“All geniuses are plainly mad, Banker is madder than most”: M.V. Kamath’s Review of the first three Ramayana books
This review first appeared in The Free Press Journal, Mumbai on 7th August 2005.
An Epic tale to suit modern tastes
by M.V. Kamath
Prince of Ayodhya: Book One; Ashok K. Banker; Penguin Books, Pages 517; Rs 295.
Siege of Mithila: Book Two; Ashok K. Banker; Penguin Books; Pages 522; Rs 295.
Demons of Chitrakut: Book Three; Ashok K. Banker; Penguin Books; Pages 615; Rs 350.
Either Ashok K. Banker who has attempted to write – or re-write – the Ramayana in seven volumes is thoroughly mad or he is a ranking genius, a super-star in the literary heavens. There is story comparable to the Ramayana. Valmiki who first wrote it some three thousand years ago were he to come alive now would be probably shocked to know that since he wrote the adi-kavya, there are over seventy variations currently in existence. And all being read and re-read and re-re-read and enjoyed, thank you.
It is claimed that what goes for the aadi kavya itself had been in subsequent generations tampered with or subtly enlarged by others who preferred to stay anonymous. Never mind. As it stands, Valmiki’s Ramayana still remains unmatched, and one can be sure that both Kamban produced a Tamil version in the 11th century and Tulsidas who produced a Hindi version calling it Ramcharitramanas in the late 16th century would reverentially bow their heads before the aadi kavya. Ramayana is available in several languages, including Thai and Bhasha Indonesia.
The Thais actually think Rama is their man and one can’t blame them. To blurt out the truth, Rama is Everyone’s Man. And Ayodhya, as Banker reminds us, is “not just a place in north-central Uttar Pradesh, it is a place in our hearts”. And Raama is there, right in. While there have been so many language editions of the epic, for some strange reason there are very few in English.
Banker refers to William S. Buck’s 19th century version. In our own times, C. Rajagopalachari (Rajaji) attempted a fairly abridged one published by the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan and which has literally sold in lakhs; then we have had a version by R. K. Narayan which is not a patch on Rajaji’s classic. Now we have Banker’s version. Yes, version.
It is Banker’s argument – and who can blame him? – that if Vyaasa and Kambaan and Tulsidas can interpret Ramayana to suit their fancies (and, no doubt, the exigencies of their times) why shouldn’t he, to meet the needs of the English-speaking world in the 21st century? Good point. If, Banker insists, Ramayana changes shape and structre, form and even content, “it is because that is the nature of the story itself: it inspired the teller to bring fresh insights to each new version, bringing us closer to understanding Rama himself.”
And has Banker tried? There is no question: the man is a sheer genius! Ramayana in his hands comes through in flaming language. In English, of course. Not in Shake-spear’s English, nor in Hemingway’s, Somerset Maugham’s but in an English peculiarly Banker’s, that comes out alive, afire with words in Sanskrit, Hindi, Urdu and Gujarati.
Explaining how he came to write this English version (the fourth volume has just come out) Banker says: “My mind exploded with images, scenes, entire conversations between characters. I saw. I heard. I felt…(and) I wrote!”
Did he though! Was he exhorted by Brahma himself? For all one knows that may be true. If Brahma could inspire Valmiki three thousand years ago, why shouldn’t He inspire Banker in our own times? Brahma surely realises that English is spoken across the world by millions? Brahma told Valmiki: “Recite the tale of Rama…whatever you do not know will become known to you. Never will your words be inappropriate. Tell Rama’s story…that it may prevail on earth for as long as the mountains and the rivers exist.”
Brahma, it is clear, has repeated himself to Banker. There is clear evidence. He has beaten practically everybody else in this, his version of Ramayana. The three volumes earlier published teem with characters that make one shudder. Banker uses Sanskrit terms freely in order, on suspects, to give verisimilitude to his work. There are rakshasas, pisacas (pisachas?), and nagas, the last being “giant, cobra-like beings with a human head and toros, but with yard-long forked tongues and serpentine lower bodies and long tails” slithering “through the alleyways and up walls, finding the strays”.
And then there are the Uragas “enormous reptilian brethren of the Nagas, flowing slimily among their cousin species, their enormous python bodies swollen with telltale lumps – the Ayodhyans they had swallowed alive”, “their deceptively human faces cast in the appearance of beautiful girl-children, a detail that only added to the horror of their violations”. Are we getting a feel to the style that Banker freely uses to convey his interpretation of whatever happened? For the ordinary reader, Nagas and Uragas may just be tribals of that period: for Banker they become real ‘nagas’ serpents with yard-long forked tongues. Reading Banker is a hair-raising experience.
In his work, Banker lets his imagination run riot. Dasaratha gets a scolding from Kausalya, for ignoring her. (Incidentally, Valmiki’s Rama-yana depicts Dasaratha as having three hundred and fifty concubines in addition to his three titled wives and Dasaratha’s fondness for fleshly pleasures are stated factually).
Banker’s Ramayana is not just a divine story. At times it becomes a gory and it is frightening. One has to read his description of Parasurama, the axe-wielding brahmin and the scourge of Kshatriyas, emerging out of a mountain, glowing “with the blue-tinged effulgence of brahman shakti” wanting to know who destroyed the bow Siva himself had created and promising to destroy millions of kshatriyas. The conversation between Parasurama and Rama is something to savour. There never was a Ramayana such as Banker has written – his task still remains to be completed – and there probably never will be. It is action, action all the time and there is never a dull moment. Banker revels in his description of events that surely would win Valmiki’s approbation.
The description is vivid, sharp, illuminating and remains in the mind long after the reader has put the book (books) down. What Dasaratha told Brahmarishi Vishwamitra when the latter asks the king to give him Rama as guru-dakshina remains true for all times. Says Dasaratha: “My answer to your request for guru-dakshina is this,
Great One. You ask for Prince Rama. I say, Prince Rama is not mine to give. He belongs to Ayodhya. Rama does not belong to me alone, nor to his mother or family. He belongs to the people…”
Powerful words and they remain true for all times. What we are now presented is not anyone’s Ramayana: it is Banker’s Ramayana and for years to come it will surely be read for the power it projects, the vividity it presents and the sheer vastness of human thought it so humbly lays at the readers’ feet. Even reading the incomplete story of Rama in the first three volumes brings alive the ever-shining glory of Bharat as it was and will forever be. All geniuses are plainly mad! Banker is madder than most.
This entry was posted on Tuesday, September 6th, 2005 at 5:12 am. It is filed under Ashok.
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