Feminism forged in steel

Renu Sud Sinha

Our epics only had heroes. The sheer lack of strong women characters in legends and lore is proof enough that the founding fathers of our patriarchal system could only think of women in supporting roles. So the Sitas and Draupidis could never be the heroines even in their own stories. They had to wait for centuries to find their voice. As if to make up for aeons of silence and existing on margins, these voices are now growing in decibels and number all across contemporary literature as wronged women of our epics  join in the clamour to be heard.

In recent years there have been numerous retellings of the Ramayana from Sita’s point of view or rather from a feminist perspective. Volga, Namita Gokhale and many other women writers have deconstructed this oft misunderstood epitome of womanhood and have put her back in a way the today’s women could easily relate to. Male authors like Amish Tripathi and Devdutt Pattnaik, too, have tried to ride this wave of feminism, but coming from a masculine pen their Sita is not multi-dimensional and may not resonate with many women readers. 

In Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s latest novel, The Forest of Enchantments, her Sita — in consonance with her earthly avatar — is all human with human failings and feelings. This Sita, what any feminist worth her salt says every woman should never be, throws away the mantle of silence, docility and meekness. She readily answers all the questions which have troubled not just the feminist types but all women while reading or listening to the Ramayana since millennia. Sita fills in the gaps between the adventures of male characters and their heroics as also between the words of male writers for whom women characters could never take centre stage.

Not just her own story, she writes the Sitayan to do justice to Urmila, Kaushalya, Ahalya, Mandodri, and even Surapnakha, Kaikeyi and Manthra ‘always pushed into corners, misunderstood, blamed or maligned and used as cautionary tales for without them, her story can’t be complete’.

Divakaruni may have written the Sitayan from a feminist perspective but she has not deviated from the original narrative retaining the essence and the message of the epic — about morality, duty, sacrifice. While she has stuck to the fundamentals of the epic, Divakaruni dubs it as a tragic love story — a love not lost but gone wrong somewhere, as one aspect of almost every character overshadows his/her all other qualities. For Ram, it is his duty — as a son, as a prince, as a ruler, which forces him to be unfair as a husband.

Dashrath, Kaikeyi, Lakshman, Ravan, even Manthra — their obsessive love for one relation over all others – feeds this tragic story. And, of course, Sita, unlike Rama her unconditional love for him makes her forgive him after every injustice he doles out to her, knowingly or unknowingly. 

While Sita and other women of Ramayana remain central to the story, Divakaruni has remained fair to her male characters, especially Ram and Ravan. As she progressed with writing the book, Divakaruni admits to shedding the naive belief that to appreciate Sita, one has to hate Ram. In her rendition of Sita, Divakurni has retained Janaki’s core values. Her feminism is couched in gentleness but is forged with steel. She questions, she counters, she stands up for her and other women’s rights but with a quiet dignity. Her love for Ram is limitless but not at the cost of her self-respect.

In the end, Divakurni’s Sita is a multi-faceted personality who will find resonance in today’s times.  A dutiful daughter, protective sister, loving wife, gentle daughter-in-law, nature lover, healer, skilled warrior, able administrator and a strong single mom — Sita transcends across centuries as a perfect role model -- from women of Treta yug to the super-women of twenty-first century.