Creation Myths

Today we toured five magnificent temples. Since Aseem has been the one with the guide book, he's played the role of tour guide, and has been giving us the back story for each structure. A creation myth for one of the temples was particularly interesting, so I'll recount it here:

The king Anayanda had a young son, whose name was Ramachandran. A precocious young boy, Ramachandran dreamed of travelling the world to learn about other cultures and to see its great wonders. One day, he approached his father to ask permission to leave the royal compound. Anayanda strictly forbade it. Not only was he worried that the vices of the world would corrupt his son, but he also knew that Ramachandran would likely never return to his provincial kingdom. So Anayanda strictly forbade Ramachandran from ever leaving the temple complex and condemned him to a life of study and religious reflection.

Ramachandran sank into a deep, dark depression. He absolutely hated his cloistered life, and no longer saw any point to living. He neglected his studies, forsook his friends, and stopped loving his father. His days were spent brooding silently in his room, and contemplating whether there was any point to this existence. Anayanda knew that he alone was responsible for his son's dramatic decline, but his personal pride prevented him from changing his decision. He must keep up appearances. Thus, Ramachandran grew up a lonely, glum boy, and his twentieth birthday was the loneliest day of his life.

The night of his birthday, Ramachandran sat in his room thinking about committing suicide. He couldn't continue this existence. Making up his mind, he opened his window and tip-toed out onto the roof.

From afar, a young girl named Suribana spotted Ramachandran's shadowy figure moving along the roof line. Her heart clenched. As a young girl she and Ramachandran had been close friends, and for a while there had even been talk of arranging their marriage. Suribana had heard of Ramachandran's prolonged depression, and she knew that his presence on the roof could mean only one thing. She was suddenly surprised by a strange occurrence. Ramachandran's figure changed. It grew wings, and towered into the air. All of a sudden it stretched its wings and flew into the damp night air.

No one ever saw Ramachandran again. Some thought that he had died, some thought that he had run away. But only Suribana knew the truth. Anayanda never forgave himself. He knew that Ramachandran had run away because of his decision nearly fifteen years ago, and he never could stop blaming himself. The kingdom fell into disrepair, poverty festered, and the population dwindled.

One fateful day, a great rain cloud approached. It loomed over the city as none had ever before. The rain spat down at the cursed kingdom, with drops as large as cashews. The damn upriver of the kingdom swelled, until the damn strained against the mighty pressure of the water. It could no longer hold. With one massive crack, a wall of water raced toward the kingdom. From his seat of power, Anayanda looked out at his wrecked kingdom. He knew that the end was near.

But Suribana knew otherwise. She felt a tingling in her big toe, and at that instant was inspired to call upon Ramachandran for help. Some visceral aspect of her being drove her to make the ancestral bird call, even though she had never heard it before: "Bagaaakaaawwww! Bagaaakaaaaawwwwwww!!! Areeeeeee! Areeeee! Areeeee! Goobblegobblekaw!" From beyond the horizon came a great rush of air. It seemed that all of the air from the region that we know know as Laos had decended on the country. The peasants staggered against the gale. Anayanda squinted and covered his eyes. Maybe one of the gods would kill them before the impending flood?

Then, from out of nowhere, Ramachandran in his bird form swooped o'er the country side. Dogs, chickens, and even geckos cowered under the shadow. Ramachandran pearched on the hut closest to the oncoming flood. He slowly produced a long bamboo rod, which he directed at the torrent of water. Still the water came. But as the frothy waters of the flood reached the hut, Ramachandran sprang into action. He placed the bamboo in his mouth and bent the rest of the rod down to the ground via an articulation. And then he bagan to drink. And drink. And drink and drink and drink. Until the flood waters were all gone. The city was saved.

Ramachandran, now looking more like a large pet rock with wings, struggled to his feet. He slowly turned, and with one wing saluted his father, letting out his signature cry, "Bagakaaaaawww! Bagaaaakaaaaaaaawwwwww! Areeee! Areeee! Areeee! Gobblegobblekaw!" He then stretched his wings and slowly flapped his turgid body away.

The town was shocked. All of them had thought that Ramachandran was dead, and yet they all knew that he alone was responsible for their salvation. Anayanda himself was torn. He did not know whether to be more thankful for the salvation of his people, or for the transformation of his only son into a lesser god. But one thing was clear. He had to thank his son. He set forth with a frenzy only matched by a hamster scampering on its wheel. Within a year the temple Banteay Srei was completed. To this day it remains one of the most visited and cherished temples in the Angkor Wat complex, partly because of it's numerous beautiful reliefs, partly because of its beautiful bird iconography, and partly because of its rich back story.