When we use the English word “myths,” it often feels like a compromise. In India, we do not think of the Ramayana or Mahabharata as “myths” in the sense of fabricated stories. They are Itihasa-“thus it happened.” Yet, in the absence of a better English word, the word “myth” is often used. And these myths, or Itihasa, or the ancient Hindu history, have had a remarkable journey through time, adapting to each era while holding their core truths.
The Oral Tradition: Stories as Living Breath
Long before ink met palm leaf or printing presses existed, our stories lived in sound. The Vedas were recited with precision across generations. The Ramayana and Mahabharata were sung by wandering bards, acted out in folk plays, and remembered in festivals. In this stage, myths were not “tales” but living realities that were performed, heard, and relived in rhythm with nature and community.
The Era of Invasions: Shifting from Public to Private
When Islamic and Turkic invasions swept across India, the landscape of storytelling changed. Temples, the great theaters of narratives carved in stone and painted on walls, were often destroyed or repurposed. Public rituals that enacted stories on grand scales were disrupted, but the stories did not die. They turned inward. The bhajan, the kirtan, the satsang, and the village Ramleela became the safe spaces where the myths-as they started to call them-lived on. Bhakti saints like Kabir, Mirabai, Surdas, and Tulsidas re-rooted these epics in devotion, carrying them into people’s hearts when public expression was restricted.
The Colonial Reframing: From Itihasa to “Mythology”
The British brought a different disruption. Unlike earlier invaders, they did not silence the stories; they reclassified them. Through translations and scholarship, the Ramayana and Mahabharata were boxed into the category of “mythology,” stripped of their Itihasa claim. What was once “thus it happened” became “once upon a time” in the colonial lens. At the same time, the printing press created mass distribution. Suddenly, epics and scriptures were not only sung or staged but also printed and circulated, often edited to suit Western tastes or convenience. This was also the era when the itihasa, or myths, became part of the nationalist imagination, as leaders used them to inspire identity and resistance.
The Modern Turn: Cinema, Television, and Now Instagram
By the 20th century, cinema and television transformed oral epics into visual spectacles. Ramanand Sagar’s Ramayana glued millions to their TV screens, reviving faith through a modern medium. Amar Chitra Katha simplified stories into comic-book form for children.
Today, the cycle continues on Instagram Reels, YouTube Shorts, and memes. A single verse can become a viral audio track; a ten-second clip can carry centuries of cultural weight. Storytelling has collapsed into bite-sized form, but the essence survives. The very platforms that spread distractions also carry the oldest memories of civilization.
Why This Journey Matters
Each stage of history left its mark.
- Oral tradition made myths (read: ancient hindu history). sacred breath
- Invasions turned them into devotional lifelines
- Colonialism reclassified them as “mythology.”
- Modern media digitized them for new generations
And yet, across millennia, the stories endured. They bend, adapt, and find new vessels but never vanish. The question for us is not whether they survive, but whether we continue to question them, engage with them, and recognize them as more than just “myths.”
FAQs
Q1. How were myths and stories passed down in ancient India?
They were transmitted through shruti (oral recitation), smriti (remembered tradition), and storytelling performances like kathavachana, folk ballads, and temple recitals. Communities ensured accuracy by repetition and collective memory.
Q2. Did foreign invasions change how Indian myths were preserved?
Yes. With Islamic rule, stories adapted into regional art forms like qissas and Sufi poetry. Under British colonialism, oral traditions were translated and fixed into books, but this often stripped away fluidity, performance, and context.
Q3. Why do we still call them myths if they are Itihasa or sacred memory?
In English, “myths” is often used as shorthand. However, in India these stories are better understood as Itihasa, or living memory, not fictional fables. The word “myth” is used more for accessibility than accuracy.
Q4. How have myths survived into the digital age?
They now travel through TV serials, Amar Chitra Katha comics, films, memes, and Instagram reels. While formats change, the essence, the moral teaching, cultural grounding, and shared memory remain intact.
Q5. Do myths lose their authenticity when adapted into modern formats like reels?
Not necessarily. Every era retells stories in its own voice. The challenge is to preserve depth and meaning, not just aesthetics. When context is respected, even a 30-second reel can keep the flame of Itihasa alive.
