Unit 10 · Epics, Puranas and Poets

When a Hindu grandparent begins the Ramayana, they often speak as if telling true history. The Sanskrit word for the two great epics is itihasa. It comes from iti ha asa, which means ’so indeed it was.’

Many Hindus read the epics as history: real events in a distant age. Others read them mainly as sacred stories that teach dharma. Scholars study them as epics, long poems about heroes, gods, war and duty, which grew over centuries.

Itihasa belongs to smriti, the remembered texts. Yet the epics are hugely important. The Mahabharata calls itself a fifth Veda. For many Hindus, the epics are the most loved of all their texts, told at bedtime, on stage and on TV.

Hindu tradition says the sage Valmiki composed the Ramayana and is honored as the first poet. It says the sage Vyasa composed the Mahabharata and also arranged the Vedas. In the traditional view, the events took place in very ancient ages.

Scholars see the epics as growing over many centuries. Most date their main growth to roughly 400 BCE to 400 CE. They point to layers in the text: some parts seem older, some added later.

Both views are held with care. A Hindu reader may honor Valmiki as the poet while also enjoying the work of scholars. This course names both views and does not decide between them. Remember to use ’c.’ for these dates.

A frame story is a story that holds other stories, like a picture frame. The Mahabharata has at least three frames. A bard tells sages in the Naimisha forest. Inside, Vaishampayana tells King Janamejaya. Inside that, the heroes’ story unfolds.

The Ramayana has a frame too. In its first book, Valmiki hears Rama’s story from the sage Narada. Later he sees a hunter kill a bird, and his grief flows out in a new kind of verse, the shloka. The god Brahma then asks him to tell Rama’s story in that verse.

Frames do several jobs. They show who passed the story down. They let characters pause to teach. They also remind readers that the tale is being told, and that listening is part of it.

The Mahabharata tells of two sets of cousins, the Pandavas and the Kauravas. They quarrel over a kingdom. The epic follows them from birth, through a dice game and exile, to a great war and its sad aftermath.

The story is arranged in eighteen parvas, or books. The first is the Adi Parva, the book of beginnings. The Sabha Parva holds the dice game. The Bhishma Parva holds the Bhagavad Gita. The last books tell of the heroes’ final journey.

Eighteen shows up again and again. The war lasts eighteen days, eighteen armies fight, and the Gita has eighteen chapters. Many readers notice this pattern. Scholars also note a list of a hundred smaller sections, the upaparvas.

Valmiki’s Ramayana has seven kandas. The Bala Kanda tells of Rama’s childhood. Ayodhya Kanda tells of his exile. Aranya Kanda, the forest book, includes Sita’s capture. Kishkindha Kanda tells of the monkey kingdom.

Sundara Kanda, the beautiful book, follows Hanuman to Lanka. Yuddha Kanda tells of the war. Uttara Kanda, the last book, tells of Rama’s reign and of Sita’s later trials. Many scholars think the first and last books were added later than the middle five.

Many Hindus read the Sundara Kanda on its own as a devotional text. Some families recite it in times of trouble. This shows that a part of an epic can take on its own life in worship.

During the Pandavas’ forest exile, sages tell them stories to comfort and teach them. In one, King Nala loses his kingdom at dice and wanders the forest. His wife Damayanti never gives up, and at last they are reunited.

The Pandavas, too, have lost everything at dice. So the story mirrors their own, and it gives them hope that loss is not the end. Readers see how the epic uses side stories to hold up a mirror to the main characters.

Another tale tells of Savitri, who follows Yama, the lord of death, as he carries away her husband’s life. With wisdom and persistence, she wins it back. Many Hindu women honor Savitri in a yearly fast called Vat Savitri.

In the Sabha Parva, Yudhishthira, the eldest Pandava, gambles away his kingdom, his brothers, himself and finally his wife, Draupadi. She is dragged into the hall. She asks the elders: did he lose himself first? If so, could he still wager me?

The elders fall silent. Even the wise Bhishma says dharma here is subtle. The epic does not give an easy answer. It lets the question hang in the air. The Mahabharata often says that dharma is subtle and hard to know.

The Ramayana tends to show clearer models, like Rama keeping his father’s promise. Yet it has hard moments too. Both epics invite readers to argue about what the right action was. Many Hindu families and scholars do exactly that.

The epics are full of friendships: Rama and Hanuman, Krishna and Arjuna, Rama and the monkey king Sugriva. They also show friendships that lead to harm, like Duryodhana and Karna, bound by loyalty even to a wrong cause.

The epics teach about kingship. The Shanti Parva, the book of peace, has Bhishma, dying on a bed of arrows, teach Yudhishthira how to rule. In the Ramayana, Rama’s reign, Ramrajya, became an ideal of just rule. Gandhi used the word for a fair society.

The epics do not hide grief. After the war, the Mahabharata’s women weep over the dead in the Stri Parva. Readers often say the epic’s ending feels like mourning, not victory, even for the winners.

The Mahabharata is enormous. The first complete English prose translation was published in Calcutta between 1883 and 1896. It is credited to Kisari Mohan Ganguli, and it was first issued by the publisher Pratap Chandra Roy.

Ralph T.H. Griffith, who later translated the Rig Veda, translated Valmiki’s Ramayana into English verse, published 1870–74 as The Ramayan of Valmiki. Both works are now in the public domain.

Scholars later made Critical Editions of both epics by comparing many manuscripts. The Pune edition of the Mahabharata took from 1919 to 1966. Newer translations are based on these. Older ones remain useful because they are free to read and quote.

Valmiki’s Sanskrit Ramayana is not the only one. In the 12th century (c.), the poet Kamban retold it in Tamil as the Ramavataram. Kamban’s Rama is more clearly divine, and his poetry is loved across Tamil Nadu.

In the 16th century, Tulsidas retold it in Awadhi, a form of Hindi, as the Ramcharitmanas, the lake of Rama’s deeds. It is full of bhakti, loving devotion to Rama. In North India, it is the Ramayana many families know best and recite at home.

There are versions in Bengali, Telugu, Malayalam and many other languages, and in Thailand, Indonesia and beyond. Jain and Buddhist tellings exist too. Scholars speak of many Ramayanas, each with its own emphasis.

Where does the story of Prahlad come from? Or Krishna lifting a mountain? Or Durga defeating a buffalo demon? Many come from the Puranas. Purana means old, and these texts tell ancient tales.

Tradition counts eighteen major Puranas, the Mahapuranas, and many minor ones. They include creation stories, family lines of gods and kings, descriptions of the universe, and rules for worship and pilgrimage. Tradition often names Vyasa as their arranger.

Scholars date most of the Puranas to about 300–1500 CE, with much growth during and after the Gupta period. Each one often favors one deity. Some center on Vishnu, some on Shiva, some on the Goddess. They are part of smriti.

The Bhagavata Purana is among the most loved Puranas. Its tenth book tells of Krishna’s childhood in Vraja: stealing butter, lifting Govardhana hill to shelter the villagers, and dancing with the gopis, the cowherd women.

For many Vaishnavas, the Bhagavata is a central scripture. It teaches bhakti through stories. Scholars often date it to about the 9th–10th century CE, and many link it to South Indian devotion.

The Devi Mahatmya, part of the Markandeya Purana, praises the Goddess. It tells how Durga defeats Mahishasura and other demons. Shakta Hindus recite it, especially during Navaratri. It presents the Goddess as the supreme power of the universe.

The Gita says that whenever dharma declines, the Lord comes into the world to protect the good (Gita 4.7–8). The Puranas tell how Vishnu does this as an avatar, meaning one who descends.

A common list names ten avatars: Matsya the fish, Kurma the tortoise, Varaha the boar, Narasimha the man-lion, Vamana the dwarf, Parashurama, Rama, Krishna, the Buddha or Balarama, and Kalki, who is yet to come.

Lists differ. The Bhagavata names more than twenty. Some lists include the Buddha, others Balarama. Vaishnavas honor these avatars as Vishnu himself, and some see Krishna as the source of all avatars.

The Gita already praises bhakti, loving devotion. From about the 6th century CE, it became a wave of song. Poet-saints sang to Shiva, Vishnu, Krishna, Rama and the Goddess, in their own languages rather than Sanskrit.

Bhakti poets often spoke to God like a friend, a parent, a child or a beloved. They taught that love matters more than ritual rules or high birth. Many came from groups that were barred from Vedic learning.

Bhakti began in the Tamil south and spread north over centuries. It shaped temple worship, festivals and home devotion. Much Hindu practice today, like singing bhajans or kirtan, grows from this movement.

Between about the 6th and 9th centuries CE, twelve Alvars sang to Vishnu in Tamil. Their songs were gathered into the Nalayira Divya Prabandham, the four thousand divine hymns. Sri Vaishnavas, followers of Ramanuja, honor it like a Tamil Veda.

At the same time, sixty-three Nayanars sang to Shiva. Their hymns form part of the Tirumurai, a sacred collection for Tamil Shaivas. Songs by Appar, Sambandar and Sundarar are sung in Shiva temples today.

These poet-saints came from many backgrounds. Andal was a woman poet among the Alvars. Tiruppan Alvar came from a caste of singers who were kept out of temples. Karaikkal Ammaiyar was a woman among the Nayanars.

Stories of the poet-saints often show devotion crossing caste lines. Tiruppan Alvar was not allowed into the temple at Srirangam. A story says a priest carried him in on his shoulders at the god’s command.

In Maharashtra, the poet-saint Chokhamela was from a caste treated as untouchable. His songs ask why he must stand outside the temple. Ravidas, a leatherworker poet in North India, sang that God loves the humble. His songs are in the Sikh Guru Granth Sahib.

Historians note that bhakti did not end caste. Many temples still barred people for centuries. But the poet-saints gave voice to people often left out, and later reformers drew on their songs.

Mirabai lived in Rajasthan in the 1500s. Tradition says she was married into a royal family but gave her heart to Krishna. She sang in a mix of Rajasthani and Braj, languages the people spoke.

Her songs speak to Krishna as her beloved. They show longing, joy and courage. Many describe her refusal to follow rules that kept her from worship. Scholars note that many songs under her name were added by later singers.

Mirabai became a symbol. Gandhi admired her courage. Women across India have seen her as a model of following one’s calling. Her bhajans are sung today in homes, temples and concert halls, including in Illinois.

Kabir was a weaver in Varanasi in the 1400s. Tradition says he was raised in a Muslim family and learned from a Hindu teacher, Ramananda. He sang short, sharp verses called dohas.

Kabir mocked empty ritual in both Hindu and Muslim practice. He sang that God is found within, not in temple or mosque. He often called God Ram, but he meant a God beyond all forms and names.

Many groups claim Kabir. Hindus sing his songs. Muslims honor him. His verses are in the Sikh Guru Granth Sahib. The Kabir Panth follows him as its founder. A story says Hindus and Muslims argued over his body, and found only flowers.

Tulsidas (c. 1532–1623) wrote the Ramcharitmanas in Awadhi. It retells the Ramayana as a song of devotion to Rama. The Hanuman Chalisa, forty verses to Hanuman that many Hindus recite daily, is traditionally credited to him.

Tukaram (17th century) was a grocer’s son in Maharashtra. He sang abhangas, devotional songs, to Vithoba, a form of Krishna at Pandharpur. Every year, many pilgrims walk to Pandharpur singing the songs of Tukaram and other poet-saints.

Both poets wrote for ordinary people. Tulsidas said he wrote for his own heart’s joy. Tukaram’s songs were so loved that a story says his notebooks, thrown into a river, returned undamaged. Their songs remain part of daily Hindu life.