The Aryavarta Chronicles Kaurava: Book 2 (53 page)

For a while, he fell into a strange silence, as though rolling his next words on his tongue without speaking them aloud because they were strange and new, having never been used before. Finally, he made his peace with them, with nothing less than a childlike amazement of discovery, or perhaps the lighthearted joy of ultimate enlightenment. Sanjaya did not care. All he knew was that he was on his knees. He would have bowed at the scholar’s feet but for the fact that he could not bring himself to take his eyes off Suka’s face as it glowed with all-pervading joy, the bliss of fulfilling the purpose of one’s existence.

As Sanjaya Gavalgani let his heart brim with adoration – though for an instant he wondered if it were fear – he heard Sukadeva Vashishta Varuni say, matter-of-fact and resolute, ‘Let it come, Sanjaya. Let there be war.’

Standing on the Shoulders of Giants

A NOTE ON SOURCES AND METHODS

The Aryavarta Chronicles
is the product of research and analysis, with the latter drawing on the former. A slew of work is out there – critical, unconventional, even controversial – that revolves around the world of the Mahabharata. Many are in regional and vernacular tongues, existing as folklore and tales that have never made it into print as a cohesive tome. The
Chronicles
rely on a mix of these scholarly and popular sources, on histories that tend towards established fact, as well as those based on socially constructed beliefs of what constitutes fact.

THE EVOLUTION OF AN EPIC

The Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute (BORI) version (also known as the Poona Critical Edition) of the Mahabharata, which remains the dominant source for most retellings and reinterpretations today, is estimated to have been prevalent around the fifth century ce, that is, the Gupta Age. That leaves a fair 3,000 odd years or so during which the story was told over and over, endlessly, forming a final ‘layered’ narrative filled with explanations and interpolations. The bard–narrator of the mainstream edition, Ugrashravas Sauti, states that he recites what he heard from the scholar Vaishampayana, who in turn is one of the five students who learns the epic from its original author, the Vyasa. Add to this the fact that the epic itself recorded its growth from 8,800 verses composed by Dwaipayana Vyasa to 24,000 verses, and then to the 100,000-verse version we have today. Somewhere along the line, the Harivamsa is added on, as an appendix. And there begins a journey – for history is not stagnant, nor is its narration.

Reproduced from
The Aryavarta Chronicles Book 1: Govinda
.

UNRAVELLING THE EPIC

Bibliographically speaking, my study began with C. Rajagopalachari’s
Mahabharata
(Mumbai: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 2005). My main source, which forms the broad canvas of ‘canon’ Mahabharata, is the translated version by K.M. Ganguli (
The Mahabharata of Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa, Volumes 1–12
, Calcutta: P.C. Roy/ Oriental Publishing Co., 1884–96; Republished, Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1970) available online through
www.sacred-texts.com
. I read this in conjunction with J.A.B. Van Buiten’s three-volume translation which goes up to the Udyoga Parvan (
Mahabharata, Volumes 1 to 3
, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1975–78); P. Lal’s lyrical transcreation of the epic (
Mahabharata of Vyasa
, New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House, 1986); and Ramesh Menon’s more contemporary retelling (
The Mahabharata: A Modern Rendering, Volumes 1 and 2
, Lincoln: iUniverse, 2006).

I have relied also on Pandit Ramachandrashastri Kinjawadekar’s version of the
Harivamsa
(Poona: Chitrashala Press, 1936), as translated by Desiraju Hanumanta Rao, A. Purushothaman and A. Harindranath (
http://mahabharata-resources.org/harivamsa
), and on M.N. Dutt’s version of the text (
The Harivamsa
, Calcutta: Elysium Press, 1897). H.H. Wilson’s
Vishnu Purana
(Calcutta: Punthi Pustak, 1961; original copyright 1840) was invaluable especially when it came to cross-checking genealogies and timelines, as was the Bhaktivedanta Book Trust International’s version of the Srimad Bhagavatam, available through the Bhaktivedanta Vedabase Network website (
www.vedabase.net
).

The subsequent analysis, such as it is, was not without method. D.D. Kosambi notes: ‘Against the hypothesis of “pure invention”, one must ask why the invention took these particular forms …’ (‘The Autochthonous Element in the Mahabharata’, 1964,
Journal of the American Oriental Society
, 84–1, pp. 31–44). This has been the dominant principle I have chosen to hold on to, focussing on the
why
.

Two stalwarts have influenced my approach to this issue. First, I have borrowed liberally from Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay’s deductive principles in his
Krishnacharitra
(trans. Alo Shome, New Delhi: Hindology Books, 2008). Chattopadhyay’s analysis is based on a categorical rejection of supernatural events, interpolations and ‘events that can be proved to be untrue in any other way’ (p. 27). A similar perspective is evident in K.M. Munshi’s series
Krishnavatara
(Volumes 1–7, Mumbai: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1990). While Munshi admits to using his creativity freely in filling what may be gaps in the facts, he remains true to the notion that Krishna-Govinda was a man who eventually became a legend. In his view Govinda was not god, but a (near-perfect) man. I have gratefully followed his lead in beginning with the premise that this is the story of human beings, exemplary ones who are well-deserving of their consequent elevation to divine status. But it is not a story of gods.

Alf Hiltebeitel, a leading Mahabharata scholar, is one of those who speaks of a symbolism-rich Mahabharata; that is, the idea that many expressions in the Mahabharata cannot be literally interpreted (‘The Mahabharata and Hindu Eschatology’, 1972,
History of Religions
, 12–2, pp. 95–135). Hiltebeitel’s
Rethinking the Mahabharata: A Reader’s Guide to the Education of the Dharma Kings
(Chicago: Chicago University Press, 2001) also deserves mention for fuelling many ideas; as does James L. Fitzgerald’s broad piece covering many topics on the Mahabharata, including the historical evolution of the text itself (‘The Great Epic of India as Religious Rhetoric: A Fresh Look at the Mahabharata’, 1983,
Journal of the American Academy of Religion
, 51–4, pp. 611–630). Mary Carroll Smith’s analysis of the variation in meter, narrative structure, and the subtle moves from Vedic to Classical Sanskrit in the text as we have it today, to identify possible additions and interpolations (‘The Mahabharata’s Core’, 1975,
Journal of the American Oriental Society
, 95–3, pp. 479–482) was central to my reconstruction of the story.

Such a reconstruction also requires political, social and even psychological explanations. For this, I have drawn on ideas from many analytical and creative works, first among them being Irawati Karve’s
Yuganta: End of an Epoch
(Hyderabad: Disha Books/Orient Longman, 1991). Karwe is particularly notable for her critical approach to the question of Dharma Yudhisthir’s father. Buddhadeva Bose in his
Mahabharater Katha/The Book of Yudhisthir
(trans. Sujit Mukherjee, London: Sangam Books/ Hyderabad: Orient Longman, 1986) attributes to Dharma Yudhisthir’s character the many frustrations and exasperations that I find likely, and though I am less inclined to glorify Dharma as the protagonist of the epic I cannot deny that I benefitted from reading Bose’s book.

Alf Hiltebeitel’s work on Panchali (
The Cult of Draupadi: Volumes 1 and 2
, Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1988, 1991) and Pradip Bhattacharya’s essay on the
Panchkanyas
of lore (‘She Who Must Be Obeyed – Draupadi: The Ill-Fated One’, 2004,
Manushi
, 144–Sep/Oct, pp. 19–30) provides deeper insights into her compelling character and even the intricacies of her relationships. Panchali is symbolically and overtly equated to Sri – the consort of Vishnu in terms of the pantheon and the symbol of nature at a deeper level. This clearly places her as the heroine of a story which has Govinda as its hero; an idealized symmetry that is alluded to in Prathibha Ray’s
Yajnaseni
(trans. Pradip Bhattacharya, New Delhi: Rupa, 1995.)

The tale, however, unfolds in a different way. The consequent asymmetry, anomaly even, is explained away in canon Mahabharata and its derivative tales (many of which speak of Panchali’s preference for Partha) using the concepts of rebirth and divine manifestation. But, if we do away with such interpolated justifications, what might it mean?

I do not have the answer to this riddle, but only a question. Behind the implied and admitted romances, is there a story of affection so obvious that it is easily overlooked? Is it a kind of Freudian transference, whether in the original itself, or perhaps created post-hoc in the interests of sanitizing and legitimizing the epic but nevertheless hinted at by the triangle of three dark-skinned Krishnas – Panchali, Partha and Govinda? Or is the asymmetry itself the story – the tale of a world where many such things are not right? To borrow Govinda Shauri’s words: ‘The world as we know it would not make sense unless Ahalya were turned to stone.’

ALTERNATE MAHABHARATAS

At this point, I shall admit that I was occasionally surprised, perhaps even shocked, at the alternate theories that seemed to suggest themselves, particularly since I had been brought up on strong doses of canon Mahabharata. The ideas, however, were not as ‘alternative’ as I had first thought – I discovered the existence of alternate versions of the Mahabharata, many of which were equally canonical in their own right. These included the Bhil Mahabharata and the Indonesian Kakawain versions, both of which I highlight for a reason – The Bhil Mahabharata was (in my view) the nearest I could get to a subaltern version of the epic, and took a very different view of the socio-political status quo (for variations and tales from the Bhil Mahabharata see Satya Chaitanya’s blog, based on his research of this folklore:
http://innertraditions. blogspot.com
).

The Indonesian Kakawain version (
http://www.joglosemar.co.id/bharatayuda.html
) was equally exciting, since it was possibly shipped out of Aryavarta and to Indonesian islands in a form that was closer to the ‘core’ or original Mahabharata – that is, an epic with fewer interpolations. A list of resources and essays on the Mahabharata variations across Bengali, Bhil, Oriya, Tamil, Malayalam and Rajasthani cultures (to name a few) is available at A. Harindranath’s stunning website: (
http://mahabharata-resources.org
). Essays on the Oriya
Sarala Mahabharata
are available on B.N. Patnaik’s site:
http://saralamahabharat.blogspot.com
.

BUILDING THE WORLD OF THE EPIC

W.G. Archer (
The Loves of Krishna in Indian Painting and Poetry
, New York: MacMillan, 1957) points to the small but immeasurably important link in the Upanishads that has opened the door to a larger story-world that revolves around the group of scholar–sages known as the Angirasas. With that in mind, the Vedic–Upanishad symbolism in the epic pointed out by Alf Hiltebeitel (‘The Two K
ṛṣṇ
as on One Chariot: Upanisadic Imagery and Epic Mythology’, 1984,
History of Religions
, 24–1, pp. 1–26) begins to make sense. Many reinterpretations and interpolations fall into place and can be logically identified, keeping in mind the basic symbolic themes, as well as the body of philosophical knowledge that the epic seeks to encompass. Most importantly, the Mahabharata starts becoming a story of technological evolution and the associated social change.

I turned to the broader Vedic and Upanisadic literature in an attempt to decipher what the astra-incantations might have meant in a secular and scientific sense, and to understand the technology that hid behind metaphors. For this, I have relied strongly on Karen Thomson and Jonathan Slocum’s work on ancient Sanskrit, available from the Linguistics Research Centre at the University of Texas at Austin; particularly their translations of Barend A. van Nooten and Gary B. Holland’s version of the Rig Veda (
Rig Veda: A Metrically Restored Text,
Boston: Harvard University Press, 1994). Also deserving reference are Subhash C. Kak’s ‘Science in Ancient India’ (In
Ananya: A Portrait of India
, S.R. Sridhar and N.K. Mattoo (eds.), 1997, AIA: New York, pp. 399–420); Aurobindo’s
The Secret of the Veda
(Pondicherry: Sri Aurobindo Ashram, 1993) and Shatavadhani R. Ganesh’s audio commentary on the PurushaSuktam and the NarayanaSuktam (K.V. Raman,
Vedic Chanting
, Bangalore: Sagar Music, 1999.)

The Vedic texts have also been of relevance to understanding the socio-political-economic context of the epic itself. For example, M.B. Emeneau and B.A. van Nooten approach the notions of
Niyoga
and polyandry in the Mahabharata from the broader Vedic context (‘The Young Wife and Her Husband’s Brother: Rgveda 10.40.2 and 10.85.44.’, 1991,
Journal of the American Oriental Society
, 111–3, pp. 481–494). Also deserving mention here is Janet Chawla’s feminist reading of the Rig Veda (‘Mythic Origins of Menstrual Taboo in Rig Veda’, 1994,
Economic and Political Weekly
, 29–43, pp. 2817–2827).

LIFE AND WAR IN EPIC TIMES

In terms of setting the descriptive stage for the story, my first stop was Romila Thapar’s
The Penguin History of Early India: From the Origins to 1300 AD
(New Delhi: Penguin Books/Allen Lane, 2002). City descriptions are based mainly on details in the epic narrative, but I also referred to marine archaeologist S.R. Rao’s
The Lost City of Dvaraka
(Goa: National Institute of Oceanography, 1999); David Frawley’s
Gods, Sages and Kings: Vedic Secrets of Ancient Civilization
(Salt Lake City: Passage Press/Morson Publishing, 1991) and A.S. Gaur, Sundaresh and SilaTripati’s ‘An Ancient Harbour at Dwarka: Study Based on the Recent Underwater Explorations’ (2004,
Current Science
, 86–9, pp. 1256–60) for ideas on the layout of Dwaraka city, particularly its fortifications and defences. Gaur, Sundaresh and Tripati’s ‘Evidence for Indo–Roman trade from Bet Dwarka Waters, West Coast of India’ (2005,
International Journal of Nautical Archaeology
, 35, pp. 117–127) inspired the notion of Dwaraka as a maritime power.