Ramayana

When I was studying engineering, we learnt in one of the subjects that a less probable event conveys more information. 'The sun rises in the east' - hmm... ok... everyone knows this... so what? See what I mean, zero information. But when you read 'Click here to know xyz about Nick Priyanka's wedding', now that's information(according to news outlets) since the probability of a common person knowing that xyz is miniscule. [Disclaimer: The subject only dealt with quantity of information. It didn't have any theory on the quality of information.(Although I wish it did, so that I could use it to purge my news feed)].

Anyways, I am writing about probability of events because often in our lives, rare events or one-off moments are the ones which make the most impact. An unplanned trip to Lonavala will be the one of your best outings(despite a lack of candid pics which you pose for). An unexpected act of kindness remains etched in your conscience changing your outlook towards people. Just the memory of that fleeting look from someone special still makes your heart race even after all these years.

One such unexpected but memorable event that I witnessed was on the occasion of Ram Navami. There's a beautiful place called 'Shilparamam' in Hyderabad which is known for handicrafts and other things.(I really had to scratch my head to describe the wares that are sold there and all that I could come up with was handicrafts. That's how bad I'm at shopping.) Long story short it's a famous joint for shopping. But it also has a cultural centre associated with it which hosts events like classical dancing among other things.

All my visits to Shilparamam till then were in the capacity of a 'reluctant observer' tagging along with some friend who is going shopping there. On the evening of Ram Navami too I was fulfilling my role dutifully going to Shilparamam with my friend who wanted to buy clothes for family. Now I am not a very religious person and I had no clue that it was the day of Ram Navami. Anyways, after entering the complex we heard some classical music and since we had some spare time we went towards the direction of the sound to see what's going on.

We arrived at an open air theatre and saw some dancers who were enacting scenes from Ramayana on the dais. We decided on enjoying the show for a while before moving on with our main mission(mission impossible for me). The song-story was being narrated in Telugu, the local language and I had absolutely no idea what was being sung. But I didn't need to - since the whole thing was also being narrated in another language - dance.

Now I have read Ramayana numerous times since my childhood. I used to go to my ancestral village for summer vacations and the dominant form of entertainment were FM radio and old cassette players. But when the electricity is on a hike, or there is that typical summer afternoon lull, I used to read whatever I find. There were only a few book to read and the copy of Ramayana was my favourite one. I liked the story of Ramayana so much that for subsequent years, even if there was anything else to read I would re-read the familiar story one more time.

And now that I have grown up, living hundreds of kilometers away from my village, those memories had receded to a dusty corner of my brain. But seeing the old favourite story being enacted right in front of me brought all those memories rushing back. The story of Shabari, who had tasted the wild berries herself before presenting them to Ram & Lakshman to ensure that they only get the sweetest of them has always been close to my heart. She seems to me like a mother wanting the very best for her children. But on that day the elegance and expressions of those dancers portraying the same story added a new dimension to the feelings that Shabari's story elicited. Similarly the occasion when Bharat meets Ram in exile, and returns with his 'paduka', their brotherly love was portrayed beautifully. The anger and anguish on Lakshman's face when Sita throws wild accusations at him because he refuses to leave her alone at the 'ashram' to go look for Ram, or the fight of the brave Jatayu with Raavan and his pain when he is wounded felt so realistic. I can just go on and on and yet my limited vocabulary and even more limited imagination and flair could not be able to capture the experience I felt on that day.

While leaving the performance, I was thinking that it was amazing that I could enjoy and understand that performance even though I was in a region which is quite different from where I have been brought up. And that was possible because no matter how much our differences appear stark and obvious in terms of language, customs, food and other countless things, under all that bewildering diversity there are a few common fundamental threads that have tied us all together for centuries. And that's a comforting thought to have in this increasingly globalized, connected but in a sense also a very divided and lonely world.

I have always had trouble contemplating the divine, but the art and talent that I saw on that evening was nothing short of divine in my book. And not just because it was so damn good but also because it has the power to bring all of us together, to be the invisible thread that brings all the different coloured flowers together to form a beautiful garland, to serve a higher purpose, to be a better person, to be like Ram.