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Pradip Bhattacharya

Indologist, Mahabharata scholar

  • BOOKS
    • MAHABHARATA
      • The Mahabharata of Vyasa – Moksha Dharma Parva
      • The Jaiminiya Mahabharata
      • The Jaiminiya Ashvamedhaparva
      • The Secret of the Mahabharata
      • Themes & Structure in the Mahabharata
      • The Mahabharata TV film Script: A Long Critique
      • YAJNASENI: The Story Of Draupadi
      • Pancha Kanya: the five virgins of India’s Epics
      • Revisiting the Panchakanyas
      • Narrative Art in the Mahabharata—the Adi Parva
      • Prachin Bharatey ebong Mahabharatey Netritva O Kshamatar Byabahar
    • LITERATURE
      • Ruskin’s Unto This Last: A Critical Edition
      • TS Eliot – The Sacred Wood, A Dissertation
      • Bankimchandra Chatterjee’s Krishna Charitra
      • Shivaji Sawant’s Mrityunjaya: A Long Critique
      • Subodh Ghosh’s Bharat Prem Katha
      • Parashuram’s Puranic Tales for Cynical People
    • PUBLIC ADMINISTRATION & MANAGEMENT
      • Leadership & Power: Ethical Explorations
      • Human Values: The Tagorean Panorama
      • Edited Administrative Training Institute Monographs 1-20. Kolkata. 2005-9
      • Edited Samsad Series on Public Administration. Kolkata, 2007-8
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      • KARTTIKEYA
      • The Monkey Prince
    • HOMEOPATHY
      • A New Approach to Homoeopathic Treatment
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    • Reviews in The Statesman
      • Review : Rajesh M. Iyer: Evading the Shadows
      • Review : Bibek DebRoy: The Mahabharata, volume 7
      • Review :The Harivansha – The Significance of a Neglected Text
      • Review : Battle, Bards and Brahmins ed. John Brockington
      • Review : Heroic Krishna. Friendship in epic Mahabharata
      • Review : I Was Born for Valour, I Was Born to Achieve Glory
      • Review : The Complete Virata and Udyoga Parvas of the Mahabharata
      • Review : Revolutionizing Ancient History: The Case of Israel and Christianity
    • Reviews in BIBLIO
    • Reviews in INDIAN REVIEW OF BOOKS And THE BOOK REVIEW New Delhi
    • Reviews in INDIAN BOOK CHRONICLE (MONTHLY JOURNAL ABOUT BOOKS AND COMMUNICATION ARTS)
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    • Chakravyuha by Manoranjan Bhattacharya
    • The Head Clerk. A short story.
    • BANGLADESH NEW-BORN: A MEMOIR
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    • About the Author
    • IN THE NEWS
      • Epic discovery: City scholars find lost Mahabharata in Chennai library – The Times of India (Kolkata)

Archives for September 2026

Revising the Critical Edition of the Mahabharata: An Approach through the attempt to strip Draupadī

September 6, 2026 By admin

Introduction

Disrobing Draupadi, CE vol. 2

The Critical Edition (CE) of the Mahabharata published by the Bhandarkar Oriental Institute (BORI), Pune (1933-1966) is generally regarded as the last word in arriving at the textual canon of the epic. Half a century later, however, enough justification exists for taking a hard look at its claim to provide the best manuscript version extant. The fact is, as Mehendale[1]  points out, that the oldest manuscript by far— a 12th century, Nepali palm-leaf manuscript— was not available for study. Nor, admitted Sukthankar,[2] were Kannaḍa, Oḍīya and Nandināgarī manuscripts examined. Edgerton, editor of the Sabhā Parva of the CE, refers to a complete manuscript, a continuous roll in Devanagari, in the Bharat Itihasa Sanshodhaka Mandal of Pune, which he could not obtain for study.[3] The National Mission for Manuscripts has to find and document it for the revised edition of the Mahabharata.

The CE also did not take into account the earliest version of the epic in a foreign language: Abu Saleh’s Instruction of Princes (1026), an Arabic translation from the Sanskrit. Preceding the oldest manuscripts depended upon by the CE by centuries, this is an astonishing account of the Kurus and Pāṇḍavas as viewed from Sindh with no mention of Kr̥ṣṇa.[4] Had Ruben known of it, it would have added grist to his mill in arguing that originally the epic was Kr̥ṣṇa-less.[5]

Further, the editors did not study the Razmnama (1584), the Persian version of the epic (including Harivaṁśa) that Akbar commissioned, although it was contemporaneous with the manuscripts depended upon for the CE. Sukthankar was mistaken in rejecting it as merely a “free rendering of the original.”[6] Neither is it “an abridgement” as Adluri and Hiltebeitel claim.[7] A comparison with the CE would reveal the departures in the Persian version, which would throw light on the status of the text followed under Akbar’s direction. For instance, its Aśvamedha Parva follows Jaimini’s composition, not the Vaiśampāyana recital.[8] The scholars Akbar gathered for this massive enterprise formed an editorial board that was the precursor of the CE’s and included Debi Misra (author of Bhārata artha dīpikā ?) and Chaturbhuja Misra (author of Bhārata upāya prakāsaka bhārata tātparya prakāśikā) from Bengal, Satavadana, Madhusudana Misra (editor of Mahānātakam), Rudra Bhattacaraj and Sheikh Bhawan (a Dakhini Brahmin convert). The selection shows Akbar’s awareness of the existence of the Bengal, Northern and Southern recensions. His orders were to establish exactitude so that nothing of the original would be lost. The work was often read aloud to him, followed by discussions. Badauni records that once Akbar lost his temper on hearing certain passages and accused him of inserting his own bigoted views. Thus, the fidelity of the Persian version to the original was carefully verified.[9]

What the editors of the CE have done now, Kālīprasanna Siṁha did in Calcutta by the age of 30 for his Bengali translation of the Mahabharata(excluding Harivaṁśa, which he stated was clearly a much later composition) in 17 volumes (1858-1866) omitting and adding nothing. He had a team of 7 pundits. Manuscripts from the Asiatic Society, Shobhābāzār palace, the collections of Asutosh Deb, Jatindramohan Thākur and his own great-grandfather Shāntirāma Siṁha’s collection in Benares were collated. For resolving contradictions in the texts and making out the meaning of knotty slokas he was helped by Tārānātha Tarkavācaspati of the Calcutta Sanskrit Vidyamandir. Every evening the translation, as it progressed, was read out to prominent leaders of Hindu society.[10]

Thus, like the CE, both the late 16th century Persian version and the mid-19th century Bengali translation were prepared by collating Mahabharatamanuscripts from different regions. However, issues of repetition and inconsistency were not resolved in the Bengali translation. Without studying the Razmnama we cannot say what had been done there. One would expect that 20th century scholars would try to make good these lacunae. Instead, the CE contains contradictions that are the result of the rigid[11] application of the principle that whatever appeared in the largest number of manuscripts was to be included, irrespective of intra-textual consistency, which was rejected as “the realm of higher criticism.”[12] Yet, Sukthankar himself set aside his own cardinal principle when he chose to begin the CE text with the benedictory invocation, despite its absence from the entire Southern recension. His reason: all Hindu texts invariably began thus.[13] No one has dared to criticise this departure.

Some unresolved contradictions and repetitions

Bankimchandra Chatterjee argued in his masterly Krishnacharitra (1886-1892):

“Those that contradict each other, of them one must necessarily be interpolated…No writer indulges in unnecessary repetition or creates a situation of contradiction through such repetition.”[14]

A good example of repetition is the two occasions on which Arjuna prevents Kr̥ṣṇa from killing Bhīṣma at VI.55 (the third day) and VI.102 (the ninth day). Lexical analysis suggests that the latter is added on, whereas the context suggests that the former is the addition. The CE editor sought to resolve this by proposing that originally it was the third day that was the penultimate day of Bhīṣma’s command and, therefore, he fought for only 4 not 10 days. His arguments are far from convincing.[15]

A few of the unresolved internal contradictions in the CE are enumerated below which appear to be “passages, which were composed at a very early date and hence found time to creep into all versions,” writes Mehendale, but “the transmitters of the epic tradition…did (not) deliberately omit what they had received by tradition.” He explains that the CE retained these “since such contradictory passages occur uniformly in all the versions of both (North and South) recensions.” He adds that decisions about these “will be the task of later researchers who have to take recourse to higher criticism (emphasis mine).” [16]

  • In the Ādiparvan (207.14), Arjuna visits Maṇalūra during his twelve-year long exile, while in the Āśvamedhikaparvan (77.46) it is named Maṇipūra. The former indicates southern influence as Southern manuscripts locate Maṇalūra near Madurai and make Citrāñgadā a Pānḍyan princess. One of these has to be emended as a scribal error by comparing with other references to Citrāñgadā.
  • According to the Ādiparvan (116.31), Mādrī mounted her husband’s funeral pyre in the Himalayas. This is reiterated at 117.28. However, at the beginning of section 117 we find Kuntī and her sons entering Hastināpura with sages who have brought along the bodies of Pānḍu and Mādrī. Then, section 118 provides a description of their ornamented, anointed and perfumed bodies and states that Pānḍu’s body looked as if he were alive. So, the corpses had been preserved for over 17 days (117.27)? Surely, either the corpses had been cremated in the Himalayas or they were brought to the capital for funeral, remaining un-decomposed for over a fortnight. One of these accounts is an interpolation.
  • In the Sabhāparvan (61. 35-38), Draupadī is dragged into the gaming hall and Karṇa directs Duḥśāsana, pānḍavānām ca vāsāṁsi draupadyāś cāpyupāhara, “Strip the Pānḍavas and Draupadī of their garments!” (61.38). Hearing this, the Pāṇḍavas cast off their uttarīya (upper garments). Duḥśāsana pulls at Draupadī’s single cloth in the midst of the assembly hall. However, almost nowhere subsequently is there any reference to the attempted stripping. We will examine this contradiction in depth.

The attempt to strip Draupadī

The CE omits Draupadī’s prayerto Kr̥ṣṇa for succour but not the miracle of unending garments. The Sabhāparvan editor, Edgerton, writes, ‘It is apparently implied (though not stated) that cosmic justice automatically, or “magically” if you like, prevented the chaste Draupadī from being stripped in public…later redactors felt it necessary to embroider the story.’[17] The CE text reads thus in van Buitenen’s translation[18] of II.61.40-42:-

“40. Then Duḥśāsana forcibly laid hold of Draupadī’s robe, O king, and in the midst of the assembly began to undress her.

41. But when her skirt was being stripped off, lord of the people, another similar skirt appeared every time.[19]

42. A terrible roar went up from all the kings, a shout of approval, as they watched that greatest wonder on earth.”

In the CE (II. 43-47) Bhīma vows to taste the blood of Duḥśāsana after he pulls at Draupadī’s sole cloth and a fresh one appears.

As she is dragged from the inner apartments, Draupadīappeals to Duḥśāsana to refrain (II.60.25), as she is menstruating (rajasvalāsmi) and is clad in just a single cloth (ekaṁca vāso). Duḥśāsana responds that regardless of whether she is menstruating, wearing a single cloth (ekāmbarā) or none (vivastrā), she is their prize and their slave, “And one lechers with slaves as the fancy befalls!” (van Buitenen, 60.27). As he shakes her about, there is a reference to half of her cloth slipping (patitārdhavastrā 60.28).[20] She pleads with Duḥśāsana again, “Don’t render me nude, do not debase me!” (mā māṁ vivastrāṁ kridhi mā vikārṣīḥ, 60.30). When she is dragged into the assembly hall, Bhīma notices that her upper cloth is slipping (strastottarīya, 60.47). This refers to the portion of her garment covering her torso and not to a separate cloth for the upper-half of the body since she is ekāmbarā. The painting commissioned specially for the CE shows, in the background, four Pāṇḍavas bare-bodied and Arjuna seated with his back to the scene, naked; in the foreground Duḥśāsana pulls at a single cloth wrapped around Draupadī.[21]

In the “Vulgate,”[22] Draupadī calls out to Govinda, Kr̥ṣṇa, Keśava Dvārakāvāsin, Ramānātha, Janārdana Vrajanātha and Gopījanapriya, the last two epithets indicating a post-Harivaṁśa addition by a poet familiar with Kr̥ṣṇa’s childhood dalliance with the milkmaids of Vraja as Bankimchandra Chatterjee noted back in 1886.[23] Kr̥ṣṇa springs up from his bed in Dvārakā and rushes on foot, deeply moved by Draupadī’s appeal, which reaches him telepathically.[24] This recurs when she, faced with Durvāsā’s untimely demand for food in the forest, invokes Kṛṣṇa. Referring to these two passages Sukthankar comments, “They undoubtedly represent a later phase of Kṛṣṇa worship.”[25] Some vernacular versions elaborate this further along the lines of the gopī–vastraharaṇa episode in the Bhāgavata Purāṇa (X.22): so long as Draupadī clutches on to her sole covering there is no response to her outcries; it is only when she lets go and lifts her hands in total surrender that the miracle occurs.

How Draupadī’s modesty was saved is hinted at in verse 544* in the footnotes of the CE, which might be the earliest interpolation:

“Yājñasenī cried out for rescue to Kr̥ṣṇa, Viṣṇu, Hari and Nara. Then Dharma, hidden, the magnanimous, covered her with a multitude of garments.”

This is repeated in 553*:

“Thereupon hundreds of garments of many colours and whites appeared, O lord, due to the protection of Dharma.”

These refer back to II.60.13 where, when summoned to the dicing hall, Draupadī reflects, “In this world Dharma alone is supreme. Observed, he will bring peace.”

The enigmatic statement gives rise to many speculations, one of which possibly led to the interpolated passage bringing in Kr̥ṣṇa as saviour along the lines of yato dharmas tataḥ kr̥ṣṇo yataḥ kr̥ṣṇas tato jayaḥ (VI.41.55). Further, the god Dharma incarnated as Vidura who was the first to protest against the dice-game and the summoning of Draupadī before the assembly. Does he, Dharma-incarnate, clothe her? Significantly, later in the Udyogaparvan when Kr̥ṣṇa reminds Saṁjaya of her sufferings, he refers to her casting piteous glances all around the hall to find only kṣattā Vidura as her protector, nānyaṁ kṣatturnāthamadr̥ṣṭaṁ kañcit, who alone spoke in condemnation, ekaḥ kṣattā dharmyāmarthaṁ bruvāṇo (V.29.33, 34). Or shall we imagine ‘Dharma’ as referring to the outraged sensibilities of the assembly who throw off their upper garments to cover Draupadī, as narrated in Ayyanappilla Asan’s Malayali Bharatam Pattu (c.1500 CE, contemporary with the CE’s manuscripts)?[26] Ultimately, as Duḥśāsana tires, evil omens erupt—jackals howl and asses bray—whereupon Gāndhārī and Vidura succeed in persuading Dhṛtarāṣṭra to intervene.

Hiltebeitel (2001)[27] argues that Kr̥ṣṇa’s intervention to protect Draupadī’s modesty is very much envisaged in the CE, citing two verses from the Udyogaparvan in which Draupadī, exhorting Keśava (V.80.26), and Kr̥ṣṇa speaking to Saṁjaya (V.58.21), refer to her appeal, “O Govinda,” for rescue. He admits that neither Draupadī nor Kr̥ṣṇa mentions the attempted stripping. If, then, Draupadī was not being stripped, why should Kr̥ṣṇa have intervened miraculously? Moreover, when they meet for the first time after the dice-duel in the forest-exile, Draupadī specifically mentions having been manhandled, kr̥ṣyeta (III.13.60), and “dragged around in their hall with my one piece of clothing” while menstruating (stridharminī vepamānā śoṇitena samukṣitā / ekavastrā vikriṣtāsmi duḥkhitā kurusamsadi // III.13.68), being “molested,” parikliśyantīm (III.13.107) and “laid hold of by my hair” kacagrahamanuprāptā (III.13.107, 109). However, she makes no mention of any attempt to strip her. Kr̥ṣṇa responds that, had he been present, he would have prevented the fraudulent dice-game, but he was far away battling Śālva who had sacked Dvārakā (III.14.1). He mentions neither any attempt to strip her, nor any appeal from her reaching him—telepathically or otherwise. In his 1976 study on the burning of the forest, Hiltebeitel wrote that the CE is not to be followed blindly.[28] Here he is doing precisely that.

Other Evidence

  1. At the very beginning of the Mahabharata in the Anukramanikā Parvan, Dhṛtarāṣṭra laments that Draupadī was dragged into the assembly hall but does not mention any attempt to strip her:-

yadāśrauṣaṁ draupadīm aśrukaṇṭhīṁ; sabhāṁ nītāṁ duḥkhitām ekavastrām /

rajasvalāṁ nāthavatīm anāthavat; tadā nāśaṁse vijayāya saṁjaya //

“When I heard that Draupadī, tears in her throat, had been dragged into the assembly hall grieving, in a single garment, and she in her period, while her protectors stood by as though she had no one to protect her— then, Sanjaya, I lost all hope of victory.” (I.1.106, van Buitenen).

  • Nor does he refer to Bhīma’s vow to drink Duḥśāsana’s blood. Arguing that the vow is a subsequent addition, Bhatt writes that this is “wonderfully supported by the omission of the event from the summary of the Karṇa Parvan given in the well-known Parva-saṅgraha Parvan.”[29]
  • In the Virāṭaparvan, Draupadī, while lamenting her condition before Bhīma, refers only to a prātikāmin (servant/messenger) dragging her into the hall by her hair and being called a dāsī (IV.17.2).
  • Aśvatthāmā refers to the incident (IV.45.11-12) while reprimanding Karṇa for boasting: “Likewise, where was the battle in which you won Kṛṣṇā? In her single garment she was dragged into the hall, miscreant, when she was in her month, ekavastrā sabhāyām nītā duṣṭakarmaṇā rajasvalā” (van Buitenen).
  • Arjuna upbraids Karṇa: “You watched how evil men molested(kliśyamānāṁ) the Princess of Pāñcāla in the assembly hall” (IV.55.4), but he does not mention the ultimate outrage of his command that she be stripped, or even to his abusing her as a prostitute.
  • In the Udyogaparvan (V.29.31, 33) when Kr̥ṣṇa mentions to Saṁjaya the atrocities suffered, he refers only to Duḥśāsana dragging menstruating Draupadī into the hall before elders.
  • Whenever Yudhiṣṭhira recounts the sufferings they have undergone, he always mentions Draupadī having been dragged by her hair, but never to any attempt to strip her. In his message to Duryodhana through Saṁjaya, he refers only to her hair being violated in the hall, keśeṣva dharṣayat (V.31.16).
  • When Kr̥ṣṇa and the Pāṇḍavas consult before the peace-embassy (V.70-79) they do not mention avenging any attempted stripping. Of them, Arjuna alone speaks of Draupadī’s trials and this is limited to “how that fiend molested Draupadī in the middle of the hall” parikliṣṭā sabhāmadhye (V.76.18).
  • Even when Draupadī herself, furious with everyone favouring peace, lists her sufferings (V.80. 24, 26), “grabbed by the hair and molested in a men’s hall” (sāham keśagraham prāptā parikliṣtā sabhām gatā) and states how she invoked Govinda mentally for succour (trāhi māmiti govinda manasā kaṁkṣito’si me), she does not mention any attempt to strip her, although that would have been the sharpest goad to spur them into battle.
  • In his embassy to the Hastināpura court when Kr̥ṣṇa tells Dhṛtarāṣṭra all the suffering Duryodhana has imposed on the Pāṇḍavas, including dragging Draupadī into the court (V.93.58), he makes no mention of the attempt to strip her, which would have been the greatest crime.
  • When Kr̥ṣṇa rebukes Duryodhana during the peace embassy, enumerating all his ill deeds, he refers to his abusing and maltreating (vinikr̥tā) the queen of the Pāṇḍavas (V.126.8-9), but makes no mention of the supreme outrage of attempting to strip her.
  • Kuntī, listing her sorrows to Kr̥ṣṇa several times over, laments that her greatest sorrow is Draupadī being abused verbally and molested (parikliṣṭā), dragged into the assembly hall draped in a single cloth while menstruating, but does not mention any attempt at stripping her daughter-in-law, which would surely have been the greatest torment by far (V.88.50, 56; 85-86; 135.15-18, 21).
  • Ghaṭotkaca, assailing Duryodhana, charges him for dragging and insulting Draupadī in her period in a single garment in the assembly-hall, with no mention of attempted stripping (VI.87.26).
  • The Karṇaparvan begins with the Kauravas musing over how they dragged and demeaned Draupadī. Dhṛtarāṣṭra tells Saṁjaya how his son had the wife of the Pāṇḍavas violently brought into the assembly where Karṇa abused her as “Wife of slaves” (dāsabhāryeti VIII.5.79). Although at different stages in the battle Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Bhīma, Duḥśāsana and Kr̥ṣṇa all recall the dragging and insulting of Draupadī, none refers to any attempt to strip her.
  • In the Karṇaparvan verses relegated in the CE to footnotes (VIII.61.934* and 935*), when Bhīma rips off the arm with which Duḥśāsana boasts he had dragged Draupadī by her hair, neither refers to the grosser outrage of attempting to strip her.
  • When Kr̥ṣṇa recounts Karṇa’s misdeeds to goad Arjuna into killing him, he refers to single-cloth-clad, menstruating Draupadī being summoned to the sabhā and mocked (VIII.67.2-3), but does not refer to Karṇa instigating any stripping, which would have surely been the sharpest goad to spur him on.
  • Bhīma enumerates Draupadī being dragged by her hair among the sufferings imposed by Shakuni, Duryodhana and Karṇa but not any attempted disrobing (Vulgate, VIII.83.46).
  • At the end of the war, when Yudhiṣṭhira provokes Duryodhana to emerge from Dvaipāyana lake, he mentions Draupadī being verbally abused and dragged, but says nothing about any attempted disrobing (IX.30.187*).
  • Bhīma, while kicking Duryodhana’s head, refers only to single-garment-draped Draupadī being mocked in the hall, not to any attempted stripping (IX.58.4).
  • Even at the very end, in the Svargārohaṇaparvan, Yudhiṣṭhira, outraged on seeing Duryodhana in heaven, refers to his having caused Pāñcālī to be afflicted, parikliṣṭā (XVIII.1.9) in the sabhā, but nothing more.

Adluri and Hiltebeitel peremptorily dismiss the evidence of the passages involving Duryodhana as “karmically irrelevant” because of a philosophical proposition “that blame-casting must necessarily be agent-specific in a karmic universe.” This is resorting to the same “higher criticism” which they frown upon instead of tackling the contradictory evidence. They also feel that some of the others are “broadly worded enough to include an allusion to the disrobing,” though they do not explain this.[30]

Textual disconnect

Satya Chaitanya’s study of the sequence of events brings to light a major hiatus in the text.[31] A similar disconnect can be found in the Bhīṣmaparvan where the text-block VI.95.4-23 repeats the portion at 16.11-20+42.2, indicating an adding-on of verses 16.21 to 42.1.[32] In Draupadī’s case, after Duḥśāsana failed in his attempt, ‘The people shouted, “The Kauravyas refuse to answer the question,” and condemned Dhṛtarāṣṭra’ (II.61.50). This refers to Draupadī’s question to the assembly (II.60.44), repeated at II.62.13, which remains unanswered in the epic. Strangely enough, the audience neither censures the king for allowing the attempted stripping, nor criticises Duḥśāsana for making the attempt. Even more puzzling is everyone’s silence about the unending stream of cloth, whether emanating from Dharma or Kṛṣṇa. Instead, Vidura’s speech, which follows, states that Draupadī is awaiting a reply to her question, weeping like an orphan (II.61.52). Surely, Vidura would have been the first to protest against any attempt to disrobe Draupadī publicly and to extol her miraculous escape in response to her appeal to Kr̥ṣṇa? It is significant that he refers neither to Vikarṇa’s response in support of Draupadī nor to Karṇa rebuking him and directing that she should be stripped. It is as though these speeches have not happened at all. We have noted above that even Kr̥ṣṇa, while listing Karṇa’s misdeeds, does not mention his having ordered the disrobing (VIII.67.2-3). The sequence of events indicates that originally there was no hiatus between Draupadī’s query and Vidura’s exhortation to the assembly to provide an answer. Whatever we find now, in-between, is a subsequent addition.

There are three parallel accounts of Draupadī’s coming to the dicing hall in chapter 60, which need to be reconciled.[33]

  1. Duryodhana sends the prātikāmin to fetch her but she sends him back with a question to Yudhiṣṭhira.
  2. Duryodhana sends him again to tell her to come and state her case in person. She, thereupon, expresses her faith in Dharma.
  3. Now in slokas 14-15 Yudhiṣṭhira sends his trusted attendant to her, whereupon she appears in the hall.
  4. But in sloka 16 onwards Duryodhana asks the prātikāmin to fetch her and, on his hesitating, orders Duḥśāsana to do so. He, then, drags her by her hair into the hall.

The accounts at 3 and 4 are contradictory and the latter has possibly been added subsequently along with Bhīma’s blood-drinking vow for greater dramatic effect.[34]

What happens thereafter?

  1. When Draupadī herself speaks, after Karṇa bids Duḥśāsana take her away to the Kaurava apartments, she voices her bewilderment at being dragged into the assembly but utters not a word about any attempt to strip her, which is most unnatural. Nor does she refer to Kṛṣṇa’s response to her prayer and the abject failure of the attempt to disrobe her (II.62.1-14), about which Hiltebeitel is insistent.
  2. Subsequently, disturbed by the ominous howling of beasts, when Vidura and Gāndhārī press Dhṛtarāṣṭra to intervene, neither refers to any attempted disrobing (II.63.24).
  3. Dhṛtarāṣṭra rebukes his son for his wicked speech to dharmapatni Draupadī, but not for any heinous attempt to strip her.
  4. Even the vow that Bhīma makes refers to her hair having been touched, parāmr̥śya (II.62.34), while Nakula’s vow mentions her being verbally abused, yairvācaḥ śrāvitā rukṣāḥ (II.68.43). Neither refers to any attempt to disrobe her, which would surely have been the gravest provocation for swearing vengeance.
  5. When Draupadī proceeds on exile, she is described as wearing a bloodstained cloth (II.70.9). If Kṛṣṇa or Dharma had continuously replaced what Duḥśāsana kept pulling away, how could she still be wearing this cloth stained with menstrual blood?
  6. In the last chapter of the Sabhāparvan Dhṛtarāṣṭra laments that they “dragged the wretched Draupadī to the middle of the hall…clothed in her single garment, stained with blood…Duryodhana and Karṇa threw biting insults at the suffering Kr̥ṣṇa” (van Buitenen II.72.12-18). There is no mention of what should have been the greatest crime: the attempted disrobing and its miraculous failure.
  7. Dhṛtarāṣṭra also tells Saṁjaya (II.72.19-20) that the Bharata women and Gāndhārī cried out in anguish and Brahmins did not perform the sandhyā rituals on the day of the dice game, furious with the dragging of Draupadī. Again, there is no reference to disrobing.[35]
  8. In the Vanaparvan, Saṁjaya repeats his master’s word parikarṣaṇe to describe the outrage but makes no mention of disrobing.
  9. P. L. Vaidya, editor of the CE’s Karnaparvan, held that a verse referring to her being stripped (VIII.85.15) was an interpolation and left it out of the CE text.[36]

Hiltebeitel has overlooked two confirmations of stancein the Śalyaparvan. J. D. Smith[37] pointed out to me that as “Bhīma is gloating after fulfilling his vow to overthrow Duryodhana and tread on his head,” he says,

“Those who brought the menstruating Draupadī and who made her naked (avastrām) in the assembly—see those Dhārtarāṣṭras slain in battle by the Pāṇḍavas because of the torture on Yājñasenī.” (IX.58.10)

Yet, in an earlier verse (IX.58.4), while kicking Duryodhana’s head, Bhīma refers only to Draupadī clad in a single garment being mocked in the hall, not to any attempted stripping. Smith acknowledges that a contradiction exists, but is helpless because of the principle followed by the CE: “…it is strange that Bhīma says this at this point and does not say anything similar after fulfilling the more relevant vow against Duḥśāsana. But again, this is what the text actually says.”[38]

Secondly, earlier on in the same parvan (IX.4.16-17) Duryodhana tells Kr̥pācārya that there is no point in seeking peace because,

duḥśāsanena yat kr̥ṣṇā ekavastrā rajasvalā

parikliṣṭā sabhāmadhye sarvalokasya paśyataḥ

tathā vivasanāṁ dīnāṁ smaranty adyāpi pāṇḍavāḥ

na nivārayituṁ śakyāḥ saṁgrāmāt te paraṁtapāḥ

“Wearing a single cloth and covered in dust, dark Draupadī was wronged by Duḥśāsana in the middle of the assembly hall under the eyes of the entire world. Even today the Pāṇḍavas still remember how she was naked (vivasanām) and wretched (dīnām); those enemy-destroyers cannot be turned from war.”[39]

This is the solitary reference retained in the CE to Draupadī having been stripped naked (not to an attempt to strip her), but it is devoid of any mention of re-clothing. That implies that she remained naked thereafter and there was no miracle of endless garments. On the other hand, all recensions of the text agree that she proceeds on exile wearing a bloodstained garment.

This prompts examination of the annotations, which reveals that some manuscripts have vimanasā (dejected, bewildered) instead of vivasanā. Vimanasā is textually more consistent with Duryodhana’s description of her condition in the earlier line(parikliṣṭā), but the editors of the CE did not accept this reading that is more consistent with what has gone before and comes after. Thus, they ended up with a text that renders Draupadī naked without any re-clothing.

There has been no attempt to reconcile these contradictions although the overwhelming evidence is weighted against any incident of trying to disrobe Draupadī.

Collateral Evidence

  1. The earliest post-Mahabharata evidence is in the plays of the first Sanskrit dramatist Bhāsa: Dūtavākyam, Dūtaghaṭotkacam and Ūrubhangam (c. 4th century BC-1st century CE?).
  2. In the first, Duryodhana displays to Kr̥ṣṇa a vivid painting of the dice-game showing draupadī keśāmbarākarṣaṇam, “Draupadīdragged by the hair and garment” (prose passage following sloka 6) and duḥśāsano draupadīm keśa haste grihītavān, “Duḥśāsana seizing Draupadī’s hair in his hand” (prose passage preceding sloka 7). Kr̥ṣṇa exclaims, draupadī keśadharṣaṇam “Draupadī’s hair being violated!” In 1916 Winternitz, comparing Bhāsa’s Dūtavākyam with the Mahabharata, demonstrated that Kr̥ṣṇa’s reclothing of Draupadī was an interpolation introduced after the 4th century CE.[40]
  3. In the second play, Ghaṭotkaca upbraids Duryodhana saying, śirasi na tathā bhrātuḥ patniṁ spriśanti niśācarāḥ, “nor do night-wanderers (Rākṣasas) ever touch the brother’s wife on the head” (sloka 47), referring to her having been dragged by her hair. This is an echo of what he says in the Bhīṣmaparvan VI.87.26.
  4. In the third play, Duryodhana says, yat kriṣṭa karanigrahāncitakacā dyūte tadā draupadī, “How Draupadī was dragged by the hair in the dicing” (sloka 63).[41]
  5. Rājaśekhara’s Bālabhārata (c. 10th century CE) is unaware of the re-clothing of Draupadī by Kṛṣṇa.[42]
  6. Neither the Vaishnava Bhakticult’s Bhāgavata,nor the appendix to the epic, Harivaṁṣa, mentions any attempted stripping, despite their focus on the miraculous deeds of Kṛṣṇa. The former refers only to the heinous act of the Kuru lady being dragged by her hair (keśabhimarśam) in the assembly hall but not to Kṛṣṇa rescuing her miraculously from being stripped (I. 86; I. 15.10; III.1.7; XI.1.2.).
  7. In the Devi Bhāgavata Purāṇa Janamejaya refers twice only to Draupadī being dragged by her hair (IV.1.36 and 17.38), using the word dharṣitā (IV.1.38), which also means “violated”, for what Kīcaka did to her. Yudhiṣṭhira uses the same word while giving Saṁjaya his message, keśeṣvadharṣayat (Mahabharata, V.31.16).
  8. It is later, in the Śiva Purāṇa (c. 11th century CE) that we find a reference to the incident (III.19.63-66). Here the stream of garments is the result of Durvāsā’s boon to Draupadī for having torn off part of her dress to protect the sage’s modesty when his loincloth was swept away in the Ganga.[43] Kr̥ṣṇa plays no role in this. There is also the popular tale of Draupadi binding up his bleeding finger with a strip of her garment because of which he provides her an endless stream of cloth in the dicing hall.[44]
  9. Satya Chaitanya[45] has pointed out that the Jaiminīya Aśvamedhaparvan again a late work (c. 10th-12th century AD), carries a reference to the disrobing (2.62). Here Kr̥ṣṇa pays the Pāṇḍavas a surprise visit as they are wondering how to go about the horse-sacrifice. Draupadī says that they ought not to be surprised because earlier Kr̥ṣṇa had appeared to save them from Durvāsā and, “Before that, Hari appeared in the form of clothes in the assembly(vastrarūpī sabhāmadhye) to save me from shame.”[46] We have noted above Sukthankar’s rejection of both incidents as interpolations.

Adluri and Hiltebeitel have sought to bolster their argument in favour of the disrobing episode by citing a painting of the incident possibly by Nainsukh (c. 1760/65). On the other hand, the much older sculpture in the Hoysaleshwar temple in Halebidu (c. 12th century) reproduced below only depicts Draupadī being held by her hair, one woman approaching her while another restrains the male tormentor.[47]

We do not find any depiction of the dice game in sculpture or painting after this until we come to Akbar’s Razmnama (1598-99). It is here that, for the first time, the stripping of Draupadi is portrayed. That is why comparing its text with the Sanskrit manuscripts is so important.

Conclusion

            To sum up, intra-textual evidence supporting the attempt to strip Draupadī is available in only two passages in the Śalyaparvan (IX.4.16-17 and IX.58.10), of which the former has a more consistent variant reading available. Even these do not refer to her being re-clothed, whether by Kr̥ṣṇa or otherwise. The passages upon which Hiltebeitel depends refer only to her having invoked Govinda in her distress, but not to any disrobing-and-re-robing. With overwhelming consistency (at least 27 times), the text refers only to her being dragged by her hair into the royal assembly-hall while in her period, wearing a single bloodstained cloth and being insulted. She leaves on exile wearing the same bloody garment. Further, there is no mention of the attempted disrobing in early Sanskrit literature. It is only a couple of late texts that mention the attempt and how it was aborted miraculously.

Both the internal and the external evidence, therefore, indicate that the incident of attempted stripping that has ruled the popular imagination so powerfully, featuring on stage, in paintings, films and television as the fuse that detonated the explosion destroying the Kshatriya clans, is a later addition by one or more highly competent redactors.[48] That would imply that the three verses (II.61.40-42) retained in the CE, quoted at the beginning of this paper, are part of the interpolation that the editors rejected.

Janamejaya, who is listening to the recital, is familiar with only one version in which Draupadī was dragged, not stripped (cf. the Devi Bhāgavata Purāṇa above). That is why he never questions Vaiśampāyana about the contradictory accounts about how Draupadī was outraged.[49] How is this “the kind of ideologically motivated, idiosyncratic” approach that Adluri and Hiltebeitel condemn so vehemently?[50]

Revising the Critical Edition

The first scholar to have expressed serious reservations about the CE was Sylvain Levi, the doyen of French Indologists, who argued in favour of using the Nīlakaṇṭha text showing all other variants alongside.[51] Madeleine Biardeau, the leading French scholar, questions Sukthankar’s basic premise that the Śārada version is the genuine product just because it is the shortest and apparently earliest. She writes, “I do not give much heuristic value to the reconstituted text of the critical edition of Poona.”[52] She felt the editors were blindly devoted to an outdated German philological approach. She is the first to ask bluntly why the text should be dated between 4th c. BC and the end of the 4th c. AD, as maintained by so many. Georges Dumezil preferred the Calcutta edition to the CE.[53]

Wendy Doniger, calling the CE “no text at all,”[54] urges that “any structural analysis of the epic would of course demand all available variants of the text.”[55] Mincing no words she writes, “The critical edition…is like Frankenstein’s monster, pieced together from various scraps of different bodies; its only community is that of the Pune scholars, the Frankensteins.”[56]

Julius Lipner criticizes the imposition of the Western paradigm of a “critical edition” based upon a supposed “original version” since “popular oral tradition…which is the very lifeblood of Hinduism, does not work in this way…the text itself transcends the critical edition both as sacred narrative…and as a seed-bed for the literary imagination.”[57]

Arvind Sharma comments, “…it is clear that, at every step, the idea of a critical text seems to go against the grain of the tradition— it is an example of pratiloma Indology.”[58]

Simon Brodbeck has pointed out the basic flaw in the assumption of the CE, viz. that scribes only add to and do not subtract from texts they copy. There is a case for re-examining the decisions of the CE’s editors about both including as well as leaving out passages.[59]

Alf Hiltebeitel has argued strenuously that Belvalkar, editor of the CE’s Shanti Parva, made a mistake in following the Malayalam manuscripts to alter the frame narrative as well as splitting a section into two, changing the Nārāyaṇīya portion’s 18 sections (an epitome of the MB’s structure, like the Gita) to 19.[60]

Instead of regarding the CE as sacrosanct and arguing that we ought to accept that the epic knows of two versions of the outrage Draupadī suffered, we surely need to weigh the comparative evidence delineated above and then decide which way the scales dip. It is time to re-examine the CE adopting the “higher criticism” route. Even Brockington, who has subjected both epics to minute analysis under the lexical microscope, has come to a conclusion that echoes the “higher criticism” approach.[61]

Use has not been made of the valuable guidance available in Sri Aurobindo’s notes written in 1902. He approached the epic “from the point of view mainly of style and literary personality, partly of substance” deferring “questions of philosophy, allusion and verbal evidence” and ignoring “the question of minute metrical details on which they (Western scholars) base far-reaching conclusions.”[62] Submitting everything to the ultimate test of style, he identified that the Sabhāparvan carries “the hand of the original poet…that great and severe style which is the stamp of the personality of Vyāsa” and stated that, except for certain passages, the Virātaparvan and Udyogaparvan were also Vyāsa’s work.[63] As an example he quotes from the former (IV.16.9) Draupadī’s outcry to the sleeping Bhīma,

uttiṣṭhottiṣṭha kiṁ śeṣe bhīmasena yathā mr̥taḥ /

nāmr̥tasya hi pāpīyān bhāryām ālabhya jīvati //

He writes, “The whole personality of Draupadie breaks out in that cry, her chastity, her pride, her passionate and unforgiving temper, but it flashes out not in an expression of pure feeling, but in a fiery and pregnant apophthegm. It is this temperament, this dynamic force of intellectualism blended with heroic fire and a strong personality that gives its peculiar stamp to Vyasa’s writing and distinguishes it from that of all other epic poets.”[64] Similar is Kr̥ṣṇa’s exhortation in the Udyogaparvan (V.73) for shaking Bhīma out of his pacifist mood.

It is remarkable that this selection of verses on stylistic criteria as pristine Vyāsa is matched by their inclusion in the CE many decades later on the basis of manuscript evidence. Surely, where two approaches agree, there is adequate justification for giving equal weight to each. Brockington has urged the need for “a coordinated approach to a particular text. This is where in particular the future lies…different approaches can be combined in order to provide greater illumination.”[65]

Sri Aurobindo pointed out that there is also the hand of an inferior poet clearly visible who delights in the miraculous and whose style is highly coloured.[66] This stylistic difference is apparent in the Sabhāparvan in the portion beginning with Vikarṇa’s speech and ending with the miraculous re-clothing of Draupadī. In addition, we have to take into account Kr̥ṣṇa’s assertion —consistently borne out in the epic—that he can do all that a man can, but the miraculous is beyond him:-[67]

ahaṁ hi tat kariṣyāmi paraṁ puruṣakārataḥ /

daivaṁ tu na mayā śakyaṁ karma kartuṁ kathaṁ cana //  V.77.5

Incidents like those involving Durvāsā in the forest and the re-robing of Draupadī are inconsistent with this. “If we find grave inconsistencies of character…we are justified in supposing two hands at work.”[68] Therefore, on the grounds of both style, content and textual consistency, the incident is liable to be considered as the work of a different, later, poet. In 1916 Winternitz showed that Kr̥ṣṇa’s re-clothing of Draupadī was an interpolation.[69] In 1949, in a different way, G.H. Bhatt argued for the same conclusion at the 15th All-India Oriental Conference, Bombay.[70]

L. M. Singhvi,[71] writing in 2008, recommended “another encyclopedic project of preparing a comprehensive Mahabharata Bibliography in all the Indian languages as well as other European and Asian languages.” Strongly endorsing the views of Bankimchandra and Sri Aurobindo regarding the stylistic layers in the Mahabharata, he urged:-

The rigid exclusion and abandonment of the Ugrasrava recension and some of the later additions and accretions would be ruinous. What we need is a continuous discourse of scholarship and a host of scholarly guides to tell us of the architectonics of the Mahabharata and the historical and literary background of different accretions, additions and interpolations…. (that) represent the history as well as legend and myth of India and the confluence of the so called classical and the folk. The interwoven tapestry of MB made it a veritable people’s Epic reflecting the social and cultural reality of different periods of Indian history and different perceptions of the Indian people at different stages.”

An example of the need for this is seen in Hiltebeitel’s comment in Dharma (2011) that Ashvaghosha’s reference in Buddhacharita to Karalajanaka is “unknown and uncertain,”[72] whereas a discourse with this king exists in the Mokshadharma Parva of the MB in the Haridāsa Siddhāntavāgīśa edition[73] which the CE has not covered. In his recent book on nonviolence in the MB Hiltebeitel (2016) uses the story of rishi Parnada in deer form and the gleaner Satya which is not in the CE, taking it from “the northern Vulgate of the seventeenth-century compiler Nilakantha.” He even suggests that the tale was inserted by Nilakantha, concluding that with such “improvisations” the MB “both as text and tradition…puts both ahimsa and gleaning into the consciousness and unconscious of Hindus.”[74] That reminds us of Sukthankar’s insertion of the invocatory benediction into the CE violating his own editorial principles.

Surely, the CE is not beyond all question! Even with the Bible, after the Authorised Version (1604-11) there was the Revised Version (1881-94) followed by further revised editions. It is the German philological approach to the Bible that was adopted in preparing the CE, labelling the others as “Vulgate” as in the case of the Biblical project. The central problem lies in mapping the inter-relationships 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?”[75] The variations are separate interpretations, and the study of how each evolved will enable greater understanding of the cultural roots of the epic.

The Revised Edition announced by the BORI, however, raises concerns.[76] Their website states:-

“Revisions to the edition will be limited to incorporating the addenda and corrigenda for each volume into the text and either correcting or pointing out minor errors in the editor’s apparatus or comments (e.g., misprints, dittographies, confusion of manuscript sigla, etc.). The edition will not undertake to revise the constituted text nor will it emend the form of the edition.”[77]

However, it is time to take another look at the CE taking into account not only the many manuscripts left out, but also the contents of the adaptations in Arabic and Persian that pre-date or are contemporary with the manuscripts, as well as ancient commentaries that have much to reveal regarding the state of the text. The findings of Mehendale, Dhavalikar, Bhatt and Brockington should not be ignored. The Mahabharata is the national epic of India and the largest in the world. National resources must be made available for this challenging and critical project.

This paper was published in Indologica Taurinensia, Vol. 43-44, 2017-18

Bibliography

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[1] Retired from the Indian Administrative Service as Additional Chief Secretary, Government of West Bengal. Author and Editor of 33 books. PhD on “Narrative Art in the Mahabharata.” International HRD Fellow (Manchester). Member, Board of Governors, IIM Calcutta. An earlier version of this paper was presented in the 15th World Sanskrit Conference, New Delhi, 2012, which the editors did not include in the papers awaiting publication as it questioned the CE.


References

[1] Mehendale 2009: 5; 21 note 5. Adluri and Hiltebeitel (2017) assert, “Sukthankar did examine the Nepali manuscript and found that it confirmed his reconstruction,” but do not cite any evidence to controvert Mehendale’s statement.

[2] Sukthankar 1933: vi.

[3] Edgerton, “Introduction,” p. xxii quoted by Mahadevan T.P. “The Southern recension,” p. 105, in Adluri, Vishwa ed. 2013. Ways and Reasons for thinking about the Mahabharata as a Whole. Pune: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute.

[4] Bhattacharya 2009.

[5] Brockington 1998: 55.

[6] Sukthankar 1933: xxviii. Quoted in Adluri and Hiltebeitel. 2017.

[7] Adluri and Hiltebeitel 2017 ibid.

[8] Sen, S.K. 2008.

[9] Jaiminiya Aśvamedhaparva 2008: 69; Bhattacharya ibid.

[10] Bhattacharya 2010.

[11] Adluri and Hiltebeitel, op.cit. plead for the word, “rigorous” instead

[12] Edgerton 1944: xxxiii.

[13] Sukthankar 1930: 268-69 quoted by Adluri and Hiltebeitel 2017 in press.

[14] Chatterjee 1991: 61-62.

[15] Brockington 1998: 146.

[16] Mehendale 2009: 15.

[17] Edgerton 1944: xxix.

[18] van Buitenen 1975: 146.

[19] Why “skirt”? The Sanskrit is vasana and vastram. Deb Roy’s “garment” (2010, p. 235) is accurate.

[20] van Buitenen mistranslates this as “her half skirt drooping.”

[21] It is not a skirt-cum-stole ensemble as van Buitenen’s translation has it, but a single cloth whose upper part covers the torso, as the sari does today.

[22] Imported from Biblical scholarship referring to the popular Sanskrit text.

[23] Chatterjee 1991:113, 247.

[24] Wilmot 2006: 68.45. p. 449.

[25] Sukthankar 1942: xiii note 1.

[26] Asan 1988: 222

[27] Hiltebeitel 2001: 246-259.

[28] Brockington 1998: 139.

[29] Bhatt 1951: 172.

[30] Adluri and Hiltebeitel op.cit.

[31] Satya Chaitanya 2005. 

[32] Brockington 1998: 147

[33] Bhatt 1951: 176-177

[34] Mehendale 2005 shows the vow is an interpolation.

[35] Satya Chaitanya, ibid.

[36] Bhatt 1951: 174

[37] Professor of Sanskrit at Cambridge and author of the abridged Penguin translation of the Mahabharata. He maintains the online digital text of the CE.

[38] J.D. Smith, personal communication.

[39] Meiland 2005: 77.

[40] Brockington 1998: 258 note 53; Dhavalikar 1992: 523.

[41] Menon 1996: 266-677, 274, 332, 411.

[42] Brockington 1998: 490

[43]Dange 2001:231.

[44] Hiltebeitel 1988: 226-27.

[45]Satya Chaitanya op.cit.

[46] Jaiminīya Aśvamedha Parva 2008: 90.

[47] Indrajit Bandyopadhyay 2013.

[48] Bhatt 1951: p. 178: “The examination of the whole evidence available…leads us to the irresistible conclusion that the Dv. (Draupadīvastraharaṇa) episode did not form part of the original epic…”

[49] I am indebted to Simon Brodbeck for this insight.

[50] They write, referring to me: ‘uses the self-designation “mythographer,”’ “ideologically motivated, idiosyncratic… unphilosophical and unthinking approaches,” “vapid arguments,” “most senseless examples” in Adluri & Hiltebeitel op.cit.

[51] Levi, Sylvain. 1929. Review of the CE in Journal Asiatique 215: 345-48, quoted in Hiltebeitel 2011, p. 17.

[52] Biardeau 1997: 85-86.

[53] Hiltebeitel op.cit. p. 17.

[54] O’Flaherty, W. D. 1978:22 quoted in Hiltebeitel 2011: 16.

[55] O’Flaherty, W.D. 1978 ibid.

[56] Doniger, Wendy. “How to escape from the Curse.” London Review of Books 32/19:17-18 quoted in Hiltebeitel 2011 ibid.

[57] Lipner 2010: 148-149.

[58] Sharma 2008

[59] Brodbeck 2013.

[60] Hiltebeitel 2011: 192-4

[61] Bhattacharya 2003 on Brockington 2000.

[62] Sri Aurobindo 2007:11-13, 68. Western Indologists have even dated the epic from the single occurrence of words like suranga (from the Greek suringks?), antakhim (Antioch?) and roma (Rome?) cf. CE 02028049a antākhīṁ caiva romāṁ ca yavanānāṁ puraṁ tathā.

[63] Sri Aurobindo 2007: 28. He brings out the features distinguishing Vyāsa’s style at length with examples.

[64] ibid. p.47.

[65] Brockington 1998: 525.

[66] Sri Aurobindo 2007: 13.

[67] Chatterjee 1991: 210

[68] Sri Aurobindo 2007: 12.

[69] Note 30 above.

[70] Note 23 above.

[71] Singhvi 2008: “Mahabharata: texts and contexts in a perspective”. Neo Indika, Bharatayan, essays in honour of P.D. and S.S. Halvasiya, vol. 1. Ed. Dr Vasudev Poddar. Rai Bahadur Vishweshwarlal Motilal Halwasiya Trust, 15 India Exchange Place, Kolkata-700001.

[72] Hiltebeitel 2011: 636 n. 34.

[73] Bhattacharya 2016.

[74] Hiltebeitel 2016: 31.

[75] Phillips-Rodriguez, Wendy 2012: 228

[76] The editors are V. Adluri of Hunter College USA and J. Bagchee of Freie Universität Berlin.

[77] http://www.bori.ac.in/Mahabharata-Project-Revised-Second-Edition.html accessed on 19th June 2017.

Filed Under: IN THE NEWS, Mahabharata Tagged With: Critical Edition, Draupadi, revising, strip

EYELESS IN HASTINAPURA[1]

September 5, 2026 By admin

Sanjaya narrating the war to blind Dhritarashtra, painted by Daud, Razmnama 1599.

nārāyaṇaṃ namaskr̥tya naraṃ caiva narottamam

devīṃ sarasvatīṃ caiva tato jayam udīrayet

“Namaskar-ing Nārāyaṇa and Nara, best of men

and devi Sarasvatī, then is Jaya uttered.”

So exhorts Krishna Dvaipāyana Vyāsa, dark island-born editor and master raconteur, who weaves a bewildering skein of threads creating the many-splendoured web of the Mahabharata from which there is no escape for the audience then and the reader now. The millennia separating us have not, surprisingly enough, dimmed the magic of his art that had entranced Janamejaya and later Śaunaka. Here is stunning evidence of the power it exerts:-

“Shells were exploding over Leningrad. Enemy bombs were falling on the streets stirring up clouds of dust. On one of those spring days during the siege, Sanscrit language was being heard in the building of the Academy of Sciences on the Neva River embankment, in a room overlooking the side that was safer during the artillery strikes. First, in the original, and then in translation, Vladimir Kalyanov, a specialist on India, was reading Mahabharata, a wonderful monument of Indian literature, to his colleagues, who remained in the besieged city. He had started the translation before the war. He translated during the hard winter of 1941, with no light, no fuel and no bread in the city. Two volumes of books—one published in Bombay and the other in Calcutta—were lying on the table in the room. In the dim light of a wick lamp, he was comparing these two editions of Mahabharata, trying to find the best and the most accurate translation of the Sanscrit into Russian.

“When, after the war the first book of Mahabharata—Adi Parva was published in Leningrad, Jawaharlal Nehru, Prime Minister of India, noted with great satisfaction that, even during the hardest times, the translation of the Indian epic into Russian was never interrupted.”[2]

What is it in this epic-of-epics, eight times larger than the Iliad and the Odyssey combined—denounced as “a literary monster” by Winternitz and as “monstrous chaos” by Oldenberg—that appeals so irresistibly to the modern man in search of his soul, when the audience for which it was composed—the enthroned monarch and the forest-dwelling sage—has long since sunk into the dark backward and abysm of time?

Here we find a storyteller par excellence laying bare, at times quite pitilessly, the existential predicament of man in the universe. Passions do, indeed, spin the plot and we are betrayed by what is false within. Then, as now, there is no need to look for a villain manoeuvring without.[3]

If we resonate in empathy with sunt lacrimae rerum, the sense of tears in human things, we also thrill with joy on meeting the indomitable spirit of woman in an epic that is misconceived as celebrating male chauvinism. Whether it is Śakuntalā or Draupadī proudly asserting their integrity and berating cowardly husbands and elders in open court; or Devayānī demanding that Kaca return her love, forcing a bewildered monarch to wed her and then imperiously brushing aside a lust-crazed husband; or Kuntī refusing to pervert herself into a mindless son-producing machine to gratify the twisted desires of a frustrated husband—time and again it is woman standing forth in all the splendour of her spirited autonomy as a complete human being that rivets our attention and evokes our admiration.

The Mahabharata resembles a Russian doll, or a Chinese box. Stories pop up one after another, one tale nested within another…and yet another. We find not only layers of narrative frameworks but also leitmotifs, archetypes and underlying themes that weave together the seemingly disparate conglomerate of folk-tales, heroic legends, genealogies, myths, parables, mantric invocations and philosophical discourses. The structure is reminiscent of a bricoleur’s bricolage, a patchwork quilt, a kāṁthā.

The primary invocation that does not mention Vyāsa could well be his. The second version that the Vulgate and Jaimini’s version provide add Vyāsa to the three to be namaskar-ed, which is precisely what Vaiśampāyana does before starting his narration. Later, he explicitly glorifies his guru as Nārāyaṇa on earth.[4] Immediately thereafter (sloka 10)[5] he mentions that Janamejaya has resolved on holding a horse-sacrifice following the mahayajña, which would be the sarpasattra. This mention of the aśvamedha is the link to the Harivaṁśa, the appendix to the Mahabharata.

The first point to realise is that while Vyāsa is the composer, he is not the narrator, nor is Sauti. The outermost framework is an omniscient narrator’s who sets the stage with the entrance of Ugraśravā Sauti, the rhapsode, into the forest of Naimiṣa where Śaunaka, the Bhārgava sage, is performing a twelve-year-long sacrifice. It is this anonymous teller-of-tales who recounts the exchanges between Sauti, Śaunaka and his entourage of priests. Sauti himself is conflating two sources: what he heard Vaiśampāyana narrate to Janamejaya in the presence of Vyāsa; and what he has learnt from his father Lomaharṣaṇa, whom Vyāsa taught the Purana. But who utters the last sloka of the Svargārohaṇa Parva? Is it Sauti, or the nameless inheritor of the tradition? And, in the very first chapter, who has composed the riveting plangent lament of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, eyeless in Hastināpura?

Narrators in the epic are legion. It is not only the professional bards, Sauti et al, who recite the epic, but also Brahmins like Lomaṣa, Mārkaṇḍeya and, of course, Vaiśampāyana. It is not, as Van Buitenen argues, that “baronial-bardic lore” was giving way to a tradition of wandering reciters of Brahminic lore. Vaiśampāyana, a Brahmin, recited the epic before it was picked up by Sauti the sūta. Sauti’s narration is only the second Russian doll or Chinese box housing within it a series. Each layer alternates between direct narration in response to a query, often incorporating a question-and-answer encounter, and a dialogue. The impact, therefore, is varied and, in the dialogue-encounters, even dramatic. The most voluminous of these narrations is Bhīṣma’s, incorporating a host of subsidiary narrators in the Udyoga, Śānti and Anuśāsana Parvas, with Duryodhana and Yudhiṣṭhira asking the questions. The other major tellers-of-tales are Lomaṣa and Mārkaṇḍeya in the Vana Parva responding to Yudhiṣṭhira.Nārada appears as a common narrator in many parvas. In the midst of it all, Vyāsa pops in-and-out of the narrative, shaping the course of events at critical junctures. He is the only epic poet who kills off a huge number of his own characters—the war-widows—by motivating them to drown themselves to rejoin their dead husbands.

I propose to restrict myself to the first book, the Ādi Parva. If, later in the epic, Vyāsa shows us what man has made of man, here, in the very first book, he plumbs the depths of the humiliatingly petty pre-occupations of the Creator’s noblest creation. Indeed, the dilemmas the characters find themselves enmeshed in cannot even be glorified as “tragic.” Perhaps, that is why we find the epic so fascinating—for, how many of us are cast in the heroic mould? We do not have to strain the imagination to reach out and identify with lust-driven Yayāti or Śāntanu mesmerised by riverside nymphs. We need no willing suspension of disbelief to understand why the Brahmin Droṇa should sell his knowledge to the highest bidder, or why Drupada does not protest too much when his daughter is parcelled out among five brothers who had routed him in a skirmish.

The first two sections introduce Sauti who, in response to specific queries of the sages gathered at Naimiṣa, provides a list of contents, Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s lament, the figuring forth of the epic as an organic tree image, the Puranic touch about creation and genealogy, the epic’s composition, the benefits of listening to it, the origin of samantapancaka and the definition of akṣauhiṇī. Abruptly, section 3 introduces Janamejaya, the canine motif and the leitmotif of a curse. Janamejaya then leaves to annex Takṣaśilā where he will institute the snake-holocaust. The stories about three disciples, replete with Vedic echoes, are slipped in adroitly by Sauti. Is he pandering to the audience of sages eager for Brahminical wonders? Perhaps; but not just that. After the story of Upamanyu, he re-introduces Janamejaya along with Pauṣya who make Veda their acharya. Pauṣya is the link to the next tale, that of Uttaṅka. Cunningly, Sauti weaves in the thread of revenge that, like Śeṣa penetrating and upholding the globe, wraps round the massive epic corpus. Uttaṅka, seeking vengeance against Takṣaka, motivates Janamejaya to institute the snake-holocaust. That becomes the setting for the recital of the Mahabharata in the presence of its composer, the king’s great-great-grandfather.

Reaching section 4, we find that it is a new beginning altogether! Here is Sauti appearing before the rishis and Śaunaka for the first time. It is as though the previous three sections have been stitched on top of this. Here, then, we have yet another anonymous narrator who gives pride of place to Śaunaka as a parallel to Janamejaya the original “onlie true begetter” of the epic.[6] One of these anonymous rhapsodes forming the successive outer frames modified the second sloka of the invocation to glorify Vyāsa that occurs in the Vulgate, which is also the version found in Jaimini’s Aśvamedha Parva: devīṃ sarasvatīṃ vyāsaṃ tato jayam udīrayet.

The Pauloma and Āstīka parvas that follow are Sauti’s composition of Brahminical stories in response to Śaunaka’s specific request for Bhārgava genealogy, drawing upon Puranic lore learnt from his father Lomaharṣaṇa (13.6-8 CE). Yet, he shrewdly brings his audience back to his main interest, the epic, by weaving in the story of Ruru who hears the tale of Janamejaya’s snake sacrifice from his father Pramati. Note the thematic brilliance of introducing the concept of ahimsa and making it the peg upon which to hang the epic of maha-carnage.

The anonymous narrator tells us that by the time of Sauti’s visit Vyāsa had already arranged the Vedas (1.55) and composed the Purana and the Mahabharata (1.17-20). He is drawing upon Sauti’s statement to Śaunaka embedded 53 sections later introducing Vyāsa, born on an island in the Yamunā to Kālī and Śakti’s son Parāśara, being the first arranger of the Vedas in four divisions and a seer-poet (kavi) who continued Śāntanu’s line (54.2-6). Sauti, true to his heritage as son of the Purana reciter Lomaharṣaṇa, begins with a majestic account of creation that echoes the Rig Veda, followed by a genealogy (1.29-50):

“At first, there was no light,

no radiance, only darkness;

then was born the Egg of Brahma,

exhaustless and mighty seed of life.”

Sauti provides basic information regarding the varied traditions of narrating the epic (1.53): beginning with Manu; or from the story of Āstīka; or from the episode of Uparicara; or all the way through. Further, the composition had both condensed and detailed editions in response to audience requirements (1.52).

Very realistically, he proceeds to recount the problem faced by Vyāsa when he wanted to teach the epic to his pupils and how it was solved. To help him out, Brahmā pays a visit and there is a delightful touch of sly humour as Vyāsa sets about thoroughly convincing the Pitāmaha of the encyclopaedic nature of his work. By the time he has finished, Brahmā hastily declares, “It shall be a kāvya no poet in this world will equal” (1.73) and vanishes. An extremely significant clue is lost when kāvya is rendered as “poem”. The word comes from kavi which, like the Celtic-Teutonic “vates,” means “seer,” one who pierces through appea­rance to the reality, the truth hidden behind. To render this as “poem” deprives Brahmā’s statement of its implication and ruins the logical correlation with the previous statement (1.72): “I am aware that you have revealed the Word of Brahman in the language of truth.” The Mahabharata, therefore, is “revealed truth” and it reveals the Divine Word. “The mystery of the Vedas, and other mysteries, I have explained”, says Vyāsa (1.62). Towards the end of this parva, in sloka 265, Sauti states why Vyāsa chose this particular form: “But the Veda fears men of small learning, for they distort it.” Hence, Vyāsa couched the secrets of the Veda in the guise of stories in the Mahabharatato be passed on in easily memo­rable fashion to everyone, even the uninitiated, who could thus gain access to some of the esoteric spiritual truths hidden in the forgotten symbolic language of the Vedas. This is well exemplified in the stories in the Pauṣya Parva and in the stories of the quest for amṛta, the nectar of immortality.[7]

To overcome the problem of teaching the vast epic to his pupils, Vyāsa calls on Gaṇeṣa, the remover of obstacles. This Gaṇeṣa-Vyāsa encounter, omitted in the Bhandarkar edition, is an excellent instance of Sauti’s delicate wit. Gaṇeṣa agrees to act as Vyāsa’s amanuensis on one condition: his pen must not stop even for a second. And a very sensible proviso it is, otherwise he could well be stranded with Vyāsa through much of eternity! Vyāsa agrees, but with a stipulation of his own: “Stop wherever you don’t understand” (1.79). To gain breathing space, Vyāsa dictated some profoundly abstruse verses numbering 8800 that became notorious as the Vyāsa-kūṭa puzzling even the all-knowing gods. Several scholars mistakenly cite this as the original length of the composition.

Sauti is quite a poet. He describes the contents of the epic in terms of a vivid tree-image which deserves closer reading because of the sections he picks out for mention. Sauti omits much of the Ādi Parva,and the Sauptika, Anuśāsana, Mahāprasthānika and Svargārohaṇa Parvas. Out of the sprawling Ādi Parva, Sauti picks out the Pauloma and the Āstīka sections, calling them the roots, and very rightly so. The former satisfies Śaunaka’s query about the Bhṛgu-genealogy while leading on to the snake-sacrifice that constitutes the subs­tance of the latter and is the occasion for the recital of the epic by Vaiśampāyana. The third section of the Ādi Parva that Sauti mentions is the Sambhava, described as the trunk of the epic, for it contains the entire history of the Kuru race starting from Duṣyanta, going right up to the return of the Pāṇḍavas to Indraprastha and the amorous exploits of Arjuna during his voluntary exile, thus fairly establishing them as the centre of interest. The Sabhā and the Āraṇya (Vana) Parvas are termed perches for birds in this epic-tree. Both deal with the forest. Then, from the latter, Sauti perceptively picks out the Araṇi section for particular mention as the “organic knot” with the memorable confrontation of Yudhiṣṭhira with Death. Sauti goes on to describe the Virāṭa and the Udyoga Parvas as the pith, where the Pāṇḍavas gather their forces for war. The Bhīṣma and Droṇa parvas, concerned with the Kuru patriarch and the guru common to both parties, are the main branch and the leaves. One contains the Gītā; the other has the killing of Abhimanyu and Yudhiṣṭhira’s sole lie. What is arresting is the curious descrip­tion of the Karṇa Parva as the lovely flowers of the tree, which indicates the regard Sauti has for this most tragic of heroes, deprived of birthright, mother’s love and his brothers, compelled to fight them because of his dedication to the honour of his word. Why call the Śalya Parva the fragrance of these flowers? Because here is the tragic death of Duryodhana. The Strī and the Aiṣīka Parvas, the cool shade of the tree, provide the catharsis after the holo­caust with lamentation in extenso. The Śānti Parva is the great fruit, bringing the closure of “calm of mind, all passion spent.” The Āśvamedhika Parva, with the Anugitā and the half-golden mongoose who subverts all conquests of the Pāṇḍavas, is the ichor flowing through the tree. The Āśramavāsika Parva, where the old generation passes away in the forest, is the site where the tree grows. That is not just another poetic metaphor just for the sake of extending the tree-image, but hints at the environment in which Puranic civilization was cultured, a profound exposition of which is given by Rabindranath Tagore in his essay, “Tapobhumi”.[8] The curious description of the Mausala Parva is difficult to understand. The Sanskrit is mausalaḥ śrutisaṃkṣepaḥ, i.e. “the Mausala is the quintessence of śruti (the Vedas)”. It narrates the self-destruction of the mighty Yādavas with the participation of their protector Krishna, together with his passing and that of Balarāma and Arjuna’s realisation that in the absence of Krishna he cannot fight even ordinary dacoits wielding clubs. Without contact with the Divine, man by himself is nothing. With that realisation, the Pāṇḍavas are told by Vyāsa that it is time to leave the world behind and seek the Divine. Perhaps it is for this philosophic insight that Sauti describes this parva as so very important.

Completing this image, Sauti adds a remark that is yet another indication of his profession. This epic, he says, is a source of livelihood to illustrious poets (1.92). He is referring to wandering rhapsodes like himself who, like the medieval minstrels and troubadours of Europe, the tale-tellers of Baghdad and the bards of Rajputana, literally lived off such tales of great heroes, savants, gods and nymphs.

By way of relating the major features of the epic in the Anukramanikā Sauti picks out the glory of the house of Kuru, the virtue of Gāndhārī, the wisdom of Vidura, the constancy of Kuntī, the divinity of Krishna, the rectitude of the Pāṇḍavas and the wickedness of the Dhārtarāṣṭras. That is how the epic appeared to the narrator and the millennia have not brought about much change in audience-perception, except that the efforts of Rabindranath Tagore, Ramdhari Singh Dinkar, Buddhadeb Bose, Shivaji Sawant, Dipak Chandra, P.K. Balakrishnan, Gurudutt and Narendra Kohli have created an exaggerated impression concerning the role of Karṇa, investing him with the halo of a superman which the text of the Mahabharata does not support.

Sauti now tells us a very important fact (1.101-107): Vyāsa brought the epic before the world only after the deaths of his three sons—Dhṛtarāṣṭra, Pāṇḍu and Vidura (1.96). Thus, we are made aware that Vyāsa is actually presenting before us the biography of his family. Further, originally, the Mahabharataconsisted of 24,000 slokas, leaving aside the fringe episodes, which Vyāsa composed after arranging the Vedas. He added a list of contents running to 150 slokas. This he taught his son Śuka and four disciples (Vaiśampāyana, Sumanta, Paila and Jaimini), directing each to publish his own rendition. Vaiśampāyana’s, meant for humanity, is the only one recited in the presence of the composer himself. The other editions are lost, but for Jaimini’s Aśvamedha Parva which is very different from Vaiśampāyana’s composition in both matter and form.[9] Later, Vyāsa composed another version running to 60 lakh slokas of which 1 lakh are known in the mortal world while 30 lakh are in the world of gods, 15 lakh in the sphere of the ancestors and 14 lakh in the abode of Gandharvas, each with its distinct narrator. Nārada recites it to gods, Asita-Devala to ancestors, Śuka to Yakṣas, Rakshasas and Gandharvas and Vaiśampāyana to humanity. In other words, the extent of the composition is adjusted to the demands of the audience. At the close of this, we find another delightful touch individualising Sauti, who, after mentioning that Vaiśampāyana recited one lakh slokas to the world of men, adds, “I might add that I, Sauti, have also recited one lakh slokas” (sloka 107), of which he is quite justifiably proud.

At the end of the Mahabharata, Sauti tells us that Vyāsa composed this jayo nametihaso, “history named Victory, Jaya,” to celebrate the glory of the Pāṇḍavas and other Kshatriyas and because he desired to establish dharma (Svargārohaṇa, 5.39, 41). Further, that its composition took three years (Vulgate sloka 48), repeating what Vaiśampāyana stated when he began his detailed narration (Ādi section 56 CE). This “publication” must have taken place after the death of the Pāṇḍavas, which is the subject matter of the last parva. The text closes after Janamejaya’s snake-sacrifice has been wrapped up and he returns from Takṣaśilā to Hastināpura. Sauti provides two meanings of the title in sloka 271: it is about the “maha” birth of the Bharata dynasty; it is “maha”- profound, “maha”-heavy (“bhāra”), encyclopaedic.

Slokas 108 and 109 are crucial because they define Sauti’s moral perspective. Once again he uses the organic tree image. The Dhārtarāṣṭras and Pāṇḍavas are described in terms of giant trees, one born of passion, the other of Dharma; the root of the one is the weak-minded Dhṛtarāṣṭra, that of the other Krishna, Brahmā and Brahmins.

Now, in just twenty-eight verses (1.110-138) Sauti provides a succinct resume of the Kuru-Pāṇḍava story unrivalled for its brevity. He is possibly following the model provided by Vaiśampāyana (section 55 CE, 61 Vulg.) as his initial response to Janamejaya’s request. There it is Vaiśampāyana, not Vyāsa, who makes that extraordinary claim which many a scholar has erroneously cited as an instance of Vyāsa’s bloated ego (55.33):-

O Bharata-Bull, on Dharma, Artha,

Kama and Moksha

what is here may be elsewhere; what is not here

is nowhere else.

Sauti repeats this verse in the Svargārohaṇa Parva (18.5.38) and tells us that Vyāsa taught it to his son along with four fatalistic verses about the constant flux inherent in worldly life.

Sauti’s resume is followed by the exquisite self-excul­patory lament of Dhṛtarāṣṭra with its haunting refrain tadā nāśaṃse vijayāya saṃjaya, “Then I no longer prophesied victory, O Saṃjaya”. This lovely passage does not recur where it logically should, after the victory of Pāṇḍavas in the Śalya Parva, or thereafter. In a master stroke of narrative art, Sauti appears to have taken it out and placed it here. Who is its composer? Presumably, it is Vyāsa, but it could well be Sauti’s own.

Notice how unerringly the keynote is struck early in the first section itself. After a bird’s eye view of the plot, the two major characters are featured: the narrator Saṃjaya and the audience Dhṛtarāṣṭra. The device of the blind king is surely a master-stroke. Unlike Priam who is able to see each of the Greek heroes Helen identifies from the ramparts of Troy, Dhṛtarāṣṭra, eyeless in Hastinapura, is dependant entirely on Saṃjaya—as are we—for the sights and sounds of the apocalyptic war. Unlike Sauti and Vaiśampāyana, Saṃjaya is an active participant-cum-reporter, as is Vyāsa. The four war books are in Saṃjaya’s voice which Vyāsa appears to have “recorded”, including the Gītā. Moreover, up till the Strī Parva, these are said to constitute the Bhārata, a term not used thereafter for the other parvas. Would this be the Kshatriya epic Jaya that became Mahabharata with Brahminical additions of the subsequent parvas?[10]

Saṃjaya’s omnipresence, seeing all, hearing all, including the unspoken thoughts, is shared by our anonymous narrator of the outermost frame. It is that narrator who has to be the explanation for that intriguing passage at the end of the Udyoga Parva where Krishna takes Karṇa away for a talk in secret. At this stage Saṃjaya has no superhuman faculty, yet he describes the secret discussion to Dhṛtarāṣṭra. What is more, despite coming to know of Karṇa’s true identity, Dhṛtarāṣṭra does not inform Duryodhana about it. What more evidence do we require of the hand of the anonymous narrator having left its mark?

The lament consists of a record of the chief achievements of the Pāṇḍavas following their escape from the house-of-lac, but the chronology is garbled, as would be natural in someone whose entire kin has been slaughtered. Thus, instead of beginning with the house-of-lacquer episode, Dhṛtarāṣṭra begins with Arjuna’s winning of Draupadī, an episode that disturbed him profoundly, as is shown when he repeats it after four slokas. After all, it secured for the exiled Pāṇḍavas the alliance of the powerful Pāñcālas—traditional rivals of Hastināpura—and immediately led to their being welcomed back by Dhṛtarāṣṭra. He mentions two other matrimonial alliances: that of Arjuna with Subhadrā, forging an alliance with the Yādavas, and that of Arjuna’s son with Virāṭa’s daughter, thus providing the Pāṇḍavas with yet another major ally in the Matsyas, who are related through their grandmother Satyavatī. One would have expected a reference to Bhīma’s rakshasan affair with Hiḍimbā, since Dhṛtarāṣṭra gives Ghaṭotkaca two whole slokas. Another event repeated twice is the slaying of Jayadratha (1.191, 196) despite the presence of Droṇa and Karṇa and other mighty warriors.

Some of the verses in this lament offer revealing insights into the secret of the Pāṇḍavas’ success. The fact that kingdom-bereft Yudhiṣṭhira continued to receive the support of his brothers and that they faithfully followed him into exile is one of these. What a master-stroke of strategy it was on the part of Vyāsa and Kuntī to insist, defying social norms, that Draupadī should be the common wife of all five brothers. This forged a nexus of unbreakable unity that their opponents sought in vain to break and which formed the foundation of their ultimate victory. The other factor is that holy men followed the Pāṇḍavas into exile in the forest, thereby ensuring that thirteen years of exile did not result in a regression to brutish instincts but rather led to a refinement of the spirit through this constant association with ascetics.

As Buddhadeb Bose points out, Yudhiṣṭhira turns this entire period of forest-exile into a quest for the secret of inner peace and the key to prevent destructive conflicts in life. This pointer is reinforced in sloka 166 where Dhṛtarāṣṭra refers to the questioning of Yudhiṣṭhira by the Dharma-yakṣa over the corpses of his four brothers. Another important insight is offered by slokas 151 (Vidura arranging the escape of the Pāṇḍavas from the lacquer house) and 176 (Krishna and Bhīṣma advising the Pāṇḍavas and Droṇa blessing them), showing the internal weakness of the Dhārtarāṣṭras with their main pillars of strength, Bhīṣma and Droṇa emo­tionally ranged with their enemies, culminating in revealing the manner of their deaths to the Pāṇḍavas and not killing a single one of them despite slaughtering thousands. Sloka 186 reveals the bitterness of the blind monarch that neither Droṇa nor Bhīṣma could kill one of the Pāṇḍavas despite all their prowess. Sloka 165 betrays his deep-seated hatred of Bhīma, as he laments that Karṇa had him in his power and let him escape with a few insults. Another interesting feature is that the only references Dhṛtarāṣṭra makes to unjust fighting are the killings of Droṇa and Duryodhana but not that of Karṇa, despite the indignation that this usually arouses in readers, including Tagore, Dinkar and Sawant. On two occasions, in slokas 198 and 201, Dhṛtarāṣṭra bewails the fruitless misdirection of infallible weapons (Karṇa uses India’s śakti missileagainst Ghaṭotkaca instead of Arjuna and Aśvatthāmā misuses the Nārāyaṇa weapon) not because they were misused but because thereby none of the Pāṇḍavas was killed.

Dhṛtarāṣṭra is quite obviously astonished and not a little piqued that so insignificant a warrior as Nakula should have worsted Aśvatthāmā in battle, making his chariot run around in circles (sloka 200), and that the innocuous Yudhiṣṭhira  should have defeated Duḥśāsana, Kṛtavarmā and Aśvatthāmā and finally slain the redoubtable Śalya (slokas 204-205). There is no expression of horror or even regret over the planned burning-alive of the Pāṇḍavas in the lacquer-house despite the assertion “I made no distinction between my sons and the sons of Pāṇḍu” (sloka 142). Rather is he full of sorrow that they escaped because of Vidura, his step-brother and chief advisor.

Only thrice, in slokas 155, 180 and 210, do we find Dhṛtarāṣṭra voicing sentiments of horror or sorrow regarding the sufferings of Pāṇḍavas. Of these, the first is the attempted disrobing of Draupadī, menstruating husbanded-yet-unprotected (rajasvalam nāthavatim anāthavat) in public by Duḥśāsana. This remarkable epithet is a unique summing-up of Draupadī’s plight, which has been explored inimitably by Shaoli Mitra in her riveting one-woman performances, Nathavati Anathavat and Katha Amrita Saman.[11] However, there is a curious twist to it because the next sloka, 156, expresses the king’s sorrow that Duḥśāsana “was foiled in his efforts to strip Draupadī,” whereupon, “what was there for me to look forward to, Saṃjaya?” In other words, Duḥśāsana’s reprehensible act would have been redeemed in his father’s eyes if it had not been a failure! [12] From these outbursts, it is clear that even after the decimation of his entire progeny, the prajñā chakṣu, prophetic-visioned, monarch has not learnt anything.

The second voicing of regret is for the killing of Abhimanyu, but it is also qualified by sloka 190 where he laments that this led to Arjuna’s vow of saindhava to kill Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s son-in-law Jayadratha. The only unqualified expression of sorrow for the Pāṇḍavas occurs in sloka 210 concerning the slaughter of the sleeping Pāñcālas and the sons of Draupadī, which Dhṛtarāṣṭra describes as “horrible” (vibhatsa). Sloka 211 could also be construed similarly, concerning Aśvatthāmā killing the child in Uttarā’s womb.

It is, indeed, a remarkably self-revealing lament of the blind monarch’s true feelings: blinded by love for his sons, hypocritically always trying to appear fair in his treat­ment of the Pāṇḍavas (sloka 142), but all along longing for their annihilation and going on hoping against hope until the bitter end when Vyāsa and Krishna curse Aśvatthāmā.

The lament is also supremely ironic, for the drama includes an astounding peripeteia. The man who had given up all hope of victory is the one who is the ultimate victor. Yuyutsu, Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s sole surviving son by a Vaiśya maid, becomes regent of the empire. The wheel has turned full circle.

This, however, is not the only ironical feature. Dhṛtarāṣṭra starts narrating these incidents to Saṃjaya in order to show him that “I am indeed a man with prophetic vision”. Yet this blind king, who claims to be a Teirisias, having ostensibly given up hope of success as early as the escape of the Pāṇḍavas from the lacquer-house, persists in chasing a will-o’-the-wisp right till the killing of Uttarā’s unborn child. Is there a hint that he was hoping for Aśvatthāmā success so that his son Yuyutsu could become emperor when the progeny-less Pāṇḍavas left? Unlike another blind king Dyumatsena, who lost his kingdom and got it back as his daughter-in-law Sāvitri’s boon, it is the burden of Sisyphus that weighs down the blind king, who compulsively goes on hoping for ultimate success, struggling against what he knows to be inevitable: the annihilation of all his dreams.

The lament is important not only for its rich irony and its poetic cadences. It is the only place in the epic where we are given the entire struggle as seen through the blind eyes of the defeated king. Hence, it is worthwhile to enumerate the incidents that stand out in Dhṛtarāṣṭra’s memory as key events in the long drawn struggle for supremacy. Though not chronologically in sequence, the verisimilitude of the narrative art cannot be questioned as events flash before the inner eye disparately:

The vows of Duryodhana, Karṇa, and Śakuni; Duryodhana mocked by the Pāṇḍavas in Indraprastha; the game of dice; Arjuna winning Draupadī  and the Pāñcālas joining the Pāṇḍavas; Arjuna abducting and marrying Subhadrā; Arjuna gratifying Agni and defeating Indra in the burning of Khāṇḍava forest; the escape from the house of lacquer; Bhīma killing Jarāsandha bare-handed; Rājasūya  celebrated by Pāṇḍavas; Duḥśāsana outraging Draupadī’s modesty in public and failing to disrobe her; Yudhiṣṭhira  losing his kingdom in the dice game but not being abandoned by his brothers; holy men following Yudhiṣṭhira  into exile; Arjuna obtaining the Pāśupata weapon from Śiva, other weapons from Indra and routing the Kālakeyas and Paulomas; Arjuna visiting Indra’s abode and defeating the Asuras;Bhīma leading the Pāṇḍavas unscathed into the forbidden land of Kubera; Arjuna rescuing the sons of Dhṛtarāṣṭra from the Gandharvas; Dharma-yakṣa questioning Yudhiṣṭhira (like the protagonist playing chess with Death in Ingmar Bergman’s “The Seventh Seal”); the Dhārtarāṣṭras failing to track down the disguised Pāṇḍavas in Virāṭa’s court; Arjuna routing the Kaurava heroes single-handed in Virāṭa’s kingdom; Kīcaka slain by Bhīma; Uttarā’s marriage with Abhimanyu;Yudhiṣṭhira , though exiled, able to raise seven armies; Krishna  seeking the welfare of the Pāṇḍavas; Nārada declaring Krishna and Arjuna to be Nara and Nārāyaṇa of Brahmā’s realm; Krishna  coming on a peace-mission and returning disappointed; Duryodhana’s failure to imprison Krishna who revealed to them all creation in himself; Kuntī consoled by Krishna; Bhīma, Droṇa and Krishna  advising and blessing the Pāṇḍavas; Karṇa refusing to fight as long as Bhīṣma remained in the fray; Krishna, Arjuna and the Gāṇḍīva together;Krishna revealing his universal form to Arjuna; Bhīṣma not killing a single Pāṇḍava and revealing the manner of his death to the Pāṇḍavas; Arjuna cutting down Bhīṣma, using Śikhaṇḍī as a shield;Arjuna slaking Bhīṣma’s thirst;Vāyu, Indra and Sūrya helping the Pāṇḍavas and wild beasts terrorising the Kauravas;Droṇa unable to kill the Pāṇḍavas; Arjuna slaying the suicide-warriors; Abhimanyu’s prowess and his slaying; Arjuna’s successful implementation of the saindhava vow; Krishna watering Arjuna’s horses while he fought-off all opponents single-handed; Sātyakī cutting through Droṇa’s elephant army to join Arjuna and Krishna; Karṇa releasing Bhīma despite having him at his mercy; Karṇa using Indra’s weapon against Ghaṭotkaca; the slaying of Droṇa; Nakula defeating Aśvatthāmā; Aśvatthāmā misus­ing his weapon and failing to kill the Pāṇḍavas; Bhīma drinking Duḥśāsana’s blood; Karṇa slain by Arjuna; Yudhiṣṭhira  defeating Duḥśāsana, Kṛtavarmā and Aśvatthāmā and killing Śalya; Sahadeva slaying Śakuni; Duryodhana hiding in the lake and his unjust killing; the slaughtering of the Pāñcālas and Draupadī’s sons; Aśvatthāmā wounding the child in Uttarā’s womb, being cursed for it, and his weapon being repulsed by Arjuna.

It is significant that Arjuna is mentioned most often (28 times in the 68 slokas of the lament), Krishna following close behind (18 times). Yudhiṣṭhira occurs 7 times and Bhīma 5 times. It is Arjuna, not Bhīma, whom Dhṛtarāṣṭra sees as the nemesis, having acquired celestial weapons and the help of Krishna. On his own side, Dhṛtarāṣṭra mentions Bhīṣma the most (8 times) and then Karṇa (7 times). These figures reveal who dominated the blind monarch’s imagination. His own heroes do not even reach double figures in his own estimation!

Saṃjaya’s concluding advice to console the king is the conventional observation that Fate and Time are ruthless destroyers, so why should the wise man sorrow? But this trite sentiment is expressed in lovely cadences and looks forward to the apotheosis of Krishna  in the Gītā:

Cosmic Time Kala brings everything.
Being and non-being,
Pleasure and pain.

Kala creates and Kala destroys,
Kala is the fire and Kala the extinguisher,
Kala is the god of good and evil.
Kala cuts us down and Kala creates anew,
Kala is awake when all things sleep.
Kala stands straight when all things fall.
Kala shuts in all and will not be shut.
Is, was, and shall be are Kala’s children.
O Reason! Be witness! Be stable!” (Slokas 244-248)

We recall the calm resigna­tion of The Wanderer, where the Anglo-Saxon bard muses,

“Everything is full of hardship in the kingdom of earth; the decree of fate changes the world under the heavens—So spoke the wise man in his heart and sat apart in thought. Good is he who holds his faith.”

Time becomes a leitmotif in the epic, reaching its shattering climax in the awesome vision Arjuna is granted in the Gītā.

Sauti speaks of the benefits obtainable from a devoted perusal of the epic. In a series of exquisite similes he extols its greatness. He stresses what Brahmā told Vyāsa: that in this epic the Supreme Truth has been revealed (slokas 253-257) and that is why to read it with the proper attitude is to be freed from sin. What this attitude should be has been described by Vasiṣṭha to Rāma in the twelfth section of the Mumūkṣa-khaṇḍa of the Yoga-Vāsiṣṭha-Rāmāyaṇa:

“Be still to attend to knowledge by keeping your mind fixed in yourself and, being freed from pride and passion, incline yourself to pure truth.”

Thereby the listener will achieve that mystic and intuitive state in which he is able to grasp the inner significance of the stories he hears in this epic.

            Vaiśampāyana, responding to Janamejaya’s request to recite the history of his ancestors, mentions that Vyāsa took three years, regularly rising early, to complete the work (56.32 CE; 62.66 Vul.) and that it is called Mahabharata as it is about the glorious birth of the Bharata dynasty (56.31 CE; 62.53 Vul). Janamejaya’s six questions are of great interest, posing as they do what puzzles the reader even today (my translation):-

For what purpose did those tigers among men,

innocent, mighty,

calmly allow themselves to be victimised

by the wicked?                                                5

How did thousand-elephants-strong mighty

wolf-waisted Bhīma,

though afflicted, control his anger

O best of Brahmins?                                       6

How that Draupadī-Kr̥ṣṇā, afflicted by

the wicked, the sati

though able, did not burn the Dhārtāṣṭras

with her terrible eyes?                                    7

How, in the perverse dice-game, the two sons

of Prithā and Mādrī

followed the tiger among men being cheated

by the wicked?                                                8

How did dharma-knowing, finest of

dharma-upholders,

the son of Dharma, Yudhiṣṭhira ,

undeservingly suffer

so many humiliations patiently?                                 9

How, with Kr̥ṣṇa as charioteer, did

Pāṇḍava Dhanañjaya

(who) alone with his arrows sent whole armies

to the next world (so suffer?)                         10

These provide us with anchoring points in the midst of the oceanic epic, the issues to ponder upon and seek answers to.

From the point of view of cultural history, slokas 268-270, which close the parva, are significant. Here occurs the apotheosis of the Mahabharataas, weighed against all the Vedas by the gods, it is found to exceed them in substance and seriousness. This, along with the statement that Vyāsa wrote the epic after he had arranged the Vedas into four parts, and the invocations to Agni by the śārñgakas in the Khāṇḍavadahana parva that occur in the Rig Veda (X.142) show the break with the Vedic period while indicat­ing that the Rigvedic age extended up to the composition of the epic. With this, the Puranic culture is firmly established and the Vedas become more and more objects of remote veneration, understood by fewer and fewer people, and considered chiefly as texts for performance of sacred rituals. Their hidden depths were plumbed anew and the inner truth brought to light only by another rishi, a seer-poet of our times, Sri Aurobindo.

Looking back at the Ādi Parva, a multitude of salient features—thematic, stylistic and eschatological—swim into one’s ken. There is the recurrent motif of Lust in Action with its attendant theme of the Quest for Immorta­lity. Initially, they emerge as two separate themes in the Churning-of-the-Ocean, Garuda, and the Kaca-Devayānī episodes, which coalesce in the existentially tragic figure of Yayāti. Inheriting the taint of lust from his father Nahuṣa, Yayāti sums up in himself the entire experience of the self-destructive poison of lust, with its initial violence and sensual orgiastic bliss, seeking in vain to gorge itself to satiation until the body is worn out. Yet, the flames of desire continue to lick the spirit into fresh agonies of torment, forcing Yayāti into the very apotheosis of lust in replacing his worn-out senses by the vibrantly youthful body of his son, only to discover that lust is insatiable. Yayāti’s life, indeed, is an interesting study in hubris that culminates in a veritable peripeteia as he is flung down from heaven in a total reversal of situation. He who prided himself on being the most generous donor (even giving away his daughter to earn unprecedented merit) is forced to accept gifts of merit from his own grandchildren and daughter to win back his place in Svarga. This blood-taint hounds his dynasty as its nemesis, virtually wiping it out. It kills Pāṇḍu. The Pāṇḍavas are his foster-children by unknown surrogates, veritable parvenus aspiring to the ancestral throne. The Yādavas, his descendants by Yadu, massacre one another in suicidal frenzy.

Yet another pattern is that of the disqualified eldest son beginning, again, with Yayāti whose elder brother Yati becomes a sage. Of Yayāti’s five sons it is the youngest, Puru, who becomes the dynast. Next it is Rikṣa, Ajamīḍha’s youngest son, who founds the Hastināpura dynasty. Of Pratīpa’s sons, the Brahmins challenge the eldest Devāpi’s right to the throne because of his skin-disease. Like Puru, the youngest son Śāntanu becomes king. Then, instead of Devavrata, his eldest son, it is the youngest, Vicitravīrya, who ascends the throne.

At this stage, the theme of the disqualified eldest is interwoven with an interesting set of parallels: Bhīṣma-Vyāsa and Satyavatī-Kuntī. Both Bhīṣma and Vyāsa are born of Ganga and Satyavatī respectively before the dynastically crucial Śāntanu-Satyavatī marriage. Both are unmarried and deeply involved with the Kurus, one as protector, the other as surrogate-dynast. Satyavatī is a Niṣāda and through her son Vyāsa she starts a dynasty with Dhṛtarāṣṭra who is mixed-caste (mother a princess, father a sage of mixed-caste). This dynasty is nipped in the bud by Kuntī’s progeny. Like her grandmother-in-law, Kuntī has a pre-marital son who is discarded after birth. Here Parallelism dovetails into Pattern, for Karṇa, the eldest Kaunteya, cannot inherit because of his illegitimacy; nor can Vyāsa, Satyavatī’s eldest. In relation to the Pāṇḍavas, he stands much in the same relationship as Bhīṣma to the Śāntvanas. The parallel is stressed deliberately in the repeated confrontations between the two, culminating in Karṇa’s sulking Achilles-like in his tent so long as Bhīṣma leads the armies. Eight Pāṇḍava sons are killed and Kuntī’s dynasty conti­nues only through Parīkṣit, Arjuna’s grandson via his junior wife Subhadrā, a Yādava, thereby restoring the throne to the line of Yadu, Yayāti’s eldest disinherited son. Moreover, Indraprastha/Khāṇḍavaprastha too goes to another Yādava, Vajra, great-grandson of Krishna.

An allied trope is the difficulty in begetting successors. Beginning with Bharata who had to adopt Bharadvāja, it recurs with Śāntanu who discards the eminently eligible Devavrata only to have his sons by Satyavatī die prematurely and childless. The engendering of Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Pāṇḍu is itself a traumatic affair and both are physically challenged. Pāṇḍu, cursed to die in intercourse, cannot beget children. Gāndhārī aborts her inordinately long pregnancy out of sheer frustration. The Pāṇḍavas lose all their sons. Their grandson Parīkṣit has to be resurrected by Krishna, just as Gāndhārī’s aborted foetus is saved by Krishna Dvaipāyana Vyāsa. 

From the stylistic view-point, there are such highlights as the all-prose Pauṣya parva and the dynastic account after Saṃvaraṇa-Tapatī; the story of Yayāti almost wholly in dialogue-form; the exquisite poetry of the Āstīka parva that evokes archetypal memories:

There is a mountain called Meru,

            a flaming heap

                        of splendour.

Sunlight falls on it

            and scatters

                        at the summit.

It is golden: it glitters:

            gods and gandharvas

                        live on it.

It cannot be measured:

            men of adharma

                        cannot come near it…

Mind cannot

            Conceive of it. (I.17.5-8)

There are the majestic Vedic chants in the Pauṣya, Pauloma and Khāṇḍavadahana parvas addressed to Agni, the mystic fire of the Rig Veda.

The Vyāsan technique—or perhaps the raconteur Sauti’s—is to present the pith of the matter first, allowing details to be drawn out gradually through answers to questions skilfully interposed at critical stages of the narrative.

“…like a knitter drowsed

Whose fingers play in skilled unmindfulness

The Will has woven with an absent heed…”[13]

This is precisely the technique that Saṃjaya—the original war-reporter-cum-warrior—employs in the war books, always beginning at the end, with the death of the commander-in-chief, and then providing details in response to the blind interlocuter’s queries.

The Ādi Parva carries Vedic mythology on to a new stage where Indra has been reduced just to being king of the gods, worsted by the bird Garuda and the men Krishna and Arjuna, powerless to protect Takṣaka who seeks sanctuary, paying the price of arrogance by being imprisoned in a cave by Śiva and forced to take birth on earth. He is no longer the mighty rescuer of the celestial herds stolen by the Paṇis, riving open Vṛtra or Vala to release the celestial streams of light. Even Viṣṇu does not play much of a role here, the accent having shifted to a new duo of divine sages: Nara and Nārāyaṇa. By identifying Krishna and Arjuna with them, beginning with the invocatory verses, the new myth is given more ‘body’ and appeals more powerfully to the popular imagination. As the epic unfolds, it reveals more and more of an infusion of a devotional strain orientated to­wards Śiva and Krishna, particularly in the discourses of Bhīṣma lying on his bed of arrows. The day of Vedic Indra, Agni and Varuṇa is past and the Puranic Śiva-Viṣṇu rivalry is implied through the strenuous attempts to make each extol the greatness of the other in the Śānti and Anuśāsana Parvas. Moreover, the presence of Śiva looms large right from the first book when he makes five Indras reincarnate as the Pāṇḍavas with Śrī as their common wife. By his boon to Ambā and Drupada the birth of Śikhaṇḍi occurs to kill Bhīṣma. He empowers both Arjuna and Aśvatthāmā. It is Rudra Kapardin, Krishna tells Arjuna (Śānti Parva, 330.69-70), who strode before him in war slaying foes.

            How does the Ādi Parva leave us where the story of the Kurukṣetra War and the Pāṇḍava-Kaurava conflict are concerned? The seeds of the fratricidal feud are sown during the childhood sports, culminating in the lacquer-house episode. In the meantime, a new figure has been introduced: Karṇa, who will figure prominently in the coming feud. The Droṇa-inspired attack on Drupada has sown a deep hatred of the Kurus in the defeated king that moves him to seek alliance with the Pāṇḍavas as a counterpoise against the Dhārtarāṣṭras and Droṇa. The interregnum—the Hiḍimb, Citraratha and Baka episodes—is the training ground for the future inheritors of Kuru renown. Simultaneously these events span the time-gap and convey the sense of the long duration of the exile. The marriage with Draupadī and the coming of Krishna provide the Pāñcāla-Yādava-Pāṇḍava triangular alliance to oppose the Kurus at Hastināpura on the Gaṅgā even more effectively with the establishment of a new kingdom at Khāṇḍavaprastha on the Yamunā, the original site of the Candravaṃśa kingdom.

            At the end, when Krishna is killed by Jarā, we realise that “ring composition” is the over-arching technique used by Vyāsa. Krishna’s chief opponent was Jarāsandha, who was made whole by the rakshasi Jarā. Krishna engineered Jarāsandha’s killing and is himself killed by the hunter Jarā. Further, the ādivamsāvataraṇa, the original descent of the generations, was set in motion because earth pleaded to be relieved of her burden. With the suicidal Yādava carnage, the lifting of that burden is completed. Saramā, the celestial bitch, and Janamejaya enter the narrative simultaneously in the first book. Janamejaya’s great grand-uncle Yudhiṣṭhira exits the world-stage followed by Dharma-as-dog. The canine curse dooming the snake-sacrifice fructifies at the end of the 18th book with Āstīka’s successful intercession on behalf of the Nāgas who had entered the narrative early in the first book. Along with the Niṣādas and Rakshasas, the Nāgas run throughout the narrative as a substratum.

Finally, Sauti addresses Śaunaka once more wrapping up his recitation (Svargārohaṇa, 5.58). The wheel has turned full circle! But he leaves us agape with Vyāsa’s astonishing exclamation, again a question that has puzzled audiences over the millennia:-

ūrdhvabāhur viraumy eṣa na ca kaś cic chr̥ṇoti me
dharmād arthaś ca kāmaś ca sa kimarthaṁ na sevyate

 “I raise my arms and I shout

            But no one listens!

From Dharma come Profit and Pleasure—

            Why is it not practised?” (5.49 CE)

In the final analysis,“The story’s the thing, catching conscience of commoner and king.”[14]


[1] Based on Pradip Bhattacharya, Narrative Art in the Mahabharata: the Ādi Parva, Dev Publishers, New Delhi, 2012.

[2] http://www.300.years.spb.ru/eng/3_spb_3.html?id=5

[3] George Meredith, “Love’s Grave”, The Oxford Book of English Verse, ed. A.T. Quiller-Couch, Clarendon, 1919.

[4] kr̥ṣṇadvaipāyanaṁ vyāsaṁ viddhi nārāyaṇaṁ prabhum

ko hy anyaḥ puruṣavyāghra mahābhāratakr̥d bhavet

dharmān nānāvidhāṁś caiva ko brūyāt tam r̥te prabhum—XII.334.9 (CE)

[5]vartatāṁ te mahāyajño yathā saṁkalpitas tvayā

saṁkalpitāśvamedhas tvaṁ śrutadharmaś ca tattvataḥ–XII.334.10 (CE)

[6] A similar textual phenomenon occurs in the Sabhā Parva where, after Duḥśāsana failed to strip Draupadī, ‘The people shouted, “The Kauravyas refuse to answer the question,” and condemned Dhṛtarāṣṭra’ (II.61.50). This refers to Draupadī’s question to the assembly at 60.44, repeated at 62.13, which remains unanswered till the end. The audience neither censures the king for countenancing the attempted stripping, nor criticises Duḥśāsana for making the attempt. Even more puzzling is everyone’s silence about the unending stream of cloth, whether emanating from Dharma or Krishna. Instead, Vidura’s speech, which follows, states that Draupadī is awaiting a reply to her question, weeping like an orphan (II.61.52). Vidura would have been the first to protest against any attempt to disrobe Draupadī publicly and to extol her miraculous escape in response to her appeal to Krishna. He refers neither to Vikarṇa’s response in support of Draupadī nor to Karṇa rebuking him and directing that she be stripped. It is as though these speeches have not happened at all. The sequence of events indicates that originally there was no hiatus between Draupadī’s query and Vidura’s exhortation to the assembly to provide an answer. The failed disrobing that we find in-between has been stitched on, not woven into the texture.

[7] P. Bhattacharya, The Secret of the Mahabharata, Parimal Prakashan, Khadkeshwar, Aurangabad, 1984.

[8] “The Forest of Ascesis”, in Human Values: The Tagorean Panorama by S.K. Chakraborty & P. Bhattacharya, New Age International, New Delhi, 1996.

[9] Its first English translation by Shekhar K. Sen, ed. P. Bhattacharya, was published by Writers Workshop, Kolkata, in 2009. Further, some parts of the Jaimini Bhārata exist in Grantha script in the Government Oriental Manuscripts Library, Chennai, relating to his version of the Ramayana, containing material not found in the Vaiśampāyana edition.

[10] Kevin McGrath, Jaya: performance in epic Mahabharata, Harvard, 2011.

[11] Saoli Mitra, Five Lords yet none a Protector and Timeless Tales, Stree, Kolkata, 2004.

[12] This is the only reference in the epic to the attempted stripping other than in the Sabhā Parva, which raises the suspicion that the lament is an interpolation cf. P. Bhattacharya, Annals of the BORI vol.LXXXVI, 2005, pp.149-152 and in K.K. Chakravarty, ed. Text and Variation in the Mahabharata, Munshiram Manoharlal, Delhi, 2009, pp. 89-99.

[13] Thomas Hardy, The Dynasts, 1903, “Fore Scene”.

[14] P. Lal, The Complete Ādi Parva, Writers Workshop, Calcutta, 2005, p.6. Most extracts are from this translation which follows the Vulgate and not the shorter Bhandarkar Critical Edition.

Filed Under: IN THE NEWS, MAHABHARATA, STORIES, ESSAYS & POSTS Tagged With: Adi Parva, Dhritarashtra, Draupadi, Kauravas, Mahabharata, Pandavas, Themes, Vyasa

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