Growing up in a
traditional Hindu household
, I often woke in the morning to the sounds of ‘Raghupati Raghava Raja Ram’. And among the many stories my grandfather told me, my favourites were those of Ram’s adventures. My cousins and I often enacted these adventures, using kitchen utensils as our weapons. My cousins wanted me to be
Sita
, but that wasn’t much fun as I had to sit under the clothes-drying rack (our makeshift Ashok van) and allow the other children (enacting rakshashis) to leap at me, grimacing and brandishing ladles. Sometimes I was allowed to be Surpanakha. I liked that better as I got to scream and make faces after
Ram
rejected my love and Lakshman cut off my nose and ears with a spoon. But the role I really coveted was that of Ram. His adventures were the coolest as he got to be friends with monkeys who possessed special powers, lead them across the ocean, and kill countless evil rakshashas. Of course, this wasn’t permitted. After all, as my scandalised male cousins were quick to remind me, I was a girl.
English (US) ·