Fraternity in the Forest: How the Heroes of Hindu Epics Face Their Forest Journeys Together With Their Siblings

By B. Daniel Blatt

Growing up with three brothers and two sisters, as a child, I always felt that to find myself, I would need to get away from my family. Sometimes, I would imagine strange journeys to the imaginary lands in the fantasy and science fiction novels I read. On my own, I would set out to these realms where companions and guides would help me on my journey. It often seemed that these adventures lay just beyond the woods outside my childhood home.

Later, in life, as I began to explore Occidental mythology and medieval romance, I noted how the Western hero's journey was not much different from the quests I had previously discovered in fantasy epics. The hero leaves his family-or close kin-and embarks alone on his adventure. He separates himself both from the familiar world and from his family. Parzival left his mother, the only relative he knew in pursuit of the shiny knights. Later, after he fails to ask the question at the Grail Castle, he enters the forest alone and, from the occasional mentor he meets on his lonely journey, must gain the wisdom he needs to find his way back to that castle to redeem himself (and the Grail Kingdom) from his youthful error (Wolfram 433-470).

Parzival is not the only western hero who goes alone into the forest. At the beginning of The Divine Comedy, Dante finds himself alone in a "dark wood" (Danet 3). Joseph Campbell notes a "passage in the Old French Queste del Saint Graal that epitomizes the true spirit of Western man" (Campbell, Thou Art That 30). When a vision of the Grail appears before the knights of the Round Table, Gawain proposes that the knights embark on a quest for the Grail: "They thought it would be a disgrace to go forth in a group. Each entered the forest at the point that he himself had chosen, where it was darkest, where there was no way of path" (Campbell 30). In the West, the hero enters the forest on his own, separated from his family, close kin and even his fellow knights.

Naturally, then, it struck me that in both the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, each hero (Yudhishthira and Rama) begins his forest journey not alone, but with his wife (in the Mahabharata, with the wife he shares with his brothers) and at least one brother. The forest journey thus takes on an entirely different aspect for the Hindu hero. He is not trying to find his own unique path, but instead, together with his kin, to gain the skills-and assume the attitude-he will need to accomplish the task he was destined to perform.

For Yudhishthira and Rama, the task is to fight a great battle. Yudhishthira must lead his brothers, the Pandava, against their Kurava cousins while Rama must defeat Ravana. In the forest, isolated from the seat of secular power, each family experiences a series of adventures to prepare themselves for that battle.

Even though they are not alone, the forest exile represents a renunciation for the heroes of these two epics. Rama submits with joy, "seeking above all to allow his father to keep his word" (Biardeau, "The Ramayana" 62). The Pandava go less joyfully into the forest, but accept their fate as a consequence of Yudhishthira's loss of the dice match to Sakuni. During the forest exile, each of the Pandava brothers

. . affirms his own role and prepares himself for what is to follow: it is clear that the exercise of kingship cannot do without this renunciation, even if in reality it does not necessarily include living in the forest but takes more earthly forms. (Biardeau, "The Main Myth" 58.)

The forest journey represents the separation the Pandava and Rama (together with Lakshmana his brother and Sita his wife) must effect from society before Yudhishthira and Rama can become kings.

This separation enables each hero, particularly Rama, to prepare for his task away from a court where he would be surrounded by people who would look up to him. Exiled with his family, a prince would experience no such elevation. With his brothers, a prince is one among equals. A community of equals, of brothers, of friends, helps humble a future leader. In the forest, he is no longer in the seat of secular power where he would rule over his fellow man, but in a place where he becomes dependent on his equals for survival.
The forest, however, is more than just a place of separation from the secular world. Mircea Eliade writes that it "is a symbol of the beyond, and we shall meet with it in numerous initiatic rites and mysteries of primitive peoples" (5). It thus becomes an appropriate symbolic setting for the initiation of our heroes. More than just a symbol of initiation, the forest also represents the unconscious: "The forest, dark and impenetrable to the eye, like deep water and the sea, is the container of the unknown and the mysterious. It is an appropriate synonym for the unconscious" (Jung, "The Spirit Mercurius" 194). Unlike the court at Avodhya or Hastinapura, the forest is unknown to the noble exiles, much as the unconscious is to a young adult. The hero thus encounters elements of himself that he could not readily see the mundane world.

Perhaps the Mahabharata itself is a symbol of the unconscious for "Sauti the storyteller told this tale to his friend Saunuka in Naimisha Forest" (Buck 6). The whole epic is told in the forest.

Alf Hitlebeitl notes that this forest has a "giveaway name: 'lasting for a moment, a twinkling' (from nimesa, nimisa, a moment or wink)" (96).

Naimisha Forest is not so much a place as a process through much more ancient purana is 'absorbed into a new stream' for the Kali yuga, then the name Naimisha might suggest that the stream connects past, present, and future in the twinkling of the eye. (Hitlebeitl 96).

Sitting in the forest to tell the tale, Sauti reminds us of the significance of the forest setting within the tale. When the Pandava enter the forest, they leave the mundane world and enter the eternal realm of story, lasting but a twinkling of the eye, but linking them to a larger process, the more ancient puranas which are "absorbed" into this particular retelling. The lessons they learn there belong not just to their yuga alone, but to all cycles of time.
Unlike Dante in the dark wood, or the solitary Parzival seeking redemption in the forest, the heroes of the Hindu epic do not explore this unconscious terrain alone. Indeed, traveling in India, Robert Johnson notes that Hindus don't do much alone. "A traditional Hindu is married twice in his life" (11). He forms a "blood-brother pact" with a peer of his own sex in late boyhood. So strong is this sense of brotherhood that when Johnson was hospitalized in India, an Indian friend took him on as blood-brother and slept under his hospital bed (14). This friend believed Johnson needed company when he was separated from the everyday world.

Similarly, Lakshmana accompanies Rama and Yudhishthira's four brothers accompany him when each is separated from his kingdom. Joseph Campbell notes that among the five levels of bhakti love or devotion, "the second form of religious love is that of friend to friend" (Campbell Myths of Light 40). He uses the Pandava as an example of such love:

Krishna loved Arjuna and his brothers, the Pandavas, the heroes of the Mahabharata; this is love, too, as Christ loved the apostles. This is a higher form or religious readiness-the relationship of inner companion. To be worthy to gain this relationship to the god you must have a more developed religious consciousness than that of the servant. You become a friend to God. God is your companion. You live with him, you think of him all the time, not simply in service once a week or twice a year. (Campbell 40).

Here, Campbell helps us understand why, in Hindu epic, the hero goes into the forest together with at least one brother (and his wife). This companionship itself allows a certain "religious readiness." No wonder that Indian man slept under Robert Johnson's bed. Together with another person, he believed, Johnson could easily access the divine. Perhaps that man thought that God would not answer any prayers for recovery unless Johnson had a friend, a blood-brother, close by.

This religious consciousness blossoms largely because, in the forest, the hero with his brothers, is one among equals. No one is master; no one is servant. Just as the subjects of the secular world do not look up to him in the forest, the hero does not look up to those around him. Constantly on a relatively equal plane with his brothers, the hero develops an attitude toward the divine merely by treating his them as friends.

Alain Daniélou writes that "Friendship (Mitra) appears to have been the most important divinized virtue of the early Aryans, although, at the time of the Rig Veda, its role had already paled before the expectation of divine grace represented as Varuna" (115). But, even as Varuna, "the link of man with the gods," surpassed Mitra, "the sacredness of the word given, the link of man with man" (113), the two principles

. . . are the complements of each other. The clear rules of human association and the mysterious laws of fate govern 'this' known world and 'that' unknown world, symbolized as the day and the night, between which man's life is divided.

Mitra and Varuna are thus always associated.

The association of Mitra and Varuna thus explains the necessity for Rama and Yudhishthira to seek an exile in the company of their kin. Together with his brother(s), each hero must learn the virtues of Mitra, "comradeship, truthfulness, and honesty, the sacredness of the word given, the code of honor which renders possible the association of men in tribal groups and nations" (Daniélou 116). Indeed, Rama showed that he understood Mitra even as he entered the forest; he accepted his exile with joy because he was helping his father keep his word. As he learns these virtues, binding him closer to his fellow men, each hero becomes closer to the divine. The divine is in the very relationship of brother to brother.

Exiled in the forest, Rama as well as Yudhishthira - and their siblings - learn the virtue of Mitra. When Ravana's uncle Mareecha assumes the form of a golden deer at Ravana's behest, Rama, despite Lakshmana's objections, pursues it to please Sita, asking Lakshmana to stay and guard his wife. At first, his "mind did not admit Lakshmana's words of caution," but later, after realizing he has been "duped," he kills Mareecha, then turns back, confident that because of "Lakshmana's sagacity and understanding," he would help Sita "guess what has happened" (Narayan 89). Rama acknowledges his brother's good sense. He trusts him to keep his word.

Just as Sita's pleas had caused Rama to ignore his brother's advice and pursue the deer, so too do her pleas cause Lakshmana to ignore his brother's exhortation to stay and guard Sita. He goes into the forest in search of Rama. Both were duped by Mareecha; Rama, when Mareecha assumes the form of the golden deer; Lakshmana, when Mareecha cries out for him and Sita in Rama's voice. With both brothers in the forest, away from the cottage, Sita is left alone. Had either brother heeded the other's advice, Ravana would not have been able to abduct her. Each thus learns the value of trusting the other's word.
In the Mahabharata, the Pandava brothers also pursue a deer, though to a far different end. This deer, leads them deeper into the forest where it vanishes before they could kill it. Tired and thirsty, the brothers rest under a tree until Yudhishthira dispatches his brothers for water. When one does not return, he sends the next. Finally, left alone, he goes to the lake himself where he finds his brothers dead on the shore.

He is about to drink when he hears an "invisible voice" exhorting him not to. He asks the voice why it has killed his brothers and learns that each refused to answer the questions it had posed. One brother was rash while another challenged the lake. Having learned the unfortunate fate of his beloved brothers, Yudhishthira realizes he can't just take the water from the lake (as they had). He chooses to honor the request of this disembodied voice. "Ask," he says to the lake. After Yudhishthira has answered its last question, the voice tells him that it is his father, Dharma, who has come to test his merit. Finding it "true," the voice of Dharma returns the Pandava to life (Buck 198)
Had Yudhishthira been alone in the forest, he might well have approached the lake as had his brothers and drunk without heeding the voice. But, seeing his brothers lying dead and hearing the voice, he assesses the situation differently. He realizes he cannot just drink the lake's water. He must first demonstrate his knowledge. His brothers thus helped him survive the test of merit.

These examples from each epic show how the shared exile helps each hero attain the qualities he would need to fight the great battle that lay ahead of him. The presence of his brothers allows each to achieve a consciousness he could not have achieved on his own. Only together with them could he "transcend the limits of individualized consciousness," the very "aim of the doctrines of Hindu philosophy" (Zimmer 39).

There is multiplicity everywhere in Hindu lore-from the multiple arms of various deities, to Varuna's four faces, to the endless cycles of kalpas and yugas. It is no wonder then that the epic hero does not journey alone, even in an exile where he renounces (for a time) his kingdom to enter the forest.

Some have looked at each sibling (particularly in the Mahabharata) as aspects of the psyche. There is much merit to this approach. Yet, perhaps because of my experience growing up with many siblings, I attach a different meaning to the role these siblings play in this story. Very often, they are often dependent upon one another as they mature into their destined roles. Indeed, their very interaction in the mysterious realm of the forest helps them gain the qualities they need to succeed on the battlefield-and in the seats of secular power.
The Western epic serves an important purpose. It reminds us of the importance of the separation from our kin and a solitary journey in order to discover ourselves. But, for the Hindu, that self cannot be discovered in isolation.

The future leader must experience exile from his kingdom so he can gain knowledge away from a place where he would be the object of adulation. He must come of age, if you will, in a place where he is surrounded not by his subjects but by his peers. Isolated in the forest with them, the hero is just a brother, a friend. This presence of equals humbles him. In the forest, just as his subjects do not exalt him, he does not exalt anyone. He must survive, by living on an equal plane with those closest to him.

He thus not merely becomes a better leader when exiled among his peers, but he also becomes closer to the divine. Mitra and Varuna complement one another. A man is linked to the divine (Varuna) by linking himself to his fellow men (Mitra). Thus, we experience a great beauty of Hinduism. You approach the divine by showing the virtues of friendship, looking out for your brothers and keeping your word to your fellow. As if to say that the divine is in our very relationships with each other. Robert Johnson's Indian friend thought that by being with him in his illness, he would help him find the cure that medicine alone could not accomplish. As Joseph Campbell put it, "The only way one can become a human being is through relationships to other human beings" (Campbell Pathways

While I have often sought knowledge apart from my family, these two Hindu epics remind me not just there is much that I can learn from my siblings, but that there is even more we can discover in our interactions with one another.

WORKS CITED

Alighieri, Dante. The Divine Comedy: Inferno. Trans., Charles S. Singleton. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1980.

Buck, William. Mahabharata. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973.

Biardeau, Madeleine. "The Main Myth of the Mahabharata." Trans. Gerald Honigblum. Asian Mythologies. Ed., Yves Bonnefoy. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993. 55-60.

Biardeau, Madeleine. "The Ramayana." Trans. Gerald Honigblum. Asian Mythologies. Ed., Yves Bonnefoy, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993. 60-65

Campbell, Myths of Light. Ed., David Kudler. Novato, California: New World Library, 2003.

----. "The Paraclete." The Masks of God: Creative Mythology. Hammondsworth, England: Penguin, 1968. 433-570.

----. Pathways to Bliss: Mythology and Personal Transformation. Novato, California: New World Library, 2004.

----. Thou Art That: Transforming Religious Metaphor. Ed., Eugene Kennedy. Novato, California: New World Library, 2001.

Daniélou, Alain. The Myths and Gods of India. Rochester, Vermont: Inner Traditions International,, 1991.

Eliade, Mircea. "Mystery and Spiritual Regeneration." Man and Transformation: Papers from the Eranos Yearbooks. Ed., Joseph Campbell. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1972. 3-36.

Hiltebeitl, Alf. Rethinking the Mahabharata: A Reader's Guide to the Education of the Dharma King. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001.

Johnson, Robert. "Homoerotic Relationships Between Men in Indian and in Western Mythology." Same-Sex Love and the Path to Wholeness. Ed., Robert H. Hopcke, Karin Lofthus Carrington & Scott Wirth. Boston: Shambhala, 1993. 8-27.

Jung, Carl. "The Spirit Mercurius." Alchemical Studies, Collected Works, Vol. 13, trans. R.F.C. Hull. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1983. 193-200.

Narayan, R.K. The Ramayana. Hammondsworth, England: Penguin, 1972.

Von Eschenbach, Wolfram. Parzival. Trans., A.T. Hatto. Hammondsworth, England: Penguin, 1980.

Zimmer, Heinrich. Myths and Symbols in Indian Art and Civilization. Ed., Joseph Campbell. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1972.

Posted by john at September 10, 2005 09:07 PM