What if this was the Ramayan we grew up listening to?

“Love was full of contradictions. Sometimes the person you loved weakened you and sometimes he or she made you a stronger person.”

- The Forest of Enchantments by Chitra Banerjee

We’ve all heard the love story of Ram and Sita growing up—one of the greatest love stories in Indian mythology. Yet, as with most Hindu scriptures, the female voice is often muted, barely explored, and frequently portrayed as passive. The narrative traditionally casts women as spectators rather than active contributors, with Sita often depicted as the quintessential damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued by her beloved Ram from the clutches of Ravana. I always wondered why Sita, who had so many chances to escape, waited for Ram to rescue her.

This book finally provided that answer, and it was incredibly satisfying. (Though, you’ll need to read it yourself to fully understand what I mean!)

"The Forest of Enchantments" comes from the same vein as Divakaruni’s "The Palace of Illusions", humanizing divine figures and showing them through a deeply human lens. Rather than being portrayed as perfect, larger-than-life deities, the characters in this retelling are flawed, raw, and incredibly real. As the saying goes, "to err is human," and indeed, they do.

I won’t dive too much into the plot—we all know the story of the Ramayana. But what makes this version special is that it’s told from Sita’s perspective. It doesn’t depict her as merely a patient, docile wife waiting for her husband. Instead, we hear her voice—her love, her fears, her contradictions with Ram’s decisions, her strengths, her weaknesses, and her anger. What I loved most was how even the "villains" of the story, like Ravana, are portrayed with nuance and complexity through Sita’s eyes. She acknowledges their logic but is bound by her loyalty to Ram.

“Even if we love them with our entire being, even if we’re willing to commit the most heinous sin for their well-being. We must understand and respect the values that drive them. We must want what they want, not what we want for them.”

Sita even gives a voice to characters who are often forgotten, like Laxman’s wife, Urmila. These women, who endured in silence, become silent heroes in Sita’s retelling.

"Forgive me, Sister, I said silently, you who are the unsung heroine of this tale, the one who has the tougher role: to wait and to worry."

The book doesn’t try to alter the Ramayana, nor does it add new elements. Instead, it presents the familiar story from a female perspective, shining a light on how logic and duty often take precedence over love in a patriarchal society—and the devastating consequences of that imbalance. One of the most heartbreaking moments in the book is when Ram, after winning the war, doesn’t accept Sita and demands she prove her purity. She complies, only for him to later demand the same from her in front of the kingdom, revealing his vulnerability to societal pressure and a fragile male ego.

Even a god-like figure such as Ram is shown to be flawed, highlighting the weight of expectations in a patriarchal world.

"I don’t agree with you that the private life must be sacrificed for the public one. And that is the final advice that I leave for my children: my dearest boys, balance duty with love. Trust me, it can be done."

This book made me wonder—if this had been the version of the Ramayana we grew up with, would it have shifted the way society treats women? Would it have led to a world where women’s voices are as revered as men’s? Perhaps we’ll never know. But I’m sure of one thing: this is the version of the Ramayana I want my children to grow up with. It’s a story that reminds us to value love alongside duty and to honor women’s voices in all their strength and complexity.

I strongly urge everyone to read The Forest of Enchantments. It’s not just a retelling of an ancient epic—it’s a powerful reflection on gender, power, and what it means to truly love.

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