Many years ago, I’m not sure when, but in all probability Circa 1963 a young writer straight out of the Jamia Film Institute wrote the epic Ramayan. His name was Vatsalya. Just like Elvis, he preferred to be known by his first name, and this is probably why to the best of our knowledge he never acquired a passport. His book, Ramayan, was a real money spinner, and that too at a time when there were no marketing wizards and advertising gurus to help him sell his product. The book sold because it was good. Real good!

I personally have read the Ramayan many times, twice! Almost reached the end. So like most Indians and the odd Pakistani, I do have a working knowledge of this Grand Epic. However, all that changed yesterday.
Yesterday I got a dose of not Vatsalya’s Ramayan, but, instead, Maya’s Ramayan. Now before you go cowering in fear in the belief that the present chief minister of Uttar Pradesh is going to star in the Ramayan, let me assure you that I’m referring to my daughter Maya.
Yesterday was Maya’s school play and a group of about 70 boys and girls (average age 2¾) got together to enact the Ramayan. The scene unfolded in the Royal Court of Ayodhya. King Dashrath, who seemed to have some present ailment, had to constantly be escorted to various parts of the kingdom. His three wives wanted nothing to do with him. One, in fact, had reached so far as the end of the stage (probably Thailand) and had to be dragged back by an elderly lady who clearly had messed up the average age of 2¾.
King Dashrath then dies mysteriously and, miracle of miracles, continues standing upright.
Queen Kaikaiyee then banishes Ram into a forest three-feet away, a forest to which he reluctantly drags Lakshman and an even more reluctant Sita. At the forest they meet a strange looking Ravan, who must have been 34-years-old at least, which means his parents must be questioned as to why he is still studying in Sun Flower Nursery School.
Next, Jatayu appears out of nowhere dressed like Papagina from Mozart’s Magic Flute. She fights the 34-year-old and naturally overpowers him. Then proceeds to faint out of shock at the event. Hanuman make his entry, and after fighting with his own Vanar Sena, starts looking for pillows with Shree Ram written on it. Meanwhile, somewhere off stage, Ram and Lakshman are shooting arrows into the audience. Two audience members are promptly airlifted to the nearby Bombay Hospital where their first reaction after regaining consciousness is exactly the same: “Find us a copy of the Ramayan, so we can verify on what page it specifies Ram must shoot at audience”.
In all this, the pillows have formed a bridge over the sea, where Hanuman and a few members (some dissident members of the sena went in another direction) cross into Lanka. Soon in Lanka Hanuman’s tail is lit by a lighter in Ravan’s hand. Another no-no, if I was his parent.
Now we cut to the chase and the final battle has the bear army and monkey army fighting themselves, and Ravan being attacked by his own soldiers. Ram continues to target the audience.
Ravan in the meantime seems to suddenly have a seizure and passes away oblivious to everyone else on stage. Now a free for all breaks out, no one is sure who is on whose side. A bear notices the fallen Ravan and decides to plant a kick. Ravan’s parents wince as all the participants on stage, including Sita, decide to play the regal sport of “Ravanball”.
Finally, Ravan is saved by the intervention of adult outsiders who brisk him away. The role of these outsiders in the Ramayan is not clear. The story ends with the festival of Deepawali or the festival of lights. Most members on stage hold diyas…
Jatayu jumps up and down injuring a monkey and a dancing girl. Ram celebrates by shooting arrows, literally at the audience. Songs are sung and Ayodhya is bathed in sunlight.
That was my daughter’s Ramayan. A little different here and there. Who has the more accurate story? Vatsalya or Maya?
Well, just like in the case of the Babri Masjid, only time will tell.