The Children’s Ramayana

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Translator’s Introduction

Upendrakishore Ray Chowdhury (1863–1915) was a man of many talents. He was a writer, publisher, printer, artist, musician and entrepreneur, among other things. One of his greatest contributions, though, was as a children’s writer in Bengali.

Upendrakishore wrote some remarkably imaginative and humorous books for children, which he illustrated with his own drawings. His works Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne, Tuntunir Boi and the children’s versions of epics like the Ramayana and the Mahabharata have regaled Bengali children for nearly a century now.

This book, originally written in Bengali, is his retelling of the Ramayana. Titled Chheleder Ramayan (Ramayana for Boys) it has been continuously in print for several decades. His style of writing was comic and all his stories and poems had an underlying layer of bubbling laughter. This spirit was not dampened even while retelling an ancient tome like the Ramayana, which is Hindu literature and scripture, rolled into one.

This account of the Ramayana is like a fairy tale with its retinue of kings, queens, terrible villains, demons and of course monkeys. The story unfolds as it does in the original text, but in his retelling, good versus evil has acquired a flavour of dark humour. Ram seems more like a prince-in-trouble than an avatar of Vishnu, and Raavan is the warrior who often breaks into tears. The characters may have their revered places in Hindu mythology, but Upendrakishore makes them approachable, funny and flawed. And in doing so, he has made the book the ideal children’s version of the epic. Chheleder Ramayana is a book with plenty of palace intrigues, battles, magical creatures and human emotions—rather than a distant and serious holy text.

I read the book in the original Bengali when I was a small, book-loving girl (and no, the title did not stop girls from reading the book). I remember the illustrations and the book cover to this day. Today, I am not sure what compelled me to re-read the book so many times but I can safely say that for me it was a page-turner, written in a language that would strike a chord in the heart of an eight-year-old. I have a distinct memory of lying on my bed on a typical hot and humid Calcutta afternoon devouring the adventures of Ram and Lakshman and friends with as much joy as I would get on reading a Famous Five novel.

I came back to the book after many years when I was translating it. And what a joy it was to read it again and to get immersed in it once more! Every anecdote in the story is told with a hint of irreverence mixed with humour. As our children grapple with textbooks that overload them with cold data or unnecessary moralizing, Upendrakishore breaks down stereotypes about our mythological heroes. In these pages, not only do they make mistakes or cry far more than any man is permitted to in our society, they are also funny and sometimes cruel. The Children’s Ramayana is a secular story that is also the tale of a group of adventuring friends who vanquish evil and win the princess back. Upendrakishore does not dilute the moral value of the epic, even as he makes it an energetic adventure story that children will enjoy.

In this translation, I have tried to retain that delightful, quirky tone and the hint of humour told with a straight face that has endeared Upendrakishore Ray Chowdhury’s works to readers for generations. I do hope you, dear reader, will enjoy this book and read it many times, the way I once did, years ago.

TILOTTAMA SHOME

New Delhi

March 2019

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The Princes of Ayodhya

Long long ago, in our land of Bharatvarsha, lived a king called Dasharath. He ruled over the kingdom of Ayodhya which was on the banks of the river Sarayu.

In those days, Ayodhya was forty-eight kos long (180 km) and twelve kos wide (45 km). It was surrounded by high walls lined with barbed wires and with terrible weapons displayed on them. One of the weapons was the Shataghni—it could kill a hundred people at one go.

Ayodhya, during Dasharath’s rule, was a very beautiful place. It had shaded and clean roads, gardens that were full of flowers, and grand mansions seven-eight storeys high, made of expensive materials. Ayodhya was charming and glamorous indeed!

In this beautiful Ayodhya, in a white-stoned palace, under a white royal umbrella, sat King Dasharath and ruled his kingdom. He had eight ministers to help him. Their names were Dhrishti, Vijay, Akop, Jayant, Sumantra, Surashtra, Dharmapal and Rashtravardhan. They were very wise, intelligent and pious and did not allow any injustice to take place in the kingdom. There were no thieves and dacoits here and the citizens of Ayodhya made their living with honest work. Everyone ate well, dressed well, lived in comfortable houses and were content. King Dasharath loved his citizens like few other kings ever have, and the people of Ayodhya loved him equally.

But alas, King Dasharath had no sons. This would make him very sad. One day, he said to his ministers, ‘Look, I will do a yajna. Maybe that will please the gods and they will give me a son.’

On hearing this, everyone said, ‘Your Highness, please invite Sage Rishyasringa. If he conducts the yajna then you will certainly have a son.’ This sage had antlers like a deer’s on his head, which was why he was named Rishyasringa, meaning ‘sage with antlers’. There were very few sages as good as him.

On hearing this from his ministers, Dasharath said, ‘That’s very good advice. Rishyasringa is my son-in-law as he is married to my friend King Lompad’s daughter Shanta. I will go myself to bring him here.’

King Lompad lived in Angadesh. King Dasharath went to Angadesh and brought Sage Rishyasringa to Ayodhya. After that the yajna started.

First was the Ashwamedh yajna. In this yajna, a horse was released to run freely. Along with the horse went armed people, so that nobody could stop the animal anywhere. The horse travelled to various kingdoms for a year and was finally brought back to Ayodhya.

In the meantime, hundreds of craftsmen, carpenters, masons and labourers built a wonderful space for the yajna to be held on the northern banks of the Sarayu river. There is no account of how many sages, brahmins, kings and citizens had gathered there to take part in the yajna. Janak, the king of Mithila, Lompad, the king of Angadesh, the kings of Magadh, Sindhudesh, Saurashtra and many more arrived. Kings from all over the world, who were friends of Dasharath, were all present.

As soon as the horse returned to Ayodhya, the Ashwamedh yajna started. All through the days of the rituals everyone enjoyed the lavish banquets that were laid out. People were fed to their heart’s content. The brahmins ate to their satisfaction and declared, ‘Victory to the King!’ Young boys ate to their fill, yet asked for more and were fed.

After finishing the Ashwamedh yajna, Rishyasringa said, ‘Now if we do a Putreshti yajna, the king will have a son.’

Soon the Putreshthi yajna started. From the sacrificial fire of the yajna arose a man. He looked fearsome. He was tall like a mountain with a dark complexion. His eyes were red and he had a beard and moustache like a lion’s mane. He wore a red garment. In his hand he held a gold platter covered with a silver cloth and in the bowl was delicious kheer.

The ferocious-looking man told Dasharath, ‘Your Highness, Brahma has himself cooked this kheer and sent it. Feed this to your queens and you will certainly have a son.’ Having said this, the man disappeared.

Dasharath was overjoyed. He would get sons if the kheer was fed to his queens!

He had three queens—the eldest was Kaushalya, then came Kaikeyi and the youngest was Sumitra. Let me explain how he divided the kheer amongst the three of them. He took half the kheer and divided it between Sumitra and Kaushalya. Then, he took the remaining kheer and gave some to Sumitra again and the rest to Kaikeyi. An easy distribution.

The three queens happily ate the kheer. Soon after that, they bore four divine-looking sons—Kaushalya had one son, Kaikeyi had one son and Sumitra had two sons.

Everyone was delighted on hearing of the birth of Dasharath’s sons. The poor were lavishly rewarded with gifts by the king.

When the four boys were eleven days old, Sage Vashishth named them. The eldest son was Kaushalya’s, and was named Ram. The next son was Kaikeyi’s, and was named Bharat. The third and fourth sons were Sumitra’s and were named Lakshman and Shatrughna.

The four boys were handsome, intelligent and sweet-natured. They had all the qualities that good children should have. Within a few years, they grew to be learned and brave. They were without comparison in studies as well as warfare and hunting.

The brothers loved each other a lot. Amongst them, Lakshman specially loved Ram and Shatrughna loved Bharat even more. There are no words to describe how happy King Dasharath was to have them as his children.

One day, while the king was discussing the marriage of his sons with his ministers and priests, Sage Vishwamitra arrived to meet him. Amongst sages, Vishwamitra was the most honoured. Few people had done penance like him and fewer had powers like he possessed. But he was also a very ill-tempered man. Therefore, Dasharath took great care to look after him. He said, ‘Respected Sage, I am very fortunate to have you as my guest and I am extremely happy. Now please tell me what you desire, and I will certainly give you that.’

Dasharath thought that the sage will ask for wealth. But when he heard what the sage wanted, his heart sank. Vishwamitra said, ‘Your Highness, listen to what I have come for. I had done a yajna and two rakshasas—Maarich and Subahu—came and spoilt it by throwing animal flesh into it. I have heard that they work for a very wicked rakshasa called Raavan. If you allow your son Ram to accompany me for ten days, he can kill these two rakshasas. No one but Ram can do this. He is now grown up and is a great warrior. The two rakshasas will not be able to fight him. You need not be afraid. Get Ram to do this for me, it will be good.’

Dasharath trembled on hearing this. He pleaded with Vishwamitra, ‘I beg