In some ways the controversy about whether Ram
actually existed or is a character imagined in a
work of fiction takes us back to debates on
history in the 19^th and a major part of the 20^th
century. Then the positivist school saw history
as an exact science, or at least as having
pretensions of being an exact science. It was
based on the assumption that the facts of history
were as precise and objective as those of the
natural sciences and were capable of yielding as
unambiguous a meaning. In so doing history was
set apart, even set in opposition, to mythology
which had no basis as an objective reality.

If the question is posed to a historian or an
archaeologist whether Ram actually existed as a
historical figure and whether events narrated in
the epic Ramayana are to be treated on a par with
objective facts, the answer would be a resounding
no. The Archaeological Survey of India’s famous
paragraph submitted in its report to the Supreme
Court cannot be faulted on this count.

Historians and archaeologists look for a certain
kind of evidence such as historical chronicles,
epigraphs, coins and monuments and have a close
look at the chronological proximity of the
evidence to the events to which they bear
witness. The further a piece of evidence from the
event is located, the less its value. No evidence
of this nature would testify to the historical
existence of the figures and events described in
epics, just as names, persons, events described
in a novel, however realistic, are still
imaginary.

However, does it imply that mythology, epics and
novels are to be dismissed as unreflective of any
kind of reality because the nature of historical
evidence does not bear out their existence? Under
positivist assumptions, yes. But then positivism
itself is far from being the ultimate truth and
has suffered severe questioning in recent
decades. Mythology, fiction, poetry and paintings
relate to a different genre of reality, that
could for convenience be grouped under culture,
of which religion also becomes an important
segment, even as the two are far from being
synonymous.

In that sense culture and mythology too acquire
the characteristics of an objective social
reality, which governs our attitudes and
behaviour. The cultural presence of Ram in India
is quite beyond measure in terms of objective
history.

Even those of us who are devout atheists do not
forget to light the lamps on the night of Diwali
when the mythological Ram returned from his
imaginary exile of 14 years, however we might
explain it. The stories from the Ramayana,
Mahabharata and various other mythological
sources imbibed in our childhood remain part of
our cultural subconscious, even when we turn away
from them in defence of our atheism.

It is also true that there is not one story of
Ram and his exile, but several. We only have to
see Paula Richman’s marvellous book, The Many
Ramayanas, to appreciate the diversities in the
tale. However, the treatment of Ram as a
mythological, rather than a historical figure,
does not in any way undermine his cultural
presence in people’s lives.

We just have to look around and see the
variations of Ram attached to the names of
persons, mostly of men, but often also of women,
to make a quick assessment of the enormity of his
cultural presence. If he were indeed a historical
figure, ruling over a minor regional kingdom in
Ayodhya, Ram would probably have been relegated
to a footnote in a history of the region and
forgotten.

Should then this enormous cultural presence of
Ram be treated as evidence that the so-called Ram
Setu across the sea was actually built by his
vanar sena? That would hardly be a tenable
inference. For, mythology by its very nature is
not evidence of historical artefacts, just as the
notion of a pushpak vimana in the

Ramayana is hardly evidence of a flourishing
aircraft industry in the time of Ram. How does
the secular Indian state handle issues of this
nature? Here it becomes entirely a political
question, completely independent of the issues of
Ram’s historicity or otherwise. One political
party, when in power, sanctions the canal project
with great fanfare; out of power it smells an
opportunity to get rid of its present doldrums,
rattle the government and create a popular wave
in its favour. All it needs to do is to stage a
few demonstrations and TV channels and newspapers
lap them up.

The Indian electorate has shown on several
occasions that it is not willing to be swayed by
issues of this nature. Remember the defeat of the
BJP in the Hindi belt in the wake of the
demolition of the Babri masjid? If the UPA
government has the will to call the sangh
parivar’s bluff on Ram Setu, it could still go
ahead with the project after satisfying the
Supreme Court. But the government went down on
its knees even as the first few pictures of a few
score protestors appeared on the TV screens. It
was Indian democracy at its worst.