Chapter 4
The Death of Sambukumaran: Kama and Its Defense

Complications in the puppet play cluster around the controversies in the epic. These are the moral pressure points in the story that generate many versions in Kerala and elsewhere told this way and that in an attempt to resolve, avoid, or explain away questions that are probably insoluble but which reveal the distinctive mark of any particular telling. Three such flashpoints stand out across the spectrum of Rama stories, including the puppet play: (1) Rama's meeting with Surpanakha; (2) his killing of Vali; and (3) his rejection of Sita. Leaving Vali for the next chapter and Sita for the final one, in this chapter I examine the puppeteers' treatment of Rama's fateful encounter with Ravana's sister, Surpanakha, the scene which baffled me that first night in Suhavaram. This meeting on the banks of the Godavari River is the traditional starting point for epic narration in the puppet play, and it is a curious choice. In order to begin at that point, the puppet play must leap over nearly a third of Kampan's text, including what we thought were indispensable events, such as Rama's birth, his initiation with Visvamitra, his marriage to Sita, and his departure from Ayodhya. Landing on the banks of the Godavari River is not entirely haphazard, however, since the puppet play's opening scene subtly recalls the fertility and harmony in Kampan's opening description of the Sarayu River flowing by Ayodhya. Still, in the forest, perfection is not what it seems; barely thirty minutes into performance, the puppeteers veer off into an episode not told in Kampan, the death of Surpanakha's son, Sambukumaran, which fixes this Rama story on a new moral axis.^[1]

The translation below covers the second night of performance: Rama is already in exile and the events from his birth to his departure from Ayodhya with Sita and Laksmana have been quickly summarized on the previous night. Soon llama will meet Surpanakha, but the performance opens with a famous Kampan verse in which Rama, speaking to Laksmana, likens the Godavari River to poetry.

The Death of Sambukumaran

"Look, brother, here is the Godavari,
     lying as a necklace on the world
Nourishing the rich soil
     rushing over waterfalls
Flowing through the five regions
     in clear, cool streams,
Like a good poet's verse.^[2]

"Look, Laksmana, look at this wonderful river, which we have reached after taking delicate Sita over these rough jungle paths, through thickets of thorns, through ominous forests, past dangers and animals, unknown and hidden from us on our long journey.^[3] And, finally, look at this river, the lovely Godavari! It must be the Godavari because the poets say that of all the rivers on this earth the Godavari is the most beautiful, even more beautiful than the Ganga. Now, in this verse, the word puvi refers to the Earth Goddess, who wears the river like an ornament, but the river is more than just a sparkling jewel. Like two hands cradling the land, its banks support pious Brahmins who recite the Ramayana , the Mahabharata , the Bhagavata Purana , and other sacred books that tell us when to marry, how to live the four stages of life, when and where to travel at auspicious moments, how to perform dharma and sacrifices with the correct mantras and oblations. And that is how the Godavari feeds this special place of five landscapes, called 'Panca-vati.'^[4]

"The poet says that the Godavari lies like a necklace on the earth, but the river also flows, it moves, like a poem. The word 'verse' in these lines refers to the poetry in Valmiki's epic, those lines so dense with meanings that you need one commentary to find the literal meaning of his words and another to tell you their hidden meaning.

The Godavari, you see, resembles poetry because it, too, has sound and beauty and motion.

"Do you know what is truly special about this river? When one newly arrives at a location, one must build a house, which requires consulting the house-sastras for selecting a site, finding trees, bringing wood, conducting a sacrifice and then a puja . Most places have one or two flowering trees, but look around—there are flowers everywhere. And look at these forests—the very banks of the Godavari are hands that hold up forests and offer these flowers at our feet. Tell me, Laksmana, have you ever seen anything so wonderful?

See the trees rising high
     sandalwood and eaglewood, silk-cotton and pepper trees;
See them rising high above us
     along the river banks;
These forests are full of demons,
     but we will perform tapas here.

"Laksmana, there are five kinds of trees here, just as there are five types of landscape. We know that the forests are infested with demons who steal, kill, drink, lie, and abuse Brahmins—the five heinous crimes—but don't worry, little brother. It is for that very, reason that we must perform religious austerities [tapas ] here. That's our purpose on earth—to root out evil and protect the good—isn't it? We'll fight anyone who opposes dharma.

"But what actually is dharma? They say it's the earthly embodiment of an unreachable god who stands in front shielding us, like a fence protecting a field. Dharma stands on four feet—truth, charity, meditation, and dharma itself—in the form of a cow, and it stands on two feet in the form of a Brahmin. Dharma has been attacked by demons since the beginning of time, especially here in Pancavati, so we must stay and destroy them. But, first, we must build a hut to sleep in. Go into the forest, Laksmana, and cut down trees."

[Laksmana  replies :]

"Merciful Lord who upholds Brahma's many worlds,
Great Lord who snapped Siva's bow,
Watch my hands work quickly for the hut will be built
Not by me, but by your own tapas .

"Rama, you support all these worlds created by Brahma, and you cracked that boss, at Janaka's palace. How can what I do be anything

but your work? [Moves to extreme right hand of screen ] Let's see, what tree shall I cut down?

Bears and tigers are everywhere they say;
Oh, I hear a lion! Better hide and shoot;
But, look, that's no lion—
Only cuckoo birds chattering away!

"Well, I shot the arrow anyway and drove away those dangerous birds. [Sambukumaran puppet placed in tree .]^[5] Now, look, somehow a sword came into my hand, and it's perfect for cutting down trees. [He swings the sword against the tree in which Sambukumaran has been placed. ]

Alone in this forest
     with a sword from the gods;
I strike this tree
     and a body falls in a river of blood;
What evil this act will bring
I do not know.

"I wished only to build a hut and now I have killed! I don't understand, but I fear evil consequences. One thing is certain: I cannot use this blood-stained tree."

[Moving to another part of the forest, Laksmana cuts down other trees, sinks them into the ground, lashes thick branches on them, and builds the forest but. Laksmana moves back to Sita and Rama, who speaks :]

"Laksmana, is the hut ready?"

"Yes, but something terrible happened ...

I cut down a demon when I cut down a tree,
Why I cannot say—who knows what the gods do?
But the hut is complete for you and Sita to enter,
As I guard the south protecting you from evil.

"Rama, what does this demon's death mean? Something is very, wrong. But for now please enjoy the safety of this hut and rest assured that I will protect you both."

"Sita, let us enter the hut." [All three puppets move toward the but .]

"Oh, Rama, look. The hut is perfect. Laksmana is a genius.

Like the great Vedas which drive out confusion,
Like the pure Milk Ocean surrounding Visnu's island,

My brother has built a shelter
As perfect as the Ganga itself!"^[6]

"Sita, this hut is incomparable, unparalleled, unprecedented! To what can I compare it? One may say that it resembles the Vedas: once the demons had shrouded the whole world in illusion, so the gods went to Visnu, who told them to churn the Milk Ocean. Then—to make a long story short—when they churned, the Vedas emerged and the illusion was dispelled. What other images of perfection match this hut? The Milk Ocean is one, for Vaikunta lies like a jewel in the very center of its 3,200,000 leagues. White, pure white! In ancient times that island was called 'heaven-seen,' but our human mouths have turned those words to 'haven-scene.'^[7] This simple hut is also equal to the Ganga, the most wonderful river on earth. In fact ...

Lightning-thin girl, from heavy-forested Mithila,
My brother has built a hut that is flawless
And incomparable,
Like your flower feet.^[8]

"So much can be said of Mithila—its fabulous palaces and rich temples—but it's all said by you, Sita, by your beauty. 'Light-ning' is the right word for you since your body is a lustrous streak of light; your feet are as soft as water lilies and the red lotus flowers of Laksmi's throne. You possess every beauty that Laksmi does, but Laksmana's actions surpass all beauty. Does anyone compare to him? Here, in this remote forest, he builds us a shelter like a palace!"

[Sita and Rama enter hut, while Laksmana stands as guardian outside; Surpanakha enters from the left and speaks in a gruff voice :]

"Hey, what's this I smell? Human flesh is it? Brahma may create them, but these humans really smell! Haven't eaten any flesh since yesterday—I'm famished. Gobble them up in a second when I find these stinking humans, but first I better look for my son, Sambukumaran, who went to do tapas weeks ago and hasn't returned. Maybe he's won a boon from Siva by now. [Moves toward center of screen ] "This looks tike the tree he did tapas in. Yes, this is it, but ... some branches are broken ... and ... over there ... there's a body. Oh, no! My son, my poor son, Sambukumaran!

Is cruel death your reward for long tapas to the gods?
Wearing fresh flowers you came and you wear them now

Riding to Siva's heaven in death's golden bier;
I've lost you forever, my son, Sambukumaran.

"It can't ... I ... but it is you, Sambukumaran, though it cannot be so. You came here to win liberation, yet you gained death. Is this everyone's fate who worships Siva? Or just yours? And where are you now? Somewhere on the journey to Siva's heaven. Ah, who can say?

Covered with turmeric and ash, I prayed for a son at Lord Siva's feet;
Now your golden body lies in bloody pieces at my feet;
Who did this, Sambukumaran?
Who makes me collapse in grief?

"I chanted and meditated on Siva's name for months, and finally you were born. But can this—can your death be Siva's boon? Did my tapas win your death?

Yes, your killers are gone but not escaped;
It might be Indra, or Brahma on his lotus,
Or even Visnu with sweet basil leaves—
No matter who he is, I will follow his trail,
And drag him to Lanka surrounded by dark seas.

"Hah, let them try to escape! They can jump off the earth and I'll follow. Revenge will be mine. Even if Laksmi's Lord, Narayana, did this evil deed, he will not escape. Doesn't matter if it's that flower-god, Brahma, creator of the eighty thousand lakhs of beings in our worlds. Killer of my son, whoever you are, I will find you and imprison you in Lanka, and no one ever escapes from the hands of my brother Ravana. [Moves toward the river ]

"I'll eat anyone who comes my way, child-killer or not. Huh, can't see much from here. Better climb a tree and look around. Ah, yes, that's better. [Rama leaves Sita and approaches the river to bathe .] Hmm ... who's that over there by the river? A man, I think, and a nice-looking one, too!

Is that Kama visiting this earth with his love-bow?^[09]
Or Indra, king of gods? or some earthly raja?
Could he be Laksmi's consort, Visnu? Siva glistening with garlands?
Surya in his circling chariot?
     Who, O heart, who is this man?

"Who is this beautiful creature? Must be a god come to this sun-measured earth! You see, the sun does circle the earth—it rises in the east at Mt. Manasottara, continues south to Mt. Dharma Raja in the first quarter of the cycle, and enters the waxing half of the cycle at

midday. From there it enters the northern path to Mt. Meru, bringing night in the third quarter of the cycle, and finally comes around again to Mt. Manasottara at dawn. This is Surya Deva, the Sun, by whose power it is possible to discriminate between night and day on earth.^[10]

"On earth, however, Kama is supreme, for he makes love possible with his sugarcane bow and flower-arrows. Perhaps that is he, standing there by the river, in human form. If not, he might be the great lover, Indra, the most beautiful of gods; or he might be a mere earthly king come to the Godavari on a pleasure hunt. Or is he Laksmi's lover, that dark-skinned Visnu? Or Chandra, god of the smooth moon? Or fiery Surya, who drives his shining chariot through the sky? Whoever he is, he is beautiful beyond words.

"But no, he bears no marks of those gods—not Brahma's brass pot, not Visnu's discus, conch, club, or lotus, not Kama's sugar-bow. What he carries, I see, is a hunting bow and a tiger skin, as if he's an ascetic! Oh, I can't bear this any longer; I've got to go closer and see him. [Mores toward Rama, who remains motionless by the river ]

"Huh! This demon form is a disgrace! What would he think if he saw me like this? I've got to change into a beautiful woman—then I'll catch him for sure. Yes, I'll use that boon given to me years ago when I did tapas to Laksmi and she appeared before me and said, 'Whenever you wish to change your appearance, chant this mantra.' [As Surpanakha chants the Laksmi mantra, a new, (Mohini) puppet appears and the old puppet is removed .] There, that's much better!"

[Rama ] "Who's coming toward the river bank. Well, well, who is this lovely creature? No woman on earth or in the netherworld is her equal. Not Menaki, not Urvasi, not Tilottoma, who dance in the heavens, none of them possesses this woman's beauty. Nowhere among the eighty thousand lakhs of beings in these worlds have I seen any woman so beautiful as she! No thing, no person, no other object in this universe, is as lovely! I must talk with her. [Rama moves toward Surpanakha .]

"May I ask your name, faultless beauty? You come just as I am finishing my holy bath, which makes me wonder: Did goddess Laksmi herself step off her red lotus throne and take form here on earth? But, then, what have I done to deserve this honor? Certainly my acts of dharma would not bring me such good fortune. There's so much

I want to ask you. Who are you? Where are you from? Speak to me, lovely peacock!"

"Handsome one, my family line begins with Brahma, who rests on a lotus of a thousand petals. Tradition says he had ten daughters but only one son, born of his infinite wisdom, and he was Pulastiyan, who had a son named Vicaravasu, whose daughter I am."^[11]

"But what is your name?"

"My father, Vicaravasu, married four women and his last wife, Kekaci, bore me and gave me the name Kamavalli.^[12] But listen: I have two brothers. The older, Kubera, is strong as a mountain; that god riding on the powerful bull, that powerful Siva, gave him boons for his tapas , and now he rules Alakapuri. But my other brother, the younger one, Ravana, is even more powerful.^[13]

"Let me tell you a story. This world has eight directions: east, southeast, south, southwest, and so on to the northeast. Each is guarded by an elephant: Airavata, Pundarikam, Vamana, Kumutam, Ancanam, Putkakam, Savapavam, and ... the others.^[14] Each direction also has a special snake, like Adisesa, and a special god. This wide world, held up by those elephants and snakes, was the object of my brother's ambitions, and so he marched in every direction and conquered every raja until he came to those eight elephants and threatened them: 'Fight me or step aside!' But the animals did not move, and among themselves they thought, 'Instead of attacking one by one, better to fight him as a group of eight with our thirty-two tusks.' Charging hard, they pierced my brother's chest with their tusks, but he didn't show the tiniest scratch. Calmly, he drew his sword and proceeded to lop off the tusks, still stuck in his chest, and then cried out, 'Is that it? Have you no more strength?' The elephants were silent, and he ordered them back to their stations. That's my younger brother, that's Ravana

"Not only that. Once this little brother challenged Lord Siva. It's a very long story, but I'll just say that in the end he shook mighty Mt. Kailasa and ruled over the earth, heavens, and netherworlds, and was given the title 'King whose crown bows to no one.'^[15] His name is Ravana and I am his sister, Kamavalli."

"You say that your older brother received boons from Siva and that your younger brother defeated the cosmic elephants and conquered the Three Worlds. But, then, where is your wealth? Your jewelry? Your silk dresses? Your armies? If your family is so exalted, why are you left alone in this forest?"

"Of course, of course. If a woman walks alone, some man will ask why and she must explain! Frankly, since you are probably a god, you ought to know these things anyway. I think you ask just to get an answer from me.

"And since you are so anxious to know, I will give you an answer. It's kama , 'desire,' the first and worst of the thirteen dispositions that make up our bodies.^[16] Desire, lust, is what it is, and it comes from that basic disposition called 'energy,' [rajas ]. As the Bhagavad Gita says, 'Greed, lust, cruelty, fraud, cowardice, and desire all spring from "energy".' Call it kama , call it lust, call it what you like—my heart is bursting with it! Before I ached with one question: 'Where? Where is he?' Then I saw you and thought you might satisfy my desires. Of course, women of high rank do not understand their kama , and even if they did, they would not express it openly like this. I am only telling you, Rama, because the pain is too great!

"And this kama is eating me alive, destroying me life and limb, consuming my life force [uyir ] inside. That force when heated by the fires of kama swirls around and rises straight to the head and sometimes kills. My pain is great, Rama, and if you don't do something, I will die, right here, in front of you!

"But don't think I am blameworthy. No, this is the work of god Kama, whose five arrows are five flowers: the red lotus, the mango, the asoka, the jasmine, and the lily.^[17] Each flower-arrow has a different quality and causes a different condition when it hits; those effects are part of a long, magnificent story, but for now I'll just say that the worst is the red lotus arrow. When it strikes, whatever is in the heart grows and grows, like a lotus stalk, until it bursts your brain! I'm sure Kama has hit me with that red lotus arrow because my kama is rising, higher and higher ... and now you have come. Please help me, make love to me, marry me!"

[Rama ] "Shamelessly you roll your blazing red eyes at me! No decency, no pride! What kind of a woman would speak to me like this?"

"What you say may be true, sir. But remember that I have not come here of my own free will. No, Kama's arrows have driven me. Understand, too, that this lust is not mine; it belongs to nature. You must know that proverb: 'Kama is the source of the whole world; it's impartial.' Realize that this energy, this passion, is everywhere, in every one of us, in every kind of being. If a man desires a woman and wants to marry her, that's kama —it's a neutral force. Like the proverb says,

'Kama is blind.'^[18] But it takes intelligence and maturity to know how to act on kama , and when. If it is not satisfied, it brings great pain, even death. Sure, the sastras say that we must avoid this disease of kama , but it's not that simple. Our bodies are a balance of three dispositions—purity, energy, darkness—and kama is part of energy. Get rid of kama and you lose the balance. Of course, when kama swirls around inside in hot gusts of wind it is dangerous, but it's not my doing, and you must do something to save me!"

"But ... but I cannot possibly marry you! No matter what you say, you are a demon and I am a human. A demon-human marriage is not permitted, and that's the end of it."

"Yes, that's true. Whenever the serious business of marriage arises, questions of compatibility must be considered. As you probably know, there are ten primary ways in which the partners should be compatible, and the most important of these is disposition. If the boy and girl don't match in that, then they shouldn't marry even if the other areas are compatible. But if the two are matched in disposition, then all other issues are inconsequential. Remember, too, that there is more than one kind of marriage, eight to be exact. The first seven—Brahmin, divine, demon, human, and so on—are traditional marriages, but the eighth, Gandharva marriage, is entirely different. According to the sastras , it's for a couple matched only in disposition, when questions of caste, money, and status do not apply. If two people are joined in love, that's enough. And you don't need to run away either, you can marry right then and there."

"But it's not proper."

"And don't think that this Gandharva marriage is just my idea. No, the Vedas have described it, in much detail, as you probably know. Besides, if you agree to this marriage, don't worry about getting permission from anyone else because my brothers will be pleased to know that their sister found such an eligible man. Rama, they'll treat you like a brother-in-law and offer gifts to satisfy all that you desire—you'll rule the Three Worlds—that's the life I am offering you. How can you say no?"

"Yes, the law books do accept that kind of marriage, but I am already married. Besides, you're a fraud. You're not a human. You're a demon in disguise. And what do I want with the pleasures you offer. My home is Ayodhya, a heaven on earth, where Laksmi resides. I didn't leave it and come to the forest to enjoy demon pleasures with you. Go!"

"Rama, how can I leave you? Please, you must relieve this kama pain. Do not torment me."

[Realizing that Rama has not returned, Sita approaches the river. Seeing Sita, Surpanakha cries out :]

"Rama, watch out! There's a dangerous woman behind you! She's a sorceress, who'll bewitch you. Wrapped in the veil of illusion, she's maya herself. I can see right through her—she's one of those thieving demons and nothing more. Look, her every movement betrays her inferior birth. Tell her to leave, and then take care of me."

[Rama ] "I finally understand your hidden intentions. They say, 'The face mirrors the mind,' and now I see your thoughts in your words.^[19] Listen, why not approach my brother? He might accept you."^[20]

[Sita ] "Don't speak to her like that. It might seem like play, but we'll suffer later for your cruel humor. Besides, Laksmana will be angry if he finds out. Let's go back to the ashram."^[21]

[Rama and Sita leave Surpanakba, who speaks to herself :]

"So, that woman tells him to go and he goes. Her black hair is beautiful and her body shines like gold—no wonder he follows her. Obviously, I'll have to destroy her first; and Rama mentioned a brother ... well, let that be for now, evening is coming and tomorrow is another day. But where to lie down for the night? These little jasmine flowers will make a nice, soft bed. There we are ... but oh, this kama pains me even at night. Ah, here comes the full moon rising in the sky, yet even its cool beams drive into me like iron spears!

Waxing moon, I'll make a curry of you and then eat Rama, too;
But no, the mountain wind like harsh Death's spear
Enters my seething breast.
And now I will sleep.

"Moon God! Yours is no easy task for your beams must cool the earth scorched hot by the thousand-rayed sun, but even now, in the last and coolest hour of night, you burn me more than the noontime sun. I can't stand the pain! I'll ... I'll rip you from the sky, cook you up like a curry and devour you! Then I'll grab that troublesome, lovemaker Kama and eat him, too.

"What's this? Ah, that cool southern breeze, which cures disease when it touches the body.^[22] The winds that blow into our body have no precise names, only the directions from which they come, like 'east wind,' 'south wind,' and so forth. Very few people understand

the nature of these winds, although the sastras tell us that winds from the east, south, and north can cause illness, whereas this southern wind—it brings health.

"Why the southern breeze? Well, it originates from Mt. Potikai in the south, where Agastya, the great Siddha adept lives with his wife in the full grace of Siva. From the edge of his ashram the wind blows, descends into the hot, barren plains where it begins to heat up, then drops into deep pools of water and runs through the stalks of red lotus deep in the muddy bottom. Absorbing the lotus fragrance, the southern wind blows on, mixing with jasmine and lilies until it becomes as pure and clear as a mind that has seen into the inner meaning of an esoteric text. For this reason, the southern wind will cure diseases for which there is no cure.

"Of course, there's a special time when all of us can be cured, during the last seven days of Panguni and first fifteen days of Cittirai, during the Fire Asterism, when the sun burns with intense heat and Murukan resides on his mountain at Palani. Anyone who journeys to Palani at this time will gain his blessings. Of course, you will receive Murukan's blessings anytime you worship him, but if you go during the Fire Asterism and stand on top of Palani mountain, the southern wind will cure the most incurable disease.

"Bah, what good is this southern wind to me? It's blowing right now as I lie beneath this full moon, yet the to moon's rays burn like a blast from a blacksmith's forge, like hot spears thrust into my chest! And what's this I'm sitting on? Burns like cinders, but they are soft flower petals. Damn them! I'll rip them up, everywhere, in every corner of this forest, and destroy the whole place. What's that? That noise? Oh, the love call of the red-headed nightingales. They are inseparable lovebirds, they say. If the male leaves to get food, he returns immediately when she calls him in their bird language. But if he doesn't, then she dies on the spot. But me? Their love song only makes me wince in pain."

[Indra appears above and speaks :]

"Gods, hear what happened on the following morning when Surpanakha returned to Rama's ashram. Rama put Laksmana in charge of Sita and went off to bathe, but when Surpanakha tried to grab Sita, Laksmana caught her and almost killed her. What an auspicious moment it was! The day that Surpanakha's breasts, ear, and nose were cut off was the day that Ravana's crown began to fall. Never-

theless, we must consider the background—this didn't simply 'happen.' When Ravana conquered his brother Kubera, took his nine treasures, including his flower-chariot, and went on a victory march which took him to Kailasa, that was the beginning of his end, but Laksmana's mutilation of his sister was the next step toward that final moment when his jeweled crown would fall."

Kama and Its Defense

Reluctantly, I interrupt Indra's lecture on the force of fate, which lasts for more than an hour, so that we may consider the Sambukumaran episode as an early and clear indication of how the puppet tradition recontextualizes Kampan's bhakti poem. Rama's meeting with Surpanakha, into which this folk episode is inserted, is an explosive mixture of eroticism, mutilation, and deception that has stimulated multiple revisions in Rama literature.^[23] Compared to his Valmiki model, for example, Kampan complicated and amplified this encounter between Rama and demon by softening the figure of Surpanakha, and the Kerala puppet play moves further, much further, in the same direction. Adding the Sambukumaran episode, in fact, does nothing less than shift the fulcrum of the epic plot, the conflict between ascetic avatar and demonic kama . When Laksmana kills Surpanakha's son, the bhakti mission falters, and when Rama and Surpanakha meet shortly thereafter, its assumption of a moral separation between divine Rama and lustful demons crumbles.

Despite this radical effect, the Sambukumaran episode cannot be considered apocryphal (a concept inappropriate for a composite text such as the Rama story) because it is found in a broad band of Rama stories: the puppet plays of Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka, and Kerala; the chitrakathi tradition of southern Maharashtra; literary Ramayanas in Sanskrit, Prakrit (Jaina texts), Assamese, Telugu, Kannada, Thai, and Malay; an Oriya Mahabharata ; and surely other unreported texts, both folk and literary.^[24] In these versions, Surpanakha's son is known variously as Sambuka, Japasura, Darasinga, Vikkirasingan, Kumbhakash, Jambukumara, Sunkumara, Kulaivalarakkan, and Chakrabhubala, but we will call the boy "Sambukumaran," after the Kerala puppet play. The episode begins after Rama, Laksmana, and Sita have reached Pancavati and Rama sends Laksmana to build a hut. Its core event is Laksmana's accidental killing of Sambukumaran with a sword that has miraculously

fallen into his (Laksmana's) hands while Sambukumaran is engaged in religious austerities (tapas ), although in some versions Sambukumaran dies from Laksmana's errant arrow aimed at a rhinoceros.^[25]

To this core, several texts prefix another episode that provides motivation for Sambukumaran's tapas : Surpanakha's husband has been killed by Ravana during his victory march; Sambukumaran then enters meditation in order to win a sword with which to avenge his father's death, but the weapon ends up in Laksmana's hands. Among the numerous variations of this prefixed episode, my favorite is a folk story that traces the family tensions in Lanka back to Ravana's wife's (Mandodari's) refusal to give meat to her sister-in-law, Surpanakha; things heat up when Surpanakha's husband temporarily swallows Ravana, who later induces his sister to kill her husband in return for his promise that her son, Sambukumaran, will inherit the throne of Lanka. Surpanakha does her part, but when Ravana reneges on his, she plots to kill her brother and sends Sambukumaran into the forest to perform austerities in order to gain a sword fit for the task.^[26] Some combination of these two events (the death of Surpanakha's husband and the death of her son) is told in many south Indian Rama texts. The Kerala puppeteers sing only of Sambukumaran's death, but they do refer to his father's death in oral commentary, as do the Tamil Uttara Kanda (attributed to Ottakkuttan) and Valmiki's Uttara Kanda.^[27] Kampan mentions neither death.

For these reasons, rather than saying that the Sambukumaran episode is "inserted" into Kampan's epic, it might be more accurate to say that Kampan omits it. This perspective allows us to view the episode within the broader framework of Rama-story literature, which the puppet play borrows and reworks; certainly the death of a demon-boy engaged in tapas is not unique to the Sambukumaran episode. I am thinking here of the controversial killing of Sambuka, as told in Valmiki, the Tamil Uttara Kanda, and elsewhere: when Rama learns that a Sudra is engaged in tapas in a tree, a violation of dharma that has caused the death of a young Brahmin boy, he kills the Sudra with a sword, gains a boon, and revives the Brahmin; later texts identify the Sudra victim as Sambuka. Initially I dismissed any connection between the Sambuka and the Sambukumaran stories because the shared motifs of tapas , tree, and death by sword are commonplace in Hindu mythology; even the similarity in the victims' names proves little since Surpanakha's son has many names. Motives are also dissimilar: Rama kills Sambuka in order to maintain proper dharma, whereas Laksmana kills Sambukumaran unintentionally.^[28]

After reading more versions of these stories, however, I believe that they are multiforms generated by a pattern with three elements: killing, innocent victim, and grief. By substitutions in these elements, a telling of one story can easily metamorphose into another. First, as frequently occurs in Rama literature, Laksmana takes Rama's place, here as the killer of the Sudra.^[29] Second, the Sudra is conflated with Sambukumaran; in one text, for example, Sambuka is cursed to be a tree and is released when Rama cuts down the tree.^[30] Third, the role of mother grieving for her dead son, the Brahmin wife in the Sambuka story, is assumed by Surpanakha in the Sambukumaran story. These three changes produce role reversals—innocent victim (Sambuka) becomes sympathetic hero (Sambukumaran/Surpanakha); hero (Rama/Laksmana) becomes villain—just as we have in the puppet play, perhaps as an attempt to redress Sambuka's unjust death.

These speculations aside, the killing of Sambukumaran in Kerala commands our attention because, as the opening episode in the puppeteers' narrative, it frames their telling of Rama's story. Rama has met and killed demons in the forest before, in the Birth Book and earlier in the Forest Book, but here at Pancavati he faces his adversary in the more intimate and pleasing shape of Ravana's sister, Surpanakha. Although it appears to be accidental, their meeting is the pivot of the epic plot and joins the two halves—the events in Ayodhya and those in Lanka—which may have circulated as two separate tales.^[31] No matter how the epic is told, later action is invariably a consequence of this early encounter: because Rama rejects Surpanakha, she tries to harm Sita, for which Laksmana mutilates her, which causes her to seek revenge by inciting Ravana's love for Sita whom he abducts, which leads Rama and his armies to Lanka, where he kills Ravana. Or, as the puppeteers' Indra (following Kampan) says above, when Laksmana cut off Surpanakha's nose and breasts, Ravana's ten heads began to fall. Within this causal chain of events generated by the meeting at Pancavati, the moral positions of Kampan's Rama and Surpanakha are uncomplicated. We may sympathize with Surpanakha and believe her punishment was severe—she was, after all, smitten by love—but Kampan reminds us that she is evil, "a congenital disease about to strike its victim."^[32] Besides, Rama showed restraint and followed dharma in not killing the demon-woman, who might have killed or injured Sita. Mutilating poor Surpanakha was unfortunate, but eradicating demons is Rama's mission.

In folk tellings of the Rama story, however, Surpanakha acquires other emotions and motives. In one text reported by a missionary in Kerala, for example, she spies Rama only after all exhaustive search through the

Three Worlds to locate a suitable husband, during which each of the major gods is interviewed and rejected—even Visnu is too "dark."^[33] Only Rama, it seems, will do. The puppet play also supplies Surpanakha (and later her brother) with another motive when it positions Sambukumaran's death at the beginning of the epic plot. Retaliation drives Surpanakha to "get even" in many folk tellings of the Rama story, especially by instigating rumors in Ayodhya about Sita's infidelity, but even then her earlier behavior at Pancavati remains little more than lust. In the puppet play, on the other hand, she enters the story looking to avenge her sows death. That event scrambles the roles that Rama and Surpanakha play in the epic and entangles them in a more complex net of motives: after the death of Sambukumaran, the puppet play seeks not simply victory over the demons but also revenge against Rama.^[34]

This shift in moral logic occurs very quickly in the puppet play. Although the opening scene at Pancavati presents an earthly realm that matches Rama's righteousness, the third verse sung in performance reveals danger at its edge in the form of the demons whom Rama must destroy. Hardly a half hour of narration has passed and already the puppet play has lined up the opposing forces in the central conflict of the epic—divine perfection threatened by demonic evil. To this point, the third verse, the puppet play follows Kampan, yet these battle lines are drawn so abruptly and unambiguously that one suspects they have been set up only in order to be tested by the subsequent string of thirteen folk verses which comprise the Sambukumaran episode.

Cracks in the smooth surface of the avatar mission first appear when the intrepid Laksmana, sent into the forest by Rama, mistakes a cuckoo's chatter for wild animal noises and runs for cover. His next miscalculation, killing the pious Sambukumaran, is not so humorous since it sets in motion the sequence of events leading to Sita's capture and near death. Fearful of the consequences of his terrible act, Laksmana nevertheless returns to Rama and builds the hut, which prompts Rama to exclaim:

Like the great Vedas
     which drive out confusion
Like the pure Milk Ocean
     surrounding Visnu's island
My brother has built a shelter
     as perfect as the Ganga itself.^[35]

Despite the repeated metaphors of purity in this Kampan verse, which recall the perfection at Pancavati in the initial verses, we know that the

hut is stained with Sambukumaran's blood. And with it, the very purpose of the avatar mission has been subverted—evil is let loose in the forest by those sent to remove it.

Moral distinctions between Rama and the demons continue to narrow when Surpanakha appears on the cloth screen. Whereas in Kampan she enters the epic "inflamed with desire, the instrument of a cruel fate,"^[36] in Kerala she is the victim of a cruel fate and cries out over the dead body of her son:

Is cruel death your reward, for long tapas to the gods?
Wearing fresh flowers you came, and you wear them now
Riding to Siva's heaven in death's golden bier;
I've lost you forever, my son, Sambukumaran.
Covered with turmeric and ash, I prayed for a son at Siva's feet;
Now your golden body lies in little pieces at my feet;
Who did this, Sambukumaran?
     Who makes me collapse in grief?

At the emotional center of the folk episode, these verses are sung like Tamil funeral songs (oppari ): the puppeteer's voice cracks with pain and rises, halts, and falls spasmodically. This outcry against a breakdown in religious logic (Why death for "long tapas to the gods"?) signals the role reversal mentioned above and expresses the folk demand for moral balance. Surpanakha's appeal for justice to an uncaring god is angry and mocking (and addressed to Siva not Visnu), but she is sympathetic, a mother who has lost her son, a woman who has been wronged, in short, another of the well-loved, pious demons in Hindu mythology.^[37] Hungry to gobble up the human meat she smells ("Brahma may create them, but these humans really stink!"), Ravana's sister is no angel, but neither is she an embodiment of evil and lust. Like her son and her brother, Surpanakha is a devotee of Siva.

Ethical barriers between demon and avatar, so hurriedly erected in the opening scene of the puppet play, are breached again when Rama first speaks to Surpanakha. Although Rama's speech closes the folk episode and returns the puppet play to Kampan's verses, the puppeteers continue to depart from the bhakti epic by altering verses and adding commentary. The angry Surpanakha is suddenly transformed when she spies Rama on the river bank, but first she must change her outer form to match this new emotion; her oversized arms and squat legs, missile-like breasts and bumpy nose clearly will not do, so she clants Laksmi's mantra and her demon puppet is replaced by a beautiful human puppet.

Both puppet play and epic text compare Surpanakha to Laksmi (one of the many misidentifications that reveal truths in this scene), but in the drama-house, Rama's speech rings with an excitement not found in Kampan's restrained verses: "Well! Well!," he cries, "Who is this lovely creature?" Although his first words to her, in the following verse, differ only slightly from his words in the printed text, they alter his meaning entirely. Kampan's verse turns on the incompatibility between Rama as "source of the Vedas" (veta mutal ) and Surpanakha as a "silly, young woman" (petai ); one printed commentary points out that she is a "silly, young woman" precisely because she is ignorant of Rama as the "source of the Vedas."^[38] In the puppet play, however, this defining distance between speakers is reduced when the puppeteers omit veta mutal and alter petai to an endearment by adding "peacock" ("lovely peacock!"). With these minor changes in the verse, llama now speaks to Surpanakha as a man infatuated by a woman's beauty.^[39]

The impropriety of union between omniscient god and deluded demon, the crux of Kampan's scene, is again undercut in a later verse, this time by the alteration of a single letter.^[40] Arguing with Surpanakha that humans cannot marry demons Rama is forced to suppress a laugh at her stupidity (her petai ) because, as the printed commentary explains, "loud laughter would not be appropriate to his excellence [ menmai ]." When the puppeteers chant the same verse, however, Rama's "laughter" (nakai ) becomes Surpanakha's "beauty" (vakai ), so that the verse is stood on its head: Rama does not laugh at Surpanakha; her beauty pulls at his heart. The difference between the two verses is this:

In Kampan's poem, the silly (again, petai ) demoness may deserve Rama's secret mockery, but in the drama-house, Rama is far too infatuated with her to laugh. When Rama does reject Surpanakha's offer of marriage, we hear no derision in his words for he must suppress not his contempt but his desire for her. For her part, Surpanakha is not unaware of Rama's attraction to her. Consider her tart reply (in the commentary) to Rama's sarcastic question about her lack of an escort in the forest:

"Frankly, since you are probably a god, you ought to know these things anyway. I think you ask just to get an answer from me." After accusing Rama of attempting to chat her up, a somewhat disingenuous claim since she was love-struck at first sight, Surpanakha does offer an explanation for her behavior: it is kama , or sexual desire.

In Kampan, her defense of kama is confined to one, moving verse ("It may not be proper for women of high rank to speak when kama afflicts them, but what I feel is killing me. I have no one; what can I do? Please protect me from this work of god kama").^[42] Her apology, in effect, is a confession that enables Rama to see through her disguise and denounce her as "base" and "shameless." At one point, Surpanakha attempts to convince Rama that, even though she was born a demon, she has renounced evil and embraced the way of dharma, but when Rama is unconvinced and does not speak, she again plays the silly (petai ) lover and imagines his silence as a sign of his desire for her. Kampan's Surpanakha, in sum, is a fool whose words and actions reveal what they are intended to conceal. In the puppet play, by contrast, she does not resort to wheedling deceit or pretence of virtue. After declaring her lust for Rama (in the Kampan verse quoted above), Surpanakha launches into a robust defense: "realize that this energy, this passion, [kama ] is everywhere, in every one of us, in every kind of being." Love and lust are natural and necessary, she instructs Rama, and should not, and probably can not, be eliminated.

Surpanakha's impassioned defense of kama as universal and morally neutral is an explicit challenge to the theology of many devotional texts. To Kampan's Rama, kama is the lustful appetite that threatens his ascetic mission, but to the puppeteers' Surpanakha, kama ("Call it kama , call it lust, call it what you like") is blind to distinctions and afflicts demon and avatar alike. Her mistaken identification of Rama as Kama (the god of love) thus contains a disturbing truth.

In this opening scene, then, in Rama's confrontation with kama , the puppet play enacts its interpretation of the core conflict in the Rama story. Lurking like a dark shadow at the edge of perfection in Pancavati, Surpanakha's love for Rama is mirrored in (and causes) Ravana's love for Sita, and both are outbreaks of the demonic force that Rama must defeat. This is the true war in bhakti Ramayanas—a story of the good prince exiled to the forest where his asceticism is tested and his battles with lustful, violent women (and men) are moral victories.^[43] Temptation of the ascetic is an old theme in Hindu mythology, which bhakti rewrote. Whereas in the early myths the sage is seduced and his loss of spiritual power produces a more balanced distribution of forces, in

Kampan and other bhakti Ramayanas, the ascetic avatar must retain power in order to save those who would seduce or conquer him. Countering this claim that isolation produces moral power, the puppet play, like the early myths, exposes false ascetics and their inherently unstable seclusion. Rama's war on kama and Surpanakha's defense of it exemplify the distance between the bhakti ideal of isolated perfection and the folk ideal of balanced relations.

Balance is the goal in many folk Ramayanas and in Tamil folklore, generally. For instance, Yama, the king of the dead and final arbitrator of future lives, is known as the Balancer (caman ) because he metes out punishments to those who cheat servants, mistreat women, or underpay tale-tellers; should he falter and favor the guilty, a huge mountain dangling by a hair in the sky will fall and crush him. Lack of impartiality also plagues husbands, such as the polygamous Murukan, who is disqualified from arbitrating a dispute, and the moon, who is cursed to lose his power because he fails to treat his (thirty-two) wives equally. But balance is more than a metaphor in the huge ledger that Yama's accountant, Cittiraputra, pores over to determine what fate awaits each person at death, and even bodily health, the puppeteers instruct us, depends upon the correct ratio of inhalations to exhalations. Proper balance is thus required for cosmic order, social justice, and individual longevity.

In her defiant assertion that kama is not unique to demons, Surpanakha speaks in this idiom of equilibrium, the language of other folk texts in which Sita harbors desire for her ten-headed captor, Laksmana covets Sita, and Surpanakha, in her next birth, marries Laksmana.^[44] If, as Bob Goldman has suggested, the demons represent dark forces exiled from Rama, the puppet play seeks to restore a prior balance.^[45] Recoiling from this mixture of categories, bhakti theology maintains the separation of Rama-Visnu, an insularity which in many Rama texts explains why the avatar descended in the first place.^[46] The story goes that the earth has sunk under the weight of the demons' evil, a manifestation of a moral imbalance that must be rectified, and the problem grows worse when it turns out that all the great gods—Indra, Siva, Brahma—are ineligible for the task because each is somehow associated with the demons. Finally, Visnu is pressed into service since he alone is untainted by that association. But when Visnu truly descends and appears on the white cloth screen in Kerala, his isolation is short-lived because the puppet play knows more than the bhakti text can afford to admit. Kama is blind, Surpanakha said.