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THE RĀMĀYANA IN AN ENGLISH GARB.
The immortal Epic of Valmiki is undoubtedly one of the gems of literature,—indeed, some considering it as the Kohinur of the literary region, which has for centuries, and from a time reaching to the dim and far past been shedding unparalleled and undying halo upon the domain presided over by "the vision and the faculty divine." The burthen of the bard's song is the perpetual contest between good and evil,that is everywhere going on in this mysteriously-ordered world of ours,and which seemingly sometimes ending in the victory of the former,and at others in that of the latter,vitally and spiritually results in the utter overthrow and confusion of evil and in the triumph and final conquest of good. Rāma sprung from the bright loins of the effulgent luminary of day, and bringing his life and being from a long and illustrious ancestry of sovereigns, Rāma taking birth among the sons of men for chastising and repressing rampant Iniquity and Injustice, typifies the spirit of good that obtains in this world,—Rāvana, that grim and terrible Ten-headed one, a Rakshasa by virtue of birth, and worthy to be the chief and foremost of Rākshasas by virtue of his many misdeeds and impieties, who challenges and keeps in awe the whole host of the celestials—"to whom the Sun did not shine too hot, and about whom the Wind did not dare to breathe," represents the spirit of unrighteousness and evil. Lakshmana, disregrading the pomp and splendours of princely life, to follow his beloved brother Rāma into the forest, and cheerfully undergoing there a world of trials and privations, and daily and nightly keeping watch and ward over his brother and his spouse in their cottage,—and Bharata, stoutly and persistently declining, despite the exhortations of the elders and the spiritual guides, to govern the kingdom during Rāma's absence in the forest, and holding the royal umbrella over his brother's sandals,are personations of the ne plus ultra of fraternal love, and consummate and perfect ideals of their kind. The righteous Bibhishana, who for Rāma's cause forsook his royal brother, and set small store by the splendours of royalty, who suffered no earthly considerations to interfere with his entire and absolute devotion to his friend, embodies in his person the sterling virtues going under the precious name of friendship. The ever-devoted Hanumana glorying in the appellation of Rāma's servant,—ever-prompt at the beck and call of his master to lay down his life—is the grandest and loftiest conception of the faithful servant that is to be found in all literature. Shall we say aught of Rāma and Sitā, or keep silence over themes too sacred for babblement and frofane mouthing? The kingdom is astir and alive with the jubilations of the populace at the prospect of Rāma's coronation; pennons by thousands are streaming like meteors in the air at the tops of stately edifices; and drums and panavas and other musical instruments are sounding forth the auspicious anouncement. The royal household swims in a sea of bliss surging and heaving on all sides. Delight and Joy move about and laugh and talk under the names of Daçarātha and Kaucalya. Anon a thunder-clap bursts in the midst of the Merry-making, and converts delight into dole, the sounds of laughter and hilarity into loud wails and lamentations issuing from hearts knowing no consolation. All is lost! Rāma is to be banished into the woods for fourteen years. He cheerfully makes up his mind and repairs to the forest in consonance with his father's promise. Sitā steps forth—a divinity clad in flesh—Sitā would follow the fortunes of her lord. She considers it as the height of undutifulness to remain behind, continuing to enjoy the pleasures of the palace, while her beloved Rāma is leading a life of toils and privations in the remote woods. The daughter as well as the daughter-in-law of kings, brought up in the lap of luxury and amidst the soft ministrations of those pleasures that pertain to a royal household, Sitā, the idol of every one's love and regard, boldly and with alacrity faces all the toils and terrors of a forest-life, in preferance to remaining in Daçarātha's residence, bereft of the company of her sweet lord.
All these and various other characters that figure on the fascinating and enchanting boards of Valmiki, have been developed fully and elaborately, and with and perfect consistency of portraiture through the length of his gigantic poem of Rāmāyana. Rāvana standing before us in stupendous proportions as the personation of terror and wrong-doing, before whom the human spirit trembles as Sitā in the Asoka wood; the lotus-eyed Rāma self-forgetful and heroic, and possessed of the highest perfections that can adorn humanity, and through the extremes of misery and misfortune ever abiding by righteousness and truth; Sitā the best and fairest of her sex, the embodiment of all loveliness and grace physical and mental, she who rose from the sacrificial fire of inspiration—a goddess in all her manifold perfections and unsurpassed exellences, whose name carries in the very mention a world of pathos; the faithful Lakshmana, aye cleaving to his brother on the perilous edge of raging battle, and in the dreary forest leading a life lorn and desolate,—these and others whom we forbear reluctantly to name, have been pourtrayed to the life; they are quick with the Promethean spark and occupy prominent positions in that ideal world brought into being by those mighty intellectual wizards—the poets; and are the perennial fountains of our joy and sorrow, never suffering the good and the beautiful to degenerate into cant and commonplace in our minds. Oh! the privilege of genius.
The influence exercised by the Rāmāyana upon the Hindus reaching down to the lowest strata of the society, is literally and in actual fact immense. Truly of the Rāmāyana it can be said in Baconian language that it has come home to the business and bosoms of all men. If there is one test which more than another distinguishes the true from the false in Art, it is the circumstance of a work influencing or not influencing life: a work that assimilates itself with the mental constitution of a nation, lending energy to impulse, contributing to clearness of thought, and ennobling and spiritualis- ing the higher emotions and aspirations, must by the very reason of its doing so, be true; while that which fails in doing so, is not the real and genuine thing and can well be spared. The Rāmāyana has become a household-word in Hindu Society, and expressions embodying the memories of incidents celebrated in the epic, pass current amongst all ranks of the people, being mouthed alike by high and low, by prince and peasantry the aristocracy and the nobility of the land, by merchants and mechanics, by cultivators ploughing the field, and by shepherds keeping the flock, by princesses and high-born dames in towering edifices, and the women of the peasantry plying their daily tasks, religionists and politicians and men of letters,—in short by the community universally. Such absolute and all-commanding and comprehensive sway and influence of literature is perhaps unknown in the West, with the single exception of the Bible. Rāma's regime embodies the popular conception of administrative perfection—the ideal of a monarchy. Rāvana is remembered not only in consequence of the prominent part he plays in the Rāmāyana, but also on account of his famous advice to Rāma immediately before his death,—namely that the execution of evil projects should be deferred, but that good ones should be promptly executed,—a very sage counsel doubtless, answering partially to Macbeth's observation on hearing of Macduff's escape:
"—————From this moment
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand———"
"The vow concerning the bow-breaking," applied sarcastically to a case of contumacy, "The war between Rāma and Rāvana is matched by that war alone," "Rāvana's family." "Rāvana hath been ruined by domestic disclosure," "Lankā hath met with destruction in consequence of excess of pride," "That won't render the Rāmāyana incorrect,"—these are some of the adages universally current in Hindu society, mixing constantly into common talk. Does not this unequivocally and unmistakably prove that the influence of Valmiki has entered into the pith and marrow of the nation, and vitally sways its intellectual and emotional tendencies?
Sitā has become the grand exemplar to Hindu women as the embodiment of purity, chastity, and wifely fidelity. She has furnished Hindu ladies with the highest and noblest conception of their duties in their various and manifold relations in life. Her empire is both wide and deep over the hearts of her sex, performing for their eternal behoof spiritual services of incalculable worth. She should be looked upon as one of the greatest teachers of her kind—as a teacher in that highest and best sense in which Christ and Chaitanya, Nanat and Socrates are called teachers. Ah, who can say how many women have turned away in the budding prime of youth from the primrose path of dalliance, and have in preferance followed virtue, who alone is truly fair,—how many stirred and influenced by the example of her matchless self-sacrifice have firmly made up their minds to tread in her foot-steps? In like manner it may be said of almost all the principal characters of the Rāmāyana, that they have more or less deeply influenced the thoughts and sentiments of the people.