The hoisting of the saffron Dharma Dhwaj on the soaring shikhar of Ayodhya’s Ram Mandir by Prime Minister Narendra Modi—amid sacred chants and aarti—was accompanied by unmistakable sectarian rhetoric. Modi himself set the tone, describing the ceremony as the rectification of “historical injustices” and the “healing of centuries-old wounds”. The targets of these loaded allusions were amply clear, and as many Sangh Parivar associates themselves pointed out, they carried a definitive communal direction.
So, as the emblems of the Sun, Om, and the Kovidara tree fluttered in the wind, a pressing question lingered: does this moment truly embody the compassion, humility, and universal justice that the great poet Tulsidas’s Lord Ram represents in devotional poetry? The following article by Raghvendra Dubey raises this question subtly and without rhetoric, even as it probes the contribution of Professor Anantanand Rambachan, particularly in relation to Tulsidas. In more ways than one, Dubey highlights the gap between today’s political pomposity and the gentle principles of Ram—reminding us that elevating a symbol cannot substitute for the deeper work of living the ideals for which the symbols of Ram were first raised.
Professor Anantanand Rambachan teaches at St Olaf College, where he has been a member of the Religion Department since 1985. His academic journey began in Trinidad at the University of the West Indies, St Augustine, followed by an MA and PhD from the University of Leeds, where he researched “Classical Advaita Epistemology”. Until 2017, he served as Forum Humanum Visiting Professor at the Academy of World Religions at the University of Hamburg, contributing extensively to scholarship on Advaita, Hinduism in global contexts, Hindu ethics, and interfaith dialogue.
Now, Rambachan turns his scholarly attention to one of Hindi literature’s most revered figures: the sixteenth-century poet-saint Goswami Tulsidas. His assessment is no hagiography but a nuanced portrait that honours the poet while critically engaging with the limits of his worldview.
The Theologian, Not the Historian
“Tulsidas was, first and foremost, a gifted poet and devotee of Lord Ram,” Rambachan emphasises, noting a distinction often overlooked in today’s debates. “He composed the Ramcharitmanas for his own joy, his own understanding, and to share Ram’s deeds with other devotees. It is necessary to recognise that Tulsidas is a religious poet, not a historian.”
This point is crucial. Tulsidas’s aim was to tell a story that eased his inner sorrow and spiritually uplifted listeners—not to document events with historical precision. “He is not prepared to tell Ram’s story with the tools, intentions, or methods of a modern historian,” Rambachan notes. “Yet he clearly believed in the historical reality of Ram as an incarnation of God, and his work testifies to that belief.”
A Theological Truth Beyond Historical Fact
Rambachan observes that Tulsidas worked with an entirely different criterion of truth. “He is not concerned with confirming historical accuracy,” he explains. “Tulsidas’s criterion of truth is theological.”
For Tulsidas, God is above all a deity of love, and he seizes every opportunity to highlight this. The Ramcharitmanas is suffused with terms describing Ram as kripānidhān (abode of compassion), dīn-dayāl (merciful to the meek), śaraṇāgata-hitkārī (protector of those who seek refuge), and karuṇāmay (whose nature is compassion).
“Writing with devotional intent and a firm conviction in God’s form as love,” Rambachan explains, “Tulsidas narrates the central events of Ram’s life to reveal the nature of divine love and to present love as the path to human liberation.”
By this theological measure, an event is “true” if it expresses Ram’s loving nature and demonstrates divine responsiveness to human devotion.
“His priority is not to provide an eyewitness record,” Rambachan concludes, “but to reveal the nature of God. To read him as a modern historian is to misunderstand him.”
A Contemporary Contrast and the Unquestioned Hierarchies
The compassionate Ram Tulsidas evokes—defined by mercy, gentleness, and love—stands in stark contrast to contemporary political portrayals. The BJP has reshaped this figure into an angry, warrior-like Ram, an interpretation fundamentally misaligned with the theological vision of the poet-saint.
Yet Rambachan’s critique does not romanticise Tulsidas. For all his theological brilliance, the poet remained bound by the social prejudices of his era. “For Tulsidas, divinity as manifested through Ram is love,” Rambachan acknowledges. “However, when it came to caste and patriarchy, he was not a social reformer.”
The analysis sharpens here: “God’s love did not, in his view, conflict with or challenge entrenched social hierarchies. Caste and patriarchy were seen as part of the natural order, beyond question.”
Rambachan identifies the logic:
“If there was equality in the spiritual realm, there was no need for equality in the social realm.”
It is a reasoning that allowed profound spiritual insight to coexist with social oppression.
Breaking One Barrier, Reinforcing Others
Tulsidas’s legacy is marked by paradox. “He broke a language barrier by making Ram’s story accessible to those who did not read Sanskrit,” Rambachan notes, recognising his democratising contribution. “But he did not question the hierarchies of birth and gender that were woven into his worldview.”
This is the central contradiction: Tulsidas opened the doors of sacred literature through Awadhi, but left untouched the structures of caste and patriarchy that continued to marginalise and exclude large segments of society.
