Week 12 Storytelling: The Death of Sati

Once upon a time, there lived a very powerful and proud king named Daksha, who was blessed with many beautiful daughters. The youngest of these was Sati, and she was the most virtuous and pure of all her sisters. Unbeknownst to her father, Sati had devoted every part of her being to the Great God Shiva, who returned Sati's great affection. Their love was revealed at Sati's Swayamvara, where she chose Shiva to be her husband. Daksha was furious at his daughter for out of all the wealthy princes and lords, she chose Shiva who had very little material wealth. Daksha cursed his daughter and forced the two to leave his kingdom and never come back. This was, of course, a very ineffectual punishment, as Sati and her husband were very happy in their home far from the rest of the kingdom, and also Shiva was the Great God, so the idea that Daksha's punishment would matter at all is utterly ridiculous, but I digress.

After some time, the couple was visited by the great sage Narada, who somehow managed to be an insufferable gossip despite his infinite wisdom. Narada told the great Shiva about an upcoming feast that Daksha was planning to hold to honor every member of his family, and then Narada proceeded to be a huge jerk by trying to rub it in Shiva's face that he wasn't invited. Shiva, having fallen asleep during the conversation, paid him no attention. But Sati was consumed by her "woman's curiosity," and yes, that is apparently a real thing according to the story. Shiva told his dear wife that she had to stay home, but this greatly upset her. She was so frustrated she turned into the ten-armed goddess Durga, also known as the goddess of death. Ignoring the wishes of her husband, who happened to be not only a god but the GREAT god, Sati went back to her father's kingdom to attend the feast. To this day, no one really knows why she thought this was a good idea at all. One could only assume that she was very hungry, or just really into feasts.

Once Sati arrived at her father's kingdom, wearing the simplest of dresses and no jewelry, she was greeted with the ridiculing laughter of her many sisters because apparently all of her sisters were like mean high school girls. Daksha then rose and addressed his daughter, his voice dripping with rage. He was furious she had dared to show her face in his hall, for she was just the lowly wife of a beggar. Sati could not stand her father's condemnations of her husband (who was still the GREAT god) and refused to listen further. Apparently, Sati was such a dutiful wife that even hearing her husband be slandered could be considered infidelity. She then spontaneously combusted as an act of suicide, adding a whole new meaning to the phrase "going out with a bang." Shiva was meditating during all of this, because I guess he couldn't be bothered to go protect his wife's honor.  But to his credit, he did decide to summon a demon army to kill Daksha in revenge, so I guess it's all good.

Sati is rejected by her father; source: wikimedia

Author's Note: This story is based off of Sister Nivedita's story Sati, The perfect Wife, available here.
My story is a fairly straight representation of the original; I didn't change any major plot points or anything like that. The story to me just seemed like one wild overreaction after the next, so I wanted to try to play that up in this version. Most of my other stories have had more straight-forward humor, so I tried to make this one more dry or sarcastic. It was also my first time using a more biased narrator to comment on the story. I really like the idea of having a narrator as a character who engages with the story so that was something I wanted to try this week. At first, I thought I would write a children's-story style piece (hence the once upon a time) but I think it maybe turned into a more satirical story. The character of Narada in particular was such an amusing portrayal of the wandering sage archetype we've seen so much of, so I had to include him and how he plays into the plot. I also decided to try writing a story without any dialogue to see how well I'd be able to still convey the story. I've gotten a number of comments on how good my dialogue is, but that makes me think I should practice the prose more.

Week 11 Storytelling: Patient Report

Nivedita Psychiatric Hospital

Patient 4106 Kali: source: wikimedia

Patient Number: 4106

Patient Name: Kali (aliases include: Mahakali, Parvati, Durga)

Physical Description: Long, black hair, often tangled and unkempt; Red blood-shot eyes; Dark black complexion; Patient has four arms; Patient often sticks out her tongue (of unusual length)

Clothing and Other Artifacts upon Admission: 1 curved sword, 1 trident, 1 white cup, a large number of human heads arranged into a necklace (No other clothing)

Behavioral Report: Patient often prone to violent tendencies, including murder and decapitation. This is often with slight provocation, and patient can only be calmed by dancing on or with her husband. Patient also tends to display a number of strong maternal instincts, including the nourishment and protection of her followers and family. Patient often vacillates between these two extremes.

Diagnosis and Treatment: It's clear that the patient has very strong manic-depressive mood swings, and can often fall into a rage without notice. At the beginning of her time here, the patient was much more prone to these sudden changes in behavior, and we believe this was a coping mechanism that she developed to protect her husband and family. We have been hesitant to try pharmaceutical solutions as the patient's digestive tract seems to only accept blood of enemies she has slain. However, the patient has recently made great strides in controlling this rage. Our team of counselors here at Nivedita Hospital have focused on positive reinforcement strategies to augment the patient's natural maternal behaviors. This seems to be proving a success in helping reform the patient, who has fully accepted a new motherly identity.

Future Recommendations: While it is unlikely that the patient will ever fully relinquish her violent impulses, these will continue to function in the scope of her role as "Mother of the World." Our goal has been to elicit more peaceful behavior with the hopes of eliminating the patient's deeply ingrained rage, however this seems to be key to the patient's personal ideology of motherhood. Patient should be ready for discharge within a few weeks. 

Author's Note: This is a re-imagining of the goddess Kali as she is depicted in Sister Nivedita's Kali the Mother (found here). From other, more traditional stories I had heard of Kali, she is often depicted as a sort of wildling, with unruly hair and bloody weapons. She was often shown to be provoked into a rage where she kills a number of evil forces and has to then be calmed by her husband Shiva. I tried to incorporate these details into the story in a lot of ways. I also tried to reference the other forms that Kali has been shown to take in various other stories, and her patient number is based on the number of arms she has in each form (4 for Kali, 10 for Mahakali, and 6 for Durga). I thought Sister Nivedita's representations of Kali were so interesting because they provide a much softer, gentler side of Kali. I did a bit of research and it turns out that most contemporary devotional movements based around Kali show her as a much stronger maternal figure, like Hera in Greek mythology. This change was so fascinating because it kind of shows the necessary duality to motherhood: a mother is often caring and nourishing for her family, but can be wildly protective if that family is threatened. Nivedita talks about this a bit in one of the sections in her writings and I saw it as a really interesting concept. 

Week 10 Storytelling: The Curse of Gandhari

It was the final night of the great Kurukshetra War. The Kaurava forces had been wiped out, their commanders killed one by one. All that remained was the king of unyielding cruelty, Duryodhana. However, his end would have to wait. Blessed by the gods, Duryodhana had no need for air or food, and he was hidden away from the fighting, at the bottom of a deep lake. The battle had ceased- temporarily, anyway.

The remaining Pandavas and their forces went to pay their respects to the old queen Gandhari, mother to the one-hundred Kauravas, including Duryodhana. The old queen was wise and held a deep spiritual strength. She was no fool; she knew her sons had brought about their own destruction. However, her deep affections for Duryodhana often betrayed her better judgment. Upon seeing Krishna enter as part of the Pandava retinue, she let out a wail of sorrow. This was the man responsible for all of her loss and suffering.

"Oh mighty Krishna, why must you show your face here? Have you not already caused enough pain in this house of mine? You, whose cunning and guile have so easily won the war...you could have made peace between these families, but instead you led them only to death and despair."

Krishna was shocked by her accusations. He had tried to put a stop to the conflict, but the stubbornness of Duryodhana was the real cause of the war. He tried to explain.

"Wise Gandhari, surely you know that this was not my doing. Can you not see tha-"

"No actually, I can't see. Vow of blindness and all that, you know."

"Ah, yes, of course. My apologies, Gandhari. But nevertheless, I insist I can take no blame for this war."

Gandhari bristled at this declaration of innocence. She arose from the mat where she was sitting and walked over to Krishna.

"Because of your actions, I place upon you and your tribe a curse of a mother's sorrow. In 36 years, all of the Yadavas will perish, each killed by the hand of a brother."

Krishna could not help but laugh. "That's it? That's your curse? My clan has grown much too arrogant and vile. Honestly, they probably deserve what's coming to them. You're doing me a favor."

"You really want your whole family to die? That's horrible."

"Well yes, karmic justice must be upheld right? I'm just confused as to why you're putting it off for 36 years. That's an oddly specific number."

"It was just the first one that popped into my head really. This whole curse-making thing is much less refined than one might think."

Queen Gandhari: source: wikimedia

Author's Note: This is a retelling of a section of the Mahabharata as seen in Peter Brook's film, the Mahabharata. I thought Gandhari was a really interesting character in all of the versions I've seen, and her story is very compelling. I also thought it made an interesting counterpoint with the depictions of Krishna that show him as totally accepting of the curse against his clan. I started writing this as more serious than usual,  but I couldn't help try injecting some humor into the story towards the end.

Week 9 Storytelling: Draupadi's Diary

Dear Diary,

Well, here I am, a new blushing bride. Or at least, that's what I should be. Taken from my father's palace, wagered in a stupid archery contest, and now taken back to a hut in the woods - at first I had accepted my fate; how is my story any different from the dozens of other princesses that get tossed to best bowman or the strongest warrior? That's just the way things are. And there were worse husbands than Arjuna. He's a talented warrior to be sure, but he's a kind and virtuous soul. That's the impression I had at first anyway.

Of course, everything changed when we completed our journey back to his hut. Or rather, his brother's hut. I understood their family's situation, and I was devoted to my husband as a good wife should be. What I was not expecting was to be burdened with five husbands in the place of one. It is said that a wife's worst enemy is her mother-in-law, and this was something that never really made sense to me until I met my husbands' mother. I know she meant well when she told the brothers to share their prize, but she could have told them how ridiculous it was to insist on sharing me. Surely, they wouldn't stand for their mother to be passed around between five men like a bad cold.

The worst part is that my husbands are all seen as these wonderful warriors and wise princes. And this may be true when they're out in public, but at home they couldn't be worse. Arjuna, whom I had thought would be my loving and doting husband, has a number of other women that he neglected to mention until we were already living together. He's even been with a Naga! It's a great shame that such a noble warrior can sink so low. Bhima, the giant one, is a complete slob, and has the worst hygiene you can imagine. He's such a brute, it's a wonder he doesn't try to fight the storms in the sky. The twins are here too, I suppose. I can't tell them apart for the life of me, and their complete lack of a defining personality trait between the two of them is almost impressive.

The oldest one, Yudhistira, is much too caught up in his role as a kshatriya: it's all "honor" and "duty" with that one. And he's absolutely obsessed with gambling. He's constantly wanting to play dice games with his brothers, who seem all too eager to oblige. But his terrible luck is going to get him in trouble someday.

Draupadi: source wikimedia

Dear Diary,

It's finally over. The great Kurukshetra War is finally over, and my wonderful husbands are victorious. I couldn't be more fortunate to have such brave warriors as my companions. Bhima's tremendous strength and courage took down many soldiers, and Arjuna was the finest archer on the field. The twins fought quite skillfully, but I'm most proud of Yudhistira. His wisdom and skill as a leader are what ultimately won the day. 

Now we can finally return to our kingdom and live peacefully without any possible threat from the vicious Kauravas. While my husbands are sad to have slain so many of their family, we all know it was a necessary evil. Our companion Krishna has returned to his kingdom to watch over his people, but we have made a number of other strong allies. It seems like I might get my "happy ending" after all!

Author's Note: This story is based on a section of Peter Brook's Mahabharata. In the film, like in the original story, Draupadi is won by Arjuna, but becomes the wife of all five of the Pandava brothers. I thought it might be nice to look at Draupadi's situation from a different point of view. In the original, she's very relaxed about the whole situation, and that seemed like a very unrealistic reaction to a very ridiculous situation. I chose this image of Draupadi because it's what I would imagine her wedding dress would look like, and I wanted the first diary entry to be from immediately after she is wed to all of the brothers. I added the second diary entry as a counterpoint to show how Draupadi does grow to love all of her husbands by the end of the story. I'm still trying to get better at writing in a first-person perspective, so I thought a diary format would be really good practice for this. I also thought this would be a nice chance to poke more fun at the characters of the story. I keep finding that it's much easier for me to write stories with more of a sarcastic/humorous tone, so that's what I decided to do this week. I feel like so many of these tales are well-suited to comedic interpretations, trying to do only serious stories would not be nearly as fun.

Week 7 Storytelling: The Death of Krishna

Dear Diary,

Today started out as a day full of misfortune, much like every other day in my life. I woke up this morning, hungry and alone. Not like, physically alone; my wife was there, of course, fixing breakfast for her mother and our three children. But alas, no eggs for me. My wife claims it's because of my high cholesterol, but I know the truth. My family doesn't respect me at all, for I am, as my mother in law calls me "a good-for-nothing waste of space who would be more useful as an ergonomically-designed footrest." Or at least, that's what I imagine she calls me behind my back. I have no real skills, or education, or redeeming personality traits. But you already knew all of that, Diary.

I got out of bed, and got ready for the day. That consisted of me staring into the mirror for nearly an hour, sinking deeper and deeper into the soulless void I saw in my own eyes. After feeling thoroughly refreshed, I made my way out of our small hut and into the woods. My wife kissed me on the cheek as left. "Have a good day, my darling!" she commands. My children wave and smile as I leave, very clearly beaming because of my departure. Even my mother-in-law taunts me, giving me a small lunch to carry with me. How my family wounds me!

I thought I might try to fight off my overwhelming existential angst by trying to find some food in the forest surrounding our meager dwelling. There's not much fertile ground nearby, because my wife has taken up all of it with her bountiful gardens. Most animals tend to avoid our house as well. I think they can sense the crushing despair emanating from my being. This day, however, I made my way to the crystal-clear river that runs near our house. I saw near the water, the most beautiful swan. I knew this was my one chance at redeeming myself, so grabbed my bow and readied an arrow. Crouching down, I took aim and released.

It was sometime between releasing the arrow and the impact that I realized what I took to be an elegant waterbird was actually a human foot. I ran over to this poor fellow, another victim of life, and found that he was gravely wounded. I knew then that it was too late, and that I had slain this unfortunate soul.

the hunter taking aim at Krishna's foot; source: wikimedia

 Author's Note: This story comes from Sister Nevedita's Cradle Stories of Hinduism, specifically, the section "Death of the Vrishnis." I thought that this whole episode surrounding Krishna's death was a little absurd, and I do tend towards the absurd things when I write. I thought it would be interesting to look at how the hunter saw the whole event, and maybe look into his back story. I thought I would add a bit of dark humor by having him be a character with a pretty good life who is just so overwhelmingly pessimistic that he imagines negative things.

Week 6 Storytelling: Bed of Arrows

Well, this is awfully embarrassing, Bhishma thought to himself. The moment I step out of my chariot, I manage to trip over nothing and fall directly onto a large number of arrows. Great. Fantastic. Good job, Bhishma, really.

He struggled to free himself, but it was no use. There were too many arrows pinning him to the ground, and shifting his weight caused him too much pain.

Well, that's fine. At least I'm not close to the fighting, so I don't think anyone saw me fall. I'll just die here alone. I'm okay with that.

That's precisely when Bhima came by on his chariot.

"Great Bhishma, are you hurt?" he yelled, his voice echoing off into the battlefield.

Well, obviously I'm hurt. Do you not see the long pointy things sticking out of me? But Bhishma restrained himself. Such an answer was not befitting a man of his stature.

"My dear Bhima, physical wounds are nothing. What truly pains me is this terrible fight that has torn apart my family." Yes! Solid answer, just the right amount of wisdom bestowed. Pat yourself on the back, Bhishma.

"Of course, I understand. I shall fetch my brothers and all the Kauravas at once to come see you in your final hour." Bhima hurried off in his chariot, crying out to every warrior he passed to pay their respects to the great Bhishma.

"No, wait! That's not...okay, you're gone." Of course, it had to be Bhima who found me. Not someone quiet like the twins.

Soon after, all of the warriors on both sides had come to pay their respects to Bhishma, who was much loved for his wisdom and selflessness. It was the mighty Arjuna who spoke first. "Oh lord Bhishma, I know I speak for all, Pandava and Kaurava alike, when I say we are truly saddened to see your death. But please know that you have not died without purpose."

No, no, no. I refuse to die in front of everyone like this. I'm not going to let these idiots make me out to be some kind of martyr. "Arjuna, I fear you have made an error. I may be wounded, but I have yet to die."

"Well, yes, I suppose you aren't dead yet, but you are bleeding profusely from a number of vital organs."

"They are but flesh wounds! My immortal spirit will continue to live on, long after this war has finished." 

Taken aback somewhat by these words, Arjuna didn't know how to proceed. "Well, um...Is there anything we can get for you while you continue to grace us with your wise and virtuous presence?" 

"Some water would be absolutely lovely. Being pinned to the ground by dozens of arrows is really quite thirsty work."

With a quick snap of his bow, Arjuna shot an arrow into the ground, creating a spring of water that shot straight into Bhishma's open mouth.

Such a show-off. 

Bhishma on the bed of arrows; Source: wikimedia

Author's note: This story is taken from Narayan's version of the Mahabharata. This whole scene was probably the most striking part of the final battle between the two groups. I wasn't sure if I wanted to do a serious story or a funny story this week, but I really liked the idea of seeing more of Bhishma's inner thoughts while he's lying on the arrows, and it was much easier to write him as a snark who manages to live through his injuries just out of pure spite. I chose this image in particular because there are a lot of images out there depicting this scene, but this one in particular shows the look I would imagine Bhishma's face to have while drinking the water. In the original story, Bhishma is much more stoic and calm, as he is throughout most of the story, so I hope this is a fun counterpoint to his original self. I decided to use italics to write Bhishma's thoughts directly instead of narrating them traditionally, and I think this stream-of-consciousness technique helps convey Bhishma's frustration with the other characters.  I was writing the story when I realized the story was becoming a bit like a scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, so I added a line to reference it explicitly. It really helped play up the more over-the-top aspects of the story.

Week 5 Storytelling: The Creation of the Mahabharata

Vyasa was bored. Tremendously bored. Agonizingly, crushingly, painfully bored. It was already noon and not a single person had come by asking him to solve their problems. Business had never been this slow before. He'd been in the wandering sage game for a while but he found that it was finally time to take a more active role in drumming up clients. He asked his manager, Ganesh, to come by to discuss his ideas. Because he was a divine being and was capable of doing so, he showed up instantly.

"Ganesh, I must speak with you. I've devised a project that will help me spur up some customers, but I need your help."

"Surely, Vyasa, you know I will assist you in any task. What is it you wish to do?"

"As a wandering sage, my only purpose is to give aid and spread wisdom and all that, but I can only do so when others come to seek my help. As such, I've decided that my reputation and fame could use a boost." Vyasa smiled, his eyes glimmering with pride at his new idea. "I'm going to write a new version of the Mahabharata!"

Ganesh cocked his elephantine head to the side."Vyasa, I do not think I follow. You mean to say your retelling will surpass all the others and that it will garner you fame? You're going to change the story as it was told by Draupadi, Arjuna, and the god Shiva himself?"

"No, no, nothing like that. If anything my version will be as close to the other versions as possible, but with one key difference. I'm going to be one of the main characters, helping all the others, and explaining things about the gods, and just generally being old and smart and so on. When everyone sees how wise and virtuous I was in the Mahabharata, I won't stop having people to help!"

Ganesh couldn't suppress his laughter."Vyasa, be serious! You're going to try to pass off a new version of the Mahabharata with you as a main character? Who will you claim wrote the whole thing, yourself?"

"That's an excellent idea!" Vyasa clapped his hands in approval, his head already full of excitement. "I'll say I'm the original author, and I preceded all the others. Then I will also be praised for my abilities as a storyteller! All good wandering sages are skilled storytellers."

Ganesh shook his head in disbelief, "Vyasa, don't be ridiculous. No one will take it seriously. You're essentially trying to pass off your fan-fiction as historical fact."

"No, Ganesh, you misunderstand me. I'm going to tell you the new story and you'll to write it down and distribute it among the people. Everyone knows gods don't lie or spread false advertising. If all goes well, then my version will become the new standard!" 

Ganesh sighed in frustration, but he gave in to the soft spot he held for Vyasa."Fine, I'll do this for you. But we have to do this all in one sitting; I have an appointment with another client this evening. How do you want to start?"

"Let's keep the beginning mostly the same, but we'll say I'm the one that actually fathered Pandu, Dhritarashtra, and Vidura, thanks to my prodigious virility. After that, I was thinking we could change..."

The wise and virtuous Vyasa; Source: wikimedia

Author's Note: This is a retelling of the very first part of the Mahabharata by R.K. Narayan (1978). This version opens with a brief introduction talking about the process of Vyasa telling Ganesh the whole story. The fact that they had to set conditions about the dictation really reminds me of a business transaction, so I thought it would be interesting to portray it as a manager/client relationship. I really like the general idea of a story-within-a-story framework, and the character of Vyasa is interesting for his dual roles in the story. He reminds me a bit of Alfred Hitchcock in that he has a cameo in his works. I tried to imagine why he would want to tell a story like this, and that's how I came up with the idea I had for this story. Some of the things he does are a bit over the top (sleeping with the three women and cursing the sons of the two queens just because they closed their eyes or got pale) and it seemed that he had a much stronger ego than other wisemen we've talked about. The image I’m using for this story is a simple picture of Vyasa. I feel like it shows him as the prototypical yogi one might imagine. 

Week 4 Storytelling: Hanuman and the Mountain pt. 2

**Note: This is a continuation of my Week 3 story. If you've not read that, please check it out first!

New York Skyline; Source: wikimedia

Dr. Uman jumped out of his recently stolen ambulance, slung his bag over his shoulder and began bobbing and weaving through the cars that packed the streets. Years of pouring over medical books and articles might have left him a bit out of shape, but Han was gifted with a natural litheness; he moved through the cars as swiftly as a gust of wind.

Three blocks up the street; he was almost halfway back to the hospital. That's when the real problems began. There had been a large accident at a major intersection involving several cars, and the tow truck that had been carrying Han's rusted pick-up. Apparently, the bumper of the poor vehicle fell off while it was going through the light. The police had cordoned off the entire block and traffic wasn't allowed to pass through until the accident had been cleared away. Stopping for only a moment to appreciate the cosmic irony of the situation, Han began devising a new strategy to make his way back uptown to Sacred Flower.

"This way is blocked off...And if I go back down a block to cross over I'll lose too much time. How can I get to the next street over?" Han looked around at the buildings that lined the street. Most still weren't open for the day, but the smallest shop on the street, a tiny bakery called Rak Sha's Buns was wedged between two stark steel skyscrapers, with a flashing neon sign blinking "OPEN" out of the front window. Han sprinted over to the small shack, and pushed open the door. Not stopping for a moment, he ran behind the counter, into the back, and straight into a small old man bent with age, wearing an old apron covered in white flour.

"Sir! You can't be back here!" he yelled at Han, shaking a rolling pin that was thicker than his arm.

Han didn't have time to stop, he ran back through the kitchen dodging through other workers carrying trays full of baked goods. Finally, he made it out the back door of the shop into an alley that led into the next street over. He ran out of the dark alley into the bright street, lit by the fresh morning sun. No sooner had he made it to the street when he heard the stamping of footsteps coming from behind him. Han turned to see the bakers running down after him, the old man leading the charge.

Not having even a moment to spare, Han began sprinting down the street as fast as he could, pushing any passerby out of the way. He saw a street sign pointing him towards the hospital; he was close! He rounded the corner.

"STOP WHERE YOU ARE"

And ran directly into a police blockade. It is a not-entirely-surprising fact that stealing an ambulance constitutes Grand Theft Auto, and thus Dr. Han Uman was now a felon. However, Han was not one to let something little like a team of armed law enforcers stop him from finishing his job. Pausing for only a second, Han turned back around and ran straight into the crowd of angry bakers that was following him. The police gave chase, but they lost Han in the confusion.

Author's note: The second part of the story from last week. This is again a continuation of the story of Hanuman and the Mountain. I tried to come up with other obstacles that would be entertaining but also realistic. I considered adding some more fantastic elements to make the story a bit more exciting and I may do so if I decide to do the portfolio.

Reading Diary B: Sita Sings the Blues

Bhavana explaining Rama's thoughts on Sita: Source; Nina Paley's Blog

The second half of the film was really as good as the first. It opens with Nina receiving the dreaded email from her husband that ends their marriage. I think this was pretty clearly foreshadowed within the film, and it's in all of the descriptions of the film so this didn't come as a big surprise. It does also work really well as a modern day comparison to how Rama treats Sita by exiling her to the forest. The animation in the second half was still very good, especially the interpretive dance number ( I don't know how else to describe it!)  which was really breathtaking. The second half seemed very song heavy- it seemed like a new song was being sung every 2 or 3 minutes. I suppose this makes sense when there is so much of the story to spread out over 40 minutes.

The narrators take a much more active role in this section. They go from just recalling and retelling the events to actually commenting on Rama's actions and why Sita reacts the way she does, specifically what might motivate her to stay with Rama. The narrating puppets continued to be my favorite part with their bickering, and I thought it was a really nice touch how Nina had them framed on her wall in the final scene in her apartment. The story did a really good job of going full circle in that it explained what drove Nina to create the film and how she was inspired. All in all, I'm really glad I decided to watch the movie this week because it was such a new and different way of engaging with the material, and I think it shows a lot of the issues inherent to the character of Rama that might get glossed over in the texts.

Reading Dairy A: Sita Sings the Blues

Movie Poster; Source: flickr

For this week's reading, I decided to watch the movie Sita Sings the Blues. I thought the movie would be a nice change of pace from reading the epics, and it was actually really engaging. There are two stories going on at the same time, maybe three, depending on how you look at it. The first involves Nina and her boyfriend who gets a job in India, and the ups and the downs of their relationship. This parallels the story of Sita and Rama; Rama is exiled to the forest and Sita follows suit. The story of Rama is related to us by 3 intermediary characters, portrayed as Indians who are trying to recall the story from heart. This adds a lot of comedy as the three can't always recall the details exactly, and often they bicker over the events of the tale. The third element of the movie is the blues songs that Sita sings between major story segments. These songs usually reflect her emotions regarding the goings on of the story and fit surprisingly well with the rest of the film.

Engaging with a movie is much different than engaging with a text. The animations styles are varied and help make each part of the story feel unique. The voices and songs are really well done and do give a great insight into the emotions of Sita at each point in the story. I'm really looking forward to finishing the second half of the film and seeing how the end compares with the text version.

Week 3 Storytelling: Hanuman and the Mountain

It's a generally accepted rule that traffic in the city will always be at its worst precisely when you need to get somewhere in a hurry. This was certainly the case for Dr. Han Uman, the newest resident physician at Sacred Flower Hospital, one of the largest medical facilities in Uptown Manhattan. It was his first day on the job; fresh-faced and just out of med school, he couldn't wait to begin practicing. Of course, being the lowest on the metaphorical totem pole made him, in a practical sense, less of a doctor and more of an intern. His first task was unequivocally mundane: a shipment of medications meant for Sacred Flower had been incorrectly delivered to St. Himalaya's Hospital on the other side of the city, and no one else could be bothered to go pick it up. He hopped in his car, an old pick-up truck he had been given by his father, and started making his way downtown. After maybe four or five minutes, his phone started ringing; it was the hospital.

"Hello? This is Dr. Uman."

A woman's voice spoke, textured by age "Han, this is Vibi, I run the pharmacy. I've been told by the director that there are some time-sensitive materials in the delivery. We had missed it the first time we looked through the shipping statement, and we need you to hurry back as soon as you can." She took a breath, hesitant, "Without those medications, some of our patients' conditions could dramatically worsen. I don't mean to alarm you but this is a rather critical situation."

The urgency in her voice washed over Han like a cold wave. "Understood. I'll make it back on time"

The drive to St. Himalaya's was entirely uneventful. It was early morning and the city was still waking up. He walked into the lobby, talked to the secretary at the desk, and made a beeline to the pharmacy. The old man at the desk was less expedient than Han would have liked, but he didn't have time to complain. He rushed back to his truck just in time to find it being towed away. Unbeknownst to Han, the parking attendant had assumed the elderly vehicle had died in the parking lot and was forsaken by its owner. Han, being someone who had always struggled with the idea of keeping calm in the face of adversity, spotted an EMT heading towards one of the parked ambulances, and ran over to him. It had never occurred to Han to try explaining the situation; rather, he took the keys out of the man's hands, jumped in the ambulance and never stopped to look back.

At this time, most of the city's commuters were making their way to work (or more commonly, coffee and then work) and the roads were packed with cars. In theory, an ambulance should be able to make to maneuver through traffic with relative ease; in practice, this cannot be done when hundreds of cars are bumper-to-bumper in every lane. Han, after briefly considering driving on the sidewalk, jumped out of his stolen vehicle and began bobbing and weaving through the cars, carrying the medicine in a bag slung over his shoulder.

(To be continued)

 

Hanuman and the mountain; Source: wikimedia

   Author's note: This is a retelling of "Hanuman and the Mountain," as taken from Myths of Hindus and Buddhists by Sister Nivedita in 1914. This story immediately reminded me of the medical dramas on TV so I thought I would give it a new modern twist. I tried to incorporate some references to the original story with the names of the hospitals and characters, and I tried to preserve Hanuman's characteristic rashness. The essence of the story is the same: Hanuman has to overcome a number of obstacles to get some sort of medicine to heal the troops of Rama (or in this case, the patients at the hospital) and manages to do so with a mix of skill and well-placed frustration. I chose this image less so because it relates to my story and more because the huge monument shows the importance and popularity of this tale within India. I wanted to make this fantastic, almost absurd story and its supernatural elements more easily relatable to a contemporary audience. Also, I decided to leave the story on a cliff hanger because it seemed really fitting for the medical drama setting...also I was going to go over the word limit for this assigment, and thought it was a good place to break off the story.

Week 2 Storytelling: The Breaking of the Bow

Rama and Lakshmana had only just arrived to the city of Mithila when they took their leave of the sage Vishvamitra. The main road had led them directly into a busy market square- dozens of tiny improvised stalls packed next to each other, vendors hawking goods and foods of all kinds, and a constant mass of moving, chattering patrons. This was a welcome sight for the brothers, who were tired and out of supplies after battling the rakshasas in the forest. Rama left Lakshmana to haggle with the local merchants while he walked down one of the winding side streets. He made his way further into the heart of the city and found himself on a hill overlooking the palace. A young woman with dark hair and plain clothes was sitting in the grass, watching him watch her.

"Are you lost, sir?"

"No, I've only just arrived. It's too soon to be lost, wouldn't you say?"

"One might say lost is about the only thing you can be, in that case." The young woman smiled at Rama. There was pretense of politeness, but he noticed the mischievous glint in her eye. "What brings you to Mithila, sir?"

Rama cleared his throat and explained,"My brother and I are sons of the great maharajah Dasharatha. A great sage asked us to battle the dark rakshasas in the forests, and our travels have brought us here."

"Ah, so you must be the amazing Rama everyone has been talking about? How fortunate I must be to welcome you to our fine city."

Rama could tell the girl was trying to fluster him. "I appreciate your kindness, Miss, but would you have any idea how we might be able to meet with King Janaka?"

"Ah, yes, the king. Well, the word around town is he will be holding a public gathering tomorrow in front of the palace. I'm sure you'll be able to speak with him then. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a number of things to do and surprisingly few of them have anything to do with sitting here and talking to you."

Before Rama could say another word, the young woman had stood up and made her way back towards the city. That night, Rama met with Lakshmana and Vishvamitra to discuss their plans. The three decided that they would try to meet with the king during this public forum. The next morning, the three readied themselves and made their way to the palace.

When they arrived, it seemed as if the entire city had gathered to watch the proceedings. In a clearing in the center of the crowd sat an older-looking man in finely adorned clothes who must have been the king. He held in his hand a shining golden bow. After a few moments, the man stood up, and a sudden silence swept through the crowd. "I have called a gathering today to find a suitable husband for my daughter, the princess Sita. She is a noble and graceful woman, and only the strongest warrior deserves her hand and my favor." He held up the bow." This is the bow of the powerful god Shiva. He who can snap this bow in twain shall be declared the strongest warrior in all the lands. All are welcome to try their strength!"

Every man in the crowd made his way forward, one after one, to try breaking the golden bow. Most were strong and had the clear markings of warriors, but despite all efforts, the bow would not break. Finally, Rama stepped forward to try his hand. He strung the bow, and tossed it back and forth from one hand to the next, testing its weight. Finally, he took both ends into his hands and bent the bow back as far as he could. The ends of the bow were almost touching, and it was a marked improvement over his competitors, but despite his incredible prowess, Rama could not break it. He tossed the bow down in disgust and stepped back into the crowd.

A few moments later, a small hooded figure wrapped in a dark cloak stepped past Rama and into the center of the crowd. He picked up the bow and held it at a distance, examining it. Suddenly, almost too fast to see, the figure pinned one end of the bow to the ground and bent the other back with both hands. The cracking of the bow echoed off the stone walls of the palace walls, and the crowd began cheering. The king stepped forward to congratulate the new champion.

"You, sir, possess the strength of more than a hundred men. Only you are worthy of being my daughter's keeper."

"I must say I'm rather glad to hear that, father," and with a deft motion, the figure pulled back her hood and cloak, revealing not a man, but a young woman. Rama recognized her instantly as the girl from the day before.

"Let it be known that it was the wit and strength of a woman who broke the bow, and I, Princess Sita of Mithila, am bound to no one. Father, you will let me choose my own husband, and this choice shall not be questioned." The king, still in shock over the current proceedings, could only nod his agreement.

"Where is the one named Rama? He who is righteous and possessed with a divine grace, he shall be my husband, my partner and equal."

Rama stepped forward to meet his new bride."Princess, I must admit, I had no idea who you were when we met yesterday. I did not come here to win your hand but I would be honored to be your husband."

That same mischievous glint flashed in her eyes again."Rama, the rest of these suitors gathered in the city for the sole purpose of winning my hand. But you are here out of circumstance. One might say it's the will of the gods."

The breaking of the bow; Illustration by Evelyn Paul

Author's Note: This story is a mix of two separate parts of the Ramayana, "Sita" from The Divine Archer by FJ Gould (1911) and "Rama wins Sita" from Indian Myth and Legend by Donald A. MacKenzie (1913). I really liked the whole sequence revolving around Rama's arrival in Mithila, and the bow-breaking contest was really evocative of a lot of other mythological courtship stories. In both sources that I used, Rama does succeed in breaking the bow, and thus wins Sita's hand in a more traditional manner. There is also less dialogue between the two characters before the contest. The character of Sita seems relatively flat and lacks any kind of personal sovereignty in comparison to the male characters, so I tried giving her a bit more personality and agency. The change in the ending is probably the most direct example of this, but I think the dialogue helps to flesh out her character as well. For the finale,  I decided to have the couple stay together to maintain consistency with the broader story, and I tried to add a few more flirtatious lines to emphasize their attraction to each other as avatars of two divine lovers. This image does not show Rama in the act of breaking the bow, but rather, the aftermath while the bow lies in pieces on the ground; thus, it could be open to interpretation as to who really broke the bow. 

Week 1 Storytelling: The Four Owls

There were once four owls who went out across the world to see see the other animals and how they lived. Each owl flew in a different direction, and came back to tell the others what spectacles they witnessed.

The four owls, source: wikimedia commons

The owl that journeyed North declared,"I came to a clear stream where the fish below mocked the birds above. 'The birds look ridiculous with those awkward wings,' the fish snickered. I found it absurd that such lowly creatures would mock our noble brethren." The other owls hooted in agreement.

The owl who flew South began his report,"I saw a small fly at the door of a beehive, and the bees called him a beggar and turned him away. The fly said to a friend, 'Those bees stole all of the food in the summer, and now we have nothing to eat.' How sad that these bugs can't share like civilized people." The other owls cried that it was a sorry state of affairs.

The owl who went East told his story."I saw a cave where a wolf and a leopard lived together. The leopard left one morning, and a the wolf told his friend,'I hate that scoundrel, but I need her because she is strong.' I pity that weak creature." The other owls decided the wolf was rather pathetic.

The last owl who went West described what she saw." I witnessed a bear leave a lion's den. A fox told me the bear went to be with the lion's mate, but left with a bruised head. How wicked and corrupt some creatures can be." Again, the other owls agreed.

While the owls told each other about the rest of the scandalous things they saw, a small mouse listened in on their conversation from under the rocks where they were perched. He couldn't wait to go back and tell the other animals what he had heard.

Author's Note: This is a retelling of a fable taken from Indian Fables, by P.V. Ramaswami Raju (1887). In the original story, the owls are much less judgemental, and the moral of the story is that "where the sun shines, there is scandal." The story more reminded me of a group of friends who get together to gossip about the goings-on of the other people in the community. I added the twist with the mouse at the end to show how gossip can spread unintentionally.