Ravana pestering Sita in Lanka (photo courtesy: exoticindiaart)

Of all the heroines we have known in our epics, Sita is the only one who has been held up by generations of Indians as the eponymous image of docility and submissiveness. But was she really so?

If we were to fall back on the account left behind by a contemporary of hers -Rishi Valmiki - the popular image of Sita held in India would undergo a transformation.

Loyal and loving she certainly was as a wife, but submissive she was not. In fact, Ramcharit Manas, Tulsi's version of the ancient epic - could well be considered as a classic case of 'lost in translation'.

As a great Rambhakta, Tulsidas was wont to gloss over any perceived imperfection of his Purushottam Ram. Hence, unlike Valmiki's Ramayana or the regional Ramayanas, Ramcharitamanas ends with the coronation of Ram and his glorious rule with Sita and Lakshman by his side. When he makes a mention of the years that Sita spent in the hermitage of Valmiki, in his Geetavali, Tulsidas comes up with a convoluted reason for Sita's banishment. According to Tulsidas, since Dasharath died before his time, his years were granted by the Gods to Ram. Since the last 100 years of his life were the years of Dasharath, who was the father-in-law of Sita, Ram could not maintain any conjugal relations with Sita. Hence, he had to pay heed to a washerman's taunts and use them as an excuse to send her to the forest.

The original Ramayana of Valmiki - which has survived in an incomplete form to this day - and the many regional variations that arose from it, paint a different Sita. The Maithili folk versions tell us of a strong young girl who could easily lift the Shivadhanush (Shiva's bow) by one hand, as she swept the floor with the other. At a time when Sita's father, King Janaka of Mithila, is worried over whether he can ever chance upon a suitable groom for his daughter who refuses to marry any weakling, Ram strings the bow and provides relief to the harried father. In Valmiki's and other regional versions, we have Sita refusing to stay on in Ayodhya when her husband is to proceed for 'vanvaas'. She accompanies him as a devoted wife, but on her own insistence and by flouting her husband's express commands.

In the Oriya Vilanka Ramayana, which is based on Valmiki's Adbhut Ramayana, Ram and Lakshman are totally helpless against the might of Vilanka Ravana, the thousand-headed demon who wants to avenge the killing of the ten-headed Ravana. Even Hanuman can only manage to sever just 500 of the thousand heads of the demon. It is only when Sita steps in at Hanuman's behest, and uses the five-headed panchasar weapon, that Ram can vanquish the thousand -headed Vilanka Ravana.

This incident is also elaborated upon in the Bengali Jagadrami Ramprasadi Ramayana. Sita even admonishes Ram when he is recounting his exploits as a vanquisher of all demons, and gently reminds him of how he and his brother had to take her help, without which they could have never succeeded. In this version, Sita takes the form of Goddess Kali to kill the thousand-headed Ravana .

As regards the 'Agnipariksha' immediately after the battle of Lanka, when Ram expresses doubts about her chastity, Valmiki's Ramayana has Sita launch into a public rebuke, rather than breaking into tears. The regional Ramayanas also have Sita question Ram's conduct in martial and administrative matters, especially him taking sides in the Vali-Sugriva single combat.

Quiet and resolute, her inner reserves of strength had her spurn the mighty lord of Lanka, and evoked the admiration of all, including Ravana's wife, Mandodari. Her acceptance of an 'Agnipariksha' could also be interpreted as an act of utmost confidence in contrast to a wavering Ram. Thus, rather than a silent sufferer, she was in every way more than an equal of her spouse.

So, how come Sita has come down to us as a docile wife, largely seen and hardly heard?

The original Ramayana of Valmiki, it must be understood, could never have been accessible to the extant public. Sanskrit was not the language of the common people. It was a classical language confined to the learned upper castes while the common man used Prakrit.

It was only after Goswami Tulsidas re-wrote it in people's language that Ramayana became part of the common man's daily worship, and a staple of Indian life. Interspersed with Brijbhasha and Bhojpuri, in addition to the predominant Avadhi, Tulsidas' Ramcharitmanas also gave rise to the tradition of Ramlila, which survives to this day.

When Tulsidas composed his version of Ramayana, a medieval India was closing ranks to survive the cultural onslaught of Turco-Afghan hegemony. Women no longer enjoyed the freedom of the Vedic age, and child marriages had become the norm to prevent molestation, rape and dishonour.

Young girls married off at a pre-pubescent age were led through life by their fathers, husbands and sons. This social reality got reflected in literary works of the age. Thus, the bold, outspoken, decisive Sita of yore gave way to a docile, passive Sita.

Today, when women have outdone men in many fields, notwithstanding the prejudices against girl-children, female foeticide and infanticide, the popular image of Sita understandably evokes uneasiness among the educated women.

Namita Gokhale and Malashri Lal hence, deserve kudos for having compiled essays by the best experts on the Ramayana for their edited work: "In Search of Sita: Revisiting Mythology" and putting together the missing pieces to paint a true portrait of the Sita that Valmiki had written about.

With crimes against women on a dangerous upswing, it is time we redeem Sita and grant her the place that is rightly hers. It will not only bring in contemporaneity to an ancient work but will inspire millions of women to lead both at the home and the outside world.