A Cautionary Note: Reverence can survive while understanding as per sampradāya may diminish.....
A Cautionary Note: Reverence can survive while understanding as per sampradāya may diminish due to negligence....
Reflections prompted by the discussions on the cinematic adaptation of Śrīmad Rāmāyaṇa
November 5, 2026
A Preliminary Disclaimer
At the outset, I must confess something rather amusing. I have not yet watched Namit Malhotra's Ramayana. So this is not a review of the movie from a moviegoer's perspective. These are reflections of a student of our sampradāya, prompted by the contrasting perspectives of those who approach the film as cinema and those who examine it through their understanding of Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa.
These discussions have led me to reflect on a concern that goes well beyond this particular film: Can a civilization continue to revere its Itihāsas while gradually losing familiarity with the sampradāya through which their dhārmic vision has traditionally been understood?
I cannot recall The Odyssey (the movie released in July/August 2026) being subjected to public scrutiny of comparable scale, breadth, and depth, although I have watched professors debate its interpretations in academic settings. This is admittedly a personal observation rather than a systematic comparison.
The intensity of public engagement with the Rāmāyaṇa suggests that our relationship with the Itihāsa remains very much alive. Its characters continue to matter to us. Their conduct, motivations, and moral significance remain subjects of serious discussion.
Our civilization continues to revere its Itihāsas. That is itself something worth celebrating.
My reflections arise primarily from listening to the scholarly critique offered by Śrī Dushyant Sridhar and contrasting it with the cinematic assessments of Bharadwaj Rangan, Anupama Chopra, and several other film reviewers. They are reflections on the questions these reviews have raised, rather than my own assessment of the completed film.
The two principal reviews are:
Dushyant Sridhar: Review of Ramayana
Bharadwaj Rangan: Review of Ramayana
I also want to acknowledge the extraordinary undertaking of Namit Malhotra and his team. Bringing the Rāmāyaṇa to a global audience on such a scale requires enormous financial commitment, artistic ambition, and organizational effort. Whatever concerns one may have about the adaptation, that undertaking deserves recognition.
The Challenge of Adapting an Itihāsa
One of the difficulties faced by those familiar with Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa and the traditional retellings within our sampradāya is that certain departures in characterization become immediately apparent.
These departures may not trouble a viewer encountering the narrative primarily as cinema. But for someone accustomed to studying the Itihāsa through its traditional interpretations, they can become quite distracting.
Śrī Dushyant Sridhar's review identifies several such instances.
Rāvaṇa's Characterization
Dushyant's most serious concern appears to be the characterization of Rāvaṇa. The film reportedly portrays him as someone whose community has suffered oppression, and whose abduction of Sītā is motivated substantially by revenge for Śūrpaṇakhā's humiliation.
Vālmīki presents a Rāvaṇa whose extraordinary learning, tapas, courage, and devotion to Bhagavān Śiva coexist with arrogance, cruelty, lust, and repeated misconduct toward women.
Consider his history:
Vedavatī: Rāvaṇa harasses the young tapasvinī after she rejects him. (Uttarakāṇḍa 17)
Rambhā: He forcibly violates her, leading to Nalakūbara's curse. (Uttarakāṇḍa 26)
Puñjikasthalā: Rāvaṇa himself admits to having violated this apsaras, following which Brahmā curses him. (Yuddhakāṇḍa 6.13.10–14)
Numerous other women: Uttarakāṇḍa describes his forcible abduction of women from different kingdoms and communities. (Uttarakāṇḍa 24)
Sītā: And, of course, there is his abduction of Sītā herself. (Araṇyakāṇḍa 3.49)
Vālmīki does not diminish Rāvaṇa's accomplishments. The gravity of his adharma is understood in the context of those very accomplishments.
To recast him as a chivalrous protector of women fundamentally changes his character and the moral significance of Sītā's abduction.
Other Departures in Characterization
There are other concerns:
Rāma is reportedly shown attacking an adversary from behind.
Sītā participates in the Khara-Dūṣaṇa battle, whereas Vālmīki portrays Rāma as defeating those Rākṣasas single-handedly. (Araṇyakāṇḍa 3.25 through 3.30)
Sītā's resistance during her abduction is considerably diminished, even though Vālmīki describes her anguish, courage, and efforts to resist Rāvaṇa. (Araṇyakāṇḍa 3.49)
There are also invented conversations and incidents whose consistency with the characters' established dispositions is questionable.
Dushyant raises numerous additional objections concerning costumes, architecture, hairstyles, and narrative details. Some of these may be comparatively minor and tolerable to some of us.
The essential concern is with the motivations, conduct, and dhārmic significance of the principal characters.
A cinematic adaptation inevitably requires choices about presentation, selection, compression, and dialogue. But when the screenplay alters the fundamental motivations of its protagonists, it can change what the narrative communicates about dharma.
Two Different Ways of Appreciating a Film
What makes this discussion particularly interesting is the contrast between Dushyant's assessment and that of Bharadwaj Rangan, an accomplished film critic whose reviews I listen to from time to time.
Rangan considers the film a solid, respectful, and eminently watchable production, although he feels that it falls short of being the spectacular epic he had hoped for. He appreciates the performances, especially those of Yash and Ranbir Kapoor, the musical score, and several cinematic sequences.
After all, Rangan's pravṛtti is that of a film reviewer, critic, and connoisseur. He approaches the work primarily as cinema, evaluating its dramatic construction, characterization, performances, and cinematic execution.
Dushyant, grounded in Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa and our sampradāya, examines how the screenplay's creative choices correspond to the original narrative and its dhārmic significance.
Interestingly, some of the very reasons Rangan appreciates the film are precisely the reasons Dushyant finds it objectionable.
The Contemporary Oppressor–Oppressed Framework
Rangan appreciates the psychological development of Rāvaṇa as an oppressed man who eventually becomes an oppressor. He finds the portrayal of Rāvaṇa's egalitarian aspirations compelling and even draws a parallel between Rāvaṇa's obedience to his mother and Rāma's obedience to his father.
This is a distinctly contemporary social and psychological interpretation.
The formulation oppressor versus oppressed appears explicitly in The Communist Manifesto (1848), where Marx and Engels present class conflict as a central force in historical development.
In Chapter I, Bourgeois and Proletarians, Marx and Engels begin with the proposition:
"The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles."
Primary references:
There is, however, an important distinction. The language used by Bharadwaj Rangan and Anupama Chopra closely resembles this framework, but their reviews do not establish that either critic consciously subscribes to Marxism.
I am not suggesting that Rangan, Anupama, or the filmmakers consciously subscribe to Marxism. Nor is every discussion of oppression necessarily Marxist.
But the resemblance is significant. Such categories have also become part of contemporary intellectual discourse, often employed without explicit reference to their philosophical origins.
This makes the reinterpretation of Rāvaṇa particularly problematic when examined against Vālmīki's characterization.
An oppressive background may explain why a fictional character develops certain ambitions. It does not necessarily excuse the character's subsequent wrongdoing. However, emphasizing that background can shift how the audience distributes sympathy and responsibility.
Rāma's Characterization: Obedience or Dharma-Niścaya?
Similarly, Rangan appreciates Rāma's transformation from an obedient young man who follows authority into someone who eventually resolves to determine his own destiny.
Within the traditional understanding of the Rāmāyaṇa, however, Rāma's adherence to pitṛvākya is itself a conscious and resolute expression of dharma, undertaken despite enormous personal cost.
Vālmīki's Rāma is remarkably assertive when it comes to standing by dharma, even when doing so means respectfully disagreeing with his elders, including his father and guru.
Consider two particularly instructive episodes from the Ayodhyākāṇḍa.
1. Rāma respectfully rejects Daśaratha's proposal
When Daśaratha, overwhelmed by grief, suggests that Rāma restrain him and assume the throne, Rāma firmly declines.
He has already resolved to preserve his father's truthfulness and will not abandon that commitment, even when his father wishes otherwise.
Daśaratha says:
अहं राघव कैकेय्या वरदानेन मोहितः।
अयोध्यायास्त्वमेवाद्य भव राजा निगृह्य माम्॥
ahaṃ rāghava kaikeyyā varadānena mohitaḥ |
ayodhyāyās tvam evādya bhava rājā nigṛhya mām ||
Meaning: "O Rāghava! I have been overcome by the boons granted to Kaikeyī. Restrain me and become the king of Ayodhyā today."
Rāma rejects this possibility and affirms that his father must not depart from truth on his account.
2. The remarkable encounter at Citrakūṭa
The second, and perhaps even more remarkable, episode is the encounter at Citrakūṭa, where Bharata arrives with the royal mothers, ministers, and Guru Vasiṣṭha, seeking to persuade Rāma to return to Ayodhyā and assume the throne.
What follows is a masterclass in dharma, reasoning, and unwavering conviction.
Bharata's emotional appeals, Jābāli's arguments, and even Guru Vasiṣṭha's invocation of his authority as ācārya do not shake Rāma's resolve.
Vasiṣṭha invokes his authority as guru and argues that Rāma may rightfully accept Bharata's request.
Rāma responds:
स हि राजा जनयिता पिता दशरथो मम।
आज्ञातं यन्मया तस्य न तन्मिथ्या भविष्यति॥
sa hi rājā janayitā pitā daśaratho mama |
ājñātaṃ yan mayā tasya na tan mithyā bhaviṣyati ||
Meaning: "King Daśaratha is my father, my very progenitor. What he commanded me to do shall not be rendered false."
Rāma affirms that the commitment he made to his father Daśaratha shall not become false.
3. Daśaratha's earlier promise to Kaikeyī's father
There is yet another remarkable detail in the Citrakūṭa dialogue.
Śrī Rāma reminds Bharata that Daśaratha, when marrying Kaikeyī, had promised her father that the kingdom would pass to her son.
पुरा भ्रातः पिता नः स मातरं ते समुद्वहन् ।
मातामहे समाश्रौषीद्राज्यशुल्कमनुत्तमम् ॥
purā bhrātaḥ pitā naḥ sa mātaraṃ te samudvahan |
mātāmahe samāśrauṣīd rājyaśulkam anuttamam ||
Meaning: "O brother! Long ago, when our father married your mother, he solemnly promised your maternal grandfather that the kingdom would pass to her son."
Rāma then explains the subsequent boons granted to Kaikeyī and insists that Bharata accept the kingdom while he himself completes fourteen years in the forest.
His concern is that neither of Daśaratha's commitments should be rendered false. This is a demonstration of Śrī Rāma's infallible moral uprightness.
Here is Śrī Rāma standing his ground against the collective persuasion of his beloved brother, his elders, and even his revered guru, while remaining entirely within the bounds of dharma and maryādā.
Such episodes make it clear that its incorrect to interpret Rāma's earlier obedience as mere conformity or a lack of personal agency. Rangan has not recognized this. Its only possible for someone exposed to the epic in its originality and discourse consistent with the tradition. But again, I'm not expecting this from movie reviewers, in general.
Sri Rama's firmness and independence of judgment are already fully evident. His obedience arises from dharma-niścaya, a considered and unwavering determination regarding what dharma requires of him.
Consequently, the difference in interpretation is consequential.
Can We Appreciate a Film While Questioning Its Fidelity?
I often struggle to appreciate an adaptation for its cinematic merits while being critical of departures that dilute the dhārmic vision of the original.
An actor may perform brilliantly within a screenplay whose underlying interpretation I find questionable.
Indeed, I have seen actors with rather generous waistlines portray Śrī Rāma and Śrī Parameśvara in older films. Some of those films nevertheless did an excellent job of remaining aligned with the traditional understanding of their characters.
Given the choice, I would personally prefer a pot-bellied Rāma whose characterization is faithful to the tradition over a visually perfect Rāma who............
The casting certainly matters. But the screenplay, and the understanding informing it, matter much more.
Does Every Retelling Have to Preserve the Original?
A thoughtful discussion with a fellow satsangha-bandhu raised an important consideration.
Sāhitya reflects the society and sensibilities of its time. Our civilization has produced numerous retellings of the Rāmāyaṇa across languages, regions, and centuries. These retellings have reflected different literary imaginations, devotional orientations, and cultural settings.
Contemporary cinema will naturally reflect the society producing it.
That observation leads to two questions we should ponder:
Why should a contemporary filmmaker be beholden to preserving the dhārmic vision of Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa?
Even if the filmmaker sincerely wishes to preserve it, does the creative team possess the grounding necessary to recognize and communicate that vision?
Please ponder these questions.
Pressures of Commercial Success and Dhārmic Artistic Achievement: Can They Coexist?
There is another dimension to this discussion.
Namit Malhotra has committed extraordinary resources to bringing the Rāmāyaṇa to a global audience.
I have no reason to question the sincerity of that ambition. In fact, I applaud it. That someone who identifies himself strongly with our Hindu tradition has ventured to invest substantial resources in telling our own story to a global audience is itself a significant achievement.
For a post-colonial society like ours, this in itself is a success, in my humble view, irrespective of how we ultimately assess the film's cinematic merits or its fidelity to Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa.
But a production involving several hundred million dollars must inevitably confront significant commercial considerations.
Can commercial success and dhārmic artistic achievement coexist at such a scale?
I believe they can, but several assumptions must hold.
The most fundamental is confidence that Śrī Vālmīki's original characterization and the moral depth of the Rāmāyaṇa can themselves resonate with a sufficiently large contemporary audience.
Additionally:
The producer must be willing to preserve the integrity of the Itihāsa even when certain liberties promise greater commercial appeal.
The creative team must understand its dhārmic vision, or seek meaningful guidance from those who do.
The filmmakers must possess the artistic ability to communicate that depth through compelling cinema.
A related example worth considering is Hanuman Ansh, the comparatively modest devotional film inspired by the life and teachings of Neem Karoli Baba.
A deeper concern, however surfaced, even if we set commercial pressures aside.
What if Commercial Pressure Is Not the Explanation?
Suppose:
The producer is entirely sincere.
Adequate resources are available.
The creative team genuinely wishes to honor the Rāmāyaṇa.
Yet the resulting film does not adequately communicate its underlying dhārmic vision.
What explains such a failure?
Is it insufficient study of the original?
Is it a limitation in translating the traditional understanding into cinematic language?
Or have contemporary interpretive frameworks become so deeply ingrained that even those familiar with the narrative instinctively understand its characters through those frameworks?
This becomes particularly interesting given Dr. Kumar Vishwas's involvement as a lyricist and reportedly a script consultant.
One would reasonably expect someone with his literary and cultural grounding to help capture the emotional texture of the Rāmāyaṇa, although we do not know how much influence he exercised over the screenplay.
A person may know the narrative, admire its characters, and sincerely revere Śrī Rāma, yet understand the text through intellectual categories quite different from those preserved in our sampradāya.
And this leads me to my most important reflection.
Reverence Can Survive While Understanding Diminishes
A civilization can retain tremendous reverence for an Itihāsa while progressively losing familiarity with the intellectual and dhārmic framework through which that Itihāsa was traditionally understood.
This, to me, is the most significant concern emerging from the entire discussion.
It brings me back to the importance of understanding Vyāsa-hṛdayam and Vālmīki-hṛdayam when studying our Itihāsas.
Knowing the narrative, its characters, and its episodes is one thing. Understanding the dhārmic vision that the ṛṣi seeks to communicate through them requires a deeper engagement, guided by sampradāya.
When we study these texts independently of that sampradāya, we naturally bring our own intellectual conditioning, contemporary sensibilities, and interpretive frameworks to the text.
We may continue to revere the Itihāsa while gradually interpreting it in ways that depart from its intended teaching.
This reminds me of Bhagavatpāda's striking statement in the Bhagavad Gītā Bhāṣya, Chapter 13, in the discussion following verse 13.2:
तस्मादसम्प्रदायवित् सर्वशास्त्रविदपि मूर्खवदेवोपेक्षणीयः।
tasmād asampradāyavit sarvaśāstravid api mūrkhavad eva upekṣaṇīyaḥ.
Meaning: "Therefore, one who does not know the sampradāya, even if learned in all the śāstras, is to be disregarded as one would disregard a fool."
Bhagavatpāda makes this statement in the context of Vedānta, while examining interpretations of the śāstra that depart from its intended teaching.
His concern is profound. Even considerable scholarship does not, by itself, guarantee that one has correctly understood what the śāstra seeks to communicate.
The transmission of the text must be accompanied by the transmission of the means of understanding it.
This is why sampradāya matters so profoundly, which leads us to recognize the importance of the Vyāsa-pīṭham and our gratitude to the Guru-sampradāya.
The Importance of the Vyāsa-pīṭham
This entire reflection underscores the profound importance of the Vyāsa-pīṭham, from which the śāstra-vettās and pravacana-kartās of our sampradāya address the āstika-samājam.
Next to the original texts themselves, it is our Ācāryas, Gurus, and pravacana-kartās, grounded in sampradāya, who make our Itihāsas and Purāṇas accessible to successive generations while preserving the dhārmic vision of Ādikavi Vālmīki and Bhagavān Vyāsa.
Their contribution extends beyond narrating episodes. They unfold the significance of the characters, their motivations, their conduct, and the dharma communicated through them, helping us understand the hṛdayam of these great works.
We should therefore encourage ourselves and our children to cultivate and carry forward the kathā-śravaṇa-paddhati.
As an āstika-samājam, we must support these pravacana-kartās by attending their discourses and learning from them.
Equally important, we must nurture future generations of such speakers by encouraging the study of the original texts under the guidance of an Ācārya, so that those who have learned through sampradāya can, in turn, expound and transmit that understanding.
This reminds me of the words of Nāka Maudgalya in the Taittirīya Upaniṣad (Śikṣāvallī, 1.9):
स्वाध्यायप्रवचने एवेति नाको मौद्गल्यः ।
तद्धि तपस्तद्धि तपः ॥
svādhyāyapravacane eveti nāko maudgalyaḥ |
taddhi tapas taddhi tapaḥ ||
Meaning: "Svādhyāya and pravacana alone are to be pursued, says Nāka Maudgalya. For that indeed is tapas, that indeed is tapas."
This spirit of learning and teaching, receiving and transmitting, must continue to flourish in our āstika-samājam.
It is through this living tradition that successive generations can retain both reverence for our Itihāsas and an understanding of the dhārmic vision they communicate.
A Concluding Reflection
My purpose in sharing these reflections is not to discourage anyone from watching Ramayana.
Dushyant himself encourages people to watch the film, while cautioning them against treating its portrayal as an authoritative account of Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa.
As he remarks toward the conclusion of his review:
"Go watch. I wouldn't say don't watch but don't believe this is the Ramayana."
Dushyant Sridhar's review, 32:44
The film has generated considerable discussion among scholars, critics, devotees, and ordinary viewers, including some of us who have yet to watch it. That engagement is encouraging.
But it also reminds us of our responsibility toward the original, particularly when it comes to the next generation.
Do we encourage our children to study Vālmīki and listen to those grounded in sampradāya?
Do we help them understand the dhārmic significance of the characters and their conduct?
Or does the cinematic portrayal gradually become their principal understanding of the Itihāsa?
My own criterion is fairly clear.
The dhārmic vision of an Itihāsa is not preserved merely through the literal repetition of its episodes. Its preservation depends on whether the retelling continues to communicate the underlying moral and spiritual understanding embodied in the narrative.
If anything, this movie, and cinematic adaptations of this kind, only underscore the importance of continued engagement with the original texts and the pravacana-kartās of our sampradāya.
For ultimately, the ability to communicate the heart of an Itihāsa depends, in the first place, on having understood that heart.
May our reverence for Śrīmad Rāmāyaṇa always be accompanied by a sincere effort to understand Vālmīki-hṛdayam.
Jai Sītā Rām.
Comments
Post a Comment