 "Meeting Ravana")
Steering the wheel over the many potholes in Bisrakh's narrow lanes is as hard as finding a single version of its complicated history. Just ahead of Noida in Uttar Pradesh, the sleepy village has Hinduism's archetypal villain, Ravana, as its ancestor. While no family traces its lineage back to the ancient ruler or his family, almost every person's face shines with pride at the prospect of being part of this mythic history. Every year, around the festival of Dussehra, the village gets its 60 seconds of fame for being one of the only places in the country where the festival is not celebrated. Rather, the elders mourn the slain king and the battle he lost to Rama.
Bisrakh, which villagers believe derives its name from Bisheshwar, Ravana's father, would have gone about being a sleepy town for the rest of the year were it not for one Acharya Ashokananda Maharaj, a local resident and self-styled godman who took up the cause of reviving Ravana's heritage in the village by installing his idol at a temple dedicated to him. As the legend goes, Bisheshwar came to Bisrakh for tapasya and after his son was born in the forest, he left for Lanka.
While the idol was to be installed amidst much fanfare, Ashokananda claims that a day before the event, "goons" came and dethroned Ravana from his pedestal. Though no one in the village saw what happened or who the purported miscreants were, Ashokananda told the priests at the temple, imported from Mathura, that "about 25 people came bearing revolvers and sticks". Scrolling through his shining silver iPhone, Sushil Awasthi, the new priest from Mathura, is almost bored and slightly irritated at being woken up from his nap. His irritation can be understood, since he had to step out of the comfort of his air-conditioned room inside the spotless, newly-built Bisrakh Dham temple. Against the backdrop of large real estate projects under construction, Awasthi looks on at an empty stall with glass walls. Inside, a tiled platform is empty. Just behind it lays the dethroned idol of Ravana. Ashokananda, he says, can be reached over the phone.
After a short bhajan as a caller tune, Ashokananda's voice betrays a hint of excitement at the prospect of being featured in a newspaper. For him, the question of Ravana's place in history is befuddling. "Unlike Bhairon, Ravana never ate meat or drank alcohol. And yet, we paint him as the villain and still consider the Vaishno Devi yatra incomplete unless one visits Bhairon's temple. How does that make sense?" Believed to be one of the "greatest Brahmins" who knew all Hindu scriptures well, Ravana's scholarly abilities are worshipped in many parts of India. In terms of temples, too, Bisrakh is not the first to dedicate one the demon king. In parts of Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh and Madhya Pradesh, entire villages offer prayers to Ravana, believing him to be the protector of their clan.
Some families in Uttar Pradesh even offer prayers to an image of Ravana, created on the floor with turmeric. This pooja is a slight modification of Saraswati pooja, where children offer their books and pens and their parents offer their professional tools to Ravana's visage, seeking wisdom as great as his.
But, Ashokananda says, Rama is also guilty of murdering a Brahmin. "For a lot of us, Vibhishana is the real villain. He was disloyal and led to the fall of his own family's kingdom."
Were historian A K Ramanujan alive, he would be smiling at this statement. His 1991-essay, "Three Hundred Ramayanas: Five Examples and Three Thoughts on Translation", discusses the myriad versions of the epic across cultures, languages, religions and even historical periods. The art of Wayang in Indonesia, where shadow puppets are used to enact The Ramayana, is a telling illustration of this. The essay, which seeks to present Ramayana as a fluid narrative rather than a historic monolith, courted controversy in 2011, when members of the Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad, the student wing of the Bharatiya Janata Party, protested against its "anti-Hindu" and blasphemous contents. As a result, the academic council at Delhi University decided to remove it from the BA History syllabus.
But far away from the realm of theory is Shyam Lal, a priest in the Parvati Temple in Bisrakh. The 66-year-old scoffs at any evidence that Ravana ever lived in Bisrakh or had anything to do with the village. "If I make some tall, broad man with a long moustache stand in front of you and tell you that he belongs to Ravana's family, will you believe it? How is one to know who was alive thousands of years ago?" For him, the matter is simple and relates only to money. "If someone spends Rs 4,000 and comes to Delhi from Chennai just to see an idol, the least he will do is offer Rs 1,100 at the shrine," he laughs. "Our parents sold land and earned crores of rupees. Now that the money is drying up, people come up with ingenious ways of cashing in on an imaginary heritage."
Across the narrow street, Anil Pujari is just completing the aarti at the Shiva Temple. The only occupants of the serene temple are a family of four and a couple of buffaloes. Vikram Awana, a resident of Noida, says that though he is a devout follower of Shiva and even accepts Ravana's ties to the village, the temple "incident" is mere propaganda. "The land for that temple was given for a trust. Chakrapani Maharaj is just interested in making his way to the spotlight, even if it means saying things against Hinduism." Chakrapani, who dresses himself suspiciously similar to Swami Vivekananda, is Ashokananda's associate and occupies prime space in all the posters of the temple across the village. "The region is known for the various Shiva lingas that were found. But it is ridiculous to say that one of them is the same one that Ravana offered prayers to," he says.
Pujari, though, is unfazed. He points to a locked stairwell that leads to a cave. "This is supposed to be the path that leads to a temple in Ghaziabad. Ravana would often use this to walk to the temple," he says. Originally from Bihar, Pujari came to Bisrakh about eight years ago in search of work.
Within the village, versions of the myth seem to have created differences between the elders of the community and the young, ambitious lot. "This is all just bogus. People say there's a palace in the village that was Ravana's. How could there be a palace in the forest?" asks Jal Singh, a 50-year-old shopkeeper. His young aide offers another dimension to this Ravana-worship. "This is a 'Harijan' village, so we don't really worship Hindu deities." It would seem that Ravana, a Brahmin, is an odd choice for this caste subversion. An old woman pipes up. "You think we mourn Ravana's death on Dussehra but the truth is that we have no money to have a Ram Leela or to burn his effigy." Going by the number of cars that are parked inside sprawling houses, this seems like an unlikely claim.
Young men gather around Singh to contest his version, saying that they feel proud of this heritage. "For us, Ravana is a code, a trademark. When a car with 'Raavan' written on its windshield passes by everyone knows it is from Bisrakh." Simple logic dictates that even autorickshaw bear this "code" so that commuters know they can hitch a ride to Bisrakh. Singh dismisses these claims as complete hyperbole. "They are following a herd. This is just a fad, some new fashion that only picked up some five years ago."
Be that as it may, Ravana offers an identity to the young lot. T-shirts bearing the letters "Raavan" are given to almost all young boys in the village. "When we go to Haridwar for the kavad yatra, our t-shirts help us stand out." Written below "Raavan" is Bisrakh's address - Sector 1, Greater Noida. And below that is a tricolour motif, though not the complete flag. Nationalism, here has various forms, one that even pledges its affiliation to the erstwhile ruler of a bordering nation.
Bisrakh, which villagers believe derives its name from Bisheshwar, Ravana's father, would have gone about being a sleepy town for the rest of the year were it not for one Acharya Ashokananda Maharaj, a local resident and self-styled godman who took up the cause of reviving Ravana's heritage in the village by installing his idol at a temple dedicated to him. As the legend goes, Bisheshwar came to Bisrakh for tapasya and after his son was born in the forest, he left for Lanka.
While the idol was to be installed amidst much fanfare, Ashokananda claims that a day before the event, "goons" came and dethroned Ravana from his pedestal. Though no one in the village saw what happened or who the purported miscreants were, Ashokananda told the priests at the temple, imported from Mathura, that "about 25 people came bearing revolvers and sticks". Scrolling through his shining silver iPhone, Sushil Awasthi, the new priest from Mathura, is almost bored and slightly irritated at being woken up from his nap. His irritation can be understood, since he had to step out of the comfort of his air-conditioned room inside the spotless, newly-built Bisrakh Dham temple. Against the backdrop of large real estate projects under construction, Awasthi looks on at an empty stall with glass walls. Inside, a tiled platform is empty. Just behind it lays the dethroned idol of Ravana. Ashokananda, he says, can be reached over the phone.
After a short bhajan as a caller tune, Ashokananda's voice betrays a hint of excitement at the prospect of being featured in a newspaper. For him, the question of Ravana's place in history is befuddling. "Unlike Bhairon, Ravana never ate meat or drank alcohol. And yet, we paint him as the villain and still consider the Vaishno Devi yatra incomplete unless one visits Bhairon's temple. How does that make sense?" Believed to be one of the "greatest Brahmins" who knew all Hindu scriptures well, Ravana's scholarly abilities are worshipped in many parts of India. In terms of temples, too, Bisrakh is not the first to dedicate one the demon king. In parts of Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh and Madhya Pradesh, entire villages offer prayers to Ravana, believing him to be the protector of their clan.
Some families in Uttar Pradesh even offer prayers to an image of Ravana, created on the floor with turmeric. This pooja is a slight modification of Saraswati pooja, where children offer their books and pens and their parents offer their professional tools to Ravana's visage, seeking wisdom as great as his.
But, Ashokananda says, Rama is also guilty of murdering a Brahmin. "For a lot of us, Vibhishana is the real villain. He was disloyal and led to the fall of his own family's kingdom."
Were historian A K Ramanujan alive, he would be smiling at this statement. His 1991-essay, "Three Hundred Ramayanas: Five Examples and Three Thoughts on Translation", discusses the myriad versions of the epic across cultures, languages, religions and even historical periods. The art of Wayang in Indonesia, where shadow puppets are used to enact The Ramayana, is a telling illustration of this. The essay, which seeks to present Ramayana as a fluid narrative rather than a historic monolith, courted controversy in 2011, when members of the Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad, the student wing of the Bharatiya Janata Party, protested against its "anti-Hindu" and blasphemous contents. As a result, the academic council at Delhi University decided to remove it from the BA History syllabus.
But far away from the realm of theory is Shyam Lal, a priest in the Parvati Temple in Bisrakh. The 66-year-old scoffs at any evidence that Ravana ever lived in Bisrakh or had anything to do with the village. "If I make some tall, broad man with a long moustache stand in front of you and tell you that he belongs to Ravana's family, will you believe it? How is one to know who was alive thousands of years ago?" For him, the matter is simple and relates only to money. "If someone spends Rs 4,000 and comes to Delhi from Chennai just to see an idol, the least he will do is offer Rs 1,100 at the shrine," he laughs. "Our parents sold land and earned crores of rupees. Now that the money is drying up, people come up with ingenious ways of cashing in on an imaginary heritage."
Across the narrow street, Anil Pujari is just completing the aarti at the Shiva Temple. The only occupants of the serene temple are a family of four and a couple of buffaloes. Vikram Awana, a resident of Noida, says that though he is a devout follower of Shiva and even accepts Ravana's ties to the village, the temple "incident" is mere propaganda. "The land for that temple was given for a trust. Chakrapani Maharaj is just interested in making his way to the spotlight, even if it means saying things against Hinduism." Chakrapani, who dresses himself suspiciously similar to Swami Vivekananda, is Ashokananda's associate and occupies prime space in all the posters of the temple across the village. "The region is known for the various Shiva lingas that were found. But it is ridiculous to say that one of them is the same one that Ravana offered prayers to," he says.
Pujari, though, is unfazed. He points to a locked stairwell that leads to a cave. "This is supposed to be the path that leads to a temple in Ghaziabad. Ravana would often use this to walk to the temple," he says. Originally from Bihar, Pujari came to Bisrakh about eight years ago in search of work.
Within the village, versions of the myth seem to have created differences between the elders of the community and the young, ambitious lot. "This is all just bogus. People say there's a palace in the village that was Ravana's. How could there be a palace in the forest?" asks Jal Singh, a 50-year-old shopkeeper. His young aide offers another dimension to this Ravana-worship. "This is a 'Harijan' village, so we don't really worship Hindu deities." It would seem that Ravana, a Brahmin, is an odd choice for this caste subversion. An old woman pipes up. "You think we mourn Ravana's death on Dussehra but the truth is that we have no money to have a Ram Leela or to burn his effigy." Going by the number of cars that are parked inside sprawling houses, this seems like an unlikely claim.
Young men gather around Singh to contest his version, saying that they feel proud of this heritage. "For us, Ravana is a code, a trademark. When a car with 'Raavan' written on its windshield passes by everyone knows it is from Bisrakh." Simple logic dictates that even autorickshaw bear this "code" so that commuters know they can hitch a ride to Bisrakh. Singh dismisses these claims as complete hyperbole. "They are following a herd. This is just a fad, some new fashion that only picked up some five years ago."
Be that as it may, Ravana offers an identity to the young lot. T-shirts bearing the letters "Raavan" are given to almost all young boys in the village. "When we go to Haridwar for the kavad yatra, our t-shirts help us stand out." Written below "Raavan" is Bisrakh's address - Sector 1, Greater Noida. And below that is a tricolour motif, though not the complete flag. Nationalism, here has various forms, one that even pledges its affiliation to the erstwhile ruler of a bordering nation.