Amidst Adipurush frenzy, a look at why Tamil cinema has a soft corner for Ravan

The film begins with Ravan celebrating the birth of his daughter. He calls for a country-wide festival, and before that, he calls Lord Brahma to discern the astrology for his newborn. Brahma says the girl is bad news for his kingdom and she shouldn’t be around. With a heavy heart, he puts her in a wooden box and orders her to be dropped in the ocean. Now, you get the drift. The daughter comes back as Sita with her husband Ram and brother-in-law Lakshman. When Surpanaka (Sri Priya) tells Ravan that his daughter is all grown up and back, he wants to visit her and bring her home. Things take an unfortunate twist and due to miscommunication, war ensues between Ram and Ravan.

Throughout the film, Ravan is portrayed as a father who wants to get back into the life of his daughter, and he actually calls Ram his beloved in one instance. Due to the melodramatic nature of the verbose film, things might seem funny at times–especially the dialogues and exaggerated performances of the actors. It is unfair to judge the movie made in the 80s with contemporary yardsticks, but it is below par compared to some of the classics that were made in those times. However, the content of the film is interesting as it tries to justify the actions of Ravan.

Even contemporary Tamil filmmaker Mani Ratnam has toyed with a similar idea in his film Raavanan (2010). It retells Ramayan as a revenge story with Veera (Vikram) aka Ravan, who abducts the wife of IPS officer Dev Prakash Subramaniam (Prithviraj). Aishwarya Rai played the woman in distress Ragini Subramaniam, the film’s version of Sita. Veera’s actions are motivated by the death of his sister Vennila (Priyamani)–read Soorpanaka.

Veera treats Ragini with more dignity than Dev does in the end. While Mani Ratnam’s Veera, mostly seen in dark attires, becomes a people’s crusader, Dev, mostly clad in white, operates as a flagbearer of righteousness. Dev goes to the extent of using his wife as bait to lure in Ravan and hunts him down. In the film, Ram becomes sly–mind you, he was sly even in the original text while killing Valee. Even the role of Hanuman in Raavanan, portrayed by Karthik, is treated as a self-serving character, who has a bone to pick with Veera. However, what’s fascinating about the film is the romantic tension between Ravan and Sita. While Ravan gets close to confessing his feeling for her, Ragini doesn’t spell out things but Aishwarya emotes the soft corner. It is a beautiful depiction of the classic Stockholm Syndrome. I wonder if such a film is even possible to be made now.

The more recent and subtle take on Ramayan is Pa Ranjith’s Kaala. Now, Kaala has an entirely different story from Ramayan, but there are multiple references to the Hindu epic. Rajinikanth’s Kaala is referred to as a ten-headed Ravan in Santosh Narayanan’s brilliant composition, “Kattravai Pattravai”. Even Nana Patekar’s Hari Dhadha, a symbol of white and purity, refers to him as Ravan. On top of all that, in a scene, the Tamil book Ravanakaaviyam is seen sitting on the table of Kaala, which is more telling of the politics of the film. Written by Dravidian poet Pulavar Kuzhandhai, the book came out in 1946, which depicts Ram and his family as the villains while celebrating Ravan as a South hero, who is killed by the Aryan king.

Perhaps, one can trace back this glorification of Ravan all the way back to the Dravidian movement and Periyar’s take on Ramayan. Periyar, the founder of Dravida Kazhagam, argued that Ramayan depicts people in the South as demons and glorifies North Indians. According to his reading of Ramayan, Ram is an Aryan king who invades and kills Ravan, a southern king. By this interpretation of Ramayan, Periyar also reinforced the much-debated Aryan-Dravidian theory. So, it can be argued that the soft-corner Ravan enjoys in the collective consciousness of the South also stems from the Dravidian movement that continues to shape the politics of Tamil Nadu.