Who made Raavana a hero?

Raavana in Tamil pop culture and Dravidian politics

I was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram when a reel popped up with the song ‘Raavana Mavanda’ blasting in the background. I was also reminded of another recent viral track, ‘Oorum Blood’ , with the line: “…raajathi raja na Raavana Raavana.”

The coincidence sparked a question I couldn’t shake off: why does Raavana, traditionally cast as the villain of the Ramayana, continue to appear as a heroic, even aspirational, figure in Tamil pop culture?

But before diving into Tamil pop culture’s fascination with Raavana, it’s important to ask who is Raavana?

In the Ramayana, Raavana is introduced as the ten-headed king of Lanka and the story’s central antagonist. He was born to the sage Vishrava , (himself the son of the revered Maharishi Pulastya) and the Daitya princess Kaikasi. While most retellings tend to reduce him to the villain who abducted Sita and which leads to him being slain by Rama after a brutal war, Raavana’s character in is far more multifaceted than a simple evil villain.

Raavana is celebrated as one of the greatest devotees of Shiva, an accomplished scholar, a master musician, and the creator of the legendary ‘Raavanaveena’ ,also known as the ‘Raavanahatha’ a bowed string instrument (that is still part of Rajasthani folk music today). He is also associated with the Raavana Samhita, a text on Hindu astrology and in some Ayurvedic traditions, he is remembered as an early pioneer of pharmaceutical science and medicine.

Raavana despite being cast as the antagonist of the Ramayana, is still worshipped in several parts of India. Interestingly, this reverence is not especially prominent in Tamil Nadu (at least not through major mainstream temples) even though Tamil popular culture frequently invokes his image.

In Kanpur, a temple dedicated to him opens annually during Dussehra to perform rituals in his honour. The people of Bisrakh believe their town to be Raavana’s birthplace and worship him accordingly. Certain Brahmin communities in Gujarat and Mathura even claim descent from him through lineage traditions. Among the Gondi people of central India, Raavana occupies an even more significant role. Some Gond traditions regard him not as a demon king, but as an ancient ruler, spiritual teacher, and ancestor. During Dussehra, while much of India burns effigies of Raavana, some Gond communities instead carry his image in ceremonial processions. Several other temples dedicated to Raavana can still be found across India, including in Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, Andhra Pradesh, Rajasthan, Himachal Pradesh, and Karnataka.

All of this reveals something important: Raavana has never been viewed through a single lens in Indian culture. Depending on the region, tradition, or political imagination, he can appear as a tyrant, a scholar, a Shiva bhakta, or even a cultural ancestor.

If Raavana isn’t historically worshipped in Tamil Nadu, how did he work his way into mainstream Tamil culture as an icon of power idealised in film and music culture; the answer lies in the Dravidian movement.

First off for those unaware what is the Dravidian movement?

The Dravidian Movement was an important social and political movement that began in South India, especially in present-day Tamil Nadu, during the early 20th century. It aimed to challenge caste discrimination, social inequality, and the dominance of upper-caste groups in education, jobs, and politics. The movement focused on promoting social justice, self-respect, rational thinking, and equal rights for non-Brahmin communities. Over time, it transformed the political and social structure of Tamil Nadu and played a major role in shaping regional politics and cultural identity.

From its earliest days, the Dravidian movement fought to distance itself from the heavily sanskritised idea of Indian identity and Hinduism. The movement’s pioneer, Periyar opened the dialogue on Hindu scriptures and Epics, removing their status as religious texts beyond criticism and instead as subjects to be scrutinised and heavily questioned, this included the Ramayana ; By the early 1930’s there were many “politically correct” readings of Ramayana, two of which were written by the man himself.

Periyars critique of the Ramayana , titled “The Ramayana: A true reading” raised many questions deemed provocative, Periyar questioned how a man who demanded that his wife undergo a trial by fire to prove her chastity could be celebrated as a moral exemplar. He also condemned the treatment of Surpanakha, arguing that the mutilation of her nose by Lakshmana reflected humiliation and prejudice rather than heroism. He challenged the moral authority traditionally associated with Rama, portraying him not as an ideal ruler but as a deeply flawed figure. Within this reinterpretation, Raavana was reframed in a radically different light. Rather than a monstrous villain driven by lust, Periyar presented Raavana as a dignified and powerful ruler seeking revenge for the dishonour inflicted upon his sister. He argued that traditional narratives had deliberately distorted Raavana’s motives in order to fit a Brahminical moral framework.

The Dravidian reinterpretation of the Ramayana, also gradually reframed the epic as a conflict between Aryan and Dravidian sensibilities; something Jawaharlal Nehru agreed with in “Discovery of India” , he writes, “The Ramayana story is one of Aryan expansion to the south.” — Ramayana was a struggle of supremacy between the Aryans (North) and Dravidians (South) , this interpretation finds attestation in many previous depictions of the epic, most prominently perhaps in the Kambaramyanam.

Kambaramayanam is the most popular retelling of the epic in tamil (though many argue that versions of Ramayana existed in tamil literature much earlier as references to the epic can be found in the Silapathigaaram, Puranaanooru and Aganaanooru). In Kamban’s retelling he models Rama partly on the ideals of kingship found in the Sangam age while simultaneously assigning many indigenous Tamil qualities like pride, martial ferocity, and sensuality, which he felt didn’t fit into notion of Dharma to Raavana. Meanwhile, Rama becomes associated with restraint, and the broader Sanskritic traditions of Hindu philosophy. Kamban was also deeply influenced by the devotional philosophy of Nammalvar, including the idea that the divine is the source of both good and evil, and that even morally ambiguous events ultimately serve a cosmic purpose. In this framework, Rama’s imperfections are interpreted not as flaws, but as part of a divine play through which dharma is eventually restored. Once the Dravidian movement gained momentum many of its leaders began reinterpreting both Kamban’s text, to them, Raavana represented a sophisticated southern civilisation unjustly destroyed by Aryan forces jealous of Dravidian culture and power. Rama, meanwhile, became a target of criticism for actions that reformers viewed as morally questionable including his treatment of Sita after her rescue and the killing of Vali from concealment, this too isn’t entirely baseless, even Valmiki’s Ramayana frames Raavana as a formidable ruler presiding over a prosperous kingdom with military strength, political authority, and sophistication. His Lanka is wealthy, technologically advanced, and nearly unconquerable. Raavana himself is depicted as a fearless warrior and a king obsessed with preserving his power and honour. However, Valmiki’s narrative ultimately frames Raavana’s defining flaw as his ego and moral unrighteousness, positioning him against the order of dharma represented by Rama.

The Dravidian movement’s depiction of Ramayana as a tussle between Aryan (Northern) domination and Dravidian (Southern) Identity was so influential that even mainstream retellings of the Ramayana in Tamil films could no longer portray Raavana as a simple villain, for example the 1958 film Sampoorna Ramayanam, depicted Raavana as a brilliant ruler and accomplished musician whose tragic flaw was his desire for Sita.

Other thinkers pushed this questioning further with Perarignar Anna asking what would happen if a Raavana Leela was staged instead of a Rama Leela, in the 1950’s magazine ‘Dravida Naadu’; Even before this, Annadurai’s work Kamba Rasam had already articulated many of the Dravidian movement’s objections to the Ramayana tradition.

And in fact, Following the death of Periyar, the Dravidar Kazhagam, under the leadership of Maniammai, announced that it would conduct a Raavana Leela to mark Periyar’s first death anniversary. Despite immense backlash, the Raavana Leela was ultimately staged at Periyar Thidal in Chennai and since then, organisations and movements associated with Periyar’s ideology have periodically continued the tradition of conducting Raavana Leelas in different parts of Tamil Nadu.

One of these instances of a Ravana Leela was organised by activists associated with Periyarist organisations, involved plans to burn effigies of Rama and Lakshmana on October 1, 1998. Several activists, including Anoor Jagadeesan of the Periyar Dravidar Kazhagam, were arrested while attempting to stage the protest. Initially, the incident received little media attention, until later when M.Karunanidhi, the then chief minister of Tamil Nadu and leader of the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK), reignited the controversy by offering them public support and in one of his most controversial remarks declared, “If you insult Raavana, you are insulting me.”

This dravidian reinterpretation of Raavana was also flaunted through theatre, renown dramatist R.S. Manohar staged “Ilankeswaran”, which reimagined Raavana as a majestic ruler who meets a tragic demise as opposed to a demonic tyrant. This play was a massive success and was staged repeatedly, even at Chennai’s The Music Academy; a venue often associated with the Brahmin elite.

This idea also found expression in literature, most infamously in the controversial “Raavana Kaaviyam” by Pulavar Kuzhandhai written in 1946 ; made up of 3100 poetic stanzas, the composition depicts Raavana as the protagonist, a just ruler, courageous warrior, compassionate father, patron of poets, and devoted protector of Tamil culture. Rama, in contrast, emerged as the antagonist. Raavana is instead celebrated as the embodiment of ancient Tamil virtues. He does not abduct Sita out of lust, but to avenge the humiliation of his sister Surpanakha (referred to in the text as Kamavalli) and even then, he treats Sita with dignity and respect. The epic also portrays the Tamils as a deeply moral civilisation opposed to practices such as animal sacrifice, while characters like Vibhishana are recast as opportunists motivated by greed and ambition. Naturally the publication of this book sparked enormous controversy, the then Congress government banned the book, citing it as inflammatory and provocative, this ban was only lifted in 1971 under Kalaignar Karunanidhi’s government. Over time this work has gained recognition for its literary merits.

However debate still persists on whether the reinterpretation of Raavana through the dravidian lens is acceptable since Raavana is canonically the son of a Brahmin sage (an Aryan) and a Daitya princess; How can he truly function as a symbol of dravidian resistance when he himself is of brahminical lineage, the social order the movement aims heavy criticism at. Some scholars argue that terms like Aryan and Dravidian operate more as cultural categories, and that Raavana’s symbolic value does not emerge from supposed genealogy but from how he is positioned as a southern king thwarted by a northern king, and as a figure against whom “Dharma” prevails; furthermore his mother’s Daitya identity can be argued as genealogically ‘Dravidian’.

The effort to project Raavana as an alternate and symbol of Dravidian identity has waxed and waned over the years, but has climbed to prominence in recent years once again, possibly as resistance to the sharp spike in Ram worship through the Hindutva movement.

It must also be taken notice that the sympathy, and as previously stated, the reverence towards Raavana is not confined to Tamil Nadu or the Dravidian movement alone, various communities and traditions have offered radically different readings of the epic and their own folk variations of it, that add and subtract details to the characters and the motives. For example, certain Dalit groups in Maharashtra have embraced Raavana as a figure of dignity and resistance, interpreting him as a symbol of opposition to caste oppression rather than as a demonic villain. In these readings, Raavana’s identity is reshaped to reflect lived experiences of marginalisation and resistance to dominant social hierarchies. Similarly, within some Jain retellings of the Ramayana tradition, the narrative is restructured in ways that foreground Raavana’s perspective, often blurring or even reversing the moral polarity of the original epic. In these versions, Raavana is not simply a figure of evil but a complex character whose actions are interpreted through alternative ethical and philosophical frameworks distinct from the dominant Hindu tradition.

Most recently favourable readings of Raavana have emerged through Mani Ratnam’s 2010 film, “Raavanan”, a modern retelling of the Ramayana with the Raavana (Veera) framed as the protagonist and Anand Neelkantan’s 2012 novel, “Asura: Tale of the Vanquished” a retelling of the Ramayana from Raavana’s perspective, framing him as a father trying to bring back his lost daughter Sita, a fable originating in Sanghadasa’s Jain version of Ramayana, and also in Adbhuta Ramayana.

In short, Raavana has never been able to be contained within a singular, simplistic moral framework of good and evil, across regions and literary rewritings of the tale he has been cast as a villain, a Shiva devotee, a tragic hero and in perhaps more modern contexts, a symbol of resistance. It cannot be dismissed, that this reinterpretation has not been contested, for some Raavana remains an embodiment of ego and Adharma, whose downfall was warranted. His identity has remained consistently fluid and ambiguous, this has allowed him to remain one of the most enduring and controversial figures of Indian imagination and identity.

In the Tamil lexicon in particular, this ambiguity has made him a cultural and political icon, with politicians, playwrights, poets, lyricists and film makers reshaping him into a symbol of Tamil Identity, resistance to the Aryan (Northern) dominance, anti caste critique and as assertion of self respect ; This explains why modern Tamil cinema and music often invoke Raavana as a symbol of pride, power, rebellion and grandeur.