Archives for May 2017

Review : Revolutionizing Ancient History: The Case of Israel and Christianity

The Statesman Festival Issue 2004, Pages 130- 135

 

Becoming a poet, a political commentator, a literary critic while editing a monthly journal of culture with­out stirring out of an ashram in South India may not be a matter provoking comment let alone arousing wonder. But to revolutionize the very chronology of the ancient world based on minute examination of the latest archaeological findings and texts from within such confines – that, too, in the pre-internet era – could not but astonish. It becomes all the more amazing when the subject is not just the pre­history of one’s own country but so distant a subject as the beginnings of history for Israel and Christianity. The short compass of this paper does not permit examination of both; so, we shall restrict ourselves to the “foreign” sphere of scholar-extraordinaire K.D. Sethna’s research.

Taking his point of departure from the 1968 lectures Pro­fessor Chaim Rabin of Hebrew University delivered in In­dia placing the Exodus of the Israelites from Egypt in the mid-13th century B.C., Sethna, in The Beginning of History for Israel challenges this as well as archaeologist W.F. Albright’s dating of the Exodus to c, 1294 B.C. and his identification of the Pharaoh responsible for this as Ramses II. While painstakingly taking Albright apart over 227 pages, Sethna also takes on – and demolishes – a completely different type of antagonist who is himself denounced by orthodox histo­rians as “the other” because of his revolutionary reading of Egyptian history: Immanuel Velikovsky, notorious author of Worlds in Collision and Ages in Chaos.[1]

The paradox that stumps one in studying Jewish history-is that it presents a paradox that is the converse of what we find in Indian history. Our records have no mention of Alexander’s invasion by which Western historians set such store in determining our chronology. On the other hand, al­though the Exodus is such a watershed for the Israelites, the Egyptian records are innocent of it. Two Pharaohs are promi­nent in the context of the Exodus. The first is the “Pharaoh of the Oppression” under whom the Jews suffered; the other is the “Pharaoh of the Exodus”. Albright conflates the two in Ramses II (1304-1238 B.C.) who enslaved the Jews to build the store-cities of Raamses and Pithom leading to the Exo­dus in c. 1294 B.C. This leaves Ramses II living for 46 years more, whereas the Bible states that the oppressive Pharaoh died before Moses returned to Egypt. On the other hand, if the Exodus occurred in the reign of his successor Merneptah and the Jews wandered for 40 years en route the Promised Land, how could this Pharaoh defeat them in Palestine? Fur­ther, as the mummies of both Pharaohs have been found, how can either be the one who was drowned in the yam suf in the miraculous parting of the waters?

Sethna alone points out that nowhere does the Bible say that it was the Pharaoh who went into the sea. It was his horse and horsemen, while he rode in a chariot. Sethna con­clusively demolishes F. Mayani’s special pleading, showing how he distorts the Biblical text to make Seti I the ruler who oppresses and dies. A critical inscription lists the ‘Apiru as labouring at Per Re-emasese that the Albright school (Werner Keller, G. Ernest Wright) has interpreted as referring to the Hebrews of Egypt although this word is found in other epi­graphs too and nowhere connotes Hebrews. Rather it means foreign warriors and prisoners of war reduced to slaves.

Sethna takes his point of departure from the phrase “the land of Rameses”, from where the Exodus began, as mark­ing the original settlement of the Israelites, identifying it as the Biblical Goshen where Jacob’s people were allowed to settle by Joseph’s Pharaoh. Sethna examines the several Biblical sources (termed J, E, D, P, etc.) to show that the city Raamses is not only delinked from Ramses II but is relevant to the Exodus. “What remain are Goshen/’ writes Sethna, “and Moses parleying with the Pharaoh in some city to which he comes from the Israelites and which, not having to be Raamses, could be anywhere in Egypt.” This city he identi­fies as Memphis, the capital of Thutmose III and his two suc­cessors Amenhotep (Amenophis II) and Thutmose (Tuthmosis IV), located near Goshen. It is evidence of Sethna’s unflinching dedication to seeking out the truth that he im­ports a possible hurdle into the smooth course of his thesis: can this be reconciled with the Pharaoh’s injunction that the Israelites should find their own straw? This needs harvested fields. He studies ancient Egyptian agriculture to present a picture of such areas ready first in southern Egypt (usually called Upper Egypt), then shifting northwards to Middle Egypt and concluding in Lower (northern) Egypt. That is why the Israelites have to range far and wide, says the Bible, to gather stubble. Goshen, with its rich alluvial clay is ideal for brick-making.

Sethna, the Devil’s Advocate par excellence, now asks: “But is there any Egyptian evidence of this when the word ‘Goshen’ has not surfaced in any record?” Why this word, there is absolutely no allusion to the Israelites and hardly to bricks (references to stones are found), certainly not in the time of Ramses II. Sethna marshals evidence to identify the Bible’s Shamgar Ben-Anath as the one who got his daughter married to a son of Ramses II. Ben-Anath being far removed from the time of Moses, neither Ramses II nor Merneptah can be the Pharaoh of the Exodus. A possible synchronism that can upset this is the date of the Song of Deborah and the Song of Miriam, describing the victory of Israel over Sisera, with whose rule Ben-Anath is linked. Here, again, Sethna shows Albright’s dating to be contradictory in placing the Song of Miriam in the time of Ramses II. Both are triumphal poems celebrating victories that is a form going back to the victory Stele of Tuthmosis II from Karnak, whose phrases were re-used by many later Pharaohs like Amenophis III, Seti I, Ramses III. The songs, therefore, need not be forced into the 1300-1100 B.C. bracket but can easily be older, at least to the time of Tuthmosis II who is pre-1400 B.C.

Sethna cites a frontier official’s letter under Merneptah describing the peaceful passage of Bedouins through a for­tress to graze their herds in Pithom, just as the Hebrews did in Joseph’s time. This is certainly not a state of affairs we can associate with the Pharaoh of the Oppression or of the Exo­dus. Rather, it indicates a continuation of a system prevalent in the time of this Pharaoh’s predecessor Ramses II.

To fix upon the date of the Exodus, Sethna takes his clue from the Bible’s computing of Solomon starting to build the Jerusalem Temple in the fourth year of his reign, which came 480 years after the Jews had left Egypt. Starting with an authentic date – that of the Battle of Qarkar on the Orontes in 853 B.C. (the 6lh year of the Assyrian king Shalmaneser Ill’s reign) in which Ahab fought – Sethna ar­rives at 964 B.C. for Solomon’s accession, whereby the Exo­dus is fixed at 1441 B.C.

The schema has now to be fitted into Egyptian history. This is the period of Amenophis II. Therefore, his predeces­sor, the 5th king of the 18th dynasty, Tuthmosis III was the Pharaoh of the Oppression. The only representation of slave-labor in Egypt comes from Tuthmosis Ill’s reign in a rock tomb west of Thebes, showing Semitic foreigners as brick­layers. Working backwards, Sethna fixes on the “Pharaoh’s daughter” who brought up Moses as the famous Hatshepsut, daughter of Amenophis I (1546-1525 B.C.), with Moses be­ing born in 1521 B.C. and she dying in 1482 B.C. to be suc­ceeded by Tuthmosis III.

On the other hand, following the Albright school, if Ramses II was ruling during the Exodus and Seti I was the Pharaoh of the Oppression, Moses would have to be born in 1373 to be 80 years old in 1294 B.C. (Albright’s date for the Exodus) well before Seti I’s reign and quite out of sync. Sethna expands on the unique role of Hatshepsut – inevitably, when we recall that she is supposed to have been one of the Mother’s avatars – to show that Moses’ monotheism had its roots in the new religion of Amon that she established, merg­ing all the temples into a single organization. He points out how Moses’ dialogue with God in the burning bush episode echoes the colloquy between Amon, speaking from his shrine about God’s land and living among the trees there, and Hatshepsut. Punt, of which she speaks so lovingly, was ap­proached through the Promised Land. Albright himself points out that the Hebrew Yahweh, the Biblical “I am what I am”, actually means, “He causes to be what comes into existence”, Yahweh asher yihweh; a formula occurring repeatedly in Egyp­tian texts like the 15th century B.C. hymn to Amon.

A digression is in order here. In order to make Hatshepsut contemporary with Moses, Sethna has to demolish a power­ful challenge: Immanuel Velikovsky’s revised chronology identifying Hatshepsut with the Queen of Sheba who vis­ited Solomon in the latter half of the 10th century B.C[2] Sethna is able to show that:

Velikovsky’s interpretation of the Papyrus Ipuwer and the Ermitage Papyrus is biased; there is little to support his arguments for dat­ing the Exodus a few weeks prior to the Hyksos inva­sion of Egypt; the Amalekites are certainly not the Hyksos; Saul cannot possibly be contemporaneous with Ahmose I who drove the Hyksos out of Egypt; Velikovsky has doctored evidence to make it seem that Hatshepsut, who did not journey abroad, is Queen of Sheba who did; “God’s Land” is not Punt as the two are men­tioned separately in the great hymn to Amon of the 15th century B.C. and vii) the Egyptian king Shishak who looted Jerusa­lem after Solomon cannot be identified with Hat-shepsut’s successor Thutmose III, as Velikovsky strives to by tinkering with the evidence.

Sethna proposes that the Queen of Sheba is the Queen of Ophir (the Somalia shore of Ethiopia) that is Punt. Her capi­tal appears to have been in Saba (Yemen) from where she travelled to Jerusalem by land on camels (1 Kings and 2 Chronicles). He suggests that Shishak can be recognized as Pharaoh Sheshonk or Sosenk, centuries after Thutmose III.

We can return to the matter of the Exodus now. A re­markable piece of detective work by Sethna brings to the fore the only Egyptian record that can be equated with the Exodus. The earliest Egyptian historian, Manetho (c. 250 B.C.), recounts that 240,000 Shepherds (the Hyksos) left Egypt and built in Judaea a city later called Jerusalem. The Egyp­tian king, told by a prophet to chase away the “unclean ones” if he wishes to see the gods, drives out 80,000 of them under their chief Osarseph (Moses) who directs them to avoid wor­shipping the gods and eating consecrated meat. Helped by the Shepherds, they defeat Pharaoh Amenophis II’s son (Amenophis III) in battle who has to seek refuge in Ethiopia while the Unclean Ones and their allies spread over the entire land.

Having established correspondence between the Bible and Egyptian history satisfactorily, Sethna examines another puzzle: what was yam suf, the “red” or “reed” sea and how to explain the miraculous “parting of the waters”? Many have hazarded that the ten plagues of Egypt tally with the phe­nomena (red rain, fish poisoned, whirlwinds, swamps, wa­ter turning rusty red) attendant upon the volcanic explosion on Santorini in the Mediterranean that destroyed a 4,900 feet high mountain c. 1400 B.C. Sethna cites Glanopoulos’ identi­fication of the yam suf as Sirbenis Lake that is separated from the Mediterranean by a narrow isthmus across which the Is­raelites could flee during the 20 minutes interval when the sea was drawn back towards the Aegean as the cone of Santorini dropped into the sea, the Egyptians drowning in the returning tidal wave. However, like the uncompromis­ing truth-finder that he is, Sethna demolishes this evidence that would have clinched his thesis. He finds that the explo­sion had no effect in the southern direction, for it did not even affect nearby Crete lying south, but produced tidal waves that travelled east towards Palestine. It did not lead to flooding of the Nile delta. Finally, the explosion probably occurred between 1475 and 1450 B.C., which does not tally with the date for the Exodus. Therefore, Sethna leaves the ten plagues a puzzle and Serbenis Lake vies with the Papyrus Marsh as a candidate for the “Reed/Red Sea”.

After finishing with the Exodus, Sethna takes up the ques­tion of fixing the time of the wandering Israelites conquer­ing Palestine, drawing upon rich archaeological evidence for his conclusions. Once again, Albright’s chronology is weighed and found wanting in the light of Kenyon’s exca­vations. Around the time Albright proposes for the Exodus, both cities of Bethel and Hazor actually fell (c. 1350-1325 B.C.). Even if we accept Kenyon’s date c. 1325 B.C. for the fall of Jericho, it rules out Albright’s dating of the Exodus to 1294 B.C., whereas it is closer to the Israelites entering Palestine in 1401 B.C. (40 years of wandering after the Exodus). An­other city, Debir, shows destruction first in c.1350 B.C. that could have been the work of Israelites. The last city in the list of conquests is Lachish whose date is debatable (either the end of the 13th or in early 12th century). Sethna points out that the fall of Jericho has to precede that of Debir and Bethel, i.e. before 1350 B.C. and that Kenyon’s comments in Digging up Jericho permit such an earlier date. Further, he shows that the El-Amarna Letters support the Bible’s picture of “the lands of Seir (Edom)” as not hostile to the Israelites though capable of defending themselves. The excavations of Glueck support this picture of Edom, Moab and Ammon before c. 1300 B.C., who allowed the newcomers to pass through peacefully. Therefore, nothing contradicts Sethna’s proposed dating of Joshua’s conquests in consonance with the Exo­dus in 1441 B.C.

Working back from here, based on the Biblical 430 years of sojourn in Egypt, Jacob’s arrival can be dated to 1870 B.C., in the reign of Pharaoh Sesostris III of the 12th Dynasty. Sup­porting evidence for interaction between Semitics and Egypt in the 12th Dynasty is found in the Beni-Hasan tableau dated to 1892 B.C. that depicts 37 semi-nomadic Palestinians led by a chief with the Semitic name Absha bringing stibium (kohl) from Shutu in central Transjordan to the court of the “nomarch” (provincial nobles). Albright finds this illustrat­ing the story of Lamech’s family in Genesis IV.19-22. Joseph’s supreme position tallies with the practice of Sesostris III who made the vizier superior to the nomarchs whom he sup­pressed totally. The vizier combined the functions of the gov­ernor and the superintendent of granaries who presented to the Pharaoh the account of the harvests that were the key to Egypt’s wealth. Joseph calls himself “father to Pharaoh” which is the epithet used by Ptahhotep, the name borne by five successive viziers of the 5th Dynasty, showing that it was a familiar title. It is significant that the earliest record of this title comes from a text dating to the Middle Kingdom which included the reign of Sesostris III. It was during his reign that there was marked interaction, because of his campaigns, between Egypt and Asiatic countries, with large numbers of Asiatics serving as domestic help. This reminds us of the slave-trade mentioned in Joseph’s story. Sesostris III also moved his capital into the Delta-area that features in the story of the Pharaoh and Joseph. Finally, the name “Potiphar” is the Egyptian “Potiphera” i.e. “Gift of Ra”. So, Joseph’s fa­ther-in-law is a priest of On (Heliopolis, the centre of Ra worship). Joseph married into Egypt’s most exclusive nobil­ity and was named by the Pharaoh “Zaphnath-paaneah” i.e. “God says: he is living”. Unfortunately, the Egyptian records do not give the name of Sesostris Ill’s vizier, which would have clinched the identification. If Joseph became vizier to Sesostris III, he had to see 7 years of plenty and 2 of famine before Jacob entered Egypt in 1870. Thus, the first year of Sesostris Ill’s reign, 1878, coincides with Joseph’s appoint­ment. Working backwards from this, Sethna fixes that Jacob was 92 when Joseph was born (“the son of his old age” says the Bible), that Joseph was 30 when he became vizier, and Jacob entered Egypt at the age of 130.

Depending on the introduction of horse and chariot by the Hyksos, Albright fixes Joseph at a much later date in the early 18th Dynasty. Sethna shows that the use of the horse and of the chariot in Egypt cannot be attributed to the Hyksos as there is no evidence of these before 1570 B.C. If Albright’s chronology for Joseph is to be accepted, we have to reject the sojourn of 430 years by the Israelites in Egypt as it would take us to 1140 B.C. for the Exodus, leaving no time for the numerous Judges preceding Saul, who is dated between 1020 and 1000 B.C. Sethna proceeds to demolish conclusively Albright’s thesis of Joseph existing in the period of a Hyksos Pharaoh by mounting a seven-point attack combining am­munition from the Bible and history, culminating in show­ing that even Joseph’s oath tallies only with a regular Egyptian Pharaoh of at least the Middle Kingdom and cer­tainly not the hated Hyksos usurpers.

Sethna closes with the patriarch and founder of the Jew­ish nation: Abraham, again working back from when the Israelites entered Egypt. He fixes on 2085 B.C. for Abraham the Habiru (a people mentioned in the Babylonian records of the 21st century B.C. as present in every Near Eastern land) proceeding to Palestine and thence to Egypt in 2081-80, ha­rassing Amraphel of Babylonia (Shinar)’s rear guard before 2075 B.C. His original name “Abram” (the Father is exalted) occurs in Babylonian texts. According to the Bible, he settled in the Negeb in the southern area in the plain of Mamra in Hebron. Glueck’s explorations have shown that the period when the Negeb was settled tallies with Abraham’s residence at Hebron in the 21st century B.C. To crown the demolition of Albright’s chronology, Sethna calculates from his proposed dating of the Exodus back to Abraham (645 years). Albright attributes Abraham’s departure from Ur to its destruction by the Elamites about 1950 B.C. But no such calamity is cited in the Bible, which states that Abraham’s father left behind one of his sons and his family in Ur. Actually, Ur is not even featured in the Greek Septuagint (c. 3rd century B.C.) which simply has “in the land of the Chaldeans”. The city is first mentioned in a work dated to around 150 B.C. The Israelite tradition prefers Haran in north-west Mesopotamia as the original land of the Patri­archs. It is from there that Rebecca is brought to wed Isaac. Nothing, therefore, prevents Abraham’s departure from being earlier, c. 2085 B.C., and not linked to the fall of Ur.

From the Old Testament Sethna turns to the New and takes up what is no less a formidable challenge than flying in the face of orthodox historical opinion to prove that the Rig Veda preceded the Indus Valley Civilization and that the Gupta Empire has to be pushed back in time by 600 years.[3] In Problems of Early Christianity (Integral Life Foun­dation, 1998) and The Virgin Birth and the Earliest Christian Tra­dition (-do-2001) he deals with the hypersensitive issues of immaculate conception, the question of Jesus’ historicity and whether it was a resurrection or a resuscitation that Jesus un­derwent, drawing much from the writings of Sri Aurobindo. However, as archaeology is not a tool in this investigation, what we have is only literary evidence and that detracts con­siderably from the conviction that his arguments are supposed to carry. Dissecting Biblical literature piecemeal with great pains in the finest tradition of scholarship Sethna strives to prove his case. We are strongly reminded of his correspon­dence with Kathleen Raine where he exerts every intellec­tual sinew to convince her that Aurobindonian poetry is great English literature – but fails. With the NT, too, the final decision will have to rest with the reader of these books.

Sethna begins his examination of the birth of Jesus by pointing out that neither Protestant nor Catholic theologians exclude the fatherhood of God in case of the physical father­hood of Joseph as Jesus’ divinity is not so much a biological fact as an ontological verity out of time in God’s eternity. That, however, is hardly something that will carry the field with a non-Christian as a decisive argument. A better point is that only the narratives of Matthew and Luke speak of the immaculate conception. It is Pauline and Johannine Christology that creates the idea of Divine Sonship quite in­dependent of the gospels. The infancy accounts, unlike the rest of Jesus’ life, provide no evidence of eyewitness testi­mony. There is also the issue that Jesus had brothers and sis­ters (Mark 6:3, Matt 13:55, John 2:12, 7:5) and the fact that no special sanctity is accorded in the NT to the state of virginity, nor does the virginal conception preclude normal marital relations thereafter. The Gospel of Luke describes the con­ception of John the Baptist using the same phrases as for that of Jesus, although the former was a product of Zechariah’s normal marital relationship with Elizabeth. Mary chose to marry Joseph when she had conceived and lived with him as his wife. Joseph and Mary are designated as Jesus’ par­ents when they seek him in the Temple and she tells him that he has worried his father, meaning Joseph. Both fail to com­prehend Jesus’ reply that he is busy with his Father’s affairs. Mary has no insight into her son’s special nature or mission. The parallel passages in Mark (3:31-35) show a clear rejec­tion by Jesus of any special place for Mary in his scheme of things, least of all his considering her as “blessed among women” or being aware of any extraordinary experience on her part at his conception. The mother-son relationship is quite clearly unsympathetic and lacks mutual understand­ing. Sethna examines considerable theological evidence be­tween 100 and 200 A.D. to prove that the alternative to the Virgin Birth account of Matthew was not any accusation of adultery on Mary’s part, but simply asserting that Jesus was normally born of Joseph and Mary (as in “Acts of Thomas”, Cerinthus, the Carpocratians, Irenaeus and later Gnostic and Jewish Christian Ebionites). Paul does not suggest any spe­cial manner of Jesus’ birth while describing him as “God sent his Son, born of woman, born a subject to the Law” which indicates a normal conception. Sonship-to-God does not ex­clude sonship-to-man. The nature of Jesus’ mission stresses not the manner of his conception but the fact of his being born of a woman, emphasizing his human experiences and his assuming “sinful flesh” for the sake of mankind (2 Corinthians 5:2, Romans 8:3, Philippians 2:6).

Sethna concludes that everything about the virgin birth in Matthew and Luke “has an air of fiction”. There is no trace of any family tradition of the virginal conception of Jesus till it appears in two gospels towards the end of the lst century A.D. Mary does not appear to have spoken of it to the apostles. Peter, the foremost disciple, is silent about it. Fur­ther, there is the complete absence of any scandalous rumor regarding Mary in every source till c.178 A.D. Matthew alone introduces Joseph thinking of divorcing Mary on finding her pregnant, because that is the only way in which he can pro­pose a virginal conception.

Sethna seeks to correct a very important misconception that the OT prophesied Jesus’ virgin birth in Isaiah 7:14. Ac­tually, the reference is to the birth of a child to a young woman about 700 years before Jesus signifying the continuance of David’s lineage. Matthew imported the Greek mistransla­tion of the Hebrew “a young woman” as “virgin” to show the OT prophesying his account of Jesus’ virgin birth. Un­fortunately, Sethna fails to clinch this issue because he nei­ther tells us who this “young woman” was nor the name of her son who is the subject of so momentous a prophecy.

Inevitably, Sethna ends his study on an Aurobindonian note, pointing out that the dogma regarding Mary rising bodily into Heaven specifies the event as having occurred on 15 August. Sri Aurobindo interpreted it as Mary, repre­senting Mother Nature, raised to Godhead. He looked upon the Virgin-Birth doctrine as representing the manifestation  of the Primal Shakti, the Creatrix. The appearance of such an avatar does not call for virgo intacta. The attribute of vir­ginity is essentially symbolic of the para-prakriti. Sri Aurobindo explains that what it symbolizes becomes clear from the name of the Buddha’s mother, Mayadevi or Mahamaya, i.e. the Goddess-Force. We may add that the tra­ditional shloka celebrating five much-married women as vir­gins (pancha kanya)[4] can only be understood if this symbolic meaning of kanya is kept in mind. This symbol got attached “by a familiar mythopoeic process to the actual human mother of Jesus of Nazareth”. In a stirring conclusion, Sethna states that somehow she7 who did not comprehend her son’s mission in his childhood, came to assume in the post-cruci­fixion generations a role far beyond what she played in his life, carrying a great spiritual truth known to India into the heart and soul of the Occident.

When was Jesus actually born and was he a historical figure or fiction? This is possibly the most satisfying of Sethna’s excursions into NT territory because it conflates evidence from ancient Babylonian astronomy with textual testimony to prove his case. It was only in c. 354 A.D. that Christ’s birthday was made to coincide with the traditional Roman festival known as Vies Natalis Invicti (“the birthday of the unconquered”) on 25 December to placate converts while weaning them away from old associations. Analysing all available historical and astronomical evidence, Sethna dates the birth to 7 B.C. at the latest, between March and November (the fields would have been frostbitten in December and no shepherds would be grazing their flocks) synchronizing with Herod’s reign and the governorship of “Cyrenius” (the Roman Quirinius under whom the census was held in 6 A.D.) in the reign of Augustus Caesar. The con­junction of Jupiter and Saturn in the constellation of Pisces occurred on May 29 and October 3 in 7 B.C., tallying with the legend of the Magi following the star. Augustus’ birth­day was celebrated as tidings of joy, “euangelion” – precisely the word used for the birth of Jesus in the NT – connoting the birth of the divine savior of the world. The Pax Romana Augustus established ensured the means for disseminating the Christian euangelion.

It is here that Sethna dispels a prevalent misconception that Sri Aurobindo had stated his having been Leonardo da Vinci and the Mother Mona Lisa in a previous birth. He quotes Sri Aurobindo’s written reply: “Never heard before of my declaring or anybody declaring such a thing.”

Objections raised regarding the historicity of Christ are taken up by Sethna and shown to be without foundation. For Ramakrishnaites, however, a stumbling block remains in the dream Swami Vivekananda recounts having seen near Crete while travelling back from Almora: one of the Therapeutae of Crete appeared to say that their teachings had been propa­gated mistakenly as those of Jesus who never existed. Even Eusebius (3rd-4th century A.D.) remarks on the remarkable simi­larity of Therapeutae to Christian monks and feels that their writings (referred to by Christ’s contemporary Philo of Alex­andria) might be the Epistles and Gospels of the NT. It is, how­ever, important to note that even the opponents of Christianity have never questioned Jesus’ existence, but only doubted his divinity and criticized his followers’ practices.

Taking up the problem of the Turin Shroud, Sethna pains­takingly analyses all the pros-and-cons to conclude that there is no evidence for questioning the Carbon-14 test made indepen­dently by three laboratories in different countries dating it be­tween 1260 and 1390 A.D. The description of how Jesus’ body was wrapped given in the gospel of John 206-7 clearly has his body and his head “wrapped in separate pieces of cloth using linen bands (othonia) not a single piece (sindon). Thus, there is no question of the shroud being the cloth in which Jesus was wrapped. Sethna also lays to rest the popular myths that Luke and Mark were friends of Paul, that the former was a medical man and that he also wrote the “Acts of the Apostles”.

The controversy about when the NT envisages Christ’s Second Coming interests Sethna. The earliest writing, Paul’s epistles, clearly envisages that it is due anytime. There is a crisis of faith mentioned in Peter’s Second Letter because the expected return has not occurred. Everything in the NT points to the Second Coming being fixed c. 1st century A.D. It is most unlikely that any apostle would, therefore, leave for so distant a shore as India, as Thomas is supposed to have done. Whatever happens thereafter is not part of Christ’s schema, therefore! Thus, another myth is laid to rest.

What engages Sethna at length is the examination of the dogma regarding the resuscitation of the crucified body as distinct from the resurrection of Jesus in a different form. The extreme physicality Luke and John attribute to the ap­pearance of Jesus after the burial is suspect. Paul does not support it despite having spent time with Peter and James the brother of Jesus and referring to six contemporary in­stances of Jesus’ appearance. The NT stresses that his form was different and disciples could not recognize him till he announced himself. Paul says, “Even if we did once know Christ in flesh, that is not how we know him now… there is a new creation; the old creation has gone…” (2 Corinthians 5:16-17). What appeared from the dead mortal body was a divine being, the Messiah, who had descended into the body at baptism by John. Sethna shows that there is no evidence of any rock-hewn tomb in a garden as described in Mark/ Luke nor of Joseph of Arimathaea, who is supposed to have used an exorbitant hundred pounds of myrrh to embalm the body, nor of any feminine witness. Crucifixion being the most cursed of executions, the criminals used to be thrown into a common pit for burial. Paul states that Christ accepted be­ing cursed as a slave for mankind’s sake as the scripture (Galatians 3:11) says “Cursed be everyone who is hanged on a tree.” Sethna turns to Albright the archaeologist to show that even prior to Mark – in the late 60s of the 1st century -there were practically no Christians left in Jerusalem to tes­tify regarding Jesus’ burial, the Romans having driven them all out in crushing the Jewish revolt of 66 A.D.

In short, Paul’s account of Jesus’ resurrection in a non-physical body is the earliest and only first-hand evidence available to us. There is no evidence of any special burial or entombment or feminine witness to resurrection. We are left with a series of appearances to some people of a spiritual form identified as Jesus.

Sethna caps this discussion by daring to hazard what the nature of the form was in which Jesus appeared after death. Drawing upon Sri Aurobindo’s pronouncements, he identi­fies this as a subliminal reality, apprehended by the inner vision of mystics like Paul, of a subtle physical substance, a causal body, descending from Paul’s “third heaven” (the ideal or spiritual plane, beyond the vital and the mental). It is a remarkable conclusion, unprecedented and calling for serious attention, bringing to bear on Christian tradition the full weight of the experiential evidence of modern world’s Master of Integral Yoga.

In these three books Sethna has embarked upon a unique journey through territory none have dared to explore with such dedication, refusing to take any statement at face value, testing every claim against all possible evidence till only the incontrovertible truth shines forth. His Problems of Ancient India (Aditya Prakashan, 2000) is an outstanding fourth in the series, complementing the revolutionary Ancient India in a New Light.[5] Unfortunately, space constraints do not permit us to discuss its findings in this paper. Perhaps sometime, in some other forum, readers will be able to savor the riches it contains.

References

1. Waterford, U.S.A.: The Integral Life Foundation, 1995.
2. 7s Velikovsky’s Revised Chronology Tenable?, A Scrutiny of Four Fun­damental Themes, Waterford, U.S.A.: The Integral Life Foundation, 2002.
3. “Karpasa” in Prehistoric India: A Chronological and Cultural Clue, New Delhi: Biblia Impex, 1981; Ancient India in a New Light, New Delhi: Aditya Prakashan, 1989, reprinted 1997; The Problem of Aryan Origins, -do-1980, reprinted 1992.
4. Ahalya Kunti Draupadi Tara Mandodari tatha/ Panchakanya smarenityam mahapataka nashaka/

See my “Riddle of the Pancha Kanya” in Mother India elaborated further in “Panchakanya: Women of Substance” (See Boloji.com : Hinduism)

1. cf my “High Adventure in Historiography” in Amal-Kiran: Poet and Critic, 1994.

Review : The Complete Virata and Udyoga Parvas of the Mahabharata : transcreated from Sanskrit by Padma Shri Prof. P.Lal, Writers Workshop, Kolkata pp.407 and 962.

Hardback Rs.400 and 1000, flexiback Rs.300 and 600 with 80 and 130 pages respectively of facsimile reproductions showing the extensive revisions and additions;

Special limited edition, numbered and signed, with original hand-painted pata-chitra

Rs.800 and 1500.

 

Interlude-in-Incognito and the Gathering Storm

Change of scenario, shifting of the spotlight from one protagonist to another, a sudden speeding up of pace— all these come to the fore in Vyasa’s narrative art in the Virata and Udyoga Parvas, the fourth and fifth books of the Mahabharata. In the Sambhava sub-parva of the first book, Arjuna took over centre stage from Bhima-the-rescuer till the focus shifted to Yudhishthira in the shattering climax of the gambling match. In the forest exile, the prime attention swayed between Bhima and Arjuna with the eldest brother and Draupadi anchoring the centre. When we come to the incognito phase, the spotlight stays on Bhima, turning only at the end to highlight the grotesque figure of Brihannala laying low Duryodhana’s forces.

It has become fashionable, since van Buitenen’s translation and Peter Brook’s dramatisation, to label the fourth book of the Mahabharata as Vyasa’s udyoga at burlesque— all because the brothers and their wife assume low class disguises followed by a theatrical victory over enemy forces. On study, however, patterns emerge that continue and reiterate themes articulated in the earlier books. There is much anguish, considerable trauma and little of fun-and-games (Kichaka caressing Bhima disguised as a woman; Brihannala, skirts flapping and braid flying, chasing the fleeing Uttara— but in both cases the momentary hilarity is transformed into brutal blood-letting). In this fourth book, Vyasa looks before and after; there are interesting parallels and contrasts.

The attack by the forces of Hastinapura, with which the fourth book of the epic climaxes, is a reiteration of a see-saw conflict over succession between the cousins—one set whose parentage is unquestioned and the other who suffer from dubious fatherhood—that began with the mountain-dwelling Pandavas finding a royal home but having to escape the flaming house-of-lac and live disguised as wandering Brahmins, as they have to again years later. Their fortunes turned with Arjuna first obtaining a gift of wondrous hoses from a Gandharva and then winning Draupadi. A skirmish followed with the frustrated princely suitors, prefiguring Kurukshetra, that was beaten back by Bhima (who threw Shalya down) and Arjuna (from whom the awed Karna withdrew) and was dissipated by Krishna who, in his very first appearance, commanded immediate compliance. The glory of Indraprastha and the royal Rajasuya sacrifice crowned the restoration through the removal of two major obstacles—Jarasandha and Shishupala—and the creation of the fateful Maya-sabha that fed Duryodhana’s envy afresh, leading directly to the gambling hall.

A second reversal of fortunes occurred in two stages: Arjuna enjoying a long self-imposed exile in which Krishna played a major role at the end; and the gambling away of Indraprastha twice over, with Krishna absent (in the Vana Parva he says that had he been present none of this would have occurred). These and the outraging of Draupadi’s modesty sowed the seeds of inevitable fratricide.

The next reversal occurred in the forest, with the advantage going to the Pandavas in rescuing Duryodhana from the Gandharvas while Karna fled the scene, as he does again in the Virata Parva. Krishna had no role. In this incident Vyasa replicates a Vedic motif absent in Valmiki—cattle as prime wealth—repeating it in the Virata Parva once again with Duryodhana who assumes the role of the Panis vis-a-vis the Indra-Pandavas.

There is a graded shift from encounters with demonic beings in the forest starting with Hidimb the cannibal, then the terrifying Kirmira, both strongly reminiscent of Valmiki’s Rakshasas, followed by Draupadi—the “Shri” (good fortune) of the Pandavas—being abducted first by Jatasura disguised Ravana-like as a Brahmin, and again by the human Jayadratha. The Pandavas win her back promptly, with even Yudhishthira fighting for the first time in the second event. In Kurukshetra, Jayadratha, released magnanimously by Yudhishthira, will defeat all of them and cause Abhimanyu’s death. Krishna continues to be off-scene. The mysterious mythic worlds of the forest—where lakes bloom with supernal blossoms guarded by demons; where an ape and a python can immobilise invincible Bhima—now give way to the rough-and-tumble of urban life in Virata’s city.

In Virata’s court they assume the disguises of a Brahmin gambler, a cook-cum-wrestler, a dance-and-music tutor with “a long reed”, a groom, a cowherd, and a chambermaid, which Dumezil tried hard to fit into his tri-functional Indo-European paradigm. Arjuna’s eunuch-hood and its verification by young women inversely parallels Shikhandi’s, while his sex-reversal parallels the Yaksha Sthunakarna’s. Draupadi’s modesty is outraged for the fourth time and she is even kicked in the court, with two of her husbands and the king remaining silent— a parallel of the Hastinapura scene. As this occurs during the Brahma festival, van Buitenen equates it with Saturnalia and Holi, which socially sanction the licentiousness that he finds inspiring the parva. Draupadi succeeds in getting Kichaka killed, but is abducted yet again to be burnt alive with his corpse. She calls out the secret names of the Pandavas, all of which are linked to the “Jaya” that is a synonym for Vyasa’s composition. Of these only “Vijaya” is a real name, being Arjuna’s, who does not respond. It is Bhima who, once more, saves Draupadi. Now Duryodhana launches a full-scale attack featuring all the heroes who later figure in Kurukshetra. The entire lot is knocked unconscious, except Bhishma, by Brihannala (presaging Shikhandi in the Great War). Krishna is absent. Indeed, the disguised Arjuna is to the terrified and demoralised Bhuminjaya-Uttara what sakha Krishna becomes for him in dharmakshetre-kurukshetre, even to the extent of the significances of the many names/vibhutis of Arjuna/Krishna and the words in which Uttara begs pardon for having addressed Brihannala lightly. To believe that without Krishna the Pandavas are nothing is to reveal an extremely superficial reading of Vyasa’s complicated epic narrative.

A remarkable feature of this book, brought out in the transcreator’s insightful preface, is the breathtaking speed at which the narration proceeds. Prof. Lal’s effort to provide an English approximation of Sauti’s recitation is most satisfying. After the slow-moving, elaborate descriptions of forest life and holy pilgrimages in the preceding book, the complete change of scenario to the cut-and-thrust of court life is so well transcreated that the orality of the epic comes through forcefully. Vividly we listen to different voices speaking, the exchanges between apprehensive Sudeshna and pleading Sairandhri, the gossiping maids and humiliated Draupadi, lustful Kichaka and desperate Panchali, boastful Uttara and flustered Brihannala, sobbing Draupadi, unmoved Kanka, timid Virata and furious Ballava, the giggling girls and pig-tailed Brihannala. In contrast, the Udyoga Parva presents a “heady mix of sincerity and duplicity”, with the spoken word holding us in thrall. “Nowhere”, writes Prof. Lal, “(is it) more charming and cunning, more straight and double-edged, more selfish and altruistic…A wonderful exercise in public relations and double-speak.” In this “Vyasan U.N. of sorts” each speaker is a mouthpiece, exploiting language to the maximum for pushing a case, irrespective of his personal beliefs, both sides bent on war. Such posturing can only result in the Ragnarok of Kurukshetra. As the fulminations die down, Vyasa introduces a wondrous vignette: Krishna-Karna-Kunti face-to-face, leaving it to us, Prof. Lal points out, to figure out where the moral rectitude lies. Is Karna right or Kunti; is Kunti the “real” mother or Radha; is Krishna right in tempting Karna with Draupadi? Buddhadeb Bose, in Pratham Partha, added another layer to the scenario by making Draupadi approach Karna in person.

Some issues need to be raised: why does the transcreator begin with an invocation saluting Vyasa that is not in the Mahabharata? The original runs: “Bowing to Narayana, and Nara, the best of men, and to the goddess Saraswati, utter Jaya.” A baffling incident in the Virata Parva is Brihannala assuring Uttara that he will not be defiled by climbing up the Sami tree to bring down the weapons because “There is no corpse on this tree” (41.4) although one specifically described as “foul smelling” was tied there by the Pandavas. Incidentally, this is the only place (section 43) where the bows, arrows and swords of the Pandavas are described lovingly in detail. Uttara’s description of a “bee-headed and bee-symbolled” sword (42.11 & 20) is a mistranslation of “shili prishtha shili mukha” which connotes “frog”. The translation of “Bibhatsu” as “the Loathsome One” (44.18) is also questionable, “horrific deed-doer” or “the Horrifier” being more appropriate. Curiously, Arjuna explains it as the opposite: “one who never commits any horror”, just as “Janardana” means “grinder of the people” but signifies the opposite for Krishna. The transcreation of 53.21 contradicts this by reversing Arjuna’s explanation in his announcement to the Kaurava host, “I am dreadful-deed-doer Bibhatsu” (53.21). It is difficult to make out the meaning he gives of being named “Krishna”. According to Lal and Ganguli, Pandu gave it out of affection, as he was “the dark boy of great purity”. Van Buitenen translates, “out of love for that little boy of the dazzling complexion” which provides an interesting link with his soul-mate, Krishna. In 66.13, victorious Arjuna can hardly ask Uttara, “Escape from the field!” The correct translation is “go out through the middle while they are unconscious”, collecting their upper garments, which avenges the Pandavas’ loss of their uttariyas in the gambling hall. When the Hastinapura army departs, Arjuna does not stand “still silently” (66.25). Rather, he follows them momentarily to pay his respects silently (the mode is described in the next two verses). In introducing Draupadi to his father, Uttara does not refer to her as “golden-skinned beauty” (71.18), but as “kanakottamangi… nilotpalabha”, “bedecked with gold ornaments…glowing like a blue-lotus”.

In the Udyoga Parva, on page 408, verse 19 of section 89 has not been translated. Instead, the last two lines repeat the preceding verse. This should run: “Then Dhritarashtra’s priests greeted Janardana as was proper with offerings of cow, honey-curds and water.” On page 724 verse 9 of section 171, the reference is not to Shishupala, who is long dead, but to Dhrishtaketu. The puzzle of why the sons of Draupadi are not considered for Uttara is answered in the Udyoga Parva where Draupadi speaks of her five sons led by Abhimanyu avenging her. This means they were all born later, which casts an interesting sidelight on what did not happen in Indraprastha during Arjuna’s exile. But Vidura’s prescription that cooked food, salt, honey, milk, curd, ghee, oil, meat, sesame seeds, roots, fruits, red cloth, molasses and perfumes should not be sold is puzzling and unglossed.

Before the incognito exile begins, the priest Dhaumya’s advice on how to behave with kings depicts the ruler as a self-willed tyrant— precisely the converse of the dharma-raja and giving us some idea about the Kshatriyas whom Parashurama destroyed and who are infesting the land once again. It is at the beginning of this book that, for the first time, we find a description of what the ominous dice looked like. Yudhishthira carries golden dice set with sapphires instead of the traditional vibhitaka nuts. Prof. Lal’s transcreation (red and black dice and ivory, blue, yellow, red and white pawns) is more correct than van Buitenen’s dice made of beryl, gold, ivory, phosphorescent nuts and black and red dice. The disguise he chooses is that of a royal sabhastarah, one who spreads the rug for dicing, for which Lal’s “courtier” is hardly adequate. Yudhishthira’s invocation to Durga for protecting them— hailing her first as Yashoda and Nandagopa’s daughter— is clearly a late interpolation coterminous with the Shakta puranas, as is the later prayer to her by Arjuna in the Bhishma Parva. Curiously, Virata’s capital remains nameless (surmised to be Bairat near Jaipur) and the only place-name we have in his kingdom is Upaplavya where the action of the Udyoga Parva is located. Bhima undertakes to wrestle but not to kill any challenger, yet that is precisely what he does with Jimuta in the Brahma festival that becomes the occasion for Kichaka’s assault on Draupadi whose appearance is described more often in this book than anywhere else by Yudhishthira, Sudeshna and Kichaka. When the attack by the Trigartas is beaten back and Bhima drags Susharma to Yudhishthira addressing him as their slave—as he had done with Jayadratha—the eldest Pandava repeats the mistake by releasing him with foolish magnanimity. Jayadratha and Susharma become the causes of Abhimanyu’s death, one by preventing help from reaching him; the other by keeping Arjuna fully engaged elsewhere.

A hitherto unknown aspect of Draupadi comes to the fore in this book— her ability to use her sexual appeal to get her way. She approaches not Arjuna, knowing his total subservience to Yudhishthira, but the emotional Bhima who has not given a second thought to risking his life on several occasions in the forest to please her fancy. How succinctly yet memorably Vyasa paints the scene: “The room was ablaze with her beauty/and mahatma Bhima’s splendour.” Her seduction of Bhima is an elaborate affair spanning over 200 verses spread over five sections beginning with twining herself around him as he sleeps. The images Vyasa uses are all from the wild, evocative of primal passion: mating forest-born heifer and bull, female and male cranes, lioness and lion, she-elephant and tusker. Beginning with a plangent lament that plays skilfully on his psychology, she administers the coup-de-grace by holding out to him her hands chapped by grinding ointments for the queen. Simple Bhima’s reaction is all that she had hoped for: he covers his face with her hands and weeps in anguish. Bhima’s attempt at consoling her by quoting examples of five renowned satis of the past includes a reference to Indrasena-Narayani that is of great interest because it looks back to the account Vyasa gives Drupada of Draupadi’s previous birth. Incidentally, Indrasena is also the name of Nala and Damayanti’s daughter who married Mudgala the eldest of five sons of Brhamyashva who founded the Panchalas. A number of manuscripts contain the account of Indrasena-Narayani’s remarkable devotion to her husband, the irascible and leprous sage Maudgalya, which led to her being cursed to have five husbands in the next birth. In the Rig-Veda (10.102) she is valiant Mudgalani, driving her husband Mudgala’s chariot, acting like “Indra’s dart” to win back stolen cattle. A passage in one of the manuscripts refers to yet another previous birth of Draupadi that links her to the Matsyas too. As Shaibya, daughter of Bhumashva, she wedded in a svyamvara the five sons of king Nitantu named Salveya, Shurasena, Shrutasena, Tindusara and Atisara who founded five branches of the Matsyas paralleling the five of the Panchalas.

What finally forces Bhima’s hand, however, is her threat of committing suicide, saying,

“Where will your maha-dharma be then

O my dharma-seeking husbands?

You will keep your word,

but you will lose your wife.”

It is a tactic she repeats with him at the end of the war for avenging the murder of her brothers and sons by Ashvatthama. We are given an extremely rare glimpse into Arjuna’s heart, most sensitively transcreated, when he tells Sairandhri, who reproaches him with enjoying himself in the women’s quarters while she suffers:

“Brihannala has griefs too, terrible ones,

She is fallen into the womb

of an animal.

You will not understand anything of this,

my good girl…

No one can look into the deepest places

of another’s heart.

You don’t know me,

you don’t know what I feel.”

But nowhere does Draupadi ever recall an attempt at stripping her. Even when Ashvatthama berates Duryodhana he mentions her being dragged in her period in a single cloth into the gaming hall, but nothing more. When Arjuna rebukes Karna, it is only for letting a “wicked rascal” drag Panchali into the sabha. In his peace embassy, Krishna accuses the Kauravas of this same dragging by the hair only. Was the attempt to strip added later?

Despite all her fulminations against her eldest husband, the complexity of Draupadi’s relationship is instructive indeed. When Virata gives Yudhisthira a nose-bleed—the first ever physical wound he has suffered—he has only to glance at Sairandhri for her to understand immediately and catch the blood in a vessel so that it does not drop on the ground to cause famine and to hide it from Arjuna’s eyes.

This parva provides a rare chronological clue when Brihannala tells Uttara that Arjuna carried the Gandiva for 65 years (43.7), which could be stated only by someone who knew the end of the epic and has to be an interpolation. In the Udyoga Parva (52.10) Dhritarashtra says that 33 years ago Arjuna burnt the Khandava forest, which provides another indicator. An information of interest is that a special area was set apart to be ruled by Suta chiefs like Kekaya whose children were Kichaka and Sudeshna. The Suta Karna’s conduct vis-à-vis Draupadi is paralleled here by Suta Kichaka, whose unrestrained passion conflates Duryodhana and Duhshasana, his brothers being like the Dhartarashtras. The Udyoga Parva presents another parallel in Nahusha’s lust for Indrani, recounted by Shalya to the eldest Pandava. Similarly, the laying low of the Kaurava heroes by Brihannala, including the knocking down of Bhishma without his losing consciousness, anticipates Shikhandi’s role in the fall of Bhishma. Arjuna defeating a joint attack by six heroes anticipates the similar attack by them on his son. Arjuna’s double sex change (man-eunuch-man) parallels the conflation of Shikhandi (woman-man) and Sthunakarna (man-woman). Virata’s bewilderment when Arjuna refuses to wed his daughter parallels Drupada’s when faced with the opposite demand regarding Draupadi. Arjuna’s reaction reveals not just his sensitivity to social mores but also Virata’s insensitivity—the exact reverse of the Pandavas’ attitude to Panchali’s polyandric marriage. Krishna pours Yadava wealth into Pandava coffers thrice over: when they marry Draupadi; when Arjuna marries Subhadra; and at Abhimanyu’s marriage. There might be a patron-bard issue involved in shaping the narration since Janamejaya, to whom the epic is being recited, is Abhimanyu’s grandson.

Shiva plays a crucial role in these critical events: he grants Drupada the boon of getting a Bhishma-killing son and gives Amba the boon of killing Bhishma as a man. It is the leader of his hosts, Kubera, whose attendant bestows his manhood upon Shikhandi. Draupadi’s five husbands are Shiva’s boon, and it is he who curses five Indras to be born as the Pandavas. Shiva blesses Chitravahan’s ancestor with one son per generation because of which Chitrangada is brought up like a son (paralleling Shikhandi), whom Arjuna weds and is killed by his son from her. The gem by virtue of which Ulupi resurrects Arjuna is Shiva’s gift to Shesha-naga. By Shiva’s grace Krishna obtains his son Shamba who becomes the nemesis of the Yadavas.

The peculiar conduct of Bhishma anticipates what he will do in Kurukshetra. He provides Duryodhana with clues to track down the Pandavas and marshals his forces to oppose Arjuna, with no scruples in aiding Duryodhana in rustling cattle! The picture he paints of the kingdom where Yudhishthira resides is a virtual Rama-rajya. The battle with the Trigartas continues into the night as will happen in the Drona Parva. Kripa advises that six of them should jointly attack Arjuna, as Drona will do with Abhimanyu. Uttara’s vainglorious boasting contains an apocryphal reference to his defeating “Surya’s son Karna” (36.6) which is a mistranslation of “Karnam vaikartanam”, the reference being to his slicing off his skin-armour which is shown when Arjuna’s arrow rips through his coat of mail into his flesh (60.26). The same mistake in translation occurred in the passage describing the skirmish between Karna and Arjuna after Draupadi was won in the Adi Parva (192.10) where “Vaikartana” was translated as “Vikartana’s son”.

In the dice-game, Yudhishthira’s response to the assault on Draupadi had been silence. Her independent thinking was never to his liking. Here the gambler Kanka’s response to Kichaka’s kick contains the notorious verse:

“A woman is never free.

As a girl, she is protected by her father;

as wife, by husband;

in old age, by her son.”

He adds a sly dig at Sairandhri, stating that a devoted wife, whatever her sufferings, “never criticises her husband”. What this reveals of his attitude helps us to make sense of his callous explanation at the end of the epic about why Draupadi cannot make it to heaven.

After the Brahma festivities comes the gathering storm. Post-wedding, the Pandavas marshal their allies: Satvata-Vrishnis (Kritavarma and the Bhoja-Andhakas are with Duryodhana), Matsyas, Ushinaras, Chedi, Panchalas, Magadha, Kashi, Kekaya princes (whose forces are with Duryodhana). The southern Pandya king is an intriguing addition till we find that in southern recensions Chitrangada is the Pandya princess, a detail that van Buitenen misses out and hence finds this inexplicable. The split among the Yadavas is now open as Balarama’s sympathies lie with the Dhartarashtras whom he praises and blames Yudhishthira for walking into disaster with open eyes. It becomes quite clear that the Panchalas are the real force behind the anti-Hastinapura alliance, which is why Dhrishtadyumna is designated commander-in-chief. Bhishma’s long account of Amba mentions that much before Drupada organised the ritual for obtaining a Drona-killing son, he had propitiated Shiva demanding a son who would kill Bhishma. Duryodhana does not ask Bhishma why and van Buitenen annotates “there is no reason for Drupada to hate Bhishma.” The reason is given in the Harivamsa, appropriately styled the appendix to the epic. After Shantanu’s death, the Panchala usurper Ugrayudha had demanded that Satyavati be handed over to him in exchange for a handsome bride-price. Bhishma slew him; hence the enmity. Van Buitenen presciently notes that the Pandava alliance stretches from Mathura in the north to Magadha in the east, all along the right banks of the Yamuna and the Ganga. The five villages asked for are also located here. The Kauravas range from the northwest to the southeast along the left bank of the Ganga (Gandhara, Kamboja, Sindhu-Sauvira, Shalva, Madra, Trigarta, Pragjyotisha, and Avanti and Mahishmati near the Vindhyas, southwest of the Pandava coalition). They clash at Kurukshetra on the right bank of the Yamuna. Interestingly, the last scion of Rama’s dynasty, Brihadbala of Koshala, fights against the Pandavas and dies at the hands of Krishna’s nephew.

Besides the geographical conglomeration there is a deeper political impetus that ranges these kingdoms on either side. Sri Aurobindo has pointed out that with the Kauravas are those who refuse to accept Krishna’s new concept of a samrat, an overlord who will bring disparate chiefs under a single umbrella of righteous rule. In Indian history it is these areas which always remained recalcitrant to any type of unification, efforts for which were invariably articulated from the lower reaches of the Ganga.

This parva gifs us a unique scene of Krishna and Arjuna with their wives in the inner apartments (section 59.7) when Sanjaya visits them, where even Abhimanyu and the twins do not enter. A preliminary glimpse of this was given before the burning of the forest in the first book when they retired with the women for a riverside picnic. Sanjaya finds them reclining, drinking,

“Keshava’s feet rested in Arjuna’s lap

and mahatma’s Arjuna’s feet

reposed in the laps of Krishnaa

and Satyabhama.”

Krishna makes a significant comment: he is yet to repay the debt owed to Draupadi for not aiding her in distress. There was, therefore, no miraculous supply of garments in the gaming hall and the attempt to disrobe Draupadi is most likely a subsequent addition.

The gathering storm reveals the Kautilyan side of Yudhishthira once he knows that Duryodhana has beaten him to obtaining the alliance of Shalya (a parallel to Arjuna and Duryodhana vying for Krishna as ally). The dharma-raja asks him to betray Karna and repeats this, after listening to his lengthy account of how Indra regained his throne by perfidy, till he obtains the promise. The story of Nahusha’s fall as a python Shalya recounts links up with Bhima’s encounter in the Vana Parva and with Yayati’s fall because of overweening pride in the first book. Quite uncharacteristically we find Yudhishthira telling Krishna that artha, wealth, is the basic dharma (72.29), anticipating Arjuna’s celebration of this in the Shanti Parva.

The message Drupada’s priest conveys contains the intriguing assertion that the Pandavas are stronger despite having a smaller army, an unexplained statement that Duryodhana repeats to Bhishma at the beginning of the Gita. Dhritarashtra’s discourse to Sanjaya tells us that Shishupala had a chariot-duel with Krishna and it was no miraculous decapitation inside the Rajasuya sabha. Several manuscripts contain lengthy passages describing this duel at the end of which Krishna uses the chakra. Sanjaya’s embassy to the Pandavas contains a bitter truth, “neither winning nor losing/will bring any good…what joy will you get/after you have killed (elders and cousins)” that strikes home at the end of the war when Yudhishthira repeats this realisation and wishes to abdicate. Yudhishthira himself echoes this while urging Krishna’s peace-embassy. This speech includes ominous forecasts about many jointly killing one (Abhimanyu), of survivors grouping to wipe out victors (Ashvatthama). He even uses the image of dogs fighting which Arjuna repeats in the Ashvamedha Parva when lamenting before Duhshala over the loss of kin. It is supremely ironic that Yudhishthira’s reply to Sanjaya repeats his ancestor Yayati’s warning,

“kama-and-artha

feed upon desires

like fire upon ghee”

but directs it at the Kauravas, oblivious of his own admission in the Vana Parva that he had gambled hoping to win Hastinapura. Sanjaya’s reply and Krishna’s—both here and in response to Yudhishthira’s plea to undertake the peace-embassy and in reply to Bhima—state doctrines regarding dharma and karma that anticipate the Gita. Krishna also uses the Anukramanika Parva’s image of two massive trees for the two sides. Sanjaya’s report to Dhritarashtra contains several passages regarding the atman that anticipate the Gita as does Vidura’s advice and the oft-repeated verse,

“Where dharma, truth, simplicity

and humility are,

Govinda-Krishna is.

And where Krishna is, victory is.”

Vidura speaks the famous verse that Krishna repeats in the Hastinapura court:

“For the family, sacrifice a man;

for the village, a family;

for the country, a village;

for the atman,

the world”

and warns to curb craving, repeating Yayati’s advice from the Adi Parva. Sanata-Sujata, like Krishna, declares that the Vedas and sacrifices cannot liberate men, but jnana, ascesis and renunciation of attachment can. He also celebrates the thumb-sized, heart-dwelling eternal Purusha.

The Udyoga contains fascinating myths that hark back to the Rig Veda (Indra treacherously murdering Trishira and Vritra), and the Adi (a different version of Vishvamitra’s attainment of Brahminhood; Yayati’s fall from heaven and his daughter Madhavi’s polyandry, the subject of plays by Bhisham Sahni and Girish Karnad and novels by V.S.Khandekar and Chitra Chaturvedi). It creates new myths like that of omnipotent Garuda being foiled in his prey (the theme of Subodh Ghose’s brilliant creation, “Sumukha and Gunakeshi”) and humbled by the female ascetic Shandili; Amba’s sex change (the theme of Chitra Chaturvedi’s recent novel); folk-tales like the mice (Kauravas) and the hermit-cat (Yudhishthira). We also come across lost myths, like the reference to Divodasa making love to Madhavi as Narada did to Satyavati, Shukra to Shataparva and Pulastya to Pratichya.

Duryodhana is the only Kaurava clear-sighted enough to realise that it is Krishna who seeks to destroy them and make Yudhishthira the samrat. Krishna, like Rama, has no pretensions to divinity and tells Arjuna plainly that he does all that is humanly possible but cannot alter what destiny (daiva) dictates (79.5-6). It is quite a surprise to discover that the only husband of Panchali to urge war is not Bhima, as one would expect, but Sahadeva, the youngest. No wonder Draupadi, feeling let down, says that her old father, brothers and adolescent sons will avenge her. That is when Krishna declares his vow in implacable terms recalling Devavrata’s:

“The Himavant hills may move,

the earth shatter

in a hundred pieces, heaven collapse;

my promise stands.”

Yet he undertakes the embassy so that none may say that he never tried to stop the world-destroying war. Unfortunately, despite this, that is precisely what Gandhari accuses him of and curses him.

The two Krishna-Kunti meetings expose the anguish behind Pritha’s iron façade. She blames her father most of all for her misfortunes, beginning with giving her away in childhood “like money squandered by a rich man”, and also holds her father-in-law responsible for her griefs of which the greatest is the insult to Draupadi. The message she conveys through her nephew to her sons is an elaborately structured rhetorical exercise that moves deeply while trumpeting a resounding call to arms. Its highlight is the exhortation of Vidula to her defeated son Sanjaya that Sri Aurobindo translated into English for rousing the martial spirit in Indian youth against foreign domination.

Duryodhana’s response to the embassy via Uluka has interesting convoluted logic: he refused to compromise so that the Pandavas would be motivated to wipe their mother’s tears with a victory and to prove that they were true Kshatriyas, not mere loud-mouths! He is not in the least impressed with Krishna’s cosmic manifestation (for which we have been prepared in the Vana Parva by Lomasha’s description of Parashurama seeing the cosmos in Rama and Bhima seeing it in Hanuman, as Dr.Vasudev Poddar has pointed out), which he dismisses as magic that he himself can replicate. His words even echo the message Kunti sent her sons (“the reason for which a kshatriya lady gives birth to a son is here”). But, in the allies he enumerates he makes a slip by including the Matsyas who are on the other side (160.103). His words fly straight to the mark as he points out that the Pandavas were saved from slavery not by Bhima’s mace and Arjuna’s Gandiva but by Parshati-Panchali.

Krishna’s embassy contains quite a few surprises. He announces that the Pandavas are willing to have Duryodhana as the crown-prince and his father as the ruler if they get back Indraprastha (124.60). There has been no mention of this in the consultations in Upaplavya. Similarly, he offers Karna overlordship with the added attraction of bedding Draupadi. Her reaction, had she got to know of this, offers rich scope for a creative writer. Most unexpected is Karna’s foreknowledge about his own death and the annihilation of the Kauravas. He paints a vivid picture of the war in terms of a ritual sacrifice and narrates a dream that is an exact parallel of Avindhya’s portentous dream in the Rama-katha (Vana Parva) of Lakshmana seated on a heap of bones, gulping boiled milk-and-honey rice. Buddhadeb Bose’s play, The First Partha is a gripping recreation of the Karna-Krishna-Draupadi and Karna-Kunti encounters with fascinating innovations offering new insights going well beyond Tagore and Vyasa. As the book ends, the Kaurava ranks split wide open. Bhishma succeeds in exploiting Karna’s hubris so that his pride overcomes his concern for Duryodhana and he opts out of the war, warning that the army’s morale is being sapped by Bhishma who ought to be dismissed.

This fifth book is unique because of two possible historical references. Vidura’s warning about an angry Brahmin destroying a kingdom could be a reference to Chanakya and the Nandas and dates the final text of the epic as post-Mauryan, tallying with Hiltebeitel’s thesis in Rethinking the Mahabharata. There is also a great chariot-hero Paurava named by Drupada with the kings of northwestern India recommending him as an ally, whom Arjuna defeated along with the Kashmir chieftains in the Sabha Parva. Paurava becomes Duryodhana’s ally and there is no record of his death in Kurukshetra. Van Buitenen argues that this is a reference to the Poros of Arrian’s Indica whom Alexander honoured. Gilles Schaufelberger has noted that Guy Vincent in his lecture on the 21st May 2005 at the University de Provence identified  Kalayavana and Alexander. We have, therefore, at least three identifiable historical figures, both denoting the same historical period.

Review : I Was Born for Valour, I Was Born to Achieve Glory

 

Book:  The Mahabharata of Vyasa: The Complete Karna Parva

Transcreated from Sanskrit by Padma Shri Prof. P. Lal,

Writers Workshop, 2007,

pp. 1036,

Rs.1000 (hardback).

Special edition of 50 copies each with an original hand-painted frontispiece Rs.2000/-

 

The Battle of Kurukshetra has a double climax: the Karna-Arjuna duel and the final confrontation between Bhima and Duryodhana. By the time we come to the third book of battle, the elder generations have fallen, and along with them their obsessions. Drupada’s craving for vengeance against Bhishma and Drona has been achieved through his two sons, each specifically engendered for that purpose. Before he is beheaded, Drona lays low the two major allies of the Pandavas: Drupada and Virata. Ancient Bahlika, Bhagadatta, Bhurishrava —all are gone. Nothing stands in the way of Duryodhana’s eagerness to have Karna command his forces, a desire that he has had to put off twice over. Despite Karna having fled the field at least thrice during Drona’s generalship, Duryodhana holds fast to a blind faith in his invincibility with a drowning man’s desperation.

Karna’s undying appeal as a heroic Aryan ideal is reflected in Tagore’s poem on Karna and Kunti composed in response to Jagadish Chandra Bose’s request to adopt Karna as a mythic paradigm for the modern Indian. Earlier, Bankimchandra had sought to do the same with Krishna in “Krishnacharitra”. The typology was carried onto the Bengali stage with famous plays like “Karnarjun”, “Nara-Narayan” and in many an Indian film, both mythological and modern. The trait for which Karna is celebrated is his unparalleled greatness as an undiscriminating donor, never refusing anything to anyone, even butchering his son to provide a Brahmin (Krishna disguised) with his chosen meal. Songs about Karna in Gujarat celebrate him as a hero who brings water and fertility to the community. The Western Indologist is understandably fascinated by Karna who, like Homer’s Achilles, has divine armour, a godly parent, initially sulks away from the battle and is ultimately struck down by an archer.

The reader will notice a unique feature about Prof. Lal’s style of transcreation: the use of doublets in proper nouns. Thereby, with masterly skill he interweaves explanations doing away with the need for annotations. Thus, “river-born Apageya-Bhishma” explains the original’s “Apageya”, simultaneously indicating that this is another name for Bhishma. In all cases where Vyasa does not use the usual name, Lal provides the doublet. He does so for technical terms too: “Aksha-axles”, “Kubara-poles”, “Isha-shafts”, “varutha-fenders”. Where explanations of weaponry are needed e.g. the fourfold science of weaponry, this is provided in the transcreation itself in rhythmic free verse [2.16]:

The free

Those released by the hand

Like arrows;

The unfree

Those clutched by the hand

Like swords;

The machine-free

Those shot by machines

Like fire-balls;

The free-and-unfree

Those which return after released

Like Indra’s thunderbolt.

Doublets make abstruse weapons self-explanatory: prasa-barbed darts, risti-swords, parigha-spiked iron clubs, shakti-spears, tomara-javelins, pattisha-pointed spears, bhushundi-firearms tanutra-armour. So, too, for ornaments: angada-armlets, keyura-bracelets, hara-necklaces, nishka-gold coins,. However, “33-lord Indra” (p.237) is hardly mellifluous!

The images used in this book have a distinction of their own. With Arjuna’s arrow stuck in his forehead Ashvatthama looks “like the rising son/with its rays shooting upward” (17.3). Shikhandi, with three arrows in his forehead, is like a triple-peaked silvery mountain (61.18). An elephant struck with 100 arrows glows like a mountain with its trees and plants aflame in a forest-fire at dead of night (18.14). Like countless bulls attacking a single one to mount a cow in season, warriors target Arjuna (19.5). The battlefield blossoms like a lake lovely with white lily and blue lotus faces of beheaded warriors, glowing with splendour as if decorated with garlands of constellations in autumn. Bloodied faces are as lovely as split pomegranates, their teeth the seeds. Headless bodies stand erect in bloody uniforms and armour like crimson pieces of cloth dyed red and drying (28.43). Like a monsoon field with red shakragopa-beetles, or a young dark-skinned girl’s white dress dyed with red turmeric (52.9), or a free-roving courtesan flaunting a crimson dress, crimson garland and gold ornaments—such was the earth (94.26). Arrows pierce like snakes burrowing into an ant hill (59.54). Fallen soldiers look as lovely as pollen-filled kadamba blossoms (81.39). Karna’s snake-arrow blazes in the sky “like the centre parting/in a woman’s hair” (90.30).

The parva begins with the Kauravas musing over how they dragged and demeaned Draupadi. Although, at different stages in the battle, Dhritarashtra, Bhima, Duhshasana, Krishna all recall the dragging and insulting of Draupadi, none refers to any attempt to strip her. That episode could be an interpolation to accentuate the wickedness of the Kauravas and exalt the divinity of Krishna.

An intriguing feature of the battle is that attacking and even killing weaponless charioteers draws no criticism. Even Krishna is wounded by Ashvatthama, Karna and Satyasena whose javelin pierces through his left arm making him drop the whip and reins. The charioteer’s role as advisor is well brought out where he advises Dhrishtadyumna who is bewildered by Kripa’s assault. Section 26 is a rare picture of Kripa in irresistible full flow.

In the beginning, in just five verses the death of Vrisha (Karna) is wrapped up. Janamejaya questions Vaishampayana about Dhritarashtra’s reaction on hearing of the deaths of Drona and Karna. In section 2 we learn that the night after Karna was killed, Sanjaya rushed to Dhritarashtra and related the aftermath of Drona’s death till the fall of Karna, his sons and brothers and how Bhima slew Duhshasana and drank his blood. Struck to his very marrow with horror, the blind king wants to know what is left of both armies. From the reply a pattern emerges: the inhabitants of regions where Krishna was born and brought up—Surasenis and Narayanas of Mathura and Gokul—chose to fight against him alongside the kings of the east and north-east (Kalingas, Bangas, Angas, Nishadas) who were anti-Pandava and led elephant armies. Satyaki killed the Banga ruler, Sahadeva the Pundra ruler, Nakula the Anga ruler. Those from the south, west and north-west suffer annihilation at Arjuna’s hands. Among southerners, Pandya alone is pro-Pandava and Sanjaya calls him world-renowned. Dhritarashtra asks him to justify this and we have a sudden description of his savage attack on the Kauravas in section 20 in 44 verses, till he is killed by Ashvatthama. This looks very much like a command performance. It is interesting that Chitrangada is a Pandya princess in the southern recension of the epic.

We are given new information in 2.13 that Parashurama had taught Drona from early childhood. Confirmation regarding the relative novelty of the Mahishamardini myth is found in 5.56 where, as in the Vana Parva, it is Skanda, not Durga, who is the buffalo-demon’s slayer. A typical epic exaggeration occurs in 5.4 where Sanjaya says that Bishma slew an “arbuda” (a crore) of soldiers in ten days. As he slew ten thousand daily, the total is a lakh and not “ten crores” as translated (p.24). In 5.14 Sanjaya says that Draupadi’s son (unnamed) slew Duhsasana’s son—possibly the nameless killer of Abhimanyu—but there is no other account of this. Paurava, a Kaurava ally whom Van Buitenen regards as a historical reference to Poros, had been defeated by Abhimanyu and now falls victim to Arjuna (5.35). We usually overlook the fact that Kunti too was a loser in the battle. All Kuntibhoja’s descendants were slain by Bhishma who also accounted for the Narayanas and Balabhadras (6.22). Drona slew both brothers of Kunti, Virata, Drupada and their sons and most of the notable kings in just five days. Bhishma in ten days mostly concentrated on reducing the Pandava army.

The Karna-Arjuna battle is obviously the high point since Sanjay compares its carnage as rivalling the mythical duels of Indra-Vritra, Rama-Ravana, Kartavirya-Parashurama, Mahisha-Skanda, Andhaka-Rudra, Indra-Bali, Indra-Namuchi, Vasava-Shambara, Mahendra-Jambha and Krishna-Naraka-Mura. Karna becomes infused with the Naraka following Duryodhana’s capture by the Gandharvas. In the Tullal songs of Kerala he is the demon Sashrakavacha (thousand-armoured) reincarnated. Underlying the Arjuna-Karna duel lies the Vedic myth of Indra routing Surya and taking his wheel (Rig Veda 1.175.4; 4.30.4; 10.43.5). Its epic reversal occurs in the Ramayana where Surya’s son Sugriva brings about the death of Indra’s son Vali. On both occasions, it is Vishnu’s avatara who plays the decisive role in ensuring the death.

Ironically, Dhritarashtra’s lament (9.21):

“You plan something

Fate plans differently.

Aho!

Fate is all-powerful.

Kala

cannot be questioned.”

– is no different from what Krishna had told Yudhishthira before the peace embassy: “What is possible for man, I can exert to the utmost; but over fate I have no control.” Dhritarashtra makes the telling point (9.39) that both Bhishma and Drona were killed by exceptional deceit: Shikhandi shot down Bhishma who was not fighting him and Drona was beheaded when in yoga, weaponless. Significantly, Dhritarashtra points to the Panchalas as responsible for both heinous deeds, exposing what underlies the Pandava-Dhartarashtra rivalry. Often he mentions the awe in which the Pandavas held Karna, especially Yudhishthira who went sleepless for 13 years, reminiscent of Lakshmana in the Ramayana (for a different reason). Fear of Karna haunts Yudhishthira wherever he goes. Even Bhishma, Kripa, Drona have never shamed him in battle like Karna (66.22). Twice Dhritarashtra recalls Karna taunting Draupadi that she is husbandless in the very presence of the Pandavas—such was his self-confidence. He calls Karna “the never-retreating hero”, overlooking how he was routed from the field several times.

Arjuna’s laxity is a recurring phenomenon here, lending support to the argument that the Gita is a later addition. In section 16 Ashvatthama’s feats wax, Pinaki-like, while Arjuna’s wane, enraging Krishna who berates Arjuna for being sentimental about fighting his guru’s son. Arjuna flares up only after Krishna, with blood streaming from his body, asks him not to spare Ashvatthama. In section 19 Krishna has to exhort him to stop playing games with the suicide squad of Samsaptakas and to proceed to fight Karna. The suicide squad even catches hold of them. Susharma succeeds in making Arjuna slump down (53.15, 36). Keshava fells them bare-handed while Arjuna displays his unique skill in repulsing the enemy with arrows at extreme close quarters. In section 56 Ashvatthama nonplusses Arjuna again, infuriating Krishna who exhorts:

“very strange, Partha-Arjuna

Very strange—what I am seeing now.

…Drona’s son

Seems to be the better man today….

Is your fist

a little flabby or what?” (56. 135-138).

The carnage after Arjuna has been tongue-lashed becomes the occasion for a survey of the field by Krishna (19.28-53), repeated in 58.10-41, as after Jayadratha’s death in the Drona Parva (section 148). This anticipates Gandhari’s heart-wrenching lament in the Stri Parva and ends with Krishna praising Arjuna’s performance as worthy of the king of the gods. The field becomes such a morass that even Arjuna’s chariot-wheels get stuck (27.40-41)—a doublet of Karna’s plight later. In 90.57 Krishna lifts the embedded chariot wheels out of ground with both hands, which Shalya later fails to replicate. Indeed, he does not even make the attempt and leaves it to Karna to fight and extricate the wheel. Karna is also called Bibhatsu (49.25) after he recovers having been knocked unconscious by Yudhishthira’s arrow, deliberately equating him with Arjuna.

Section 29 has a rare duel between the rivals for the throne. The normally diffident eldest Pandava knocks Duryodhana unconscious but, surprisingly, Bhima stops him from administering the coup de grace because that would nullify his vow. Similarly, when Bhima knocks Karna unconscious in section 50 and rushes to slice his tongue for his insults, Shalya stops him, reminding him of Arjuna’s vow. Shalya does a fine job as a double-agent by saving Yudhishthira from being captured twice (sections 49, 63): once by warning Karna not to touch him as he may be reduced to ashes and then exhorting him not to be diverted from the goal of slaying Arjuna who is the main danger. Strangely enough, Dhritarashtra does not ask Sanjaya why, despite defeating Yudhishthira, Karna did not take him captive, which would have ended the war as Drona had realised. To comprehend Karna’s complicated psyche we have to recall what he told Krishna in the Udyoga Parva. Karna is a man at war with himself, so memorably portrayed in Shivaji Sawant’s  epic novel Mrityunjaya. One part of him knows that the victor has to be Yudhishthira, the righteous ruler; the other’s very life is bound by gratitude to Duryodhana. Every Kaurava general suffers from the same dilemma, but in Karna it has been portrayed in extremis.

We discover that following Jarasandha’s death, Girivraja and Magadha have separate rulers. Arjuna kills Dandadhara of Girivraja. Jayatsena, king of Magadha, was killed by Abhimanyu. There is an interesting exchange of roles: in section 18 Arjuna emerges as elephant-killer while elsewhere Bhima shows off mastery of archery. Just as six had surrounded Abhimanyu, so Dhristadymna, Draupadi’s 5 sons, the twins and Satyaki attack Karna jointly. He successively routs them, looping his bow round the Pandavas’ necks and, to their profound chagrin, letting them go, as he had promised Kunti. Dhrishtadyumna berates Ashvatthama who is routing Pandava forces as Bhima had done Drona: “You have no love, no gratitude, you are a fake Brahmin” (55.33). Not only does Ashvatthama make Yudhishthira turn tail but, when Arjuna topples his charioteer, he continues fighting while holding the reins (64.30).

Prof. Lal succeeds admirably in conveying the variety in battle descriptions as in 28.36-40—an excursion into vigorous vivid description of fist-fights compellingly Englished:

Hands raised high

Brought crashing down

On the foe!

A battle of tugged

And ripped hair-tufts!

A battle of bodies

grappling and wrestling!

Smell, touch, rasa-taste—

Stench of blood!

Feel of blood

sight of blood,

gush of blood,

Everywhere crimson blood (49.104).

Like Valkyries, Apsaras take the dead soldiers in chariots to heaven (49.93). Alongside this, Vyasa repeatedly stresses the horrific meaninglessness of war: the soldiers who died, killing friend and foe, did not know who and what weapons killed them (28.41).

The greatest challenge Duryodhana faces is Karna’s request for a charioteer who will equal Krishna, for he finds that he cannot equal Arjuna without this. Duryodhana lays flattery on with a trowel to persuade Shalya, extolling him as superior to Karna and comparing him to Brahma whom the gods considered Shiva’s superior and therefore chose as his charioteer in the Tripura war. In his lengthy exhortation we find a mini-myth in section 34 of Shiva engaging Parashurama to annihilate the Daityas. Shalya finally succumbs when Duryodhana declares that he considers Shalya Krishna’s superior and that, should Karna die, the Kaurava army will be in his hands.

Sections 40-45 contain Karna’s lengthy diatribe against Shalya’s people, the Madras, for being wicked like the mlecchas, promiscuous, utterly untrustworthy. He particularly condemns the women (tall, fair, dressed in soft blankets and deer skin) for urinating while standing like camels and donkeys and being indiscriminately lustful, gluttonous and drunk. He tars the people of Gandhara and Aratta/Bahika (those in the land of five rivers) with the same brush. It is curious that Bhishma should have paid heavy bride-price for a Madra princess for Pandu and a Gandhara one for Dhritarashtra! Karna voices the prevailing prejudices: the Kauravas, Panchalas, Shalvas, Matsyas, Naimishas, Koshalas, Kashis, Angas, Kalingas, Magadhas and Chedis are the civilized peoples, while the Bahikas/Madras are the filth of the earth, located along Vipasa (Beas) and Sakala (Sialkot); the easterners are servants, the southerners bastards, the Saurashtrans miscegenous. Shalya’s retort is far less violent and throws into relief the bitter gall spewing from Karna. No wonder his sword is said to be his tongue.

It is in the course of the exchange of abuse with Shalya that Karna recalls the two curses that alone trouble him and is confident that unless his chariot wheel gets stuck, Arjuna’s death is assured (42.35). In this context he voices the sentiment that sums up his goal:

“I was born for valour, I was born

to achieve glory” (43.6).

Krishna, wanting Karna to tire himself out fighting before he meets Arjuna, drives to meet the demoralised Yudhishthira, leading to Arjuna’s peculiar attack on Yudhishthira reprimanding him for insulting him from the comfort of Draupadi’s bed. Do we notice suppressed jealousy peeking out here? The clash also reveals the high-pitched tension that war has brought about. It is not only in the Kaurava camp that Kripa, Bhishma, Drona and Ashvatthama revile Karna and Duryodhana insults them. In the Drona Parva the crackling tension in the Pandava camp was first exposed in the clash between Satyaki and Dhrishtadyumna after the killing of Drona. Now the tension has bored deeper, wearing thin the unity between the brothers. Bhima’s sudden loss of morale on finding himself all alone facing the enemy army is another indication of this. In resolving the issue between Arjuna—who won Draupadi—and Yudhishthira—who appropriated her—Krishna makes a signal pronouncement that is quite distinct from the philosophy of the Gita: to lie (anrita) is better than to kill (69.23) because ahimsa is the supreme virtue (69.57). It is a childish vow that is taken without going into the subtleties of dharma and prompts the killing of the elder brother. The secret of dharma, he says, is known to very few such as Bhishma, Yudhishthira, Vidura and, most unexpectedly and significantly, Kunti. He enumerates the occasions on which lying is permissible: marriage, love making, to save life, when all one’s wealth is being stolen, to benefit a Brahmin or when joking (69.33, 62). It is childish to think that truth should be spoken no matter what:

“He knows dharma who knows

when to speak the truth

and when to lie” (69.35).

This is no Kantian categorical imperative. To illustrate, he narrates the stories of the hunter Balaka and of the learned hermit Kaushika, vowed to truth-speaking, but lacking knowledge of practical dharma:

“shruti is not everything.

The precepts of dharma

are meant for the welfare

of all creatures” (69.56).

Dharma is so called because it supports and protects—this is incontestable (69.58) hence lying to protect dharma is not a lie (69.65).

Section 72 is a long harangue by Krishna to lift Arjuna out of the morass of depression following this encounter. Krishna provides a fascinating reason why Karna must be killed: because his hatred of Pandavas is not motivated by self-interest (72.34). Krishna tells Arjuna that Karna is possibly his superior, has all the qualities of a warrior, is 168 finger-lengths tall, long armed, broad-chested, proud, very strong. Like a wall of water shivering into rivulets when striking a mountain, the Pandava army disperses before Karna’s might. His sword is his tongue, his mouth the bow, arrows his teeth (72.38). Dhritarashtra too mentions his acid tongue. It is his profound sense of injured merit that fuels this vomiting of poisonous speech.

In section 73 Krishna states that the massive massacre had continued for 17 days now. He burns with fury recalling that Karna—so mangled and dazed by Abhimanyu’s arrows that he wanted to flee—caused the boy’s death by slicing his bow on Drona’s advice so that 5 others could kill him (there is no mention of Duhshasana’s son smashing his head). Krishna has frequently to provoke Arjuna by reminding him how Karna abused Draupadi and the Pandavas vilely. He bids him kill Karna’s son to demoralise him. Arjuna now abandons his self-flagellation saying, as in the Gita: “Govinda, you are my lord and master” (74.1-3). When Karna’s Bhargava missile counters Arjuna’s Indra missile and decimates the Panchalas, Arjuna needs to be enthused first by Bhima and then by Krishna who reminds him that in every era he has killed demons specially Dambodhbhava (whose overweening pride Krishna narrated in the Kuru court). The Arthashastra VI.3 also cites him as one of those monarchs who perished due to arrogance. Krishna even bids Arjuna use the razor-edged Sudarshana discus. Again, as in the Gita, Arjuna awakens to his life’s mission and uses the Brahma missile—which Karna promptly neutralises! In disgust, Bhima advises him to try some other weapon. Never have we seen Arjuna thus foiled.

Characteristically, Arjuna is the true hero who always admires his opponent, as in 79.9,11: how splendid raja Duryodhana looks beside Karna with Shalya urging the horses! Shalya encourages Karna repeatedly to kill Arjuna who is alone with no protectors, reminding him of his great feats. Karna acknowledges that Shalya seems finally to have found himself (79.51). After Duhshasana’s death, Shalya encourages Karna in true heroic style: “Win and gain glory, lose and gain heaven” (84.16).

Section 76 paints a unique picture of a demoralised Bhima. “I am troubled”, he says, being all alone, surrounded by enemies. He seeks encouragement from his charioteer Vishoka, who re-inspires him and is gifted 14 villages, 100 slave girls, 20 chariots. Bhima creates a river of blood. Shakuni suddenly emerges as a mighty warrior who kills Bhima’s charioteer, destroys his flag and umbrella, catches Bhima’s lance in mid-flight and flings it back, piercing his left arm. Bhima knocks him down but does not kill him, because he is Sahadeva’s portion.

However, in section 82 all Karna’s prowess cannot prevent Duhshasana’s horrific death, or that of his son Vrishasena whom Arjuna kills at the behest of Nakula who has been humiliated by him. Unrepentant Duhshasana mocks Bhima, reminding him how the Pandavas fearfully lived in the lac house, scrounged for food in the forest obsessed with fear, hiding in caves and deceived Draupadi “to choose as husband Phalguna” (82.39). Then he hits hard:

“Then you scoundrels

did something similar

to what your mother did.

Draupadi chose only one,

but all five of you

shamelessly enjoyed her.” (39-40).

It is another matter that Draupadi did not even murmur a protest. Her silence, like her origin and her unanswered question in the Kuru assembly, remains an unresolved enigma. Duhshasana even fells Bhima, who is temporarily unable to hit back. Finally, Bhima strikes him down and invites Karna, Duryodhana, Kripa, Ashvatthama, Kritavarma to try to stop him from killing Duhshasana. Though laid low, Duhshasana smiles with fury and proudly displays the hand by which he dragged Draupadi by her hair in public. Bhima rips out that arm, pummels Duhshasana with it, rips open his chest, drinks the blood, beheads him and roars that nothing is as sweet—not mother’s milk, honey, ghee, flower-wine, sweet curd, butter, nectar. Sipping the blood he dances, terrifying onlookers who flee. One vow fulfilled, he looks forward to offering the yajna-beast Duryodhana as sacrifice, crushing his head with his foot before all Kauravas (83.50). This image of war as a sacrifice, repeated at critical intervals, is rooted in the panchagni vidya celebrated in the Brahmanas as a symbol of Prajapati the Creator’s self-devouring to create the cosmos, another symbol of which is the serpent biting its tail.

Krishna paints a lovely picture of Karna advancing (86.6-10) and encourages Arjuna by reminding him that he has Shiva’s blessings. As in the Gita Arjuna says that he will win “Because you, the guru of all the worlds are pleased with me” (86.17). Karna and Arjuna are both like Kartavirya Ajruna, Dasharathi Rama, Vishnu, Shiva, with the finest chariots and best charioteers driving white horses. While warriors watch,

“the two heroes

played the dice-game of war,

for victory/or defeat.” (87.36).

The sky goddess Dyau and the Adityas favour Karna, born of Surya, while the earth Bhumi (symbolised in Pritha the wide one), Agni, Indra, Soma and Pavana favour Arjuna—a curious split among the Adityas indeed. Karna, the hero of “the other”, is backed by Asuras, Yatudhanas, Guhyakas, Pishacas, Rakshasas, minor serpents, Vaishyas, Shudras, Sutas and the mixed castes. Brahma and Shiva jointly foretell Arjuna’s victory. The line-up of celestial beings shows clear evidence of repetitive interpolation from shlokas 39 to 63 and again from verses 64 to 99 in section 87. Shalya boasts that if Karna falls, he will alone slay Krishna-Arjuna. Krishna-Janardana (transcreated appropriately as “punisher of the people” in 87.119) announces that if Arjuna falls, which is impossible, he will crush them barehanded. When Arjuna routs the finest of Shaka, Tushara, Yavana and Kamboja cavalry Ashvatthama pleads with Duryodhana to make peace and rule jointly, undertaking to persuade Arjuna, as the whole world will benefit from renewed friendship.  Duryodhana refuses as the Pandavas will never trust him, for he has heaped too many insults on them. He believes that Arjuna is tired and Karna can kill him.

Suddenly, Arjuna’s bowstring snaps and Karna pierces him and Krishna. The Pandavas are ripped apart like a pack of dogs by a lion: “invulnerable the bow/of Karna and tremendously/strong its bowstring” whereby he pulverises all of Arjuna’s missiles (90.3). Arjuna slices off Shalya’s armour, wounds him and Karna severely. Bathed in blood, resembling Rudra dancing in a cremation ground, Karna pierces Krishna’s armour with arrows that are the five sons of Takshaka’s son Ashvasena whose mother Arjuna killed at Khandava. Infuriated, Arjuna riddles Karna’s vulnerable parts so that he is in agony, yet he stands straight. Unable to excel Arjuna, he uses the snake-mouthed arrow which Ashvasena enters by yogic powers. Shalya tries to disturb Karna at the critical moment by urging him to re-aim the arrow. Krishna saves Arjuna from being beheaded by pressing down the chariot so that only his diadem is knocked off. Karna arrogantly refuses to re-shoot the same arrow even if it could kill a hundred Arjunas. His armour shredded with arrows, Karna faints, glowing like a hill “covered with a wealth of blossoming ashoka, palasha,/shalmali and sandalwood”, dazzling like a mountain “bursting with the beauty/of entire forests/of blossoming karnikaras” (90.77-78). As Arjuna does not press the advantage despite Krishna’s repeated urging, Karna recovers. Suddenly his morale plummets as fails to recall Parashurama’s missile. Simultaneously his chariot wheel gets stuck. Raising his arms, he laments repeatedly that though dharma-knowers proclaim that dharma protects its cherishers and he has always cherished dharma, it is not protecting him—it protects none (90.88). This is a remarkable echo of Vyasa’s Bharata-Savitri at the end of the epic: “I raise my arms and I shout/but no one listens! From Dharma flows wealth and pleasure–/ why is Dharma not practised?” Vyasa urges not giving up dharma up for the sake of pleasure, out of fear, for greed, or to save one’s life—which is precisely what Karna is doing.

Arjuna’s arrows had bewildered Karna and Shalya; his mutilated body refused his bidding. Here an interpolation occurs. In verse 90.82 Arjuna readies the Raudra missile and Karna’s wheel sinks in the next shloka. This happens again in verse 106. In-between is a passage in which Karna succeeds in wounding Krishna and Arjuna, cutting Arjuna’s bowstring 11 times. Failing to extricate the wheel (Shalya does nothing), Karna weeps in frustration and begs for time from Arjuna appealing to his heroic code. It is Krishna who responds, knowing Arjuna’s weakness where the heroic code is concerned. Thrice he recalls the insult to Draupadi and other un-dharmic deeds of Karna, who is shamed into silence. Krishna’s words arouse Arjuna’s fury, but Karna successfully continues countering whatever he shoots and simultaneously tries to free the wheel. Hit hard, Arjuna lets slip the Gandiva and Karna tries with both hands to free wheel. This is exactly what Krishna had done earlier successfully. Krishna commands Arjuna to behead Karna before he climbs back into his chariot. Here shlokas 34-40 are interpolated because, instead of beheading Karna, Arjuna shatters his flag. The death-dealing dart is described as charged with Atharva-angiras energy. From Karna’s body a radiance shoots into the solar orb and his headless corpse blazes like the sun. Vyasa specifically identifies Karna with Surya, saying,

“The arrow-rayed Karna-sun,

after scorching its enemies,

was forced to set

by valiant Arjuna-Kala.” (91.62)

In a later parva Kunti celebrates Karna as “A hero, ear-ringed, armoured, splendid like the Sun”, a solar hero whom Yudhishthira sees attended by twelve suns. Karna lies headless, hundreds of arrows sticking in him like Bhishma:

“He was all adazzle,

like molten gold,

like fire, like the sun.” (94.34)

Spectators wonderingly exclaim, as for Shakespeare’s Cleopatra,

“But he is alive!…

he looked

so alive!

To whoever asked,

he gave;

he never said no …

always the giver” (94.34, 36, 45, 47).

Yudhishthira feels reborn and able to sleep in peace that night.

Like the Indo-European hero, Karna is the eternal solitary who can make the Senecan tragic hero’s motto his own: “I am myself, alone!”

After Karna’s death Shalya, who had boasted he would slaughter Krishna and Arjuna should this happen, flees. Duryodhana takes a stand behind an army of 25000 which Bhima decimates. Failing to rally his troops, Duryodhana all alone faces the Pandavas and Dhrishtadyumna. Shalya paints a dismal picture of the battlefield for Duryodhana in section 94 in 20 shlokas. The end is impending.

Review : Heroic Krishna. Friendship in epic Mahabharata,

Kevin McGrath, Harvard University Press.

 

Indologists intrigued by Krishna usually begin with Walter Ruben’s 1941 study, ignorant of the keen insights Bankimchandra Chatterjee provided long back in Krishnacharitra (1892), the first analytical enquiry seeking to sift reality from myth (available in my English translation since 1991 from M.P. Birla Foundation). Harvard professor Kevin McGrath has not availed of that research in his fourth book on the Mahabharata which views Krishna through the lens of friendship and how Rudra is connected to the recurring image of “two Krishnas on one chariot”, a phrase that has been elaborately investigated by Alf Hiltebeitel.[ii] It occurs 81 times, of which 85% is in the war books —mostly in the Drona and Karna parvas — the rest being linked to scenes of combat. For Krishna, the primary human relationship is with Arjuna, not with family or kin and this is reciprocated. Once Krishna dies, Arjuna too becomes powerless. Further, the pristine Vedic gods Rudra, Shakra, Vaishravana, Yama, Varuna, Pavaka and Hrishikesha underlie this sakhitva. That term, McGrath points out, is also used for the Karna-Duryodhana relationship — a fact seldom realised.

There are other instances of this word being used more than once. Sharmishtha, the Asura princess enslaved by her playmate Devayani uses this one-sidedly to justify taking her sakhi’s husband as hers and declares this to be the established tradition. Drona infuriates his childhood playmate Drupada by introducing himself as his “sakha” — again a sentiment not reciprocated. Again, the intimate relationship between charioteer and chariot-rider is first seen when Devavrata turns to his father Shantanu’s charioteer to find out why the king is malingering. Even the minister does not know the secret. McGrath needed to study these vis-à-vis the Arjuna-Krishna model. He notes that the Vedic pair Mitra-Varuna is an apt parallel, for the former wields a discus while the latter supplies Arjuna the Gandiva bow. Their closest comparison, of course, is the Puranic duo of Nara-Narayana who feature first in the Adi Parva decimating the asuras in the battle over amrita.

Krishna is never shown concerned over his kith and kin. Beginning by killing his maternal uncle, he then beheads his cognate cousin Shishupala. He fixes it so that Duryodhana chooses his army, feeling no compunction in its destruction in the war. Finally, he destroys his own clan, demonstrating an “extraordinary facility for streamlined and fatal violence.” It is the Kaunteyas—sons of his abandoned aunt—who are his chief concern. Repeatedly he consoles and guides them.

In Krishna, McGrath visualises the prototype of the Bronze Age Indo-Aryan charioteer. Other charioteers are scarcely mentioned, except Bhima’s conversation with Vishoka and Karna’s with Shalya (who is surely atypical). In his earlier book, McGrath focused on the unusual charioteer Sanjaya Gavalgani who never drives Dhritarashtra’s chariot but is the narrator of the war books. Here he focuses on Krishna-as-warrior (a role developed in the oral stage of the narrative), not as the supernatural avatar (a product of the literate period, he argues). Speech, McGrath shows, plays a major role in accomplishing Krishna’s goals.

According to McGrath, friendship being a purely human emotion, humans cannot be friends with deities. However, at the core of the Bhagwan-bhakta relationship is the bond of sakhitva, as seen between Indra and Uparichara Vasu, Krishna and Sudama. It also begs the question regarding the same bond between Draupadi, supernaturally born, and Krishna.

The first eleven books of the epic depict a warrior-dominated world where adharma prevails, whose concomitant emotion for the audience is grief. What follows (except the Mausala and Ashvamedhika parvas) is didactic, Brahminical, concerned with dharma, evoking tranquillity that resolves the preceding anguish. McGrath also makes the telling point that in the list of contents, parvasangraha, books one to eleven (the Kshatriya narratives) are cited as belonging to the Bharata, not Mahabharata. Thereafter, as the didactic Brahminical books take over, there is no reference to Bharata.

The contrast between Yudhishthira and Krishna is well brought out: the one obsessed with the dharma of withdrawal from action, yet going into battle; the other a non-combatant strategising victory through devious means, yet expounding dharma (the Bhishma and Ashvamedhika parvas) and revealed as a devotee of Rudra in the Anushasana parva. The major strategist in the war is Krishna. Rudra features in its closure through the holocaust of the Panchalas and Draupadeyas, besides being worshipped by Krishna.

If Krishna does not experience human sorrow, as McGrath claims, what of his anguished confession to Narada regarding the misery he suffers at the hands of family and kin which Bankimchandra, with remarkable insight, had seized upon to portray the human Krishna and which McGrath himself quotes on page 141? He exclaims that in Dvaraka he is friendless. Sakhitva, therefore, is a core need for Krishna and he finds it not with his kin but with Arjuna and Draupadi. Further, as Indrajit Bandopadhyay has pointed out [iii] in the Shalya parva when Krishna meets Dhritarashtra, we find him weeping — the only instance in the epic. Holding the blind monarch’s hand, “he burst into tears/ loud and long” (63.38).

No other pair in the epic is depicted in situations that are relaxed, even indulgent. There are at least three such memorable instances: before the Khandava conflagration; in their private apartments in the Udyoga Parva; and prior to the Anugita. One could argue that the role-reversal depicted in the Virata Parva where Brihannala (coaching Uttara in music and dance) acts as charioteer and morale-booster to Prince Uttar is another instance, but sakhitva is absent between them.

It is interesting to see the change in the Ashvamedha Parva where Krishna returns to the Pandavas, having left them after the war. Who drives Arjuna’s chariot in the expeditions? Is the supreme strategist and speaker par excellence no longer required? Attacked in Sindhu and Trigarta, the Gandiva twice slips from Arjuna’s hand. It is not Krishna but seers who restore his morale. Sakha-less, Arjuna is killed and resurrected not by his sakha, but by his wife Ulupi! As McGrath says, “All this is a dissimilar kind of narrative from what the audience has been listening to”. This disconnect in the narrative ethos could well have led to Jaimini’s version of this parva, full of Krishna-wrought miracles, being preferred in the regional versions of the Mahabharata. But has the earlier intimacy with Arjuna vanished, as McGrath claims? Section 87 contains a double-entendre in Krishna’s use of the word pindaka to explain Arjuna’s inveterate wandering, much to the amusement of Bhima and Yudhishthira laugh, while Draupadi is annoyed.

There is an excellent discussion of the pre-literate elements, the narrative syntax that reveals bricolage in the case of Vaishampayana, while in Sanjaya’s case bricolage is evident in the lexicon and phraseology. Where the former’s displays “greater narrative heterogeneity”, the latter’s has “greater metaphorical range”.

There is an error in note 6 on page 20: Janamejaya’s snake sacrifice is performed not at Kurukshetra but in Takshashila (vide the Svargarohana parva). Again, the epic does not bear out McGrath’s assertion that only the first marriage is attended with great show of wealth, while taking a co-wife is bereft of this. In Pandu’s case it is the opposite. There is but a cryptic reference to Kunti choosing him in the svayamvara, while Madri is brought by paying heavy bride-price. Again, when Subhadra marries, the Yadavas shower riches plentifully.

McGrath overlooks the role of Krishna as a mahout goading the faltering elephant. The Gita recital produced only a temporary effect. On the third and ninth days Krishna in frustration jumps off the chariot to kill the patriarch Bhishma. In the succeeding parvas, too, on a number of occasions Krishna and even Bhima berate Arjuna for faltering.

An excellent insight offered in the research is that in Jara being Krishna’s slayer the “ring composition for this hero” is established, Krishna’s first strategic victory having been the killing of Jara-sandha (joined by Jara). There is, however, an additional dimension: Jara was Vasudeva’s son from a Shudra wife who became a lord of Nishadas (Harivansha, Vishnu Parva, 103). As Krishna killed his agnate cousin Ekalavya (also a Nishada lord), so was he slain, in turn, by his step-brother Jara. The Nishada blood of Satyavati ran in the Dhartarashtras through Vyasa. Is it the Nishadas’ revenge on the architect of the Kurukshetra holocaust?

What is of great interest is the abrupt withdrawal of Krishna after the horse-sacrifice. He suddenly becomes distant and will not even approach Emperor Yudhishthira for permission to leave, but has Arjuna do it for him. He even takes Subhadra away to Dvaraka, leaving Arjuna alone with his brothers and Draupadi. Has Krishna, then, served his purpose?

There is a curious prevarication in Krishna’s account of the war to his father regarding Abhimanyu’s death, omitting Yadava Kritavarma’s role, and the unfair means by which the Duryodhana and his generals were slain. This McGrath has not studied.It is not possible in this short compass to survey McGrath’s extremely perceptive analysis of Krishna’s strategies and his superb use of speech (lethal, persuasive, honeyed—even making a field of carnage poetically beautiful) to mould characters and events to his desired ends. The climactic example of this power of the word is his resurrection of still-born Parikshit.

McGrath establishes that Krishna is a unique figure in Indo-European epic poetry: princely charioteer, master-strategist, wizard with words, ambassador, inspired seer, intimate friend, moving effortlessly between these varied roles. It is this remarkable picture that led to the development of a Krishna cycle in the Puranas, expanding on these roles, leaving aside that of the master charioteer which remains unique to the Mahabharata.

Review : Battle, Bards and Brahmins ed. John Brockington,

Motilal Banarsidass,

Rs.750, pp.461

 

The 13th World Sanskrit Conference held in Edinburgh had 14 sections of which 5 papers on the mahakavya Ramayana, 13 on the itihasa Mahabharata and, alas, only one on its khila-appendix Harivamsha have been edited by John Brockington, an authority on Valmiki’s great poem. The Dubrovnik conferences on epics and puranas have been focusing, lately, on the neglected appendix. The presence of a scholar from India, Urmi Shah of Ahmedabad, though solitary, is most welcome. The title, however, begs the question as the only paper discussing battle is the editor’s and brahmins are not a major concern in the rest, several of which discuss the narrative art.

Both Brodbeck and Allen discuss the Mahabharata genealogy. The former raises questions about Vaishampayana’s two versions, the first in verse up to Shantanu, the second in prose down to Janamejaya, its listener. Brodbeck makes the very interesting interlinking of Bhishma, Dhritarashtra and Yudhishthira as the overtaken eldest sons. The Bharata patriline faces disaster thrice: Vichitravirya dies childless (Vyasa rescues); Pandu is sonless, cursed with coital death (Kunti rescues); Bhishma is killed by Arjuna (the Kuru lineage is extinct); Arjuna is killed by his son Babhruvahana (Ulupi Naga rescues); the Pandava heir Parikshit (the sons by other Pandava wives are nowhere!) is killed in the womb (Krishna rescues) and a second time by Takshaka Naga (of which his son Janamejaya is peculiarly unaware till vengeful Uttanka tells him). Bharata, Bhishma, Abhimanyu and even the Pandavas are brought up by their mothers—a point worth mulling over.

Allen examines Vyasa’s four sons in terms of the Indo-European pentadic ideology (representing wisdom, force, wealth, above the triad and below it) bringing out the centrality of Vidura in the narrative right from his birth, which is recounted before that of his brothers and at greater length. He relates Vidura-Yudhishthira-Kripa to Aryaman, Pandu-Chitrangad-Bhima to Varuna, Dhritarashtra-Vichitravirya-the twins-Yuyutsu to Bhaga. Above this triad are Shuka-Bhishma-Arjuna as the positive aspect (what about Vyasa, Krishna?) while Shakuni-Duryodhana-Karna are below it as the negative aspect. Allen investigated the marriages of Vidura-Dhritarashtra-Pandu in a paper in Gender and Narrative in the Mahabharata (reviewed here earlier). We look forward to his research into the parallels in Greek myth with the sons of Iapetos (Atlas, Prometheus, Epimetheus, Menoetius).

Angelika Malinar’s paper is an engrossing presentation of Duryodhana’s claims, showing that he projected the future on the basis of his finding that whatever he had wanted did happen in the past. Therefore, he is not boasting. Nor is he going beyond defending the integrity of his kingdom, by right of primogeniture. He is also a master of yoga in being able to freeze the waters around him. Malinar proposes that the Gita opposes his absolute sovereignty and supernatural power. In the historical context, a post-Ashoka period is suggested for the text (Ashoka criticized former cruel kings). It is interesting that in the late 19th century Holtzmann identified Duryodhana with Ashoka, while now G.von Simson identifies Dhritarashtra and others equate Yudhishthira with Ashoka. However, when we find Kautilya’s Arthashastra in pre-Ashokan times referring to Mahabharata characters, one wonders how the epic can be post-Ashoka.

Danielle Feller examines Bhima’s two quests for flowers drawing an interesting parallel with the lotuses in an earlier story of the five Indras and Shri the femme fatale. There is another parallel with the seizing of amrita which never reaches earth (so too Draupadi, the earth, never gets the celestial flowers). This quest is always most dangerous and is followed by abduction (Draupadi by the demon Jatasura disguised as a hermit when Bhima is absent; Sita by Ravana similarly disguised in Rama-Lakshmana’s absence). The mythic message, says Feller, is that women (the earth) cannot obtain immortality that is heaven’s despite sending the wind (Garuda, Bhima, Hanumana) for it.

The quest for immortality is also the core element in the intriguing Uttanka episode occurring twice in the Mahabharata. Paolo Magnone shows that beyond the didactic purpose of inculcating model discipleship lies the layer of the folktale hero’s fabulous adventures and beyond that the archetype of the hero’s descent into the netherworld for amrita. In the Ashvamedhika Parva Uttanka refuses the ambrosia offered by Indra disguised as an untouchable showing, again, that immortality is not for the mortal.

A particularly valuable paper is on the integration of sacred pilgrimage spots (teerthas) into the narrative. James Hegarty successfully argues that they construct the past and contextualize and interpret narrative. Teerthas are paradigmatic venues for recitals and ritual, connecting Kurukshetra and Naimisha with Vedic Sarasvati. Through them, the epic incorporates all past and current religious discourse. No teertha is dealt with in isolation but always in relation to others, being part of a circuit. Pilgrimage is established to be as essential as sacrifices for the maintenance of society. The climax occurs in Vyasa’s exclamation, “What need has the listener (of the epic) of the waters of Pushkara?” establishing recitation of the epic as surpassing pilgrimages, even replacing Vedic rituals. Thus, “Vedic ritual…was transformed into more portable and multi-applicable formats…by narrative means.”

Hiltebeitel’s paper on mapping bhakti with dharma takes off from the proposition (that Malinar echoes) that the Mahabharata is a response in post-Ashokan times by Brahmanical culture to the imperial espousal of Jainism and Buddhism. He focuses on the twin themes of hospitality (who hosts Rama and Krishna?) and friendship. The latter concept of “well-wisher, suhrid” ultimately incorporates the bhakta audience and readers of the epic. A new Brahmanical dharma is being made familiar through Rama, Krishna and their hosts, the sangha of Rishis. The “suhrid” concept, however, is already there in the Rig Veda, as Indrajit Bandopadhyay points out elsewhere. How, then, is this is new?

Adheesh Sathaye argues that the epic uses Vishvamitra to engage with a folk theme: the wish-fulfilling cow and the king-turned-ogre. The former is common to both epics, the difference lying in the treatment. Valmiki stresses the power of Vishvamitra’s weapons and traces how lust and anger vitiate his ascesis. Vyasa emphasizes the superiority of Vasishtha’s ascetic power in routing the army, supplementing it by showing the sublimity of his forgiveness in the case of the cannibal king Kalmashpada. Sathaye relates this to the 2nd century BC situation of a flux in the social class system where the Brahmin Pushyamitra usurped the throne. The epic engages with this by having king Vishvamitra become a great sage, simultaneously establishing the supremacy of brahmin Vasishtha’s ascesis. The portrayal of several brahmins who, like Pushyamitra, abandon their vocation to become take up arms (Jamadagni, Parashurama, Sharadvat, Drona, Kripa, Ashvatthama) might well reflect this historical situation.

Questions are being raised now about the sanctity of the Bhandarkar ‘critical edition’ of the Mahabharata text. The central problem lies in mapping the interrelationships among manuscripts. Wendy Phillips-Rodriguez has put forward a fascinating schema called “uprooted trees” like the Gita’s cosmic tree whose roots are upwards and branches downwards. Through this paradigm she finds that the southern manuscripts are more widely dispersed than the northern, indicating their independent evolution. This upside-down tree model opens up the study of the epic’s variations as having “an independent cultural value”. Very pertinently she asks, “Why privilege one version over the others?” The variations are separate interpretations, and the study of how each evolved will enable greater understanding of the cultural roots of the epic.

Antonella Cosi’s close study of style and syntax reveals that a fixed set of similes is used in insults, more frequent in dialogues than in speeches or descriptions. Vyasa follows certain stylistic principles. For abuse, he uses impure animals and combines them with improbable situations in the Karna Parva to create more sophisticated insults!

Seeking to construct an ‘epic psychology’, Sven Sellmer analyses how the heart (hrid, hridaya) is depicted in the Mahabharata at the physical, psychosomatic and abstract levels. James Fitzgerald, who is translating the Shanti Parva, takes up the Sankhya-Yoga discussion in its Mokshadharma part to show that Narayana stands at the end of both, beyond whom lies liberation, moksha. Sankhya’s disembodied kshetrajna, whose knowledge is non-sensory, is shown as superior to the embodied yogeshvara.

Yaroslav Vassilkov, translator of the Stri and the Ashvamedhika parvas into Russian, contributes a valuable examination of how the myth of the boar incarnation has Munda tribal roots. He proposes that archaic Indo-Aryan folk traditions ran alongside Sanskrit culture which borrowed such myths from them—a phenomenon of ‘archaization’.

Horst Brinkhaus’ is the solitary paper on the Harivamsha. It deals with the 16,108 wives of Krishna arguing that this appendix to the epic predates the Puranas as it shows Rukmini as Krishna’s predominant wife. He is unaware that back in 1894 Bankimchandra Chatterjee had examined this issue in detail in Krishnacharitra (available in English since 1991) and dispelled the figment of 16108 wives quite conclusively.

Mary Brockington’s Ramayana paper is an excellent analysis of the narrative art of Valmiki bringing out his careful planning. She shows how tension is heightened and the audience—on occasion the characters—are shocked by surprises not only in the plot but also in the characterization.

John Brockington examining weaponry in Valmiki concludes that swords are not important. Arrows are the most significant (particularly the speed and numbers shot, not accuracy) followed by javelins and, much less, clubs. The monkeys use branches, trees, boulders besides teeth, nails, fists. Defensive armour and fortifications are rare. Chariots feature quite often, but not charioteers. It is clearly a society less advanced than the Mahabharata’s.

Sally Goldman, co-translator of the Sundara and Yuddha cantos of the Princeton Ramayana project, takes up Indrajit’s rites at the grove of Nikumbhila intrigued by the word being unique to Valmiki. What are the implications of linking the rakshasas with a mother-goddess figure, the demonic with the feminine? Several malignant female figures people the Ramayana right from the palace to the forest and through the sea to Lanka. Sita, though mysteriously born, is never deified except at the end of the war when Brahma tells Rama that she is Lakshmi incarnated. The fire ritual in Nikumbhila’s grove has demonic women in attendance and offerings are made to evil spirits. The destruction of the ritual by Lakshmana is the defeat of the mother-goddess and the dangerous feminine world.

Urmi Shah, the solitary Indian scholar, presents a comparative study of polity in the Nitiprakashika (contemporaneous with the Mahabharata?) and the Ramayana. This text, narrated by Vaishampayana to Janamejaya, is a treatise on governance for the Kali epoch. Hence it concentrates on weapons and military organization for maintaining law and order. The section on faults of kings is practically identical with both epics.

The Anandaramayana is a 15th century text extremely popular in Maharashtra and southern India and among the Ramnamis and Rasik Sampradaya in the north. Vidyut Aklujkar argues that its composition occurred around the river Godavari near Nasik and the composer was a Marathi as it concentrates on pilgrimage spots of Maharashtra, especially around the Godavari. Several words and phrases and myths typical of Marathi occur in it. It is ahead of its times in its feminist attitude. For the first time we find the 108 names of Sita and the stipulation that Rama must not be worshipped without her. Clever and morally superior women are praised over their husbands.

The book has a valuable index of epic passages cited and is free from misprints. It is sad that there not a single paper that discusses the women in the epics. Even the female scholars do not seem inspired to research this aspect. Missing, also, are contributions by noted Ramayana scholars like Paula Richmann, Arshia Sattar and Sheldon Pollock; but, then, there is more than enough for a rich repast! It is symptomatic of our loss of identity that though India is the home of Sanskrit our government does nothing to encourage such international conferences. Otherwise it would not take six years for the papers to get published. One wonders when the papers of the 15th conference held in New Delhi in 2012 will be available.