a palace at the capital
of Ayodhya in what is now Uttar Pradesh. Dasharatha had four sons: Ram, son of Kausalya,
Bharat, son of Kaikeyi, and Lakshman and Shatrugan, sons of Sumitra. All four sons were
extremely strong, handsome, and talented, and though they were all brothers, Ram favored
Lakshman while Bharat favored Shatrugan.
When Ram, the eldest, was just fifteen, the sage Vishwamitra asked Dasharatha to send him to
kill the rakshasas disturbing his havan, an important religious ceremony. Though Dasharatha was
initially cautious, believing that his son was too young, Vishwamitra knew that Ram was the only
one who could kill the demon, and he did. He sent an arrow straight into its heart, killing it and
allowing Vishwamitra to hold his havan in peace.
When it came time for Dasharatha to retire and to name his successor, it was then obvious who
should be king next, as Ram was not only the oldest, but had also proven himself worthy of
being king. However, his favorite wife, Kaikeyi (at the behest of her wicked maid, Manthara,
who convinced her that if Ram became king, Kausalya and Sumitra would throw her out),
persuaded him to make her son, Bharat, king instead and banish Ram from Ayodhya for fourteen
years, at which people would forget about him and Bharats rule would go on uninterrupted.
Despite his protests, because of a promise that he had made her years ago when she had saved
his life, Dasharatha was forced to do as she wished. Obediently, Ram left Ayodhya, joined by
Lakshman and his wife Sita who could not bear to see his favorite brother bear this punishment
alone.
Once the three left, they created a life for themselves in the forest while the palace at Ayodhya
fell into pandemonium. King Dasharatha became extremely ill with grief and died. As acting
king in his stead, Bharat went against his mothers wishes and went to the forest to beg Ram to
return, but to no avail, as Ram was steadfast in his decision to follow his fathers orders. Upon
returning to Ayodhya, Bharat refused to serve as king. Instead, he left Rams sandals in front of
the throne to symbolize that the only true king in Ayodhya could be Ram.
One day, a rakshas princess tried to seduce Ram, but when she found out about his devotion to
Sita, she tried to kill her. While saving her, Ram and Lakshman wounded the princess, who then
returned to her brother Ravan, the ten-headed ruler of Lanka. To avenge his sisters previously
beautiful face, Ravan created a plan to abduct Sita. He sent one of his demon soldiers disguised
as a magical golden deer, which Sita then wanted to keep as a pet. To please her, Ram and
Lakshman went to hunt the deer down. Before they left, however, they drew a protective circle

around Sita and told her not to step outside of the circle under any circumstances, or she would
not be safe. Ravan then took advantage of their absence and appeared to Sita as a holy man
begging for alms. The moment Sita stepped outside the circle to give him food, Ravan grabbed
her and carried her back to his kingdom in Lanka.
When the two returned and could not find Sita, they sought the help of a band of monkeys to
help them. Hanuman, the general of the monkey army, had the power to fly as his father was the
wind. He flew to Lanka and, finding Sita there, comforted her and told her that Rama would
come to save her soon. Sita was relieved that Hanuman had found her, but Ravan had only given
her another two months to agree to marry him, or else he would kill her. Hanuman then offered
to bring her back to Ram, but she refused, as only Ram could bring her back with honor, and if
he did not defeat Ravan, then his reign of terror would continue. Hanuman set out to return to
Ram and tell him this news, but Ravans men captured Hanuman and set his tail on fire.
Hanuman was able to escape, but his tail set Lanka on fire as he did so.
After Hanuman delivered this news, Ram, Lakshman, and the monkey army built a bridge from
the tip of India to Lanka where an ultimate boss battle ensued. After killing several of Ravans
brothers and almost losing Lakshman, Ram eventually confronted the ten-headed Ravan. He
killed Ravan with the help of the allies he had made in his quest to find Sita, freed his wife, and
was finally able to return home as his fourteen years of exile had now been complete. When the
people of his kingdom heard of this, they placed diyas, or candles, outside of their homes to
guide Ram back to Ayodhya on this night of a new moon, and he was finally able to take his
rightful position of king.

Every Sunday, back during the more vaguely religious parts of my youth, many of the other
Indian families in the area gathered to pray together rather than listen to sermons in a church. It
was on these Sundays that I was told the stories that accompanied our religion: how Krishna was
born, who the avatars of Vishnu were, and, one of my favorites, why we celebrate Diwali. The
short answer I give when anyone asks is that Hindus celebrate Diwali to commemorate Rams
return to Ayodhya after his fourteen years in exile, though people who practice other religions in
India celebrate it for different reasons. But it is also more complex than just that. On Diwali,
friends and family strive to recreate the spirit of togetherness that Sita and Lakshman
exemplified when they accompanied Ram in his exile, and to remind ourselves that the narrative
of the Ramayana will always play itself outthat good will always triumph over evil, and that
within ourselves, our virtuous self will defeat the baser impulses of greed and tyranny. Or at
least, it gives us hope that this is what will happen.
As I described in my ponderings last week, I now wonder to what extents colonialism has
changed the interpretations of this story, as Barbara Mann talked about with respect to the
Iroquois creation stories. This story is extremely old, and I could hypothetically find an
unabridged version in Sanskrit, but this would not do me much good as I do not understand
Sanskrit and this story is approximately two hundred chapters long. Similarly, the people who
told me this story likely retold the versions of this story that they had learned rather than their

interpretations of the original story, and though most people in India as a whole know this story,
very few have actually read it. At each stage of retelling, the story has changed slightly, and the
understanding of it that I have now is very different from the understanding I would have had I
actually read the original Ramayan. And, as Pearce said, the differing ontologies between
different populations impedes the process of cultural expression and the preservation of heritage,
as it is impossible to communicate beliefs effectively using a culture different than that the
original knowledge existed in.

A Personal Story
Once upon a time, a girl named Ritika was friends with a girl named Bhanu. Their friendship had
started during their freshman year, mostly because they were two of the few Indian people at
their high school and because they were both in debate. Over the next few years, their friendship
continued to grow as they took many of the same classes, were both pretty smart and driven
towards getting good grades, and had similar interests outside of school.
Now, Bhanu had a lot of family in Canada, whom she would frequently visit, and when Ritika
texted Bhanu and she did not reply for a couple of days, Ritika usually understood that Bhanu
was in Canada, where she could not text people or get wifi. (That last part confused Ritika a lot,
because in that day and age, a person could get wifi pretty much anywhere, but she rolled with it,
since thats the kind of person Ritika was: the kind of person who rolled with things.)
One summer, the summer after their final year of high school, Bhanu told Ritika that she would
be going to Canada for about a week. As previously stated, Ritika was used to this and knew not
to text Bhanu for a little while because she did not want Bhanu to rack up international fees
while visiting her family. So she refrained from texting her friend.
A couple of weeks later, Ritika learned about something that she had to tell Bhanu about: what it
was doesnt matter, but what mattered was that Bhanu did not respond. Ritika rolled with it, as
Ritika tended to do. A week or so after that, Ritika texted Bhanu again, but again, she received no
response. At this point, Ritika was a little bit worried, but she listened to the rational part of her
brain that said that everything must be fine. A few days later, Ritika texted Bhanu again, but still
she received no response. It was at this point that Ritika began to worry. Usually, Ritika worries
and things happen to work out pretty well fairly quickly, but it had been weeks since Ritika had
heard from Bhanu and no number of texts, Facebook messages, or Snapchats elicited any reply.
Ritika texted other mutual friends to see if any of them had heard from Bhanu, but none of them
had: not Alina, not Ethan, not Seraphina, and not Miranda. While talking to some of these
people, some horrific thoughts came into their minds. What if Bhanu had been kidnapped and her
family wanted to keep it out of the press? What if her entire family had died in a violent car crash
and no one had known? Ritika and her friends began to worry.
However, it turned out that the friends only had to wait one more day before they found out what
had happened to Bhanu, as the next day, she texted them all and reassured them that she was
alive and had not, in fact, been kidnapped. All of Bhanus friends were understandably upset that

in the month (not week, as she had earlier told them) that she was in Canada, she did not have
even one chance to connect to some wifi and answer the Facebook messages pleading her to
confirm that she wasnt dead. But they were also extremely relieved that nothing had happened
to her.
The moral of the story: dont worry about your friends in Canadatheyre probably alive.

During this week that I was extremely worried about Bhanu, I learned how much I cared about
my friends, no matter how much I think I am detached from everything around me. I also learned
how much I depend on my friends for validation, as I was at first more upset that she was not
responding to me than I was concerned about her. This is a trait that I am trying to work on, and I
am learning to receive validation and approval from myself instead of from other people.
This story to me also signifies how people can come together in concern for others, and though
in this case, all we did was worry, it shows how communities have power which can be actively
used to enact positive social change.