Nimesha Thiwankara's New Books

RĀVANA: A CLASH OF CULTURES

Nimesha Thiwankara Senevipala

Sri Lanka Administrative Service

nthiwankara.nt@gmail.com

 

The figure of ‘Rāvana’ continues to be a complex and unresolved historical enigma, provoking varied interpretations among scholars and the broader public alike. Some view Rāvana as a genuine historical figure, while others consider him a mythic creation, blurring the line between reality and legend. At times, his story has been seen as a powerful metaphor for the “cultural and psychological invasion” of modern India, with the symbolism of Rāvana used to critique certain aspects of contemporary identity. Moreover, the narrative surrounding Rāvana has occasionally been linked to the promotion of North and East Dravidian homelands, adding another layer to the debate. This article seeks to highlight the pressing need for a reimagined ideological approach to the study of Rāvana, urging a fresh, critical exploration of his significance.

Before delving into the figure of ‘Rāvana’, it is important to first understand the origins, evolution, and conclusion of the Rāvana legend.

The tale of Rāvana finds its roots in the ancient Indian epic, the Rāmāyana, authored by the revered sage Vālmiki. Considered one of the greatest works of Indian literature, second only to the Mahābhārata, the Rāmāyana was composed between the 4th and 7th centuries BCE and spans seven books with over 24,000 Sanskrit verses. This timeless epic weaves a rich narrative centered on Prince Rāma of Ayodhya, the noble son of King Dasharatha, and his journey alongside his loyal brother Lakshmana and devoted wife Sita. The story further intertwines with the heroic deeds of the monkey-warrior Hanumān and the complex figure of Rāvana, the powerful king of Lanka. Key figures such as Rāvana’s righteous brother Vibhishana and his scheming sister Suparnikā add depth and intrigue, making the Rāmāyana a multifaceted exploration of duty, loyalty, and conflict.

When discussing the Rāmāyana, a common question that arises is whether the events it narrates are historically true or merely fictional. In a conversation between Pandit V. V. Abhayagunawardena and Dr. Paranavithana, the latter shared a fascinating interpretation. Dr. Paranavithana explained that Rāvana symbolizes drought, Sitā represents the earth, and Rāma embodies the rain. According to him, the ongoing struggle between these elements is depicted as a symbolic expression in the Rāmāyana, emphasizing the absurdity of seeking historical accuracy in a literary work of this nature. While this interpretation aligns with Paranavithana’s broader approach, it does little to resolve the age-old debate about the factual or fictional nature of the Rāmāyana and the character of Rāvana, a question that continues to persist even today.

However, it is widely believed in India that the Rāmāyana is a historical account. There are academic institutions offering degrees in Rāmāyana studies, scholars conducting extensive research on the epic, and even conferences dedicated to advancing scholarly discussions on the subject. One of the most prominent cultural expressions of this belief is the annual Dussehra festival, held in October or November, which celebrates Lord Rāma’s victory over Rāvana. The festival is particularly grand in the state of Mysore, where an effigy of the ten-headed Rāvana is erected and ceremonially burned. This tradition, believed to have originated in the 17th century within the Mysore Palace, has continued for centuries.

Even King Sri Vikrāma Rājasinha, the last monarch of Kandy, took part in Dussehra celebrations during his captivity in Madras between 1816 and 1832. Historical records indicate that he celebrated the festival on several occasions, with the Kingdom of Kandy bearing the associated costs during his exile.

The Rāmāyana presents us with a tale of heroism, much like the legends found in various cultures around the world. Just as Greece has its heroic figures in stories like The Odyssey and The Iliad by Homer, composed around the same time as the Rāmāyana, South Asia too has its own epic characters. Figures like Hercules in Greek mythology or Vijaya in Asian folklore parallel the grandeur of these heroes. In this context, Rāvana stands out as the quintessential hero of South Asia, particularly in Sri Lanka.

However, the quest to determine the historical accuracy of a figure like Rāvana is often seen as futile. Attempting to answer whether he truly existed or not leads to more complex ideological debates and challenges. Opinions about Rāvana are divided—some regard him as a symbol of greatness, while others cast him in a negative light. Interestingly, both scholars and the uninformed alike often find themselves holding strong, yet biased, views on Rāvana. This highlights a key point: opinions, whether in favor of or against Rāvana, must be rooted in thorough study and understanding. Without such depth, discussions tend to be incomplete and skewed.

The debate surrounding Rāvana’s character has become so entangled over time that it seems impossible to unravel. This is precisely why it is crucial for topics like these to be examined in academic settings, particularly at the college level. A scholarly approach provides the necessary foundation to discuss these figures in a balanced and well-informed manner, helping to navigate the complexities of such rich cultural histories.

Would Rāvana accept the version of himself presented in today’s stories? My answer to both questions of whether to accept or reject Rāvana as historical fact is the same: no. There is a scientific method for constructing history. Archaeology builds the foundation using physical evidence, while history attempts to interpret the past based on these findings. In the field of historiography, we explore the process of writing history, which is ultimately either true or false. Our acceptance of history as fact often stems from ignorance of this historiographical process.

This is a complex subject that demands deeper discussion. Are we truly reading and studying the actual events of the past? If we could travel back in time to witness these events, would they appear the same as we read about them today? For example, are the motivations behind the war between Elara and Dutugemunu identical to what we think we understand? Did Alexander the Great expand his empire into Northwest India purely for power, or were there other driving forces?

These questions still spark our curiosity because history, as we know it, is not always a straightforward or universally agreed-upon account. There is no single, absolute version of history. This is why Dr. A.H. Carr’s famous statement, “The historian must be recognized before the history,” resonates so strongly. It reminds us that the perspectives and interpretations of historians shape our understanding of the past, often influencing which aspects of history are highlighted, forgotten, or reimagined.

Have you ever paused to reflect that the history we write, study, and read was crafted by someone with their own perspective? And did that ‘writer’ always convey the whole truth? Much of what we commonly study as the history of Sri Lanka comes from the Mahavamsa, a chronicle authored by a Buddhist monk named Mahānāma in the fifth or sixth century. This historical account was preserved and passed down by the descendants of the Mahā Vihāra, the monastic institution to which Mahānāma belonged.

To better grasp the nature of history, let’s consider this example. Mahānāma Thera, the author of the Mahāvamsa, is regarded as an authentic historian. He stated that his work was based on earlier books and sources available to him at the time. Thus, what we read and study today as the Mahavamsa is essentially a lengthy narrative written by a monk from the Mahā Vihara, shaped by the cultural and religious framework of his era.

Herein lies the importance of recognizing the historian before the history. Mahānāma Thera is a pivotal figure in Sri Lankan historiography—he was not only a Buddhist scholar but also a monk deeply connected to the Maha Vihāra Sangha lineage. His religious affiliations and institutional connections inevitably influenced his writing. As a result, his account does not present an entirely impartial or panoramic view of Sri Lankan history.

However, we must be careful not to hastily dismiss his work as inaccurate or false. Just because Mahānāma’s account reflects a particular perspective does not mean it lacks historical value. The Mahavamsa offers invaluable insights into the political, cultural, and religious dimensions of ancient Sri Lanka. Like any historical text, it should be read critically, with an awareness of the author’s background and intentions. By doing so, we can better appreciate its significance while recognizing its limitations.

Understanding that history is crafted by historians engaged in historiography is a significant insight. To grasp history fully, one must also understand the historian—their attachments, interests, ideologies, and beliefs inevitably influence their work. Historians often exclude opposing viewpoints, reflecting their own biases in their narratives.

If our goal in studying history is to uncover the nature of reality as it truly was, we must continually question why things are presented in a certain way. The study of history involves examining the sequence of past events and their contexts. It is a mistake to use sources like the Mahāvamsa to search for details about specific institutions, such as temples, without understanding the extent to which the historian’s context influenced their portrayal.

For example, the Mahavamsa omits references to Abhayagiriya, a major educational institution of the Anuradhapura era. This silence can be attributed to Mahānāma Thera’s focus on different aspects of his narrative and his institutional affiliations, which shaped his account.

Thus, in writing, studying, and interpreting history, authenticity and thorough study are crucial. Recognizing the historian’s influence helps us approach historical texts with a critical perspective, allowing for a more nuanced understanding of the past.

How can we identify Rāvana based on this approach? The critical issue is not whether Rāvana or the Rāmāyana is true or false but rather how to understand it. Therefore, I refrain from expressing personal opinions about the Rāmāyana or Rāvana in this text.

The historian’s impartiality is crucial in historiography and is essential for the integrity of historical analysis. What I write or say should remain free from personal attachments, beliefs, opinions, or biases. As previously mentioned regarding Rāvana, the focus here is not on determining the truth or falsity of these figures but on understanding their significance and context.

In recent years, there has been a significant resurgence of interest in Rāvana, particularly since around 2009, with the movement peaking in 2016/17. This revival coincided with the aftermath of the 2009 war and the rise of contemporary Sinhala Buddhist masculinist politics, which contributed to Rāvana’s prominence. This period saw the emergence of various trends, such as Rāvana Perahera, Rāvana Puja, and Rāvana Temples, as well as the formation of nationalist and racist organizations adopting his name.

Reports from that time suggest that following the war victory in 2009, a prominent Rāvana Pūja was held, where flags from various military fleets were reportedly gathered to honor and empower Rāvana. This surge of interest in Rāvana appeared to influence both social behavior and individual attitudes significantly in a relatively short span of time. Additionally, there were claims that Rāvana, rising from the asphyxia, would unite the Tri-Sinhala (the ancient name for Sri Lanka).

Despite these developments, it is notable that no comprehensive sociological inquiry seems to have been conducted to explore why Rāvana experienced such a resurgence alongside rising nationalism and ethnic tensions between Tamils and Sinhalese. This gap in research highlights an important area for future investigation into the social and political factors driving the revival of Rāvana’s significance in contemporary Sri Lankan society.

That is the question we need to address: how did Rāvana acquire socio-political significance throughout history? To explore this, we must consider how Rāvana’s role has evolved over time. By examining historical sources, it becomes evident that Rāvana has reappeared in various forms throughout history.

Avoiding the complexities of historiography, a closer look at these sources reveals that Rāvana has been a recurring figure with changing socio-political meanings. His character and narrative have been adapted and reinterpreted to fit different historical contexts and societal needs. Understanding these shifts helps clarify Rāvana’s enduring relevance and the ways in which he has been utilized to address various socio-political issues.

Certainly! Please go ahead and specify which mass communication theory you’d like to discuss, and I’ll be glad to help explain or analyze it in the context you’re considering.

I’d like to draw your attention to a crucial mass communication theory known as content and contextual analysis. This theoretical approach is valuable for analyzing situations within their specific contexts. It can be applied not only to legends and myths but also to historical events.

Content analysis focuses on systematically examining the content of communication, such as texts or media, to identify patterns, themes, and meanings. Contextual analysis, on the other hand, examines the broader context in which the content was produced and received, including historical, cultural, and social factors.

By employing these methods, historians and scholars can gain insights into the underlying thoughts of writers and the dynamics of historical events. Contextual analysis, in particular, helps explore the deeper truths and processes behind historical occurrences or legends, providing a more comprehensive understanding of their significance and impact.

Let’s examine some of the key moments when Rāvana appeared in Sri Lankan history.

Although the name ‘Rāvana’ was used as a personal name as early as the 2nd–3rd centuries, aligning this with the broader legend of Rāvana presents challenges. However, several instances illustrate how the Rāvana legend has emerged and evolved throughout Sri Lankan history.

The fifth-century commentary Papanchasudani is recognized as the first document from Sri Lanka that addresses the Rāmāyana. This is the work of Buddhaghōsa Thera, who came from India. In his commentary on the Sammaditthi Sutta, he remarked that narratives such as the Mahābhārata and Sitaharana are devoid of meaningful substance. This dismissal suggests that Buddhaghōsa, despite his familiarity with such narratives from his time in India, might have encountered frequent storytelling of these tales among local monks. The presence of such dismissive remarks in his commentary implies that these stories were well-known and commonly discussed in Sri Lanka, highlighting their cultural relevance at the time.

Our focus should be on when the legend of Rāvana began to be integrated into Sri Lankan history. The Lankavatāra Sutra, a Mahāyana text written in Chinese, provides evidence of a legend connecting Sri Lanka with King Rāvana, dating back to the 8th century. Notably, some chapters mentioning Rāvana were added to the text in later editions, not present in the original Chinese translation by the fifth-century monk Gunabhadra. This suggests that by the end of the Anuradhapura period, the concept of Rāvana had begun to take shape as a significant legend in Sri Lanka.

It is unlikely that the influence of the Rāmāyana, updated up to the 3rd century, did not impact the folk traditions of Sri Lanka during the early and middle Anuradhapura period. However, it is surprising that no contemporary historical sources, whether mainstream or secondary, record these developments. The interest of Mahāyana theologians, such as the monk Fa-Hein, in concepts associated with Rāvana, as seen in texts like the Lankavatāra Sutra, suggests that the spread of the Rāvana legend was influenced by Mahayāna thought.

Additionally, by the 7th century, Heung Tsing was aware of sacred footprint marks on Malaya Kanda (Sri Pādaya), despite not having visited Ceylon. This further complicates the understanding of the Rāvana legend’s origins and its connection to Mahāyana influences. It is also important to recognize that the History of Ceylon was written by the Mahā Vihāra Sangha, which challenges the Mahāyana perspective. This underscores the need to critically assess the historian’s influence on historical interpretation.

The legend of Rāvana appears to have been quite prominent during the Polonnaruwa period, gaining even greater significance than before.

In the sixty-fourth chapter of the Mahavamsa, it is noted that in his youth, King Great Parakrāmabahu studied secular stories such as the Rāmāyana and the Mahabhārata, including the tale of Rāma slaying Rāvana.

Additionally, in the sixty-eighth chapter, when the same king refers to a story about the construction of a great bridge, it is mentioned that “there is nothing that aspirants cannot achieve,” drawing a parallel to Rāma, who used an army of monkeys to build a similar great bridge. This suggests that Parakrāmabahu was inspired by such legendary narratives when planning his own endeavors.

In chapter seventy-three, a hymn dedicated to Rūpavati, the queen of King Parakrāmabahu, compares her to Sita, further highlighting the influence of these epics on royal symbolism.

Finally, in the seventy-fifth chapter, the Sinhalese army that participated in Parakrāmabahu’s foreign campaigns is likened to the monkey army that fought alongside Rāma in his battle against Rāvana, illustrating the deep cultural and narrative influence of the Rāmāyana on the period’s military and royal imagery.

The scholar from Batuvantudāva concludes that Chapters 62 to 78 of the Mahāvamsa were likely written by monks of the same school of thought during the Polonnaruwa period. Furthermore, it is suggested that Chapter 78 was specifically composed by King Parakrāmabahu himself. This conclusion is based on the use of contemporary verbs in the Pāli text. Thus, it is evident that the Rāmāyana stories referenced in these chapters were influenced by the social context of the time.

In the subsequent Dambadeni period, the destruction of Chandrabānu’s army by Veerabāhu is alluded to in the eighty-third chapter of the Mahāvamsa, drawing a parallel to the legendary tale of Rāma’s defeat of Rāvana’s forces.

Furthermore, in the 88th chapter, during the subsequent confrontation between Chandrabānu and Veerabāhu, Veerabāhu’s style of warfare is also compared to that of Rāma.

Since these two chapters were composed during the Dambadeni era, the frequent references to the Rāmāyana suggest that the epic held considerable influence and was widely popular in contemporary society.

The statement in the Mahāvamsa that Great Parākrāmabahu studied the Rāmāyana underscores the increased prominence and influence of the Rāmāyana in Sri Lanka during the Polonnaruwa period compared to the Anuradhapura era.

It is not necessary to further investigate the nature of beliefs about the Rāmāyana or Rāvana following the Dambadeniya era. By the 14th century, the concept of Rāvana’s kingdom in Ceylon frequently appears in Kadaim documents (boundary divisions), indicating that the Rāmāyana had become a highly popular and influential topic by that time.

In the 13th-century literary work Saddharmaratnāvali, Lord Dharmasena critiques the Rāma Sita Katha and similar stories, suggesting they hinder the attainment of divine resources. This indicates that the Rāmāyana and its narratives had become so popular during the Polonnaruwa period that they significantly influenced the prevailing currents of Buddhist thought.

By the 15th century, the Rāmāyana had become deeply embedded in the folk consciousness of Sri Lanka, as evidenced by its incorporation into the opening chapters of the Vitti books (narratives). During this period, belief in Vibhishana had strengthened, and there was also a growing belief in Jayasēna or Diyasēna, which began during the Dambadeni era. This is reflected in numerous Kadaim and Vitti books, including Rajāvaliya, Sulu Rājāvaliya, Rājaratnakaraya and Kurunâgala Vistaraya from the 15th and 16th centuries.

In the famous Girā Sandēshaya, the mythical figures assembled at Ambalam recite the Rāma-Sita story. This indicates that while the classical Buddhist society of the time may have thoroughly rejected the Rāmāyana and its contents, it was nevertheless highly popular among the general populace.

By the first half of the 17th century, the influence of the Rāmāyana on the Kandyan kingdom can be assessed through the Mandāram Pura Puvata.

Notably, the Mandāram Pura Puvata introduces the concept of the “Rāvana Flag” in literature. It recounts that, following the defeat of the Dravidian Siva devotees, including Giri Tausa, who were occupying the Sri Pādaya, a chieftain named Weerasuriya was honored with a gold cap adorned with the Rāvana flag by the king.

Additionally, according to the Mandāram Pura Puvata, when King Senarath led the notable Portuguese massacre at Randeniwela and subsequently organized the Mathurata campaign, the royal flag was referred to as ‘Sihasun Rāvana’.

The Mandāram Pura Puvata also notes that during the procession held by Keerthi Sri Rajasingha to welcome the Siamese monks, the Rāvana flag and the throne flag (Sihasun Kodiya) were carried separately.

The flag referenced in the Mandāram Pura Puvata, used in the battle of Randeniwela, is preserved at the Soraguna Devāle near present-day Randeniya. This large flag, measuring 10×10 feet, features a beautifully painted image of Rāvana.

In 18th-century Ceylonese society, despite the stability of the Rāvana legend, it is evident that a localized version of Rāvana emerged, distinct from the traditional Hindu depiction. For instance, a painting from the Ridee Vihāre, which is thought to depict the Rāma-Rāvana war, shows Rāvana not with his characteristic ten heads but in his normal form.

By the time of Sri Vikrama Rajasingha, the king was associated more with Prince Rāma than with the powerful figure of Rāvana. This is because the Nāyak dynasty, which represented South India, aligned more closely with the Rāma narrative than the Rāvana legend.

Rāvana appears to have re-emerged as a prominent figure during the national and religious revivalism of the 20th century, particularly in the colonial period. This resurgence is evident in the literature of movements like Hela Haula and the writings of S. Mahinda Thero, where the figure of Rāvana was invoked to shape public sentiment against British rule, as well as to resist colonial customs and culture. These works sought to leverage Rāvana’s legendary defiance as a symbol of resistance and national identity.

As previously mentioned, the Rāvana legend experienced a significant resurgence in recent history following the 2009 war victory. Around 2008/09, the concept of Rāvana was intensely popularized by nationalist and racist groups, who interpreted it as part of a Sinhala campaign against the Dravidians.

Upon examining each of these occasions, it becomes evident that discussions about Rāvana have surfaced periodically throughout Sri Lankan history. In all these instances, conflicts or crises between the Sinhalese and Dravidian peoples were present. Recognizing that Rāvana symbolizes the Dravidian community while Rāma represents the Sinhalese community can offer a deeper understanding of the significance of Rāvana.

The study of the Rāmāyana is not widely pursued in Sri Lanka, unlike in India, where institutions aim to verify the historical accuracy of locations mentioned in the epic. In Sri Lanka, a notable research conference on Rāmāyana and Rāvana was held in 2015 at the Royal Asiatic Society in Colombo. However, the country lacks a dedicated platform for academic dialogue on this subject.

A scholarly approach to studying the Rāmāyana is valuable, given that the epic has been rewritten in various languages by later editors beyond the original scholar Vālmiki. This approach can help examine the socio-economic and literary contexts of each version and understand how Rāmāyana traditions have evolved in popular folk society.

For example, many place names in Sri Lanka’s central hills, such as Sita Eliya, Rāvana Ella, and Rāvanagoda, are associated with the Rāmāyana. My research revealed that these names were introduced in the 19th century, when South Indian plantation workers settled in these areas. The British colonial administration, facing labor shortages due to famine and drought in South India, began importing South Indian workers. To attract them, intermediaries referred to Ceylon as “Rāvana’s land” in an effort to entice workers with the notion of a mythical connection to their homeland.

This suggests that the association of certain places with the Rāmāyana may have been a strategic creation during the colonial period, aimed at encouraging South Indian laborers to work on plantations in Ceylon. Rāmakrishnan Vengadesa, a retired teacher from Tamil Nadu, recounted hearing as a child that his ancestors had been brought to Rāma’s kingdom, highlighting the use of these myths to recruit labor.

Regardless of whether one accepts or rejects the historical existence of Rāvana, it is crucial to acknowledge a significant truth: Rāvana has substantial potential for contributing to the economy of Sri Lanka. This potential has yet to be fully explored for generating foreign exchange.

The sites linked to the Rāmāyana or Rāvana, spanning from Pedro Point to Dondra Point, could attract millions of Indian tourists and pilgrims who are deeply devoted to these legends. Many intangible heritage elements associated with Rāvana, such as the Rāvana Yakkama festival celebrated annually by villagers in Ranamure, Matale, remain inadequately studied but hold significant tourism potential.

Currently, there is no comprehensive plan to identify and invest in the cultural and physical heritage related to Rāvana as resources for the tourism industry. Developing such a strategy could attract Indian tourists to Sri Lanka’s Rāma-Rāvana sites, similar to how Buddhist pilgrims visit the sacred sites in India.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the legend of Rāvana, deeply intertwined with Sri Lankan history and culture, has evolved significantly over centuries. From its early mentions in religious texts and commentaries to its enduring presence in folk traditions and political movements, Rāvana has been reimagined and reinterpreted in response to shifting socio-political dynamics. This transformation reflects how myths and legends can adapt to contemporary needs, whether for cultural identity, resistance, or nationalism.

The resurgence of interest in Rāvana, particularly in recent decades, has been influenced by both historical conflicts and modern socio-political movements, emphasizing his symbolic role in Sri Lanka’s collective consciousness. Importantly, this legend has been harnessed to express ideas of Sinhala resistance against perceived Dravidian threats, particularly during periods of heightened ethnic tensions. Moreover, its economic potential, particularly in the context of tourism, remains largely untapped. Developing Rāvana-related heritage sites and intangible cultural elements could transform these myths into valuable assets for Sri Lanka's tourism industry.

Ultimately, understanding the legend of Rāvana requires a critical approach that acknowledges the complex interplay between history, myth, and society. Whether as a symbol of resistance or a cultural figurehead, Rāvana’s story continues to resonate with both the people of Sri Lanka and the wider world, reflecting the enduring power of mythology in shaping national identity and economic opportunity.