Ram-O-Rama

So as the weather cools off, festival season in India heats up. Yesterday we enjoyed our first holiday from school in observance of Dushera. Dushera commerorates Rama’s victory over the demon Ravanna after their epic ten day battle. The festival is celebrated for ten days, and each night all over the city, folks gather to watch the Ramlila—a staged reenactment of the story of Ram and Ravana. (You can read about in any one of the translations of The Ramayana.) We attended one a couple of nights ago and, even though it was in Hindi, managed to enjoy most of the story. The highlight was when a worshipper wanted to wash Prince Rama’s feet, and the actor—in a gesture slightly out of tune with his elaborate costume and his standing as a god—bent down and tugged a pair of very modern looking tube socks off his feet. Apparently, he’d been trying to avoid getting splinters from walking around barefoot on the crude stage. Even epic heroes get owies.


But the real fun came tonight with the burning of the effigies of Ravana, his brother and son. The celebration is meant to observe the ultimate victory of good over evil. So the same actors (including the tube-socked hero) paraded around the grounds at the feet of the three giant effigies. Thousands of people were gathered for the fun. The fireworks were loud and colorful—like India herself. Even the little ones were a bit overwhelmed with the noise.


After a lot of speeches--speeches I’m pretty sure no one listened to because we’d all come to see stuff get blown up--the sun set. Apparently, Ravana had a prophecy upon him that he could be killed neither by day or by night. So like all good heroes Rama sought the loophole and waited until sunset (clever, clever, Rama) to make his move and strike the fatal blow in the only place the demon king was vulnerable. That’s right . . . his belly button. I can sympathize—if someone tickles me there I’m almost guaranteed to pee my pants (a fate far worse than death).

So after several people tried to shoot cheesy plastic arrows into the effigies, and they all bounced off, the moment we’d all been waiting for arrived. A torch was tossed at the feet of Ravana’s brother, the flames kicked upward, and moments later the forty foot high figure exploded in a shower of firecrackers, smoke bombs and fire.


There’s definitely something primal about enjoying a good bit of fire-buggery, even if you aren’t the one holding the match. Children cheered and clapped, the heat washed over us like a wave, I couldn’t help but get caught up in the fun. Because they stuff them with hay and other explosives, they burn up so quickly that only moments after the fun begins, there’s nothing but a bamboo skeleton remaining where the giant, evil action figure stood a moment ago.


It’s so much fun they do it twice more, saving the ten-headed Ravana for the big finale. In short, a fitting end to evil-incarnate is a great kickoff to the festival season. We’ll keep you posted on the festivals as they unfold . . . and we promise not to light anything on fire.

Jen