an open-air ramayana. 127
Ravan for many days has disappeared, and all that remains is this massive
paper emblem, inert, devoid of his maya,his energy. The evening will climax
with a conflagration that will consume even this emblem.
All is balanced. The contending forces of the universe are at peace. But still
the countless inhabitants of the world circulate, circulate, circulate.The elaborate, unlimited, physically and emotionally consuming world that has
been created from day one of the Lila dissolves on day thirty-one. It simply disap-
pears. The end can come as a rude shock to a devotee, even though he has known
all along that it was bound to happen. To see a vast world take shape, to become part
of it, to accept it as real, then to have it cease to exist is to be initiated into the dream-
like evanescence of all our “realities.” As Lakshman advises Guha, the tribal chief-
tain in the forest, “If in a dream the lord of paradise becomes a beggar or a pauper
is turned into a king, on waking there is neither loss nor gain. So you should look at
this deceiving world.”^8
In addition to the ultimate dissolution with the last performance, there is a dra-
matic dissolution every night at arati. Aratiis the form of Hindu worship, done in
both temples and homes, in which offerings are made and lights are waved before
the divine image, often to the accompaniment of songs, bells, and other instru-
ments. The Ramlila ends every night with a spectacular arati.The director
arranges a tableau that includes those of the five svarupswho were in that night ’s
Lila, and other important characters. He places special garlands over the garlands
the deities already wear and arranges the figures in perfect iconographic positions:
bow and arrow just so, lotus in hand, and so forth. Once Hanuman enters the nar-
rative, he stands behind them with his bright red mask, slowly waving a cow-hair
whisk. The outstanding devotee-character at that point of the Lila stands before
them and waves the tray of burning wicks. The Ramayanis shout their aratisong.
Bells, gongs, drums, and conch shells resound. Meanwhile the people (in maxi-
mum numbers at this point) are cheering, straining, taken over by a massive de-
sire to see. The climax is reached when a fireworks specialist lights two brilliant
flares. The first is red, and it covers the divine tableau with an intense pink light
lasting about thirty seconds. The second glows pink for a moment, then explodes
into a shattering white that outlines the gods in a hard dazzle and sends its glare
far back over the darkened audience. After another thirty seconds, the white light
goes out suddenly; the great tension snaps, and the hours of drama come to a de-
cisive close.