The Rāmāyaṇa — One Living Epic, Three Hundred Tellings.

Celebrating Today’s Opening — And Looking Forward to Seeing Part 1 and Part 2

Today marks the opening of the new cinematic adaptation of the Rāmāyaṇa—an ambitious two-part big-screen telling that brings one of humanity’s oldest and most beloved spiritual epics to a global audience. In the studio, where so much of my own music, Kirtan, and Sanskrit study flows from the Vedic and Tantric currents of India, seeing the Rāmāyaṇa step onto the screen in two parts feels like watching an ancient river meet the modern ocean.

What excites me most about seeing Part 1 and Part 2 is that the story is finally being given the breathing room it deserves. The Rāmāyaṇa is not just a battle between light and shadow—it is a slow, deeply human unfolding of love, promise, exile, grief, devotion, and awakening. Dividing the film into Part 1 (the luminous world of Ayodhyā, the marriage of Rāma and Sītā, the heartbreak of the 14-year forest exile, the golden deer, Rāvaṇa’s abduction of Sītā, and the forging of the sacred brotherhood with Hanumān) and Part 2 (the building of the stone bridge across the sea, the inner and outer war of Laṅkā, and the return of light) honors both the intimacy of the forest and the cosmic scale of the crossing.

A Summary of the Rāmāyaṇa — The Journey of Rāma (*Rāma + Ayana*)

Literally translated, Rāmāyaṇa means “The Journey (Ayana) of Rāma.” Traditionally structured across seven books (Kāṇḍas) and 24,000 Sanskrit verses, the core narrative traces a single unbroken arc from the royal palace into the wilderness, across the ocean to the island fortress of Laṅkā, and back home again:

One River, Many Streams — The Great Tellings of the Rāmāyaṇa

As the scholar and poet A.K. Ramanujan famously explored in his landmark essay “Three Hundred Ramayanas: Five Examples and Three Thoughts on Translation,” there has never been just a single, frozen text of the Rāmāyaṇa. Across two and a half millennia, the story has been sung in Sanskrit, Tamil, Awadhi, Bengali, Telugu, Kannada, Malayalam, Pali, Prakrit, Thai, Javanese, Khmer, and Tibetan. Here are the five great historical pillars of the tradition:

1. Vālmīki’s Sanskrit Rāmāyaṇa (c. 5th–4th Century BCE · The Ādikāvya)

Revered as the Ādikāvya (“First Poem”) and Vālmīki as the Ādikavi (“First Poet”), the Sanskrit epic begins with a moment of profound empathy. Walking by the Tamasā river, the sage Vālmīki watches a hunter’s arrow strike down one of a pair of mating Krauñca birds. Out of the cry of the grieving mate, Vālmīki’s own sorrow (śoka) spontaneously pours forth as four-footed poetic meter (śloka). In Vālmīki’s telling, Rāma is portrayed primarily as Maryādā Puruṣottama—the noblest human being struggling courageously with the weight of ethical duty (dharma), loss, and kingship.

2. Kampan’s Tamil Irāmāvatāram (12th Century CE · Chola South India)

When the story moved south into the Tamil Bhakti renaissance, the 12th-century poet Kampan composed the Irāmāvatāram (popularly known as the Kamba Rāmāyaṇam). Written in breathtaking Tamil musicality, Kampan’s Rāma is no longer merely a human prince navigating duty—he is the Supreme Divine descending out of pure love. Kampan adds an unforgettable touch: before Rāma even steps into the hall to lift Śiva’s bow, his eyes and Sītā’s eyes meet across the balcony, so their hearts are already wed in love before any test of strength occurs. Even Rāvaṇa is painted by Kampan with extraordinary tragic grandeur—as a master of the vīṇā, a devotee of Śiva, and a magnificent ruler undone not by pettiness, but by an unmastered, consuming passion.

3. Tulsīdās’s Awadhi Rāmcaritmānas (1574 CE · The Heartbeat of Kirtan & Bhakti)

In the 16th century, the mystic-poet Gosvāmī Tulsīdās did something revolutionary in Varanasi: instead of writing in scholarly Sanskrit reserved for pandits, he composed the Rāmcaritmānas (“The Lake of the Deeds of Rāma”) in everyday vernacular Awadhi so every farmer, weaver, mother, and child could sing it. For anyone who loves Kirtan and the Bhakti Love Flow, Tulsīdās’s telling is the fountainhead—it gave birth to the Hanumān Chālīsā, the autumn Rāmlīlā street dramas across North India, and the teaching that the simple spoken resonance of the Name (Rāma-nāma) is even greater than the form, because the Name is the bridge that carries the heart across the ocean.

4. The Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa & Yoga Vāsiṣṭha (14th–15th Century · The Interior Yoga & Tantric Map)

In the Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa (“The Spiritual Rāmāyaṇa,” framed as a dialogue between Lord Śiva and Pārvatī—just like the Vijñāna Bhairava Tantra!) and the vast contemplative scripture Yoga Vāsiṣṭha, the entire epic is revealed as an interior map of human consciousness:

• Ayodhyā is our innate state of non-conflict and wholeness.
• Rāma is the pure Witnessing Consciousness (Ātman / Prakāśa).
• Sītā is living Peace, Nature, and Kuṇḍalinī Śakti (Vimarśa).
• Lakṣmaṇa is one-pointed wakefulness and self-discipline.
• Rāvaṇa’s Ten Heads are the five outward senses (jñānendriyas) and five organs of action (karmendriyas) driven by the ego (ahaṃkāra), which abduct our inner peace whenever we chase the “golden deer” of external illusion.
• Hanumān is the awakened Breath (Prāṇa) and devotion that leaps across the subconscious ocean to reunite the Self with its own radiance.

5. Jain, Buddhist, Women’s Folk Songs & Southeast Asian Tellings

Beyond Hindu traditions, the Jains composed the Paumacariya (by Vimalasūri), where the entire story is told through the lens of ahiṃsā (non-violence)—in which Rāma is an evolved non-violent sage (Padma), Lakṣmaṇa engages the battle, and Rāvaṇa is a noble tragic Vidyādhara king rather than a demon. In the Buddhist Dasaratha Jātaka, Rāma-paṇḍita is a previous incarnation of the Buddha practicing equanimity. In Bengal, the 16th-century woman poet Candrāvatī sang the entire Rāmāyaṇa from Sītā’s perspective—focusing not on battlefield glory, but on the quiet courage, motherhood, and emotional truth of women’s lives. And across Southeast Asia—from Thailand’s national epic the Ramakien and Cambodia’s Reamker to Bali’s hypnotic vocal Kecak fire-chant—each culture wove the story into its own temples, dances, and music.

Why Do Different People Tell Different Versions of the Story?

In Western literary history, we often look for a single “canonical” original and treat later variations as deviations. In the sacred storytelling traditions of India and Asia, the exact opposite is true: plurality is the proof that a story is alive.

Different poets, regions, and lineages tell different versions of the Rāmāyaṇa for four deep reasons:

1. A Living Mirror (Darpaṇa) for Each Era’s Deepest Question: When a society wrestles with ethics, law, and the cost of keeping one’s word, it turns to Vālmīki. When the heart longs for unconditional grace and musical devotion, it sings with Tulsīdās and Kampan. When a seeker sits in meditation trying to quiet the ten-headed mind, they read the Adhyātma Rāmāyaṇa.
2. From Courtly Sanskrit to the Mother Tongue of the Heart: Every time the story crossed into a new language—Tamil, Awadhi, Bengali, Telugu, Thai, or Javanese—it took root in the local rivers, seasons, instruments, and family structures so people could experience Rāma, Sītā, and Hanumān not as distant figures, but as neighbors of their own heart.
3. Honoring Multiple Perspectives (Including Sītā’s & Rāvaṇa’s): Different tellings give voice to characters who might otherwise remain in the background—from women’s folk songs that honor Sītā’s resilience and Urmilā’s quiet sacrifice, to South Indian and Sri Lankan traditions that remember Rāvaṇa’s immense musical and scholarly genius alongside the tragedy of his pride.
4. Oral Performance & Musical Improvisation (Bhāva): Just like a rāga in Indian classical music or a Kirtan chant in the studio, the framework of the notes is ancient, but every singer brings fresh bhāva (living feeling) in the moment of performance.

“As long as the mountains stand and the rivers flow upon the earth, so long shall the story of the Rāmāyaṇa continue to be told among humanity.” — Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa (1.2.36–37)