Over four million views on YouTube, a rash of opinions and articles and near-star status for the actor - for a woman who spent most of her life transfixed into stone, Ahalya seems to be more alive than she ever was, aeons after her story made it to the Ramayana. What is it about her story that has caught the fancy of so many, many of whom may be encountering her for the first time in this 14-minute eponymous film sponsored by a popular liquor brand and made by Sujoy Ghosh?
Exquisitely beautiful, Ahalya was married off to Gautam, an ill-tempered old sage who had also brought her up; she was seduced by Indra and then turned to stone when her husband walked in on the act. Rama rescued Ahalya by placing his foot on her. Indra was punished by having a hundred vulvas stuck on his body which he later managed to convert into a hundred eyes (the way myths go, the metaphors can sometimes trip over each other). This is the narrative that Ghosh's film twists to present Ahalya, Indra and Gautam in their modern avatars.
But there is a larger story of which Ahalya is part - of how women in epic and mythology were used to convey a popular cultural and moral social framework. For instance, Valmiki's Ahalya is a warning for adulterous women. She willingly indulges Indra because she is curious (and not because she is unable to see through his disguise as later versions indicate) and pays for her dalliance with lifelong purgatory. Her transformation into stone is not just physical but psychological; engulfed by guilt she is unable to have any relationship - not only with another man but also with her son who abandons her in the forest. Her transformation over the years from a woman who makes an independent choice to one who was tricked into an affair and then to one who was sullied for no fault of hers is the result of changing social mores and a strong male backlash.
The morality play that Ramayana serves up is a far cry from that which Ahalya may have been a part of in her original avatar, a hint of which can be detected in a Sanskrit couplet: Ahalya, Draupadi, Kunti, Tara, Mandodari tatha/ Panchakanya smarennityam mahapataka nashaka/(Ahinik Sutravali) (Ahalya, Draupadi, Kunti, Tara and Mandodari/Invoking daily the virgins five/Destroys the greatest failings).
Ahalya, Tara and Mandodari are from the Ramayana while Draupadi and Kunti are from the Mahabharata. None are virgins in the true sense of the word, but they are all assertive, confident women. Ahalya, scholars say, shows curiosity - she is neither coerced by Indra, nor does she lead him to his downfall; just like the other kanya in the couplet, Kunti. Her first born is a result of her curiosity too. The name Ahalya also offers a clue as to why she is an eternal virgin. It means flawless and also unploughed.
Ancient society was not comfortable with such women - and not just in the Indian subcontinent. In the Greek myths, Penelope is projected as the ideal wife because she is chaste, rejecting the hordes of suitors at her door during her husband's long absence after the Trojan War. Odysseus, however, was not bound by any rules of fidelity.
The sexually independent woman was considered an aberration and even dangerous. Amazonian women in most folktales are fierce warriors but their battles end in either marriage that tames them, or death. The stories told by these societies reveal their anxieties, desires and concerns. So as we retell the Ahalya story today, we must also examine what we see her as. Is she an independent woman exercising her choice or is she a siren luring men to their death?
Exquisitely beautiful, Ahalya was married off to Gautam, an ill-tempered old sage who had also brought her up; she was seduced by Indra and then turned to stone when her husband walked in on the act. Rama rescued Ahalya by placing his foot on her. Indra was punished by having a hundred vulvas stuck on his body which he later managed to convert into a hundred eyes (the way myths go, the metaphors can sometimes trip over each other). This is the narrative that Ghosh's film twists to present Ahalya, Indra and Gautam in their modern avatars.
But there is a larger story of which Ahalya is part - of how women in epic and mythology were used to convey a popular cultural and moral social framework. For instance, Valmiki's Ahalya is a warning for adulterous women. She willingly indulges Indra because she is curious (and not because she is unable to see through his disguise as later versions indicate) and pays for her dalliance with lifelong purgatory. Her transformation into stone is not just physical but psychological; engulfed by guilt she is unable to have any relationship - not only with another man but also with her son who abandons her in the forest. Her transformation over the years from a woman who makes an independent choice to one who was tricked into an affair and then to one who was sullied for no fault of hers is the result of changing social mores and a strong male backlash.
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In sharp contrast, in the same epic, is Sita, who was seen as the ideal woman of that time. She was devoted to Rama despite his many faults. Rama, too, was projected as the ideal husband because he was ek patnivrata or devoted to one wife, unlike heroes in the Mahabharata and even his father, and despite his contradictory behaviour in seeing no fault in Ahalya but sending his wife packing because she lived in Ravana's palace.
The morality play that Ramayana serves up is a far cry from that which Ahalya may have been a part of in her original avatar, a hint of which can be detected in a Sanskrit couplet: Ahalya, Draupadi, Kunti, Tara, Mandodari tatha/ Panchakanya smarennityam mahapataka nashaka/(Ahinik Sutravali) (Ahalya, Draupadi, Kunti, Tara and Mandodari/Invoking daily the virgins five/Destroys the greatest failings).
Ahalya, Tara and Mandodari are from the Ramayana while Draupadi and Kunti are from the Mahabharata. None are virgins in the true sense of the word, but they are all assertive, confident women. Ahalya, scholars say, shows curiosity - she is neither coerced by Indra, nor does she lead him to his downfall; just like the other kanya in the couplet, Kunti. Her first born is a result of her curiosity too. The name Ahalya also offers a clue as to why she is an eternal virgin. It means flawless and also unploughed.
Ancient society was not comfortable with such women - and not just in the Indian subcontinent. In the Greek myths, Penelope is projected as the ideal wife because she is chaste, rejecting the hordes of suitors at her door during her husband's long absence after the Trojan War. Odysseus, however, was not bound by any rules of fidelity.
The sexually independent woman was considered an aberration and even dangerous. Amazonian women in most folktales are fierce warriors but their battles end in either marriage that tames them, or death. The stories told by these societies reveal their anxieties, desires and concerns. So as we retell the Ahalya story today, we must also examine what we see her as. Is she an independent woman exercising her choice or is she a siren luring men to their death?