What did the baby feel when she was discovered at the tip of the plough? How did the little girl feel when she was running in the halls of the palace of Mithila? How did the lady feel when she was sent on a vanavaas for 14 years and how did she spend the larger part of it, in the forest? How wronged did she feel when she was asked to undergo an agnipariksha? Did she, the Queen, feel more anguished when she had to forsake the kingdom and move away?

In the novel, Uttara Kaanda, renowned novelist, Shri S L Bhyrappa is on an odyssey. An odyssey through the eyes of his protagonist, Sita; the daughter of Janaka, wife of Rama, and mother of Lava-Kusha but also something more, something that belongs only to herself. Something that makes Sita who she is.

Satyajit Ray had written in one of his stories (GolokDham Rohosshyo) that Ramayana and Mahabharata are ‘unputdownable’ books; once one starts, one must finish it. Such is the magnetic charm of the evergreen tree that these pieces of itihasa are. Shri Bhyrappa manages to retain this charm in this new retelling. It is not a feminist or a revisionist version, to our relief and that puts to comfort a common Hindu in reading this novel. One might ask what may be the problem with a feminist or a revisionist version. A simple answer would be that Hindu texts are not a canvas that can or should be forcefully painted with random ideas. The reader or the listener must feel one with the rhythm of Dharma when one reads these texts. Only if such a quality is present in a retelling, we can say that such a retelling is a success.

The events begin in Uttara Kaanda, Sita is already living in exile and is pregnant. From there, she talks about herself and the hardships she faces. She is a new mother and inexperienced with children, unable to manage. She wades through everyday life, failing sometimes, but learning from it. She is helped by her longtime companion Sukeshi. Sukeshi, braving the unofficial ‘royal decree’ has left Ayodhya and is now staying with Sita. She even went on a fast to persuade her husband to bring food grains to Sita; for her she is ever the princess of Mithila. Sita learns new things as she passes her days in solitude without much to look forward to. Sometimes she has a visitor, her sister Urmilla, who is now also a mother. Urmilla converses with her sister, and life in Ayodhya flows into Sita’s life like a breeze. Sita sometimes holds her sister’s child while Urmilla holds her sister’s children. In other times, Sita sits and thinks back. Back to the times when she was found, times at the palace of Mithila, as a student of Guru Shatananda. We come to know how overjoyed she was when she was married to Rama. The pure and steadfast character of Rama had enamoured Sita completely.

The story goes back and forth, quite like another one of Shri Bhyrappa’s novels, Aavarana. Sita talks to us about her present tribulations and reminisces about her past. She tells us about the birth of Rama and his brothers, and of the festivities on announcement of Rama’s coronation. Yet, thunder struck soon and a wave of despair swiftly spread over the capital. We are pulled back to present where we learn about Lava-Kusha’s daily routine. We learn about the hardships of a princess on a vanvaas. Toiling away to lead a life in the forest yet Sita talks about her love for Rama. The drudging yet beautiful, joyous days pass on, somewhere it becomes a monotony but Sita’s love for Rama, which developed at marriage, shines like a gemstone.

Surrounded by guards, imprisoned in Ashok Vatika, that same love gave Sita the strength to power through the daily insults. But the innate power of character of Sita helps her keep hope.

‘Shri Bhyrappa had said that he had been so overwhelmed by Valmiki’s Ramayana that he could not go beyond Ayodhya Kaanda’ : the blurb reads. Thankfully, he was compelled by the all-pervasive Rama discourse in Indian writing to go through the seventh Kaanda and thankfully for us, we get a masterful retelling of the journey from Aadi Kaanda to Uttara Kaanda.

Sita herself takes us on this journey, and when she reaches Uttara Kaanda, she has a realisation:

‘O Rama. I loved the pure man you were in your youth, not the man you have become – not this man who is shackled by the royal throne’.

When Sita goes back to Ayodhya after a long time, she demands answers to questions that have been storming in her mind. Failing to get proper responses, Sita returns to the Ashram and does not stop even when Rama calls out her name.

The narration finally comes to an end, just as Valmiki’s Ramayana did. Sita enters the earth at her own will, mourning the loss of her beloved Rama. For without Rama, she did not want to spend even a day. He may have exiled her, but in her heart, she never stopped loving her Rama.

One personal expectation that I had from the story was not fulfilled. Shri Bhyrappa had raised a question in the text – why did Ravana not touch Sita? He has not answered it in his usual style as he has many other questions raised by him, in this novel.

Shri Bhyrappa has applied another instrument in this novel – he has taken away the divinity in the narration of Sita. This may make many people uncomfortable, but they can be assured that the sacredness was not breached. The sacredness comes through in the narration of Sita. The reader can feel the sacred aura of the text while reading and has a chance to absorb it.

Thus, Sita is not ‘Devi’ in Uttara Kaanda, but she is most definitely either our Mata, our Bhagini or our Kanya. That is why our hearts beat with Sita of Uttara Kaanda.

All in all, highly recommended.