Book Review: Being Hindu

Title: Being Hindu: Old Faith, New World and You
Author: Hindol Sengupta
Publisher: Penguin India
Genre: Non fiction/ Religion
ISBN: 978-0-143-42532-8
Pages: 192
Date of release: December, 2015
Binding: Paperback

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Let me be honest. I started this book a little warily. In the perilous ride that is religion in India right now, I prefer to sit at the centre, leaning a little towards the Left. I watch with trepidation the loud voices coming from the Right side of things and fear that 'Hinduism' is turning into a dirty word. Therefore, I approach anything with 'Hindu' written on it with suspicion. In the strictly academic pursuit of subjects like ancient Indian History, Culture, Mythology and Mysticism, my skepticism is only heightened.

Yet like many of my generation, I'm drawn like moth to flame to anything with 'Hindu' written on it – even titles that sound like fashion labels of unscrupulous film stars. It comes from a deep, even perverted need to understand; to understand my roots, my place in the ever-changing world, and the volatile interplay between social, economic, political, and religious forces.

Neti, neti (not this, not this)

In his latest offering, Being Hindu, Hindol Sengupta tries to throw light on some of these issues. The apparent intent is to address some questions about identity and the relevance of religion in the life of a young Indian. But Sengupta does not do a convincing job. Let me explain why.

The author in question is not a cultural commentator, not a historian, nor a expert of religion. He is a journalist, and a good one at that, but he lacks the depth of an academic. And the result is that his book ends up reading like one long op-ed. He generalises and trivialises. His research sample seems to comprise only of his cosy elite Delhi circle. “...I noticed a general ennui and hesitance about declaring themselves Hindu, especially among the general youth, as well as my colleagues and friends. I felt it too.” “It was almost like we were asking for the responsibility of spiritual choice to be taken away from us...”, he says. We? Us? Speak for yourself, maybe? I know this India he's talking about – the one in high rises with glass facades, the one with the luxury of doubt and contemplation. 

But he doesn't seem to take into account the other greater India, where the people practice simple faith and have very little doubt, if any, about their religious identity. When one deems to delve into the sticky territory of religion, one ought to drink deeper than that.

In a commentary about the machinations of religion and society, his personal influences show up very jarringly again and again. One of his personal set of beliefs imposed all over the book is derived from the Ramakrishna Mission. He incessantly quotes their teachings and philosophy throughout the book. As great as Ramakrishna Paramhansa and Vivekananda were, it cannot be the only lens through which Hinduism can or should be understood.

The second point I find hard to accept is his singularly Vedantic view of things. Yes, a large part of Hindu philosophy is inspired by the ideas of the Upanishads and Shankaracharya's Uttar Mimansika school, but that's not all there is to Hinduism. There are other schools of thought and other ways of spiritual understanding that he completely overlooks. In the mien of Vivekandanda, Gandhi and Ambedkar, he labels Hinduism's ritualistic aspect as regressive and repressive. But he forgets the cultural implications of these rites and rituals and the fact that they represent the living religion; not of course in the India of glass facade high rises. You cannot write a book about being a Hindu without writing about its daily manifestations.

Finally, he seems especially influenced/scarred by his American Christian schooling. Despite himself, he keeps trying to refute the Catholic idea of sinners. “None of us is a heathen. None of us is an infidel... you and me, we are not sinners. We are the divine. We just don't know it yet.” Too many negations a positive make, Mr. Sengupta. It seems like deep down he believes in the ideas of evil and sin and tries hard to persuade himself and his readers otherwise. It also makes him compulsively and excessively compare Hinduism with Christianity, reducing the scope of pure theology.

Right gone wrong

So he swings the other way, he goes Right. He joins this new band of people who, clad in saffron, their chests excessively puffed, proclaim their pride in Hinduism. Nothing wrong with being proud of one's religion, but everyone knows where this jingoism is headed. Perhaps those who swear by the Vedic culture would do well to remind themselves that our greatest works were anonymously composed.

The quest for knowledge through different paths, the Brahman, was sought in all humility. Greatness comes from doing, not saying. And here we have some of these puffy-chested creatures decrying any and all other differing points of view. Names are called, mockery is made and ultimately there is a subscription to the very tropes they claim to be rejecting. They're so ashamed of Hindu apologists that they become apologists for apologists. Heh. Case in point. Wendy Doniger, the Indic scholar everyone loves to hate. In trashing Wendy's children*, they become Dinanath Batra's children, or Rajeev Malhotra's. Every scholar who doesn't sing the glories of Hinduism, or reads it differently, is branded ignorant. The only 'good' Indologists are the ones like Diana Eck (Sengupta's favourite), who say what is desirable to these Hindu ears, hungry for validation. Only selective references, no place  or tark or vivaad. Yes, let's all scratch each others' backs over a tea party called 'How Great We Are'. 

Speaking of references, Sengupta loves to use them. Most of all, himself. Why else would someone reproduce an entire article published elsewhere in a new book? He must think his essay, 'How to write about Hindus with the Left Hand' – a tribute to Binyavanga Wainaina’s essay, 'How To Write About Africa' – is particularly funny and/or brilliant. I am hard pressed to agree. In that essay he mocks foreign Indic scholars for using pictures of gods as cover images for their books among other things. Too stereotypical, he says. Wonder where he was looking when they picked the cover for his book.

At one point Sengupta laments how we don't consider our religious legacy worthy until some firang tells us so. So you would think that someone with this complaint would always eagerly turn to indigenous sources of knowledge. But, no. Here is a Hindu, trying to tell us how to understand Hinduism, while throwing all possible foreign sources at us. He quotes everyone from Schrodinger to Bohm to Capra to Dawkins to Jung to drive home his point, especially when using science as his fulcrum. Thankfully, he quotes a few Indian scholars too and manages to keep a semblance of balance. 

Being confused

As a reader, I find Mr. Sengupta lost. He doesn't seem to know where he belongs or wants to belong. His Anglicised, Christianised education and his station in life places him, like many of us, in that class of people with Hindu identities (or lack thereof) and Western aspirations. Having become financially comfortable, we can now indulge in some soul searching while we slave away at multinationals, eating global cuisine, tapping away at our foreign brand phones. In this time of global strife surrounding religion, finding one's place in the larger scheme of things is important.

Questions are many, and the answers are not simple. The author embarks on a personal journey of defining his Hindu identity with this book and assumes that his readers share and understand these real (and imagined) conflicts. He rambles about all sorts of issues – from the idea of the 'One True God', to 'Religion and Science' to 'Vegetarianism', never quite getting to the point. At one point he writes about Vedanta, quantum physics and the principle of singularity, and then decides to talk about homosexuality and then again, rural economy. Here he is giving us a litany of ancient Indian geniuses and their treatises before suddenly jumping to technology and loneliness and then again, the need for religious reform. By the seventh chapter, which ia on Vegetarianism, he completely loses the plot. The complexities of the subject inundate him.

Saving (spiritual) grace

The author may not know or understand the larger cultural import of Hinduism, but he knows well his spirituality – at least the Vedantic variety. The book has its moments of clarity, and they're lovely. My favourite parts are where he talks about the unity of the self and the universe, the need for stillness and the Avatar Syndrome. Sample these:

“Just by being alive, at every single moment, you are not just part of the universe, you are the universe.”

“...Hinduism survives because it sets people free.. The only truth that exists is inside oneself – not in a book.”

“We are the ones we have been waiting for. This waiting for a messiah goes against the very essence

of the philosophy of Hinduism.”

The book, then, is really about the author's own philosophical and spiritual inquiry of Hinduism, and not everything else that he tries to throw into the mix. It won't give you much meat (vegetables if you prefer) on Being Hindu as the title of the book claims. Sure, in his introduction the author says this view of Hinduism is based on his personal understanding of the religion, but then a more appropriate title would have been Being Hindol.

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*A term used to denote the school of scholars who are inspired by Doniger's writings.

Who wrote the Bhagvad Gita? by Meghnad Desai

So the ICHR (Indian Council of Historical Research) is trying to 'date' the Mahabharata on one hand, and we have Baron Meghnad Desai asking who wrote the Bhagvad Gita on the other. The timing of this book appearing in the market could not have been more right! Oh, there should be a ticket price for watching what happens after one has thrown a copy of this book in ICHR's compound. *wicked grin*

Jokes apart, 'Who Wrote the Bhagvad Gita?: A Secular Inquiry into a Sacred Text' is a book to be taken seriously. The ICHR may be the butt of many jokes in the intellectual circles right now, but it is no secret that a chunk of our nation thinks the way they do. Most of us have been taught to believe – and we like to believe – that the Bhagvad Gita is a divine composition. And in that light, this book is not for the 'faint­hearted'. Not that Desai makes light of the sacred position the Gita holds in our society; but academic inquiry is often in direct conflict with faith. Desai, like many Indological researchers before him, poses questions about the coherence and composition style of the text; which, to most laypersons might sound sacrilegious.

But Desai presupposes the Gita to be the work of a human author or authors, and then puts forth his theories. To the uninitiated, Meghnad Desai is a renowned British Indian economist, politician and a Padma Bhushan awardee. Although his work is extensively in the field of economics, he is highly respected as an academician in general. 'Who Wrote...' is his first book in the field of Indology, but his methodology and sharp insights as a pro researcher are evident. Desai draws his theories from many critical editions, translations and commentaries of the Gita. He cites the opinions of some of India's greatest thought leaders, including, Tilak, Gandhi, Vivekanada and Sri Aurobindo.

However, his largest influencers are D D Kosambi and Dr. G S Khair – two of the most vocal (and respected) critics in this sphere. There are a number of points Desai makes to support this theory of Gita's human authorship, but the primary among them are:

a. A discernible difference in literary styles among certain sections of the Gita

b. Internal ideological differences in those corresponding sections

Then there are cases of chronological problems, verse repetitions interpolations, caste and gender discrimination, and the induction of Buddhist ideals, the details of which a reader should get from the book. Desai deals with every aspect in a categorical manner, citing the verses he finds ‘objectionable’ and laying down his reasons for the same.   

But my greatest takeaway from the book was Desai's assessment of the Gita's social worth in the Hindu society. He brings to notice some very recent – in the grand historical perspective – political and cultural events that brought the Gita into prominence. Before Tilak and Gandhi wrote and spoke about it extensively, the Gita doesn't seem to have had much sway in the nation. Today, we repose unquestioning faith in the text and hold it in the highest esteem. In this context, Desai asks us a very pertinent question: Does the Gita's 'slippery opportunism' morally allow us Indians to be corrupt and complacent?

Read it, think about it. I have been thinking too.

Kali in love

(Art by Bloodcult via Deviantart)

Bared fangs, bared breasts,

I am your goddess.

Now handover your heart.

I'm trying to kill you because I love you. 

Why else?

I will have you drunk on me. 

I will show no mercy.

I'll grind you to pulp with this love of mine.

A noose of my hair around your neck, 

That will my blessing be.

A sacrifice of your lips and limbs,

That's all I ask for.

Come Shiva, bind me with your dreadlocks,

Unleash the Ganges of your passion upon me.

You awakened it. 

Now deal with my Mooladhara Chakra
spinning in ecstasy.

Let me dance upon your chest, 

like an undying obsession.

Poison me with your blue lips

dirty me with your ashes.

Place your feet upon my chest

Thrust your trident in my breast

Sit me upon your thigh

wrench my pride out with your teeth.

Kali's yoni and yantras

come Shiva, take them all.

Love this is, yet I haven't forgotten 

The art of severing a heart from a body.

A submissive Kali will still destroy.

Shakti

Poster colour on paper

Devi

Today's Durga would look like this, wouldn't she?

The Pregnant King by Devdutta Pattanaik: Impressions

He wept for his father, the pregnant king, for the imperfection of the human condition, and our stubborn refusal to make room for all those in between.


This last line of the book, The Pregnant King by Devdutt Pattanaik, succinctly sums up its message. And what a powerful message! The book is less about the 'aberrations in nature' and more about society disowning them. Whether in Dwapara Yuga or the Kali, human beings have remained the same in their non-acceptance of the non-normal. Through the story of many major and minor (as we call it these days) LGBT mythological characters, Pattanaik reminds us of the humanity we often forget to show to humans who are a little different. In his first work of fiction, he writes with the same signature elegance, that make all his books so readable. His merit is in presenting the universal aspects of ancient stories that make them relevant to the modern reader.

Pattanaik mentions right in the beginning of the book how he has neither adhered to chronology nor to geographical boundaries. He has pulled out many popular characters from across mythology, uniting them in this work of fiction to demonstrate the agony of persons whose minds and bodies are divided on the aspect of sexuality. So apart from the story of Yuvanashva - man and mother, there are stories about Shikhandi - woman and prince of Panchal, Ila - man and wife, Somvat- boy and wife, and even Arjuna - warrior and eunuch among others. Not just human characters, the author tells us stories of gods and demons also plagued by mixed sexualities. There is, for instance, Sthunakarna - a yaksha and yakshini and Ileshwara - god and goddess.When he needed to introduce similar queer characters into the story, who could not in any way be connected to the plot, the author made clever use of bards, who tell stories about them.

Coming back to the prime character of Yuvanashva, Pattanaik etches a well-defined character of the king who became a mother. Unable to bear a child for many years, the king seeks desperate measures. A magical potion churned by two Sidhhas promise him children, but not quite in the way he imagines. Instead of his wives, the king accidentally drinks it and begets a child. Though the truth of the child is kept a secret from the subjects and even the child himself, it manifests itself in the king's maternal feelings. Then comes a moment of truth, which threatens to destroy all order. When the truth is rejected, as it is done to this day, Yuvanashva leaves the world in search of a truth that transcends all human definitions.

The book tackles the questions of gender roles and discrimination very well. It explores the many relationships that define our lives. Parent-child, husband-wife, friendship, veneration and rejection. It draws richly from the many lessons in our ancient scriptures and presents a posy of wisdom. Though the plot was a little slow to start up, once it did there was no going back. Read it because it will impregnate you will some very worthy thoughts.         

India: What can it teach us? by F Max Müller: Impressions

Frankly, the only time I'd heard of Max Müller before I bought this book was with reference to one Max Müller Bhavan in Pune where German is supposedly taught. All I knew was that he was some hotshot Western thinker and that I ought to read him sometime. (Yes, scoff all you want. So what if I am learning about Müller after my hair has started greying?)

So while waiting for my bus one day, my eager eyes scanning the pile of old books at the raddiwala, I spotted a badly mildewed cover, peering out of which were the words 'India' and 'Müller'. I looked at its contents and spotted words like 'Vedas' and 'Hindus', and didn't have to think twice. I brought home this gem for 20 humble rupees, and unearthed the treasures within its pages in the next few days.

As Wikipedia told me later, Müller was one of the first and the best Orientologists in the last century, and has perhaps not had a rival yet. He is the editor of the stupendous 50-volume set of 'The Sacred Books of the East' (Yes, the set costs Rs 7600 on Flipkart. Sigh!), and only the tiniest glimpse of the ginormous extent of his learning can be seen in the book India: What can it teach us? The book is, in fact, a compilation of lectures the author had delivered to British students of the Indian Administrative Service when India was still under the colonial rule. What is entirely fascinating about this book for an Indian reader is the conviction with which Müller explains India to non-Indians. I don't think any of us could fight the case of our nation as well as this outsider.

But that's precisely why this book, like so many books on India by foreign authors, appeals to us. The foreign writer has the advantage of objectivity, and can sift facts from fiction. We are bred to revere our culture, and dare not question even the most absurd. In fact, we may not even notice the absurd, since they are so much a part of our consciousness. Through Müller's eyes, we see clearly the human angles of all that is sacred to us.  

India: What can it teach us? is divided into seven lectures with Müller gradually leading his skeptical students from mistrust to the beginnings of faith. Gently, yet with conviction, the author first dispels the myths associated with India in the minds of Englishmen, and slowly offers bauble after bauble of ancient Indian wisdom, infusing new perspectives. Citing one historical account after another, he refutes the common perception of Indians as a race of liars, among other things. He goes on to prove the worth of studying Sanskrit. As the mother of all Indo-European languages, knowing Sanskrit is the mandatory first step for any student of the history of language. Further, he points out that one understands not just the history of language through ancient Sanskrit literature, but the entire evolution of human thought. He helps establish the antiquity of the Vedas, by explaining the oral tradition. He speaks for the originality of the Vedic ideas as a natural progression of human thought, similar to all cultures of the world. He propounds some very rational theories about how our henotheistic system, our rituals, and our entire religion came about. He illustrates each of his points beautifully with Vedic verses or quotations from Western scholars, where the need arises. He presents in the most rational light, the mystique that India is to the Western eye.

And there is so much more for the Eastern eye. You'd be surprised at how much you don't know.

  

Seven Sacred Rivers by Bill Aitken: Impressions

I picked this book up for 20 bucks from a raddiwala and the many times Mr. Aitken's views angered me, I wanted to fling it out of the window, knowing not much money would be wasted. But because Mr. Aitken is a mad man (like all men of faith are), he struck a love-hate chord with this mad woman. His oscillation between reverence and philistinism had my opinion of him swinging equally wildly. One page, I would be smiling at the Scotsman recognising the sanctity of our rivers, and the next page would have me raging, because how dare this foreigner criticise our ways?

But slowly I softened as I realised how uncomfortable Hindu discriminations - that we take as the normal order of things - must feel to an outsider. I began to understand the resentment he felt for our commercialisation of religion and nature - a worshipper as he was of the pristine. But what I did not agree with till the end was his condescending tone. Perhaps it is how the white man thinks/speaks, but to me he sounded only like one extremely ungrateful guest.

So this guest, in his sojourn across India, sought to understand our seven sacred rivers: Sindhu, Ganga, Yamuna, Saraswati, Godavari, Narmada and Kaveri. As he tried to follow each of their courses, he encountered more than just geological entities. Each river brought forth lessons in culture, history, geography, religion, nature and whatnot. While Bill Aitken's writing is a tad cold and objective, one cannot help but feel the warmth of a human touch here and there. Laced with wry humour, the author tells of the many adventures and misadventures of a solo traveller on a shoestring budget.

One laughs and frowns at many an interesting account. His experiences of ashram life and Gandhians are mixed; he admires the likes of Sundarlal Bahuguna, while the 'pompous' Vinoba Bhave he loathes. North India turns him off with priests being obnoxious, small businessmen being greedy, and everything generally being unclean and poverty-stricken. His admiration for South India is obvious with him finding the states cleaner, better organised, and the people better educated. Among the rivers too, he loves the southern Narmada better than any other, although he describes well his short romances with every river he meets.

Aitken is impressed by the Ganga and the Indus in their beautiful settings and might, whereas the Yamuna and Saraswati let him down. The Kaveri and Godavari cast their respective mild impressions on him, but Narmada has his heart. He goes off on trails of several other uncelebrated rivers and questions their religious statures, or lack of them. He traces several historical chapters, whereby ancient Buddhist pilgrim centres have either been seized by the Hindu order, or cast away in a bid for religious supremacy. He talks about several interesting religious cults and practices that have become strongly associated with each of these rivers.

However, Aitken's travels are too extensive and his account too hurried. Before you can drink in the locales of Kerala, he has already moved on to Ladakh. His fast-paced name-dropping is too dizzying even for a resident of India, and there is little time to savour the beauty of any of the rivers. Nevertheless, one is carried adrift in this journey - languorously, beautifully, pitifully, adventurously, mightily, crazily, softly or raucously - at different times with different rivers.          
          

Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramhansa Yogananda: Impressions

Autobiography of a Yogi is, in the least, extraordinary. Little wonder that this book has been a consistent international bestseller for a number of years. The book, primarily written for Western readers, discloses the fascinating life of a yogi. But it will astound a modern Indian reader as much as it will his Western counterpart – equally far removed as we are from the ancient spiritual lifestyle of India. Page after page, I have been surprised, awed, and even faced moments of disbelief, as the yogi shared his life’s journey with me. And although I’ve read a fair bit about Hinduism, never before have I come across such details about the life of a Hindu spiritual seeker. Swami Yogananda also says in the book that most yogis live highly secret lives and are loathe to publicity, because their exalted ways may appear at best unbelievable or ridiculous or both to a common man.

Swami Yogananda goes to the West (primarily America) and writes this book in compliance with the order of his guru, Swami Yukteshwar, and indirectly, the order of his param gurus, Lahiri Mahasaya and Babaji. All these gurus’ life sketches have been given in the book – each more fantastic than the other. Babaji, the author tells us, is the undying Mahavtar, who is perhaps centuries old, but looks like a young man. He travels the Himalayas with a small band of followers, and materializes at will before his disciples whenever he wants to give them a message. Lahiri Mahasaya, the yogavatar, following Babaji’s command spreads the art of Kriya Yoga – a scientific yogic method that accelerates spiritual growth - among the masses. Swami Yukteshwar, the jnanavatar and Lahiri Mahasaya’s disciple, is the stern guru, who guides the author through the mystical bylanes of realization. Swami Yogananda speaks freely of the miracles these saints performed, and gives glorious accounts of their amazing spiritual attainments and powers. The reader will discover many such amazing details within the pages of the book.

Swami Yogananda also recounts the life of various other saints and great men and women he has met in his lifetime, elucidating their respective spiritual achievements. These other illustrious personas include Rabindranath Tagore, Mahatma Gandhi, the great horticulturist, Louis Burbank,  and various saints who don’t eat, sleep, kill tigers with their bare hands, and perform such everyday miracles.

But before his travels lead him to these exalted souls, the author writes about his origins in Calcutta, the finding of his guru, Sri Yukteshwar, days spent in rigorous spiritual training with his guru at his ashram, his academic course in severe strife with his spiritual one, and his own gradual growth from a spiritual sapling into a big soul-tree, replete with his own daily insights and sometimes, miracles.

The author then sets sail, with much trepidation, to the West to fulfill his guru’s command of spreading the message of Yoga in the spiritually-parched West. Despite his limited command of English, Swami Yogananda sets forth on the arduous path. But with his guru’s blessings, he not only delivers a series of very successful lectures across countries over the years, but also sets up various schools of spiritual learning.

One wonders how Swami Yogananda could ever have been deficient in English, considering the book has been written in a fairly lofty language. His childlike wonder, however, stays intact as he unravels various treasures of the spirit and this planet. While his accounts of the West are informative, it is the narration of the various Yogic phenomena that is the high point of this book. The chapter on ‘The resurrection of Sri Yukteshwar’, for example, has some jaw-dropping spiritual secrets in it, and the reader is left with hair-raising recollections for several days.

This spiritual masterpiece has been more than a book for me. It has sowed a tiny seed of restlessness in my soul, and my eyes are now ever on the lookout for a guru, if one be assigned for me by Providence.

Many Lives, Many Masters by Brian Weiss: Impressions

As a Hindu and someone, who takes a deep interest in spiritual/religious/occult studies, Dr. Brian Weiss' super bestseller Many Lives, Many Masters offered me nothing I did not already know. Perhaps 13 years ago, when the book was published, it was an eye-opener to the largely wary Western world, but Indians have always known and believed in the theory of rebirth and karma.

What surprised me, though, was the startling similarity of the ideas in this book and the basic tenets of most ancient Indian scriptures. I've recently read books on similar topics by Swami Vivekananda, his contemporary, Swami Abhedananda, and more recently, Dr. Devdutt Pattanaik's book on Hindu mythology, Myth=Mithya and the ideas are fresh in my mind. The ideas of karmic debt or rnanubandhana, choice of body for rebirth, a nether world or an 'intermediate space where souls stay', the progeression of souls through multiple human births, and the ultimate goal of a soul being merging with the Supreme One are some themes that occur repeatedly in Catherine's (Dr. Weiss' patient whose past last regressions is what this book is about) recall material, and are really similar to what Hindu scriptures talk about.

If the contents of this book are any 'evidence', since it has been written by a 'scientific' practitioner, it proves right most of our Vedic and Vedantic literature. The messages of love, compassion, trust and humanity revealed by the 'Masters' of afterlife via Catherine are exactly what our seers and sages have been preaching since time immemorial. And why only Hinduism? Every religion of the world teaches the humankind these lessons. Today, if a money-driven society, steeped in dissatisfaction, turns to books like these and to ancient spiritual literature to find peace and fulfill the original purpose of the soul, it is only natural.

The book is good for beginners & sceptics, and Psychology & Psychiatry professionals, but for those who already know that death is not really the end of life, it will only be an affirmation of their knowledge.

Myth=Mithya - A Handbook of Hindu Mythology by Dr. Devdutt Pattanaik: Impressions

 

I almost got into a fight with a friend over this book yesterday. I stood up for the book, in the way we stand up for things we like, and more importantly, agree with. The last few days of reading the book have been immensely enjoyable; one, because it is a subject that really interests me, and two, because it has been written so unpretentiously. When my friend said that this book has been widely criticised for a singular and narrow view, I was almost certain that the academics were angered because the language and the content of Myth=Mithya is not froufrou (something the academics have zealously maintained for years). He says the book cannot claim to be a 'handbook' when it doesn't take into account all interpretations of popular mythological lore. Perhaps he is right. But in a country where local shades add so many colours to a story, can *any* book claim to know and contain all?

Dr. Devdutta Pattanaik's book, Myth=Mithya may not be a know-all and tell-all, but it definitely qualifies as a superb book. Although the author says, in his note, that the book need not be read sequentially, I did, mostly because I found it unputdownable. Divided sensibly into three sections, the book lays down stories and their interpretations about Brahma-Saraswati, Vishnu-Lakshmi and finally, Shiva-Shakti. The sections follow the creation-preservation-destruction plot, and offer big and small lores illustrating the points.

The book began to impress me right from page one, and its three-page introduction is one of the most impressive ones I've ever read. Dr Pattanaik explains with such authority and lucidity the difference between objective and subjective truths, that between mythos and logos, between sat and mithya, and thus the difference between the exaggerations and the objectives of mythological stories. Apart from the beauty of non-lofty, non-pedantic and non-showoffy language, the book is also pleasantly non-judgmental. The author lists many a story and the customs associated with it in a matter-of-factly way, never once pronouncing whether these customs/traditions are good or bad. Many 'interpretations' I've read before have succumbed to a personal stance.     

I've also learned, with this book, a great many nuances about everyday names, symbols, and stories associated with Hinduism. I didn't know, for instance, that Yama was born as Vidur, that Skanda and Kartikeya were the same god, that Lakshmi's counterpart was Alakshmi and that there was a place beyond Narak called Put. The book offers many such mythological tidbits, their whys and wherefores and some wonderfully compiled tables and that makes Myth=Mithya a good read. I recommend it strongly to anyone interested in the subject. It may not be a complete handbook, it definitely is a handy one.