Week 6 Storytelling: A Squirrel's Tale

In a great, towering tree in an ancient forest there lived an old squirrel. He kept a quiet, peaceful home, spending his day methodically gathering nuts to store up for the winter. He had few neighbors. Other squirrels flocked to a sunnier part of the woods, scrambling over one another for the best morsels and filling the woods with their chattering and rustling, but this squirrel was content to stay in his secluded little nest. He had had enough excitement for a lifetime. 

One day, high-pitched squeaks and squeals broke the silence of his cloister – his grand-pups had come to visit. The youngsters bounded up the trail, their parents lagging behind. “Grampa, grampa!” They scurried up into the boughs of the tree and gathered around their grandfather. “Mama says you’ll tell us a story!” 

“Oh?” he smiled. He wasn’t much of one for chatting, but he could never resist those fuzzy little faces. “Which one shall we hear this time? The Squirrel who Saved the Monkey King? Or how about The Squirrels on Moving Mountain?” 

“No, Mama says you have a different story.” 

“A new one.”

“Yeah!” 

Finally, their mother caught up. “I told them it was time to hear the story of 'The Squirrel who Built the Lanka Bridge'”. 

“Ah,” the old squirrel settled in. “Now there is a story. Gather round, pups, and listen closely. This is a true story about the squirrel who built the Lanka Bridge – and that squirrel was me.” 

The pups all drew closer and gazed at their grandfather with wide, shining eyes. All was silent and still as the old squirrel told his tale: 

Well, a long time ago, when I was just a young pup like you, some very strange creatures came to our part of the forest. They were very bad creatures, always crashing about the forest, fighting and causing harm to others. They were like men – I’ve told you stories of men – but different. They were horrible and fearsome to look at. Some had horns, or claws, or great pointed fangs. Some were giants. And some even had too many heads. 

These creatures were called rakshasas, and the squirrels weren’t the only ones who wished them gone. Word traveled through the trees that a band of humans, accompanied by some very strange animals that walked on two legs and even talked like men, was in pursuit of these rakshasas. Their journey led them right to the coast, where Lanka Bridge now stands. Only, there was no Lanka Bridge back then – just empty sea. 

I was a youthful, curious lad then, so naturally I followed the humans. There was one in particular – he seemed to be their leader. They called him Rama. Now, pups, you all know that squirrels and humans generally don’t mix, but I can tell you that as soon as I laid eyes upon this man, I felt a deep awe and devotion to him. I cannot explain it, but I was sure I was in the presence of the Great God himself, he who pulls the leaves from their winter slumber and sends acorns raining from the skies. I knew that, if I only could, I would go to any lengths to help this great man. 

Rama needed to get across the ocean to Lanka, for that was where the rakshasas nested. He made a great deal of noise and made a fuss with some local gods, as men are wont to do, but finally things seemed to go his way. His strange animal crew began piling stones into the ocean and, somehow, they floated on the surface. Without a thought, I began my work. Every instinct in my body guided me. I scrambled from my comfortable branch and ventured out onto the dangerous coast, where I began to gather, not nuts, but stones. I packed as many of those sharp, dirt-tasting pebbles into my cheeks as I could and carried them to the bridge. There, I deposited my supplies, filling in all the gaps and cracks left by the careless larger creatures. Back and forth, I made my journey, never tiring. Even after all the men and monkeys had gone to sleep, I carried on, building Lanka Bridge pebble by pebble. 

Finally, after days of work, the bridge was done. Rama and his army of creatures crossed to Lanka and fought the rakshasas. I did not go on this adventure. No one, not even noble Rama, thought to ask the help of a simple squirrel.

 But I know, and now you know too, that I was the squirrel who built the Lanka Bridge. 

Building the bridge to Lanka  

Author's Note: 

I thought it was sort of funny and random how both versions, in fact, mentioned that squirrels helped build the bridge to Lanka. But, unlike all the other animal characters mentioned in the Ramayana, these squirrels aren't given names or speech or any other human qualities. So, I decided to tell the squirrel's story. Of course, we might not think the squirrel's contributions could have been that great, but from a squirrel's point of view his contribution would be a big deal. So, in this story, the squirrel spins it so that he was the hero of the story, and the whole effort would have fell through without his help. This gives the squirrel his chance to be an important character. I also explored the effect Rama seems to have on people and animal characters - many of them are able to sense that he is special, a god, etc., just by being in his presence. In this story, even though the squirrel is the hero, Rama is a very important and heroic character. He plays a role similar to that of the gods in many stories - he is a powerful but distant force that motivates the main character's actions.

Buck, William (1976). Ramayana: King Rama's Way

Week 6 Reading Diary B: Hubris, Betrayal, Deception

In this fuller version of the battle between Ravana's and Rama's armies (as opposed to Narayan), it seemed there was a deeper narrative of the downfall of evil and the triumph of good. That is to say, as I was reading this section I noticed certain themes, qualities of Ravana, his army, and his tactics that seemed to be painting a moralistic picture, demonstrating why and in what ways Ravana was a force of evil, contrasting that to Rama's purity.

The first quality I noticed was hubris. This came up a bit in Narayan, but I noticed it more in the more detailed story in Buck. Ravana is given many chances to "walk away", so to speak, and is advised to do so by many of his own closest relatives and followers. Yet, he ignores their advice and presses on. This, despite the fact that clearly Sita will not give in to him, and he can't just rape her due to his curse, so the initial purpose of kidnapping her is moot. His ego - his need to prove himself, not be defeated, and never back down - is now what drives him to wage war against Rama.

This leads me to the second point - betrayal. When Vibhishana (wisely) counsels Ravana to surrender Sita to Rama, Ravana's egomania prevents him from hearing reason, and Ravana turns violent, accusing Vibhishana of betrayal. So, Vibhishana does then betray Ravana, fleeing from the violent force of evil and taking refuge with Rama. Despite having every reason to suspect Vibhishana, Rama does not and offers him sanctuary. Vibhishana proves invaluable, helping to revive Rama and the others when they are slain in battle. Another rakshasa, Trijata, plays a vital role in helping Sita remain faithful that Rama is alive and will triumph. These characters are portrayed as making noble and "right" decisions. This repeated theme of the few truly good individuals in Lanka betraying their loyalty to their ruler just serves to reinforce the corruption of Ravana. Ravana, and thus Lanka, is so corrupted by evil, to do right one must ultimately break from the side of evil.

Lastly, throughout the Ramayana there is a theme of using illusions and trickery. Sometimes forces of good use trickery (as I talked about in an earlier reading diary). In this main battle, though, it seems all the dirty tricks and illusions are used by Ravana's army. Again and again, Ravana uses deception to try to gain an advantage in the fight - he sends spies disguised as monkeys, pretends to kill Rama, then pretends to kill Sita - and the only time Ravana came close to triumph was when Indrajit rode out, invisible, and kills most of the major players in Rama's army (luckily, Hanuman picks up a mountain and they're all better. Pretty strong stuff). All of these tactics show "bad form", and seem to denote that the unrighteous, Ravana, must resort to dirty tricks, illusions, and sly deception in order to gain an advantage - he cannot win on strength and merit alone. In the end, even his dirty tricks cannot defeat Rama, the force of good, and when the two engage in head-on combat (though we haven't gotten there yet), good triumphs.

Week 6 Reading Diary A: Monkey Madness

 The story is starting to pick up now. This is more familiar narrative, and less of random visits to ashrams. Still, there is a lot of new material added in this version, as well as some flat out differences. At times, it's hard to tell if the narratives seem so different just because Narayan summarized so much, or if there were really two opposing versions of certain stories. For example, in Narayan, as I recall, it seemed as if Hanuman just grew to a great size and stepped across the pond to Lanka, easy-peasy. Here, even with his powers, it's a whole ordeal.

This also started off what I found to be a prevailing theme of increased violence in Buck. Hanuman is eaten by a sea monster rakshasa, and then makes a graphic escape from inside its body. This reminded me of the story I commented on from last week's reading about Agastya and Vatapi - there is a similar grisly picture of a character being eaten and then bursting out, killing his attacker. I wonder why this seems to be such a popular story.

Later on, Buck said a lot more about the trouble Hanuman caused in Lanka. He even kills a couple of people - well, rakshasas I suppose - but still, it seemed as if they weren't causing any trouble, and Hanuman just attacked them - and that's not to mention any casualties that might have resulted from the stampedes or other destruction Hanuman caused. This monkey rampage seemed pretty unprovoked - I mean sure, Ravana kidnapped Sita, but Hanuman just goes to town on the whole city. It made me see a darker, murkier picture of Hanuman in this version. In Narayan, he was just a nice little hero, swooping in to save Sita, not doing anything particularly violent (yet). Here, though, he seems unnecessarily violent. Even the whole thing with setting his tail on fire - in Narayan, this was told in an almost comical way. And, if I remember correctly, Ravana ordered that Hanuman's tail be set fire AND that Hanuman be set free. This makes the resulting destruction seem like Ravana's fault entirely for that poor bit of planning. In Buck, Hanuman escapes and then proceeds to burn the city. In general, I have been surprised by the increased amount of wanton violence displayed by the characters who are supposed to be the heroes in Buck's Ramayana. I don't know how Hindus think about this, but to me it seems a bit troubling and is definitely not what I expect from a hero character.