Why I Do Not Want To Go to Ayodhya?

Ayodhya, Diwali, and the Unanswered Questions of Sita

When I think of Ayodhya, I think of patriarchy—a place where male rulers, male dynasties, and male ideals were exalted. The Ramayana, retold by Tulsidas, is an epic that has inspired generations, but I hesitate to encourage my daughters to read it in its entirety. The story reflects many virtues, yet parts of it leave me questioning the values it promotes, especially regarding women’s place and agency.

For me, this perspective is not a rejection of tradition nor a result of contemporary discourses on feminism. It’s a view that took root long ago, when I was barely twelve or thirteen, and it solidified through my own life experiences—especially the day I left my father’s home to live with my husband and adjust to a new family’s traditions after getting married. This transition highlighted for me the stark expectations that women shoulder in society. Many of us find pride in goddesses like Durga, Lakshmi, and Saraswati, believing them to symbolize female power. Yet, even today, how often do we honor the dignity of living women with the same reverence?

Ayodhya—and, by extension, the story of Sita—reveals some troubling truths about our society’s historical treatment of women. When Diwali, a festival that celebrates Ram’s triumphant homecoming, approaches, I find myself asking some uncomfortable questions:

1. Would Sita have received a similar welcome if she had returned from exile alone, without Ram? Ram was greeted with lights and joy, yet Sita’s return, marked by hardship and sacrifice, is scarcely celebrated. Why?

2. Would Diwali hold the same significance if Ram had come home without Sita? If the reunion was incomplete, would the festivities have been as jubilant?

3. Where is Sita’s father, Raja Janak, in this narrative? After Sita’s marriage, he fades from the story. It’s as though her identity and autonomy dissolved into Ram’s, leaving little room for her own voice or family ties.

4. Why was Sita’s father never consulted on whether she should accompany Ram into exile? It’s a decision with far-reaching consequences for her well-being, yet her consent or her family’s perspective is absent.

5. And finally, where was Ram’s empathy as a husband when he subjected Sita to a trial of purity? Asking his wife to prove herself to the world undercuts his role as her protector and partner. In any era, a husband’s duty includes compassion and loyalty, not submission to societal scrutiny at his wife’s expense.

Historically, epics like the Ramayana reflect the social structures of the eras in which they were written. Patriarchal societies, which revered warrior-kings and upheld rigid norms, often cast women in roles defined by sacrifice and silent endurance. Sita’s story, though mythological, mirrors a legacy that countless real women have carried over generations. Her silent endurance—the very quality that earns her reverence—speaks to a broader expectation for women to endure, adapt, and support the male hero's journey, often without a voice or agency of their own.

Some may feel that my perspective stems from modern ideals or an unwillingness to honor tradition. But if we’re to truly revere the goddesses and ideals of strength they represent, we need to extend similar respect to the real women in our lives. Worship without empathy becomes hollow. I believe that tradition has its place, yet there are parts of it that we might reimagine, honoring the essence of respect, dignity, and equity for all individuals.

While these stories have cultural value, they also show us the gaps we can still see today in how societies perceive women’s dignity, autonomy, and worth. The silent endurance of Sita speaks to a legacy that many women have carried. As we celebrate traditions, perhaps we might also question which stories we want to carry forward and which parts we should reimagine to reflect true respect for all individuals.

So, as the lights of Diwali shine brightly in celebration, I reflect not just on Ram’s journey but also on Sita’s. Her story deserves our contemplation, not for her suffering but for her resilience. And as we honor her legacy, perhaps we can strive to uplift and respect the countless real women who, like Sita, continue to seek justice, dignity, and respect in a world that often overlooks them.