Book review: Ramayana - Stolen Hope (Part III) by Shubha Vilas

Two things have changed since I read the first two installments of Shubha Vilas' Ramayana series. Firstly, I've realised that the author in question is a man - his name being Shubh(a) and not ShubhA as I'd previously thought; and secondly, my interest in the epic has peaked. The Ramayana has, for some reason, assumed an important place in my life and therefore, the author's request for a review was more than welcome. However, because my last review wasn't exactly kind, I was surprised when the author asked me for a second. As an author-in-the-making, one understands that it cannot be an easy task to place one's hard work at the altar of someone's opinion. But it is rather flattering as a critic because you know that your words are being taken seriously and objectively.  

That said, my opinions haven't much changed since the last time. While I still admire the author's crisp manner of writing, I also still find his 'moral footnotes' unnecessary, and sometimes even  mildly hilarious. I mean, how does one react to a line like this?

"Instead of tea, if one drinks a cup of responsibili-tea, the struggle to remain awake would be a happy one."

With an #smh, right? A little condescending laughter, maybe? Or just plain wonder at how Jaico's editors let these things pass? 

But then that's the author's USP. Perhaps there will be some readers who will appreciate this 'humour' (if that's what it is supposed to be), and his tendency to preach. Sometimes, there are pages where he explains the significance of certain actions of certain characters. Some of the reasons cited seem plausible; while some others seem quite preposterous. Then again, there's no contesting interpretations in mythology/religion and it is best left to the discretion of his readers. 

I, for one, ignore these explanatory sections and footnotes and read the book as one would a simple rendition of the Ramayana in prose. For those who are familiar with the epic, it helps jog one's memory pertaining to its various myths and sub-plots; and for those who are reading the Ramayana for the first time, it is a great 'starter pack'. It is a true version of the epic with no fictionalisation, as many current authors are wont to do. Don't let that strange cover illustration of what looks like Rama attacking for Jatayu mislead you.

When Rama is Sita's brother, and Hanuman, a ladies' man!

Don't outrage at the headline yet, for this is no attempt at sensationalism. This is merely letting you know that in a society just a little different from yours, the Ramayana exists differently. India's famous epic is not necessarily the one Valmiki composed, or the Amar Chitra Katha versions we read, or the one we watched on television in the 80s. Ramanand Sagar's televised version, which was adapted from Tulsidas' Ramacharitamanas is the one we are most familiar with. It is the story of virtuous Sita being abducted by the evil Ravana, and her valiant husband Rama rescuing her with the help of his devoted brother Lakshmana and the monkey army after an epic battle. It is the story of familiar moral stereotypes, that is deeply entrenched in mainstream society.

However, different social needs call for different kinds of heroes and the Ramayana has been adapted in varied ways through centuries. These versions were not created to be sacrilegious. While some versions challenged Brahmanical authority, most were the result of adapting a universal heroic figure to fit their social-cultural context. In his famous and sometimes contested essay, 'Three Hundred Ramayanas: Five Examples and Three Thoughts on Translation', A K Ramanujan talks about hundreds of versions of the epic that exist in folk, poetic and dramatic traditions. But here I list five versions which deviate most from the plot and characters we are familiar with.

1. Sita as Kali in the 'Adbhut Ramayana': Let's start with Sage Valmiki himself. Not satisfied with composing just one Ramayana, the great poet sage is said to have composed other versions and extensions like the Yoga Vashistha and the Adbhut Ramayana. The former is more of a philosophical treatise using the context of the epic, while the latter is an adbhut or a wondrous composition. Much shorter than the original maha kavya, the Adbhut Ramayana is especially notable for its characterisation of Sita. She is not the demure, helpless victim here waiting for her husband to rescue her. In fact, when Rama falls wounded and unconscious on the battle field, she assumes the fierce form of Kali and wreaks havoc upon earth. She is eventually pacified by the gods, Rama's consciousness is restored and the story moves on. If you find feminists who decry Sita's submissive role in the traditional Ramayana, point them in this direction.

(Available in an English translation by Shantilal Nagar, BR Publications)

2. Rama and Sita as siblings in 'Dasaratha Jataka': The Dasaratha Jataka is one of the earliest Buddhist versions of the epic. In what might seem like a shocking twist to most, Rama and Sita are depicted as brother and sister in this version. The duo is not banished but sent away to the Himalayas by the king Dasaratha in order to protect them from their jealous stepmother. The stepmother is the only antagonist, for there is no Ravana in this story. When things have cooled down, Rama and Sita return to Benaras and not Ayodhya and get married. As much as your morals are jarred by this incestuous turn of things, bear in mind that some communities make this provision to maintain purity of caste when there are no eligible matches.

(Available in an English translation by V Fausboll, Kessinger Publishing)

3. Lakshmana as the Ravana slayer in 'Paumachariya': One Jain version of the Ramayana is called Paumachariya, which was authored by Vimalsuri. The Jain Ramayana strips all elements of fantasy from Valmiki's version and presents a very rational view of the epic. Ramanujan avers: “When we enter the world of Jain retellings, the Rama story no longer carries Hindu values. … Paumachariya knows its Valmiki and proceeds to correct its errors and Hindu extravagances. Like other Jaina puranas, this too is a prati purana, an anti or counter-purana.”

For example, it rejects the idea of a monkey army and suggests that they were actually a tribe of warrior people with the monkey as their totem/symbol. However, the most important deviation in this version is where Lakshman becomes the slayer of Ravana. That's because Rama, being a perfect Jain, is avowed to nonviolence and cannot be a killer. Here, too, Rama is a hero for he embodies the highest ethic of the Jain religion. His valiance is reflected in his non killing. Makes perfect sense, doesn't it?

While an English translation of the Paumachariya does not seem to be available, it might be worth checking out some rare Hindi translations.

4. Lakshmana's agni pareeksha in the 'Gond Ramayani': The Gond Ramayani is a series of seven tales told in the folk tradition of the Gond tribe. Folklorist Molly Kaushal, in an interview with a leading journal, says: “The Gond Ramayani is embedded in the socio-cultural context of the Gondi community, its lifestyle and its kinship. Here women, whether they are brides or otherwise are related to the central character, play a definitive role in the movement of the plot and its culmination, which is different from the classical versions.”

This tale really begins where the traditional Ramayana ends, i.e. after Sita is rescued, and Lakshmana and not Rama is the protagonist. In the first tale, Indra's daughter Indrakamani is so besotted by Lakshmana, she flies to earth as an eagle to see him. However, she is unable to wake up or woo a sleeping Lakshmana and in frustration tears off her clothes and jewellery. When Sita sees these remnants, she tells Rama about her suspicion on Lakshmana's licentious behaviour. It is then that Lakshmana has to go through the fire ordeal to prove his chastity. Who says there is no gender equality?

(Not available in English translation, but can be experienced through folk dance performances and paintings such as the ones made under the Ramkatha project of the Indira Gandhi National Centre of Arts.)

5. Hanumana as the ladies' man in 'Ramakirti and Ramakien': In the Thai versions of the Ramayana, Hanumana's character takes on quite a central role. He is not the monkey-faced celibate but quite the ladies' man with amorous interests. When he visits Lanka, he has no qualms peeping into people's bedrooms. Even Ravana is conceived very differently in the Thai version of the Ramayana; he is seen as an erudite scholar and a powerful king worthy of respect. His quest for Sita is seen as true romantic love, albeit fatalistic. The 'Ramakirti' and 'Ramakien' are considered great entertainers by the Thai people and not so much as guides to social and moral conduct as Ramayana in India.

(Ramakien is available in an English translation by J M Cadet, Kodansha America Inc.)

This article originally appeared on scroll.in on May 06, 2015

Book review: Scion of Ikshvaku

Author: Amish Tripathi
Publisher: Westland Limited
ISBN-10: 9385152149
Number of Pages:376 Pages
Publication Year: 2015 June
Language: English
ISBN-13: 9789385152146
Binding: Paperback
RATING: 3/5

Picture this. A large royal court with an assembly of the best kings and princes. The mission: to complete an archery challenge, and the prize, the hand of a beautiful princess in marriage. The challenge would be to shoot the eye of the fish on a turntable mounted on the ceiling, while looking at its reflection in a vessel of rippling water on the ground. This would be the svayamvara scene from the Mahabharata when Arjuna competes to win Draupadi's hand, right? Wrong! This would be the Prince Ram Chandra of Ayodhya trying to win the hand of the princess of Mithila, Sita. At least that's how it is in Amish Tripathi's first book of the Ram Chandra series, 'The Scion of Ikshvaku'.

After months of advertising, in what seems to be the biggest and most expensive promotional drive for a book, Amish Tripathi's 'Scion of Ikshvaku' released on the 22nd of June, 2015. A record signing amount, full page newspaper ads, exclusive Kindle offers and even Youtube trailers (never mind the nail polish-wearing Sita) had readers waiting with bated breaths for the next offering from the extremely popular author of the Shiva trilogy. And why not? After all, he promised to re-tell India's favourite story of all, the Ramayana. Or did he?

For anyone who knows the Ramayana and expects Amish's story to be similar, 'The Scion of Ikshvaku' can come as something of a shock. But for anyone who is familiar with the author's previous works, the book meets all expectations, for Amish bends it better than Beckham. While not a great fan of his literary style, I cannot help but admire Amish for the way he manages to create completely new stories from old ones. He has an almost magical ability of retaining the essence of familiar mythological tales while spinning wildly deviating plots.

As a student of mythology, I was shocked and awed in turn by the liberties the author has taken in writing the story of Ram. But there's no pointing a finger at him for these deflections because not once does he use the word 'Ramayana'. Our literary pop star friend ingeniously calls it the Ramchandra series. And one can only smile indulgently because this is not really a deviation but tradition. Ram and Ramayana both belong to the people of India. The sage Valmiki may have been the first one to record it, but over centuries, poets and playwrights have taken creative liberties in creating their own Ramayanas. From Kamba's Tamil Ramavataram of the 12th century to Ashok Banker's Ramayana series in 2003; from Tulsidas' 16th century Ramcharitamanas to Devdutt Pattanaik's Sita in 2013, and hundreds in between, the Ramayana has served as the fountainhead of inspiration for storytellers.

Amish builds upon the Rama epic too, albeit in a very Un-Ramayana like manner. The differences are apparent right in the first page where he lists the major characters. Some deflections are surprising, some shocking and some, even amusing. Amish's Ram is very much a human hero just like his Shiva and the story is stripped of all magical elements. Neither is Ram born through divine means nor is he portrayed as the apple of everyone's eye. In fact, the first and greatest point of difference between the traditional Ramayana and The Scion of Ikshvaku is Ram's projection as an unloved prince. His father, king Dasaratha considers Ram's birth inauspicious and blames him for all his misfortunes. So the fabulously powerful and wealthy king of Ayodhya, Dasaratha is shown to be a defeated old man  ruling over a crumbling kingdom. The very foundations of the epic are laid differently in this story.

Further, Manthara has been depicted as the wealthiest businesswoman of Ayodhya instead of the poor handmaiden we know her to be. She even has a noble daughter who is a, err, rakhi sister to the four Ayodhan princes. We all know Sita is a strong character, but Amish pushes the envelope by appointing her the prime minister of Mithila. My favourite is his development of the usually ignored character of Shatrughan. The poor youngest prince of Ayodhya has little or no role to play in most versions of the Ramayana. Bharat too gets a makeover as something of a ladies man, who serves as a foil to the stoic Ram. Ravana loses nine of his heads in Amish's version and gets a horned helmet instead. The intrigue deepens as the author hints at some kind of revolution being planned by Ram's guru, Vashishta. Apart from the plot, Amish also fiddles with mythological templates. Instead of the standard Brahma-Vishnu-Mahesh trinity, he designates the lords Brahma, Parshu Ram and Rudra as the holy triumvirate. But the icing on the cake is in Ram reforming and joining hands with the rakshasi Tadaka instead of killing her!

Full marks for ingenuity, but when the inevitable comparisons arise, these inventions get a little hard to stomach. But Amish is unapologetic about his inventiveness, and that is his USP. The book is full of such fruits of Amish's imagination, but it is for the reader to find them, taste them and judge them. The author has played his best stroke – one he knows works with the junta. It's like a Salman Khan movie, with all the necessary drama-action-comedy masala, a devoted audience and consequently assured box office success.  Let's be honest. The book does not have any great literary merit, although it is a vast improvement from the shockingly pedestrian language of the Shiva trilogy. Amish's easy-to-read language and page-turning style is designed to be accessible and enjoyable. Will it ever be in the league of Amitav Ghosh or Salman Rushdie? No. But will it sell? Yes. From the looks of it, Amish is poised to set another best-selling record.

The reviewer is a psychologist by training, a journalist by profession and an Indologist in the making. She can be reached on Twitter @URM1

This review originally appeared on scroll.in on June 28, 2015.

Book review: Finding the Demon's Fiddle by Patrick Jered

Title of book: Finding the Demon's Fiddle – On the Trail of the Ravanhattha

Author: Patrick Jered

Publisher: Tranquebar

Pages: 606

Genre: Travel

ISBN: 978-93-85152-02-3

Binding: Hardbound

Rating: 3/5

In one of our communications, author Patrick Jered had expressed his concerns about how his book would be received in the market, considering it didn't quite fit in any neat genre. It is not an academic work, nor is it a novel, neither is it entirely a travelogue. But then, when has the call of passion been bound by convention? Jered also worried about the volume of his work and wondered if its six hundred plus pages would turn off a reader. Having just finished his book, I can tell him that his fears are quite unfounded.

Jered's fascination for this instrument developed during one of his trips to Rajasthan in India. One night, when he heard the soulful strain of the Ravanhattha streaming in from his hotel window, he simply had to find out what this instrument was and how it came to be. Finding the Demon's Fiddle: On the Trail of the Ravanhattha is the account of Patrick Jered's travels across India and Sri Lanka trying to find the origins of the ancient string instrument called the Ravanhattha.

Ravanhattha literally means 'Ravana's arm' and there's a popular mythological story about its origin. The demon king, Dasagriva, once decided that the Mount Kailasa had to be moved and lifted it with his mighty arms. The shaking mountain disturbed the sweet slumber of Shiva and Parvati. Enraged, Shiva pressed down upon the mountain with his big toe trapping Dasagriva underneath. The demon king howled in pain and was thereby given the name, Ravana – the one who screams. On Brahma's advice, Ravana started praying to Shiva seeking respite. He sang praises of the god for thousands of years, in accompaniment with an instrument. This instrument, he fashioned out of his own arm, having wrenched it out and using the veins as strings. Finally, Shiva was pleased and he let off Ravana with blessings and a token. The token was a powerful lingam infused with Shiva's very essence. This myth that occurs in the Uttara Kanda of the Ramayana, forms the starting point of the author's many adventures.

Because the Ravanhattha is primarily found in use in Rajasthan, Jered bases most of his research in that state, beginning with the clan of Bhopa priests. These priests belong to the cult that venerates Pabuji, a local folk hero. These priests worship the ascetic warrior god in the form of sacred paintings called pars, before which The Epic of Pabuji is sung in night-long sessions. This long epic, which takes up to 36 hours to recite fully, has been passed down to generations through the oral tradition. To his great surprise, the author finds a Ravana connection in the epic, although it is a much later composition than the Ramayana. Another fact that intrigues him is that an instrument supposedly invented by the demon king should be used to sing the praises of his nemesis and hero, Pabuji. He sets out to find answers to these glaring oddities in tradition and the journey takes him from heritage hotels to remote villages, from tourist tracks to shrines in the wilderness, from academic bookstores to homes of the Bhopa priests. He starts by going to geographical locations mentioned in the epic and local tales to establish the historicity of Pabuji and possibly even Ravana. He learns about the rituals and traditions of the Bhopas in some detail, as also of some other the parallel cults in the area, like the cult of Rupnath. His research trail leads him from Bisrakh - the birthplace of Ravana to an obscure village called Ravan in MP where the demon king is worshiped as the guardian deity; from the graves of academics like Tessitori in Bikaner, all the way to the war-torn area of Trincomalee in Sri Lanka.

But more than the historic and cultural gleanings, it is Jered's takeaways from the people of India that make this book such an endearing read. Unpretentious and accepting, the author makes friends easily along the way. A rickshaw-pulling street kid, an expat yogi, a famous Bhopa priest, a mystical seer, a driver, an academic and some others form quite the melee in his narrative. He forms special bonds with each of these people who appear serendipitously, helping him in his quest. People and places fall in line as if guided by a higher power. The author's portrayal of these people is honest and intimate. He is meticulous, even obsessive, in recording the details of not just his research findings but also human behaviour. There are incisive and humorous observations about people and stereotypes. He does not even spare himself and often resorts to self-depreciating humour. His frustrations and exultations are very real and one cannot help but nod in agreement ever so often. Despite the length of the book, Jered manages to hold the attention of the reader with his lucid style. His research is in-depth, but he never tries to emulate the scholars he references. His voice is fresh and casual.

But the reading experience is often marred by some phrases that the author uses over and over again. It seems like he kept running out of vocabulary when describing certain characters or felt strangely compelled to use a stock phrase each time the character was mentioned. For example, each time Surpanakha's character in mentioned, Jered compulsively precedes the noun with 'Ravana's shockingly ugly sister'. From a publisher like Tranquebar/Westland, one would expect a little tighter editing.

However, one can ignore some stylistic fallacies because the book is highly informative. It throws in many surprising facts pertaining to Ravana mythology. Apart from the Pabuji angle, of great interest is the Buddhist view of Ravana as Jered discovers in Sri Lanka. Further, he educates the reader on the interesting connecting between the demon king, Zen and the Shaolin monks! And not to forget his vivid and beautiful descriptions of the desert landscape and the Indian life. In his maiden book, Jered thus blends beautifully several travel anecdotes, historical findings, cultural insights and human connections. The book is not just about finding an instrument but following the music of one's heart. 

This review appeared in Swarajya magazine on 5th June, 2015. 

Book review: Ramayana - The Game of Life (Part I & II) by Shubha Vilas

Name of book: Ramayana - The Game of Life (6-part series)
Part I: Rise of the Sun Prince
Part II: Shattered Dreams
ISBN-13: (Part I) 978-81-8495-530-9
                (Part II) 978-81-8495-531-6
Author: Shubha Vilas
Genre: Mythology
Publisher: Jaico Books
Format: Paperback
Rating: 2/5

Because I am a bibliophile, book-review blogger, and mythologist, I had to agree when debutante author, Shubha Vilas, asked me to read and review her Ramayana retellings. Also, I admit I don’t know my Ramayana as well as my Mahabharata. The first time I tried reading the epic, I chose Ashok Banker’s 8-part series. Not quite agreeing with his style of writing, I gave up mid-way. I got my second chance on the Ramayana with this book-review request, but looks like Lord Rama doesn't quite want me to know the whole story of his life. That’s because Ramayana - The Game of Life hasn't been able to make me stick around either.

Shubha Vilas’ all-too-simplistic rendition of the grand epic is a downer. I think I’m going to name it the Amish Syndrome - this dumbing down of mythology in juvenile literary style - that this current crop of mythology writers seem to be suffering from. Agreed, this pop mythology genre has regenerated a huge wave of interest in the subject among the youth, but the purist in me cannot help but smirk. Where’s the sweeping eloquence of epic literature? What about the larger-than-life characterisation of kings and heroes? Why must my Rama or my Shiva talk like ordinary mortals?  What’s wrong in expecting a little grandiosity from the grandest Indian epics, even if they are re-tellings in the 21st century? What I find missing sorely from works such as these is the poetic essence. Everything but the basic plot seems to be lost in translation.

What Shubha Vilas tries to do differently is offering, what I like to call, ‘moral footnotes’. In a format I’ve never seen before, the author goes on commenting upon situations in the plot - sometimes taking up almost half the page! Here are a couple of smaller examples:

BOOK 1, page 72, line 9: Such effusive praise words from Dasaratha placated and appeased Vishwamitra.
Footnote: Sweet, genuine words of gratitude are the best welcome drinks!

BOOK 2, page 142, last line: The citizens wept, looking at each other, trying to solve the puzzle - the sight of a sobbing Sumantra, a despondent Lakshmana and a composed Rama was confusing them.
Footnote: Puzzles are fun to solve on paper but when life itself becomes a puzzle, then fun fizzles out.

Not exactly pearls of wisdom, don’t you think? He tries to fuse the formats of retelling and commentary, but doesn't quite measure up. Both the language and content of these footnotes come across as unnecessary, silly even. To be fair, he does offer some sensible insights in places and the background to certain situations in others. But I stopped reading the footnotes by page 5, and I hope the author will stop writing them by book three. The intent may be good, but the format doesn’t work. Scholastic references are what footnotes are for and that’s perhaps how the author should use them.

Another unique feature of these books are these text boxes where Vilas deems to offer more moral ‘discourse’ or sometimes even management mantras! So whether you want it or not, you have an author, commentator, moral compass, annotation enthusiast, spiritual adviser and a management guru all rolled into one.

The saving grace of this book is the author’s fairly crisp narrative style (barring the footnote business, of course!). If the reader is looking for a simple retelling for the sake of the story and the myths, this is an option to consider. But for a reader with finer literary tastes, may I suggest a wide berth?

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

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.