Aranya Kanda
Analysis
Now that the Maricha episode is complete, let’s look at what inner indicators and insights it is giving us. But I felt that for quite some time we haven’t gone back to the core spirit of the Ramayana. We’ve just been moving forward story by story, without revisiting the main underlying theme. So today, before we talk about the Maricha story, I want to very briefly touch the basic essence of the Ramayana. If we don’t keep that inner essence in view, the stories that come will not be understood in the right light.
The word Ramayana itself tells us its meaning: Ram–ayan — the dwelling, the home, the field of Ram. In this epic, Ram’s birth is described only briefly; what is elaborated in detail is the mahatmya — the greatness — of Ram. From beginning to end of the Valmiki Ramayana, the character named Ram is not just some particular historical person called “Ram.” This point is crucial to hold if we want to truly understand the Ramayana. The Ram of Valmiki is a pointer to a special state of consciousness.
So here Ram means: that distinct consciousness which has become firmly established in Self-knowledge — in its own true form, the Atma-svarupa. We may be ten people sitting here, each with their own type of consciousness, each at a different level. Among these, who is Ram? The one whose consciousness has become steady in the real Self — that is Ram. In simpler words, we can say: the person who knows their true nature, their Atma-svarupa, and abides in it, becomes Ram.
In this land of Bharat, many beings have realized their true Self and remained established in it; that is why this is called Ram-bhumi — the land of Ram. It is not called Ram-bhumi because of one individual person alone, but because countless people here have recognized their real nature. Whoever recognizes their real Self is, in this sense, Ram. It may sound new, even a little strange, but this is the inner understanding of the Valmiki Ramayana. So please keep this carefully in your heart.
In this great epic, the detailed description of Ram’s greatness is actually the description of the greatness of Self-knowledge — the value and glory of living established in one’s real Self. All the Vedas, all the Upanishads, all the Puranas endlessly call us toward this same state: to become rooted in Self-knowledge. The Ramayana, too, has this very aim. It is not only Ram who says “become established in Self-knowledge, become Ram”; the entire Vedic and Upanishadic tradition is making this same call. We too must come to know, recognize, and abide in our real Self; only then can we move toward liberation.
Liberation from what? From our own ego and our own inner distortions (vikaras). Moving toward liberation means becoming free from our ego and the vikaras born from it. These ego-based vikaras are the true cause of our sorrow. Right now we have forgotten our real Self and take the body to be our true identity. As a result, we become attached to the body, to the roles connected to the body, to our positions, our possessions, our nationality, and even to our carefully constructed “image” of ourselves — “I am like this, I am that kind of person.” Our attachment to all of this is what the scriptures call abhimaan or deha-abhimaan.
So what is abhimaan? It is the attachment to the body and everything connected to it — roles, status, possessions, image. In the Ramayana, the character Ravana stands as the symbol of this abhimaan or deha-abhimaan. Ram is the symbol of Self-knowledge, and Ravana the symbol of ego.
From this body-based ego first arise “I” and “mine”. From there spring all the vikaras — desire, anger, greed, attachment, pride, jealousy, likes and dislikes (kāma, krodha, lobha, moha, mada, matsara, rāga, dvesha). These are shown in the Ramayana as Ravana’s brothers, relatives, and friends. In this very story, Maricha is called Ravana’s friend. All of Ravana’s family and associates are symbols of these inner impurities.
The Ramayana is hinting that only by becoming Ram, only by living established in Self-knowledge, can we truly destroy this Ravana of ego along with all his relatives — these vikaras. A question can arise: “To destroy my own ego and the vikaras born of it, why is it necessary to become Ram, to be established in the Self? Can’t a basically sattvic, good-natured person also wipe out these vikaras?” The Ramayana gives a very important pointer here.
Over the journey of many births — leaving one body, taking another — our deha-abhimaan, together with its companions like desire, anger, greed, etc., becomes very strong and turns into deep samskaras. It sinks into the subconscious mind, into the depths of the mind, and from there keeps rising up again and again to the surface level of the conscious mind, causing harm and sorrow to every human being.
This is why we need to become Ram, to be established in Self-knowledge. We have two levels of mind: the conscious mind and the subconscious mind. We are not speaking here about the conscious mind — we are talking about the subconscious. As our life-stream continues through many bodies, the deha-abhimaan and the vikaras born of it become deeply rooted samskaras and sink into the subconscious. From there they keep emerging into the conscious mind and troubling us.
The vikaras that arise only at the conscious level can be removed relatively easily; any sincerely sattvic person can work on them. But those vikaras that have become strong samskaras in the subconscious cannot be destroyed so easily. To destroy these deeply rooted ego-based vikaras buried in our own subconscious, it is essential to become Ram — to live in Self-knowledge.
In the Ram-katha, whenever Ram kills a demon that represents a vikara, it is such a demon that has sunk deep into the mind as a samskara and from there continually comes up to the surface to cause suffering. If a vikara appears only at the conscious level, we can deal with it. But when it is deeply embedded as a samskara, only Self-knowledge can truly destroy it.
In Ram — that is, in Self-knowledge — there is an astonishing power: the person established in Self-knowledge remains a constant inner witness (antardrashta). This person’s special strength is that as soon as a vikara raises its head — that is, as soon as it comes up from the subconscious to the conscious level — he or she immediately either destroys it or renders it powerless and ineffective. Earlier in the story, Ram destroyed demons like Khara, Dushana and Trishira very easily, but the demoness Shurpanakha he did not kill; he only made her harmless and left her. Some vikaras are destroyed at once, while others are merely made ineffective; why some are left that way is a point we may discuss later when that context arises.
This much is the background. Now, after reading and reading the Ramayana, we have come to the Maricha episode. We must understand Maricha in this inner framework.
In the Maricha episode, the demon Maricha represents the personification of the vikara called moha (attachment/deluded clinging). We may ask: “Why is Maricha specifically a symbol of moha? Why not some other vikara?” The answer can be understood by looking at (1) the etymology of the word Maricha and (2) the origin story of Maricha in the Ramayana.
The word Maricha comes from marichi. Marichi means mirage (mrig-trishna, mrig-marichika), that is, illusion. So that which arises from mirage, from illusion, is Maricha. The greatest illusion for a human being is forgetting one’s real Self. From this illusion, in the mind and intellect, arises the vikara called moha. It is this moha that is indicated here by the demon Maricha. So, from illusion is born Maricha, and what is born in us from illusion is moha — the vikara of deluded attachment.
The word moha itself comes from the root muh, which means stupefaction, confusion, ignorance. At the practical level, moha means: the mind’s attachment to what it calls “mine”. When we are in deha-abhimaan, “I” and “mine” are always there. From “I” comes “mine”, and then we get attached to that “mine”: my body, my children, my house, my property, my fame. This constant “my, my, my” in every field of life — and the attachment we feel toward it — is moha.
Now, the origin story. In the Bal Kanda of the Ramayana, in the story of Vishwamitra, Maricha is said to be the son of the demoness Tataka and a demon named Sunda. There we understood that Tataka stands for a fixed belief or assumption (manyata), and Sunda stands for an impure or pleasure-seeking mind. We have many beliefs inside us, but which particular belief does Tataka represent? It is this belief: “I am the body.”
When the thought “I am the body” becomes a firmly imprinted belief in the subconscious, that belief is Tataka. When this belief joins with our impure, enjoyment-seeking mind (Sunda), together they give birth to moha. Just as a child is born from the union of male and female, here the “female” is Tataka — the belief “I am the body” — and the “male” is Sunda — the impure, bhogi mind. Joined together, they produce moha, which is shown in the story as the powerful demon Maricha. It is a strong vikara; that is why it is depicted as a demon.
So, both by word and by origin, Maricha = moha-vikara. Now, through this long story, what hints about moha are being given? Through the Maricha episode, five important indications are made.
First indication: Even newly arisen Self-knowledge at the conscious level is so powerful, important, and strong that our very old deha-abhimaan — Ravana — which has become a samskara over many lifetimes, cannot attack it directly. In the story, Ravana does not directly attack Ram. He goes to his friend Maricha. Why? Because he cannot face Ram head-on. The hint is: deha-abhimaan is very old, strong, and rooted in the subconscious; Self-knowledge may have just awakened in us and seems “young,” but even this “new-born” Self-knowledge is capable of destroying that ancient ego-samskara.
That is why the Ramayana emphasizes: Ram is “young,” Ravana is very old and powerful — how can a child kill such a mighty Ravana? The deeper message is: even if Self-knowledge is new in us, it is still stronger than very old ego. So Ravana does not attack Ram directly; instead, he takes the help of his friend Maricha — moha. Through moha, he tries to get control over Sita, the symbol of pure thinking in the person established in Self-knowledge. Sita is not just some separate woman here; she is the symbol of the entire pure thinking of the Self-knower. When ego cannot attack Self-knowledge directly, it plans to steal pure thinking. So Ravana goes to Maricha and says in effect: “I cannot approach Ram directly, but I need to abduct Sita, his pure thinking. Your job is to draw Ram and Lakshman away from the hermitage.” The first hint then is: ego (Ravana) attacks our pure thinking (Sita) with the help of moha (Maricha).
Second indication: Moha — Maricha — traps our pure thinking by taking on ever-new attractive forms and deceiving us. How does moha attack Sita? By appearing as the golden deer. Two aspects of Sita’s behavior are highlighted: (1) her intense desire to obtain the golden deer, and (2) the sharp, bitter words she suddenly speaks to Lakshman. She insists: “Bring it alive or dead — but I must have it. If alive, I will keep it in Ayodhya and enjoy it; if killed, I will sit on its skin.” This shows how our pure thinking, when captured by moha, develops intense craving. Then, under that spell, it can behave in ways we would never expect — even speaking harshly to those who are very dear to us. Sita’s unexpected sharp words to Lakshman indicate how, when we are caught in moha, our behavior and speech change in surprising ways.
Third indication: Maricha being shown as a golden deer is a key to understanding the special nature of moha. Other vikaras like desire, anger, greed do not necessarily have a charm that feels beautiful; but moha has a dazzling, gold-like attraction. Just as people are eager and restless to obtain gold, moha attracts us with a similar shine. Because it is so attractive, it becomes hard to recognize moha as a vikara.
The word swarna-mrig (golden deer) has two parts: swarna (gold) and mrig. Swarna hints at the gold-like attraction of moha. Mrig here does not just mean “animal”; it comes from the Sanskrit root mrig, meaning “to seek, to search for” — mrigyamaan, that which must be sought out. The message is: moha is both highly attractive and something that must be consciously searched out and recognized. Until we see and admit, “This is moha, this is a vikara,” we will not try to destroy it. The day we recognize, “Yes, this is a vikara,” that same day we begin to work on it. Because moha is so charming, it is hard to detect, and therefore it must be deliberately sought out — that is why it is called swarna-mrig.
Fourth indication: Lakshman symbolizes our power of discrimination and reasoning (vichar-shakti). In the story, when the golden deer is roaming about, Lakshman says, “This looks like deception to me. This cannot be a real deer.” That means vichar-shakti recognizes the deceitful nature of moha. It can see that something is wrong. Yet Lakshman does not kill the deer. Why? Because by then Sita has already been enchanted. Our pure thinking has already fallen under the spell of moha. Once thinking (Sita) has become enslaved by moha’s attraction, vichar-shakti, though aware, finds itself unable to control it — it becomes, as it were, crippled and helpless in front of that captivated mind. Lakshman warns, but Sita does not listen; she keeps saying, “I want it, I must have it.” This shows that when our thoughts are already under the influence of moha, even if our discriminating intellect warns us, that warning is ignored.
Fifth indication: The vikara called moha is not new for anyone; it has been active for everyone from the beginning. It even attacks the pure thinking of the Self-oriented person. But moha thrives only in body-consciousness (deha-bhav). As long as we live as “I am the body,” moha flourishes. If we become firmly established in Self-knowledge, moha does not flourish — it is destroyed. So Maricha coming into the presence of Ram symbolizes the end of moha. Who kills Maricha? Ram. Ram means Self-knowledge, the consciousness established in the Self. When our consciousness becomes steadfast in Self-knowledge, moha cannot continue; it dies. That is why the story says: when Maricha came before Ram, he was killed. In this way, the Maricha episode, in my view, offers five inner hints about moha—its deceptive and charming nature, and how only Self-knowledge can truly bring it to an end.
Moha has two aspects: it is deceptive and trick-based. It attacks us through both: illusion and cunning. For the person established in Self-knowledge, neither its deception nor its tricks can succeed. Moha always attacks our thinking. During the time we are under moha’s attack, our pure thinking becomes tainted. The words Sita speaks — accusing Lakshman of wanting her, implying base motives — such words appear nowhere else in the Ramayana; they are shown here only to illustrate the distortion caused by moha.
Finally, there is a subtle point about a word in the text. In the forty-fourth chapter, we came across the term “māṃsa” for the first time, and again in this forty-fifth chapter, in the twenty-seventh shloka. The translators generally render it as “fruit and roots,” saying Ram killed Maricha, and then “taking the deer’s flesh and fruits and roots, returned to the hermitage.” Since “meat” doesn’t fit their devotional picture, they replace it with “fruit and roots.” But the word written there is in fact māṃsa. If we remove the added dot (anusvara), we find the root “mas” behind it. In Sanskrit, the root mas means “in a limited measure,” parimita parimāṇa. So the subtle indication is: whatever Ram took from there — tubers, roots, fruits — he took them in limited quantity and then went toward the hermitage. So here māṃsa is not a sign for meat or even for fruit and roots; it is a symbol for restraint and measure — taking only what is needed, in limited amount.