Return of the Monkeys: From Ancient Epics to Modern Obedience

 Return of the Monkeys: From Ancient Epics to Modern Obedience

There’s something uniquely endearing about how people in the Indian subcontinent list their ancient accomplishments. The Vedas? Check. Mathematics and astrology? Of course. A structured society and a thriving culture of music and fiction? Naturally. And let’s not forget the original cinematic universe: the Ramayana—a mythological blockbuster long before Hollywood ever dreamed up its monkey-fighting franchises.

Tulsidas took the narrative baton from Valmiki and sprinted full speed into divine spectacle. His Ramcharitmanas turned Ram from a complex figure into a full-blown deity, elevated Ravan to the ultimate villain, and introduced a loyal monkey militia ready to follow orders into hell and back—no questions asked. Sound familiar?

What’s fascinating isn’t just the myth—it’s the obedience. That fictional monkey army didn’t debate ethics, didn’t weigh right from wrong. They marched, they fought, they obeyed. It’s the perfect fantasy for any ruler: an army of followers too loyal to think.

Of course, turning characters into gods isn’t uniquely Indian. Hero worship is a global phenomenon. From Washington to Ayodhya, we’ve been sanctifying flawed men for centuries. Tulsidas simply did it with more poetic flair. Valmiki’s version treated Ram like a human with choices. But Tulsidas gave him divine upgrades—and once gods are involved, questioning becomes heresy.

And let’s not forget how Sita, abandoned and pregnant, was taken in by Valmiki. In some versions, her twins Luv and Kush were born with the help of Valmiki’s supernatural powers. So yes, even the “more grounded” version was still drenched in creative liberties. This wasn’t history. It was a narrative engine designed to inspire, instruct, and—eventually—control.

Temples became storytelling centers. Then social centers. Then sacred fortresses with gates controlled by power and patriarchy. Slowly, faith was monetized, weaponized, and ritualized. As new epics were added—Krishna’s tales, for instance—priests found new ways to exploit the faithful. Girls were “donated” to temples, cloaked in divine justification, as if being used by priests was somehow a blessing. All of it sanctified. All of it is accepted.

History has a way of repeating itself when people stop asking questions. Which brings us here, to a new age of manufactured obedience. The monkeys are back. Only this time, they’re not in forests. They’re on WhatsApp, on TV panels, in political rallies, parroting slogans and defending leaders with the same blind loyalty that once defined mythical armies.

And it’s not just an Indian problem.

The U.S. Constitution, written over 200 years ago, and the Indian Constitution, enacted just 75 years ago, were radical documents for their time. They gave ordinary people the right to speak, to question, to worship, to work, to get educated, and to participate in democracy as equals. These weren’t gifts—they were guarantees. Guarantees against tyranny. But the privileged have always seen rights as threats. And in India, they’ve found a willing partner in the BJP.

The goal is simple: keep the masses compliant. Feed them myths, rewrite history, stir up hate, and drown out reason. All while wrapping every abuse in a flag or a chant. It’s an old playbook—but now with better tech and louder microphones.

Fox News in the U.S. and Godi media in India have the same mission: twist the truth, manufacture fear, and protect the interests of the powerful. And now, with WhatsApp University handing out imaginary degrees in nationalism and pseudoscience, the lines between fact and fiction are more blurred than ever.

The tragedy is that many are cheering for their own chains, mistaking submission for patriotism. But not everyone has forgotten what these constitutions stand for. A few still raise their voices, still demand clarity, still ask questions. They know that democracy dies not just when leaders go rogue—but when citizens stop thinking.

The epics were stories. Let’s treat them as such. Reverence is fine—until it becomes obedience. Faith is powerful—until it becomes blind. And loyalty is admirable—until it’s used to silence dissent.

Let’s not repeat the mistakes our myths warned us about. Let’s not build temples to power and call it virtue. We were given the right to question. Let’s not throw it away for comfort, convenience, or fear.

Because once again, a new generation of monkeys is marching—and this time, we have no excuse not to see where it’s going.