Indian mythological fiction: what to read, what to ditch

Everyone’s writing a mythological novel. Most of them are being published. Readers are confused. Here’s some help.

In the wake of the misguided ghar wapsi frenzy, one is reminded of many other right wing activities that have done this country no favours. Back in 2012, a ban was demanded on AK Ramanujan’s scholarly essay, ‘Three Hundred Ramayanas: Five examples and three thoughts on translations’ from DU’s English literature syllabus. The reason, as always, was the ‘hurting of religious sentiments’. As with all focus groups, they seemed to be missing the larger picture.

 What are they curtailing and why? Mythology is collective intellectual property and there’s little they can do to stop retellings. Epics, in particular, are creative fodder for generations of writers and artists. They have inspired thousands of versions – from Tulsidas’ Ramcharitmanas to Ekta Kapoor’s Kahaani Hamare Mahabharat ki, from Kamba’s Ramavataram to Shashi Tharoor’s The Great Indian Novel, from Krittivas’ Sri Ram Panchali to Devdutt Pattanaik’s Hanuman’s Ramayan. And thanks to the current wave of mythological fiction in India, the Hindutva faction will have to deal with 300 more Ramayanas.

Gen Y seems deeply interested at the moment in knowing about its culture and a new generation of writers is riding the wave churning out one book of mythological fiction after another.  The fire was there are now many others who’ve joined the bandwagon. That said, not everything that is written is worth reading. Based on a very short survey and stoked by popular writers like Ashok Banker, Devdutt Pattanaik, Amish Tripathi and Ashwin Sanghi and my own impressions, here is my list of five must-reads and five avoidable books in this genre.

READ IT

1. Mrityunjaya by Shivaji Sawant: Possibly among the first in this genre, Shivaji Savant’s Mrityunjaya was authored in Marathi and published in 1989. Its translations are now available in English and a few other languages, so mythology enthusiasts can enjoy this acclaimed work of fiction. This retelling of the Mahabharata, narrated from Karna’s point of view, weaves a veritably rich psychological tapestry and delicately handles the matter of Karna’s identity crisis.

2. The Pregnant King by Devdutt Pattanaik: I am partial to this book because this was among the first I read of this genre. But ask any mythology fiction fan and they are most likely to agree that The Pregnant King by Devdutt Pattanaik is among his better work. The prolific writer has given us many more books since, but none with such an intriguing title and plot. The book tells us stories of many LGBTQ mythological characters – especially king Yuvanashva – highlighting the resulting dissonance and the need for acceptance.

3. The Shiva Trilogy by Amish Tripathi: While this set doesn’t offer much literary value, Amish Tripathi’s Shiva Trilogy merits a place in this list for its sheer popularity. What Chetan Bhagat is to Indian fiction, Amish is to Indian mythological fiction. The Immortals of Meluha, The Secret of the Nagas and The Oath of the Vayuputras constitute the trilogy and may have been largely responsible for turning many book lovers into mythology buffs. The books offer a retelling of Shaiva mythology, in a fresh new plot and easy-to-understand language. However, most of Amish’s fans will concur that the last book was the most disappointing. It’s a must read for mythology rookies.

4. The Palace of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni: This book seems to have drawn equal amounts of flak and admiration for its retelling of the Mahabharata from Draupadi’s point of view. The author has maintained the original plot of the epic and the only change is that of perspective. Some love it for its feminism; some hate it for exactly the same reason. But there is no taking away from the fact that Divakaruni is a masterful storyteller in The Palace of Illusions and represents the voice of one of the epic’s most complex characters. Draupadi’s relationship with Krishna and Karna are the highlights of this work.

5. Ajaya – Roll of the Dice by Anand Neelakantan: The first of the Mahabharata trilogy, Ajaya: Roll of the Dice is author Anand Neelakantan’s attempt of retelling the epic from the Kauravas’ standpoint. It comes after his hugely successful Asura, which was a Ramayana retelling from Ravana’s POV. The author is essentially a champion of the so-called villains and deserves an A for effort to turn these stories on their heads. Be warned of the lackadaisical language and classic victimization, though.

Other notable reads: Adi Parva – Churning of the Ocean by Amruta Patil, Parva by SL Bhyrappa, Yagnaseni by Pratibha Ray, Karna’s Wife by Kavita Kane, Jaya – An illustrated retelling  of the Mahabharata by Devdutt Pattanaik, The Aryavarta Chronicles by Krishna Udayshankar, The Simoqin Prophecies by Samit Basu

DITCH IT

1. The Krishna Key by Ashwin Sanghi: The problem with Ashwin Sanghi’s Krishna Key is its unabashed similarity with Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code. It’s as if the international bestseller was repackaged for Indian readers, having thrown in some mythological characters (which seem to be the key to book sales these days). Chanakya’s Chant by the same author was a little readable, but with this one and the subsequent The Rozabal Line, Sanghi really seems to have lost the plot.

2. The Ramayana series by Ashok Banker: Ashok Banker was among the first modern writers to retell the Ramayana, in his eight-part series titled Prince of Ayodhya (2003), Siege of Mithila (2003), Demons of Chitrakut (2004), Armies of Hanuman (2005), Bridge of Rama (2005), King of Ayodhya (2006), Vengeance of Ravana (2011), Sons of Sita (2012). While attention to detail is a good thing, Banker’s verbosity is tiring. I’ve also found his style a tad to filmesque. The author’s love of l-e-n-g-t-h-y writing is seen in The Krishna Coreolis series too, which is again a nine (!) part series including Slayer of Kamsa (2010), Dance of Govinda (2011), Flute of Vrindavan (2011), Lord of Mathura (2011), Rage of Jarasandha (2011), Fortress of Dwarka (2012), Rider of Garuda (2013), Lord of Vaikunta (2014), and Consort of Sri (2014). Unless you have immense patience for average writing and / or immense love for the author, skip both series, I say.

3. Thundergod – The Ascendance of Indra by Rajiv Menon: As the title suggests, the book traces the course of the Vedic god, Indra’s ‘career’ from being a mortal to a divinity. The author throws in references from other mythologies too, in trying to create fantasy fiction for adults, but doesn’t do justice to all elements. This book is not without its fans, but most of all, Rajiv Menon’s Thundergod has been panned by critics for its lack of literary quality.

4. Arjuna – Saga of a Pandava Warrior Prince by Anuja Chandramouli: Another disappointment in the realm of Indian mythological fiction comes in the form of Anuja Chandramouli’s Arjuna. In yet another retelling of the Mahabharata, the author writes the story from the prime Pandava’s perspective. With so many character-specific retellings in the market and subpar language, there’s nothing new this book has to offer. Her latest book, Kamadeva – The God of Desire chooses an unusual character and one hopes there are more takeaways.

5. Asura by Anand Neelakantan: This book sure made it to some bestseller lists, but it has as many detractors as admirers. As I’ve mentioned above, the author likes to turn antagonists into protagonists and Asura is a retelling of the Ramayana, which explores the layered character of Ravana. His Achilles heel, however, is his not-so-great language. The book gets simplistic and even boring in places. 

(This article appeared in scroll.in on 28th December, 2014. It can be read here.)

Urmi Chanda-Vaz is a psychologist by training, a journalist by profession and an Indologist by passion. She can be reached on urmi.chanda@gmail.com

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.

MYTHOLOGY AND MUSIC: The definitive influences of Hindu Mythology on Indian Music

Introduction 
Music is inherent to humankind. Since the beginning of documented culture, there has been evidence of music. Music has emerged spontaneously and in parallel in all known human societies. Archeological evidence shows a continuous record of musical instruments, dating back to at least 30,000 years (D’Errico et al., 2003). Music appears to transcend time, place, and culture.

Music is ubiquitous yet mysterious in the way it manifests and perpetuates. Since music has no apparent evolutionary function, this product of ‘pure culture’ has always roused curiosity. The human capacity for music has often been attributed to higher sources, and consequently, a whole body of mythology surrounding music has been born. This paper attempts to explore the effects music and mythology have had on each other over time in India.

Devi Saraswati by Raja Ravi Varma

History of Indian music

The ancient Indians believed in the divine origin of music. The purest form of sound was considered equal to cosmic energy. As a result, music and religion were always closely intertwined. Classical music tradition was probably evolved from the religious poems and chants of the Vedic period. It was later codified by Bharata Muni. Indian music has developed through very complex interactions between different peoples of different races and cultures over several thousand years.

The following timeline* traces the evolution of the musical tradition in India:

Date	Significant musical developments
2500 BC - 1500 BC	Several musical instruments, drums and ‘dancing’ statuettes (including one of Rudra) found at Indus Valley Civilization excavations.
1500 BC - 500 BC	* Arrival of Aryans, beginning of Vedic tradition, especially the rhythmic compositions and chanting of the Vedas. * Introduction of the first instruments like veena, dundubhi, tunav, talav and bhoomi-dundubhi. * Drinking of Soma-ras as part of Vedic sacrifices. * Shiksha literature where ritual and mantra became basis of music. * Guru-Shishya parampara
500BC - 200BC	* Ramayana, with its rhythmic shlokas, composed * Introduction of Pathya Sangeet – educative, instructional musical tales * Mahabharata composed with ample references to music, dance and singing * Musical references in early Buddhist and Jain scriptures
¤ 200 BC - 300 AD	* Mahabharata epilogue, Harivamsha, mentions Chhalikya and Hallisaka. Chhalikya was a form of ancient Indian music and Hallisaka was a dance form. * Natyashastra composed
¤ 300 AD - 600 AD	* Golden age of arts – Gupta period * Composition of important Kalidasa plays * Kamasutra, with varied musical references, composed * Samaj, ghata-nibandhan and other forms of music introduced * Music mentioned in Puranas like Vayupurana, Markandeyapurana and Vishnudharmottarapurana. * Dattilam, a text about ragas, composed
¤ 600 AD - 1200 AD	* Brihaddeshi, text on Indian classical music, composed * Concepts of sargam, tala and Deshi music introduced * Significant changes in 11th century Hindustani art music * Beginnings of Sufi and Persian music
¤ 1200 AD - 1700 AD	* The rise of Amir Khusro’s poetry * Emergence of music forms like qawali, qalbana, qasida, naqsh and rags like Turushka, Zeelaph and Sarpada * Drupad, a genre of Hindustani Classical music, introduced * Beginning of Hindi songs like Vishnupadas, in lieu of Sanskrit ones * Rise of the Bhakti cult with devotional music about Rama and Krishna, especially Meerabai * Legendary musicians like Tansen lived and sang * Rise in popularity of 16th century court music
¤ 1700 AD onwards	* This period marks the beginning of modern Indian music * Birth of musical forms like Khayal, Thumri, Tappa and formation of Gharanas * Publishing of Hindustani music in English and other regional languages

Scriptural references

The evolution of music can be traced best through the scriptures, as also explore its mythological aspects. The Vedas and Puranas are replete with stories about the origin of music and musical instruments. We take a look at some such references.  

The Vedas

Music originated from chanting of Vedas from the Aryan age. The Indus Valley civilization declined around the first half of the 2nd millennium BC, giving way to Vedic civilization. An important aspect of Vedic religious life was the bard-priest who composed hymns, in praise of the gods, to be sung or chanted at sacrifices. 

'Nada' the source of sound turned into Chhandas. The priests chanted hymns in a musical tone with the pronunciation according to the tune. Vocalising syllables called Sthobhaksaras were added. Melody and rhythm created the music. Priests used to perform group chanting at the sacrifices. There are many legends about the origin of music. 

The Yajurveda and the Samaveda were composed after the Rigveda. The Samaveda is especially important as it contains hymns to be sung by those who did the chanting. It is this Veda which is specifically connected with music in India. 

The Vishnudharmottara Purana

The Vishnudharmottara Purana is a Hindu text, encyclopedic in nature. It is considered as a supplement or appendix to the Vishnu Purana. Among other things, it has chapters dedicated to grammar, metrics, lexicography, metrics, rhetoric, dramaturgy, dance, vocal and instrumental music and arts. Chapters 18-19 of one of its khandas deal with vocal and instrumental music.

The epics

• Ramayana  

The first Indian epic, Ramayana, was composed by the sage Valmiki. It was written in shloka form. The word shloka refers to a particular kind of metrical composition known for its brevity, easy tempo and lilting rhyme.

Satrughna is returning with his attendants to Ayodhya from his kingdom of Madhu for the first time in twelve years and halts at Valmiki's hermitage. There he hears Lava and Kusa singing the story of Rama. Source: British Museum via Wikipedia

From the lavish use of musical metaphors in the epic, it is evident that the precise concept of music or sangeet had been adequately established and appreciated. 

There are references to terms like Marga sangeet , divine music meant only for the gods, and Gandharva, the 'classical' music of the time. Rama was depicted an expert in gandharva, in the Ramayana, so were Ravana and Sugreeva. The epic also tells us that musical instruments were collectively mentioned as atodya, some of them being the Veena, Venu, Vansha, Shankha, Dundubhi, Bheri, Mridang, Panav and Pataha.

• Mahabharata 

Vyasa’s Mahabharata composed in 24000 shlokas also mentions music often, but not as much as the Ramayana. 

Urvashi, an apsara in Indra's court by Raja Ravi Varma

Mahabharata used the term Gandharva instead of Sangeet. Arjuna, one of the heroes in the Mahabharata had learnt these musical arts from the king of Gandharvas, Chitrasen. There are also references to kings maintaining their own music schools to train princesses and their maids-in-waiting in the performing arts.

The names of the seven basic musical notes (shadja) have been clearly mentioned in the Mahabharata, which was composed around 400 BC. The epic therefore bears testimony to the long living tradition of Indian Classical music.

The Kalidasa plays and others

In ancient India, music used to be a part of the famous Sanskrit dramas like Mirchakatika and Abhijnana Shakuntalam. The origin of the ancient Indian music began in the age of the Aryans, with the chanting of the Vedas. It was seen as an excellent means for realization of god. Music was considered as a source of culture and civilization. It was an integral aspect of Sanskrit dramas like Abhijnana Shakuntalam, Mirchakatika. The fourth act of Vikramoryasiya by Kalidasa used different musical compositions like Aksiptika, Dvipadika, Jambhalika, Khandadhara, Carcarj, Khandaka, etc.

Natya Shastra

The Natya Shastra is an ancient Indian treatise on the performing arts, encompassing theatre, dance and music. It was written during the period between 200 BCE and 200 CE in classical India and is traditionally attributed to the Sage Bharata.

The Natya Shastra is incredibly wide in its scope. While it primarily deals with stagecraft, it has come to influence music, classical Indian dance, and literature as well. It covers stage design, music, dance, makeup, and virtually every other aspect of stagecraft. It is very important to the history of Indian classical music because it is the only text which gives such detail about the music and instruments of the period. Thus, an argument can be made that the Natya Shastra is the foundation of the fine arts in India.

The Gods of Music

Each of the above-mentioned scriptures acknowledges and explains the divine origins of music, attributing certain arts to certain gods. One cannot help but draw parallels with the Muses and Apollo in Greek mythology, who were reigning gods of music. However, unlike the Greek gods, Indian gods have been more associated with instruments rather than the crafts, with the exception of Shiva, who is considered the God of (cosmic) dance. Here are some popular Indian deities majorly associated with music.

A typical Mridangam

Brahma: The origin of the universe is often attributed to the Nada Brahma, or the primeval sound energy. On more concrete terms, Brahma, the deity, is associated with the barrel drum, or Mridangam, which is one of the most significant instruments in Indian music. Brahma is said to have created the mridangam (‘mritha’ being clay and ‘anga’ being body) from the blood soaked earth when he killed the demon, Tripura.

A bronze statue of Vishnu holding the shankha, chakra, gada and padma

Vishnu: Vishnu holds the shankha or conch in one of his four hands. This sankha is said to have created the primordial sound of ‘Om’, which is the source of all other sounds in the universe. The shankha is held sacred to this day in Hindu temples and rituals.

A stone carving of Rudra, sword and damru in hand

Shiva/ Rudra: Of all Hindu gods, Shiva probably has the most significant place in the world of music and dance. As Shiva, he holds the damru, a small drum that plays the beats of life and death. As Nataraja, he dances the cosmic dance, forever maintaining the balance of the universe. Shiva is also said to have invented the first five of the six main ragas. Of the five faces of Lord Shiva the eastern face gave birth to raag Bhairav, the western face to Raag Hindol, the Northern face to Raag Megh, the Southern face to Raag Deepak and the fifth face, which was directed towards the sky gave birth to Raga Shree. Goddess Parvati is said to have created the Raga Kaushik.

A Rudraveena

Shiva is also said to have created the Rudraveena, a string instrument, inspired by the voluptuous supine form of his wife, Parvati.

Veena-playing Devi Saraswati

Saraswati: Like Brahma, his consort, Saraswati is associated with music. Not just music, Saraswati is considered the patron goddess of all arts. She is seen holding a classical Veena in one of her four hands and is credited with the invention of the 7-toned scale or swara. Interestingly enough, each one of the seven swaras is associated with one Hindu deity: Sa with Ganapati, Re with Agni, Ga with Rudra, Ma with Vishnu, Pa with Narada, Dha with Sadashiva, and Ni with Surya.

The flute-playing Krishna

Krishna: Krishna, one of the most popular Hindu gods, has strong musical connections. The young Krishna of Vrindavan is always depicted as carrying the  flute and playing mesmerising tunes with it. Krishna is comparable to Apollo and the muses in Greek mythology, a charming God that he is, surrounded by gopis, immersed in song and dance. 

Other characters

Rishi Narada holding the Mahati Veena

Narada: The Vedic Sage Narada, famous for perpetuating divine gossip, also has some musical associations. He is depicted as carrying the tanpura, which he uses as an accompaniment to the devotional songs he sings in Vishnu’s praise. He is also credited with the invention of the Mahati Veena, the aristocrat among Indian instruments. The Mahati Veena is said to have fallen out of favour in the modern times due to the sheer difficulty in playing it.

Idols like these of Ravana holding a Veena are commonly seen in South India 

Raavanhaath, or the one-string instrument

Ravana: The biggest antagonist of Hindu lore, Ravana, was also known to be a master of many crafts. Popular iconography often has Ravana holding a Veena. There is, in fact, a rudimentary string instrument named after him. Called the Ravanastram, this ancient bowed instrument consists of a bamboo stick as a body to which two wooden pegs are fixed for tuning the strings and a half hollowed coconut shell as belly covered with a dried skin. The bow having a string of horse hair and belts attached to it is used as a fiddle stick.

A stone carving of Gandharvas

Gandharvas: The Gandharvas, or celestial musicians, led by Chitrasena were the guardians and practitioners of the arts, especially music and dance. They guarded the Soma and made beautiful music for the gods in their palaces. Gandharvas are frequently depicted as singers in the court of Gods.

Ragas

An important component of music is the melody or Raga, as they are known in Indian Music. The powers of ragas were and are attributed to divine agency. In the 13th Century, Sarngadeva (in Sangita Ratnakara) assigned a patron deity to each raga. Later, ragas were themselves represented as semi-divine beings. In a famous story from the Brhaddharma Purana, the musician Narada is taken to heavenly realms to confront the souls of the male ragas and female raginis cruelly injured by his inept performances; when Siva sings them correctly, each raga or ragini presents him- or herself in person.

Ragmala Painting of Ragini Asawari (reproduction of Mewar school)

Also, the 72 Mēḷakarta ragas are split into 12 groups called chakrās, each containing 6 ragas. The name of each of the 12 chakras, many of which are of gods’ names, suggests their ordinal number as well.

• Indu stands for the moon, of which we have only one 

• Nētra means eyes, of which we have two – hence it is the second.

• Agni, the third chakra, denotes the three divyagnis (fire, lightning and Sun).

• Vēda denoting four Vedas is the name of the fourth chakra.

• Bāṇa comes fifth as it stands for the five bāṇaa of Manmatha.

• Rutu is the sixth chakra standing for the 6 seasons of Hindu calendar.

• Rishi, meaning sage, is the seventh chakra representing the seven sages.

• Vasu stands for the eight Vasus of Hinduism.

• Brahma comes next of which there are 9.

• The 10 directions, including akash (sky) and patal (nether region), is represented by the tenth chakra, Disi.

• Eleventh chakra is Rudra of which there are eleven.

• Twelfth comes Aditya of which there are twelve.

Also of import is the now obsolete Raga-Ragini classification. There are 6 principal male ragas, namely Bhairav, Malkauns, Hindol, Deepak, Shri and Megh ragas. These ragas have five wives or raginis each and these raga-ragini ‘couples’ also have 8 children or raga putras each. This gives us a total of 84 ragas.

Conclusion

The influence of mythology on Indian music has been undeniable and extensive. From the Vedic times down to the modern day, songs about gods have been central to the music of India. Whether it is naming of the ragas, or the invention of music instruments, the Hindus have always looked at mythological creatures for inspiration. We do not just tell stories about our gods and heroes, but sing them, for music is divinity manifest.    

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This assignment was part of my PG Diploma Course in Comparative Mythology, at the Department of Sanskrit, University of Mumbai, for the academic year 2013-14, Sem. 1, Paper 1. Images have been sourced from the Internet and none belong to me.

Ajaya: Epic of the Kaurava Clan Book 1 - Roll of the Dice by Anand Neelakantan: Impressions

I let this book sit upon my shelf for a long time before I started reading it a couple of weeks ago. It sounded like one of those riding the current mythology wave, and I hadn't heard good things about it from my other reader friends. However, the huge success of Neelakantan's debut book, Asura, and the fact that this was a story of the 'other side', piqued my interest. We've read altogether too many Kaurava-bashing Mahabharatas, and a fresh perspective was welcome.

It is interesting that Neelakantan should pick a name like Ajaya for his trilogy, because to me it seems like a subtle and intentional mockery of the 'original' Mahabharata, which was called Jaya. Incidentally, popular mythology author and illustrator, Devdutt Pattanaik, has also recently wrote a book by that name, which did very well. The word 'Ajaya' means invincible, but phonetically split, A-Jaya also looks like the anti-thesis of Jaya. Neelakantan seems to have decided to be the anti-heroes' torchbearer from the word go, as he subtitles the book Epic of the Kaurava Clan. Roll of the Dice is the first of the three books in this series.

Roll of the Dice takes a little time picking up pace, which might explain the few discouraged readers I spoke about earlier. He takes his time introducing the principal characters like Bhishma, Drona, Kripa, Balarama, Karna, Parshurama, Shakuni, Ekalavya and of course, Suyodhana (Duryodhana) and dedicates entire chapters to them. But once the stage is set, the plot gathers speed and the story flows easily from one chapter to the next. The author paints detailed character sketches, even those of minor characters like Jara, Dhaumya, Takshaka and Mayasura, gently convincing the readers to empathise with the traditional villains. In fact, Neelakantan's excessive sympathy for the underdog translates into large-ish portions dedicated to the untouchable beggar Jara and his blind dog, Dharma. Jara's continued presence in the plot evokes tremendous pathos and keeps reminding the reader that this is the story of the other side, which no one has ever wanted to hear.

Neelakantan is convincing in his portrayal of Suyodhana (nicknamed Duryodhana by the Pandavas) as a kind-hearted if short-tempered soul. Karna, who is generally recognised as a noble character even in the 'regular' Mahabharatas, is shown as a valiant warrior and friend, and Ashwathama & Sushasana (aka Dushasana) as loyal friends and supporters. Only Shakuni is the pure villain in Neelakantan's book. The author also succeeds in painting the Pandavas, Kunti and Krishna in a rather vile light, portraying them as a ruthless and conniving bunch. Only Arjuna's character is shown to have some nobility. He downplays their divinity and offers rational, believable explanations instead. One of my favourites is how he explains Karna's divine Kavach (armour). He says the armour, crafted by the finest workmen, was a gift to Karna by a king belonging to a dynasty of sun worshippers. Sounds so much more plausible than a baby being born with armour, doesn't it?

Even though Neelakantan rationalises a lot of mystical elements in his book, his story remains true to the original. Although sources have not been quoted, the basic plot is the same as the Mahabharata we have all grown up listening to. It seems thoroughly researched and generally legit. Some relationships/connections such as Subhadra and Suyodhana's, Karna and Parshurma's, Takshaka and Ekalavya's may be romaticised and fictionalised, but they serve the author's purpose well in painting these anti-heroes in a humane light. He is, in fact, so skilled as an author, that in just one book, I've found my faith in Krishna a little shaken. If that's not his success as an author, I don't know what else is.

I shall definitely complete the trilogy as they release, and you should too.

Arjuna - Saga of a Pandava Warrior-Prince by Anuja Chandramouli: Impressions

Times are bad. Children no longer obey their parents, and everyone is writing a book. ~ Cicero M Tullius

If Cicero was to say this today, he'd have modified that last bit to ...and everyone's writing a book about the Mahabharata. After Ashok Banker, Devdutt Pattanaik and Amish Tripathi, India seems to be mass producing contemporary Indian English authors of mythology. Can’t blame them, really. Our epics are so rich and endless in their inspiration that any wannabe author without an original story turns to them for a reinterpretation, a retelling.

The Mahabharata, in particular, with its myriad characters, is a favourite and stories from the points of view of individual characters are flooding the market. It probably started when Prem Panicker translated Vasudevan Nair's Randaamoozham, a retelling of the Mahabharata by Bheema. Panicker’s book was called Bhimsen. Next was The Palace of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, which came out in 2008. The last couple of years have seen books like, Mrityunjaya (a story about Karna) by Shivaji Savant, Women of the Mahabharata by Chaturvedi Badrinath and more recently, even Karna’s Wife, the outcaste’s queen by Kavita Kane! There may be many others I’m not aware of, but one of this genre recently landed on my table for a review.

Arjuna – Saga of a Pandava Warrior-Prince by Anuja Chandramouli tells the story of the Mahabharata from the perspective of the most illustrious of the Pandavas. While the book focuses on the important milestones of Arjuna's story, especially his 12-year exile, the story is essentially that of the inexorably connected Pandava brothers. Either it is impossible to separate the five, or the author hasn't done a good job with the single perspective. Because I've not read any of the books mentioned above yet, I do not know how they compare. But if an author decides to pick one character, as a reader, I would expect a more fleshed out one than what Chandramouli has presented here.

The language is also simple to a fault. Its plainness doesn't make the book easy to read; instead it makes it dull. For a tale as amazing as the Mahabharata, it is sad if one doesn't feel like reading more than a few pages at once. For me as a reader, the language neither induced great visuals, nor was there any music in it. I remained impassive to the protagonist and the plot right through the book. The author fails to make Arjuna memorable for me any more than he already is. But the book will serve as a good refresher for anyone looking to brush up their Mahabharata trivia.  

While this book was a little bit of a disappointment, I welcome this wave of Indian English books on our greatest epic. The Mahabharata belongs to everyone and its rich lessons ought to stay with us. It is only with such books that the newer generations will take interest in and take forward this fantastic legacy. I certainly look forward to reading many more from this genre of books.

Trividha

Dusk had started its greedy journey of claiming real estate across the lands. Like a witch’s sinewy hands shadows grew, consuming a chunk of grass here, some trees there. Soon the land would be flooded with darkness. A darkness that perhaps no new sun would be able to erase again completely. The skies bore a hint of melancholy as she waited, patiently, for their arrival. But within her, behind the veils of reasons, a storm awaited.

The air was thick with incense. An everyday ritual in the palace, whenever the sun took a graceful exit. But that particular day she felt as if the smoke would snake across the gleaming floors, crawl up around her like an innocent creeper and choke the remaining life out of her. Such had been the impact of the news she had received. She could no longer see the poetry of the colours that had always been her one resort of solace. No more would the fragrance of flowers bring her peace. Not that day would the arrival of her heart’s beloved master and emperor, Arjuna, make her rush to the threshold to greet him into her arms. Everything was whirlpooling into a blank. A void. And she had started to ask questions that she feared she already knew the answers to.

He mused at the lightness and heaviness of the air. The breeze brushed past his arm as playfully as ever, fragrant like the new bride by his side, yet it was laced with a gloom, a cold, that he knew the palatial air would be like. He absently placed his arms around that warm nubile body as they walked, his steps light with anticipation, and heavy with guilt. Subhadra, that beautiful creature made of misty mornings, seemed to be floating alongside him. So different she was from Draupadi - that woman of flaming beauty. Yet how similar they were in their love for him. He sighed, his broad shoulders drooping under the weight of what was to be. “I should learn to live with paradoxes now,” he thought to himself. Even as a gale began to rise from the pit of his stomach, he wondered what was going through Subhadra’s mind, and let the chariot soar.  

She repeated her name in her own head, over and over. Subhadra, Subhadra. Auspicious. Blessed. Her whole life had brought her to this one juncture where she was on the brink of questioning why she was here. What was she learning? She felt Arjuna’s body radiating guilt and a measure of worry as they swooped towards Indraprastha in the air-borne chariot. She was reminded of a child that had to go home after a day of rule-breaking to a waiting mother, ready to be chastised. It almost made her smile. Auspicious? Who could ever tell what Krishna had planned for her, for Arjuna, for Draupadi? But she had learnt one thing from all her time with this flute-player that everybody seemed to adore; everything you perceive is the tip of the iceberg. As they stepped out of the chariot and walked up the palace stairway, she remembered that it was she who had ridden the chariot. She had made Arjuna elope with her, albeit on Krishna’s instructions. She knew she could shield Arjuna. She also knew she would never have to do that until Krishna called for it.

The chambermaid came in and announced that the valiant Pandava had arrived with his new bride. Without batting an eyelid, Draupadi nodded her head in acknowledgement. It was so mechanical and instant that it was almost as if she had heard the maid’s voice inside her head. “Here he comes now” she told herself and began walking towards the main door. “How do I make him see what burns inside me?” she wondered, as her legs, unwillingly, dragged her towards him. “What misses the great Gandiva-bearing Pandava’s eyes? Nothing.” she reminded herself and approached the giant gold embroidered doors that somehow seemed taller than usual. Heavier and more merciless than what she had of them in memory. Every inch of her body was aflame with feelings that had been so alien to her. But she was no stranger to fire. It was her home, after all. So she awaited the pristine moment that would convert this raging wildfire inside her into a placid lamp.

The first thing she spotted was just Arjuna. For a fleeting moment all the rage within her disappeared. Could it be true? Was it really just him who stood there outside the door? Had he abandoned the idea of crushing her tender heart and decided to smother it with more love instead? A droplet of happiness pushed itself out of her eyes as these thoughts made home within her. But as she blinked in anticipation, the mist grew thin. And her smile, shaped like the beautiful Gandiva, was cruelly broken. Standing next to her Arjuna was the new girl. Krishna’s sister and the new stakeholder of her beloved’s heart. Subhadra. The tears in her eyes froze from the heat that now surged through her, turning them from transparent pearls to translucent sparks. Red with reason. Red like the tongue of a flame.

Arjuna froze too. Draupadi’s eyes locked into his, a million images flashed through his head. He remembered the Swayamwara, and Draupadi’s eyes when she first saw him there - she had smiled a bashful yet knowing smile. She knew that no one but him could win the contest. It was designed for the archer supreme. He remembered her victorious eyes again, when he stood before her, neck bent to wear the varmala, past all his contenders. Her eyes full of dreams when they walked together towards the Pandavas’ kutir in the forest. Her confused eyes when Kunti and Yudhishtir discussed dividing her into five parts. Her hurt, angry eyes, when they made the biggest decision of her life. Nobody had asked her then. Nobody had asked her now. She had acquiesced then to not giving all of herself to Arjuna. But would she agree now to not having Arjuna all to herself? Would she agree to a painful splitting again? He couldn’t tell.

All Arjuna saw were proud, angry tears, that streaked Draupadi’s fiery beauty. The tears singed him. How would he ever explain why Subhadra was here at her door, claiming to be another wife to him? How would he explain that his love for Draupadi hadn’t died, but a new love for Subhadra had been born? He summoned his voice with great difficulty. Words came forth from his throat like arrows, hurting his mouth, his head, his entire being. “I come to ask of you again today, to share what you hold dear. Would you, my love, give up a little of me?” His sigh melted into Subhadra’s - two united breaths. The first words had been uttered. They didn't know if it would annihilate them or embrace them - but at least the floodgates had been opened.

The wind from Arjuna’s and Subhadra’s sighs amplified the already roaring firestorm inside Draupadi. She collected herself, inhaled deep, and looking at Subhadra’s downcast eyes, said in a clear distinct voice  “Greetings, O great son of Pandu. Would you be so kind as to also tell me why this is being asked of me?”

Subhadra put a restraining arm on Arjuna. She had sensed his lips part, ready with a reply but she had also seen Draupadi’s eyes boring into hers. She knew it was a question thrown at her. She could see that Draupadi, this glorious, powerful creature literally born of fire, had faced betrayal before from Arjuna. She hardly expected an answer from him. But a woman, a woman just like her in so many ways, how could she do this to her? There were a thousand questions in Draupadi’s fiery glare but Subhadra was protected. She looked into those red eyes, gently tilted her head and noticed something. She was home. There was Krishna everywhere. There were his symbols strewn across Indraprastha and in this moment, when those should be least of her concerns, Subhadra’s heart leapt in joy.

Peacocks strolled languorously in the sweeping gardens surrounding Indraprastha. She heard the gentle note of a flute playing somewhere far away. Draupadi was exactly how Krishna had described. In that one moment, she knew she was meeting a part of her own soul; a lover of Krishna, no different from who she was. Arjuna’s first queen, no different from who she was. “You don’t have to,” she whispered, glancing at Draupadi’s red-lined feet. “Krishna sends me.” A tear drop rolled down her eye as she uttered her only truth.

For a brief moment Draupadi’s fury seemed to find a sense of calm. Such a magical concoction lay in Krishna’s mere mention. In Subhadra’s words she could almost hear Krishna’s melodious voice. She relented, briefly. And in that brief instance she realised how tender Subhadra really was. Krishna’s name in the conversation had started to kill the fires. But it wasn’t comforting. The sting of desperation resumed with renewed energies when her gaze shifted to Arjuna, standing like a rock, next to the new girl.

“Did Krishna just send this new gift to Indraprastha? Or did he also send some arrow-tipped words with the great Arjuna? Why do I not see that quiver strapped to his person? What words will you choose, O famous Pandu putra,  to explain this truth to me?” Draupadi said, without mincing her words, aiming them straight at Arjuna’s bosom.

“How do I say this, Panchali?” Arjuna began. “ How do I begin to mirror what churns beneath my skin? How do I explain the motivations of Keshava, which my actions have fructified?”

“He, who is sarathi to me, sakha to you, and bhrata to Subhadra has brought us together, like three flowers bound with one string. While it was Madhava who prompted me, Subhadra who whisked me away, it was I who has chosen to love and be loved back. Yet, dear Draupadi, I love you no less. While it was in the soil of your heart that my love first took root, I cannot now thrive without the water of Subhadra’s affections. And the sunlight of Dwarkadhish’s blessing is indispensible for all of us. You have been, and remain, my first love. In the name of that love, I implore you, in the name of our rashtra, I implore you to accept Subhadra. Accept her because it is Krishna’s will, accept her because it is my doing, accept her because it will make our state stronger. Accept her as you will partake in all of my karmas as my ardhangini. Accept her as your sister. All Subhadra seeks is a little place by your side, our side,” he said, turning towards his new bride.

Draupadi looked away. Krishna, it occurred to her, had indeed sent well-sharpened arrows with Arjuna. Each one of them made their mark on her hurting heart. With each new pierce the grief and rage in the pit of her stomach only worsened. Her mind was filled with memories.

“Acceptance...,”she said slowly. “You have chosen your words wisely, O valiant one. Many moons ago, was it not this same request for acceptance that gave me more than the man I had chosen at my Swayamwara? Was it not the same venom of acceptance I had been made to forcefully consume in the name of dharma, in the name of rashtra, in the name of the betterment of all humanity? What guile had been used against me back then to accept five husbands instead of one? How strategically was I implored, time and again, to consume within me the flames of someone else’s decisions? A land that was supposed to be your empire, a haven that would flourish with your monarchy, a golden oasis of nectar that would extinguish the flames of my passion, had to accept the hands of four more men to rule it. Yes, I accepted. I accepted relinquishing you for four years at end. I accepted standing equally with your shadow wherever you went. I accepted the tiny piece of attention I got from your war riddled lifetime. I accepted them all Partha. But the only gushing waterfall in the dense rainforest of my little heart. That one small stone of pleasure on which I sit today along with you in my arms....”

She turned now to face Subhadra.

“...is being taken away from me. That singular tree I sit under. Krishna’s truth, I must admit...” Draupadi continued as the ghosts from her days bygone began choking her voice. “...is not cutting down that tree Gandeevi. It is killing that tree’s only existent, life-giving, pleasant shadow. And what is a tree without a shadow? That, I cannot accept, O Dhananjaya...” she said looking expectantly into her beloved’s eyes.

“Do not accept it, then," said Subhadra. You are well within your rights to send me back. You are my king’s first queen. He first found love in your eyes, in your embrace. The love of an equal, the love of a woman, he found it first in your words and your silences. And I? I am but a pawn in this story of life. While I have loved your Arjuna more than I have ever loved any man, I harbour no illusions about what position I hold in his life, and in your life with him. I know why Krishna chose to name me Subhadra. I know I am being used. But that also tells me that I am useful. I do not know what Madhava plans. I am blessed with only human eyes and a human intellect and it is not for me to show you what lies beyond the horizon. I can only tell you that I place my unflinching faith in Govinda, in his plans, no matter how dark the clouds loom over the horizon.

“So send me back. But know this, Panchali, that the responsibility of refuting Krishna’s word rests heavy on your already-laden shoulders. Know this, O Krishnaa, that you make Krishna who he is. To refute his word is to go against your own grain. Remember. And I shall go in peace.”

Arjuna looked distraught. Tearing in the middle, fraught with pain. He looked at Subhadra, in awe of her stand. Yes, she was a woman who could steer destinies as well as she could steer chariots. She was, after all, Parthasarathi’s sister. Then he looked at Draupadi, a woman cast in embers, flaming with a passion of love and defiance, teetering on the edge of a decision.  

Draupadi smiled. Not at what had been said by the new love in Arjuna’s life but at the familiarity of the situation. She recalled the words of her father, the great king Drupada, back when she was just a child. On an evening not too unlike the one that day, the aged king had made little Draupadi sit on his lap and told her the magical story of her birth. He had spoken of sacred fires, as tall as mount Meru itself, that had roared relentlessly for several days as many renowned sages had prayed to the heavens to grant the king a gift. “The gift,” Drupada had whispered in the little girl’s anxious ears “was wrapped in gold, yellow and red. It was made of fire. It was as if Lord Agni himself had walked into my humble home holding this beautiful little bundle of unbridled bliss. A little girl born of fire. A little soul that had the command of turning empires to dust with its fury and also the gentleness of giving warmth to shivering mortals.” The girl, amused at this comparison to fire, had laughed out loud. “Yes..” the king had added. “In time, you will see my little fire flower, that there will gather skies above your head that will need you to choose. What kind of fire will you unleash? Will you burn down castles of ambitions? Or will you set afire a million hopes?”

A tear rolled down Draupadi’s cheek. Much like the one Subhadra had let out a few moments ago while releasing her truth. This was Draupadi’s truth now. Her lifetime of truths wrapped in various boxes of acceptance from different corners of the universe. Her dark exterior had, much like the shadows cast by the Parijata tree, absorbed all the heat the world gifted her with. She recalled Arjuna’s look of surprise and admiration back at the Swayamwara at having spotted her singular beauty. But she wondered if he knew how many rabid energies had penetrated her to make her glow from the inside. Today, under the skies as dark as her, Draupadi was being asked the same question her father had asked her. What will she be? The generous flame that consumes everything it is presented with? Or the uncontrollable hurricane of anger that spares no one, vaporizes anything that comes its way?.

“Krishnaa exists because of Krishna...” she finally managed to mouth. “Had it not been for the immortal hands of Keshava, the many mortals who have ruled Draupadi’s heart would have extinguished her long ago.”

She looked at Subhadra. It was true what she had heard of her. Just like her brother, she had been born with the gift of words. But how different she was from him too. Unlike him, who chose his words to show the way ahead, her words seemed aimed to herald the truth of today. This moment. This heartbeat.

Subhadra stepped carefully over the threshold and approached Draupadi. Draupadi stood, barely balancing herself on her two feet, almost in a daze. Subhadra covered the last few steps towards Draupadi in a run and clasped her arms around her. “I know. I stoke no fire. I am not water. I will never put you out. I am Krishna too. And I will hold this earth beneath your feet. Forever and beyond,” she whispered. Words that passed only between her and Panchali. Draupadi felt frail in that one moment, like embers about to die out and Subhadra knew it was her job to fan them to keep them going. There was a long journey ahead. This life had hardly begun.

Draupadi’s fury came out as tears. Much like the waterfall in her mind’s forest, this was generous too. Much like the shadow of her singular tree, this was greedy too. Greedy not just for claiming Arjuna’s sole rights to her heart, but greedy for this new vision of Krishna to, hopefully, make the forest fire in her become a lamp that would brighten the dark days strewn like fallen flowers ahead. She held on to Subhadra.

Subhadra held one hand out behind her. They would never be complete without Arjuna. Arjuna held it fast.

In that one moment a confluence was created. The life forces of three strong streams merging into one. The barriers breaking between the elements of fire, water and earth and forming one divine. Arjuna saw Draupadi melt, forging a bond between her and Subhadra, forming one Prakriti with two faces, to accompany him, the Purusha, into the future. “Paradoxes,” he mused, “exist only as long as we fail to perceive the larger, divine picture.”

By accepting duality, we understand the presence of the One. It is this One that may sometimes play life’s sweet music on the banks of the Yamuna, and sometimes send life’s toughest choices in the way He sent a Draupadi, a Subhadra, an Arjuna, a Draupadi and a Subhadra, an Arjuna.

(Co-authored with @Shakwrites and @ScrollsNInk)

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Leela struck some deep chords, not just within me and Reema, but also in some others who read us. One such person was our mutual Twitter friend Shakri, who expressed interest in doing another collaborative project on a mythological subject with us. We were only delighted to agree, and after some deliberation agreed to write a fictional piece based on the Mahabharata on the Draupadi-Arjuna-Subhadra situation. And we did. We picked one character each by drawing lots and put together a spontaneous piece that has taken the form of Trividha. I will not reveal who wrote what. If it seems seamless, the purpose was achieved.