Pradip Bhattacharya

Indologist, Mahabharata scholar

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Raja Yudhishthira by Kevin McGrath

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“Because he ranjita-delighted

all his people,

he was called a raja.”

Models of Monarchy in the Mahabharata[1]

“There was a raja named Uparicara, a dharma-following monarch, fond of hunting,”[2] is how Vaishampayana begins the detailed recital of his guru Vyasa’s Mahabharata (MB) at Janamejaya’s request, striking what McGrath regards as the keynote of the epic: kingship. Buddhadeb Basu was the first to argue that Yudhishthira, not Krishna or Arjuna, was the protagonist of the MB in Mohabharoter Kotha (1974), Englished by Sujit Mukherjee as The Story of Yudhishthira (1986). McGrath’s sixth book on the MB studies Yudhishthira as a model of dualistic monarchy, shared with Krishna and his brothers, in a “pre-Hindu,” pre-monetary, pre-literate Bronze Age society of the first millennium BC. This monarchy, based upon agreement of the family, the clan and the people, is juxtaposed with the Shanti Parva’s paradigm of autarchy (“more classical, early Hinduism”). McGrath strongly feels that it is Mauryan and, even more so, Gupta epitomes of kingship that are represented here. Vaishampayana ends saying that this “itihasa” named Jaya is to be heard by one who desires to rule the earth. The epic, therefore, is focussed on kingship.

McGrath also explores how pre-literacy is portrayed, again dually. Externally, there is the drama of recitation before an audience; internally, the narrative of Yudhishthira’s kinship group which is the foundation for preliterate poetry. The great variations in style are evidence of different poetic traditions that are amalgamated into a single vast poem: Vedic, pre-Hindu, Hindu, Jain, and Buddhist. McGrath believes that MB became a written text in the time of Samudragupta, which is why a coin of that king features on the cover. However, he falls into the trap of believing that one person could not have composed the MB. What about the enormous output of Isaac Asimov in almost all branches of knowledge in modern times and of Shakespeare in the past with wide stylistic variations?

In a time long long ago north of the Vindhyas lived communities who for protection chose from among Kshatriya families a ruler. The Shanti Parva chapters 57, 59, 67 have this to say:-

tena dharmottaraś cāyaṁ kr̥to loko mahātmanā /

rañjitāś ca prajāḥ sarvās tena rājeti śabdyate //

That mahatma ensured

the sway of dharma

in the world.

Because he ranjita-delighted

all his people,

he was called a raja.

 

First find a raja.

Then get a wife.

Then wealth, they say.

Without a raja—

Your wife and wealth,

What good are they?

 

There is only one Sanatana Dharma

for a raja

who wishes to rule a kingdom:

the welfare of his subjects.

Such welfare

preserves the world.

The raja drew his authority from the people who, in return for his protection, gave him one fiftieth of their animals and gold, a tenth of their grain and the loveliest of their daughters (Shanti Parva, 67.23-24). It was a time when money did not exist and writing was unknown. Wealth acquired by the raja consisting of precious metals, gems, cattle, but not land, was distributed by him during yagyas and other ceremonies. Succession to the throne was not by primogeniture alone and needed ratification by the people.

For instance, Bharata disinherited his nine sons finding them unfit to rule and adopted the Brahmin Bharadvaja as his successor, naming him Vitatha. Yati, Nahusha’s eldest son, was not his successor but the younger Yayati. Yayati had to explain to the people why he gave the throne to his youngest son Puru. Brahmins did not agree to enthrone Pratipa’s eldest son Devapi who became a sanyasi. So the youngest, Shantanu, became king.  Again, it was Vichitravirya’s younger son Pandu who was made king.

McGrath makes out a strong case for the MB being about the establishment of Yadava hegemony ( pointed out in 2002 in my paper “Leadership and Managing Power: Insights from the Mahabharata”). The displacement of Yayati’s eldest son Yadu in favour of the youngest Puru comes full circle. However, it is not “a son of Krishna” (an error repeated twice) who becomes king at Indraprastha, but his great grandson Vajra, while his sister’s grandson rules at Hastinapura. McGrath expands this idea to envisage a conflict in which a matriline defeats a patriline. Actually, it is Satyavati’s line that is displaced by her daughter-in-law Kunti’s. McGrath appears to be supporting the idea that the matriline represents “indigenous” Dravidian traditions that defeat “intrusive” Indo-Aryans. Thankfully, he refrains from stepping further into this morass.

We find here a new insight: royal authority is portrayed as dualistic, being shared by Yudhishthira with Krishna in both the major rituals of rajasuya and ashvamedha. Before that, authority is shared between Satyavati, Bhishma and Vyasa. Royal power depends upon support of the community who are represented in the group of ministers chosen from all four classes. Yudhishthira’s is also a fraternal kingship shared with his brothers and even with Dhritarashtra. Thus, after Karna is dead, Yudhishthira tells Krishna that now he is raja of the world along with his brothers. McGrath pertinently points out that “kingdom” has its origins in the Old English “cyn” standing for “kin” and means “the situation or location of kinship” which does not connote rule by one person, which is the model Bhishma presents in the Shanti Parva.

When Vyasa is called “brahmarshi kavih” McGrath has problems finding an English equivalent for “rishi”. Not happy with “wizard” he leans towards “shaman”. The Oxford English Dictionary glosses “rishi” as “A Hindu sage or saint”. The exact equivalent would be “seer” in the sense that MB uses it. The “kavi” is a seer-poet.

Shantanu is the only one called “adhiraja”, superior monarch. This is significant because it is the dynasty of his step-father with which Vyasa is concerned, having been inserted into it by his mother to carry it forward. The royalty of the bloodline, therefore, becomes dubious, particularly when Pandu’s wives gets sons from multiple devas. It is interesting that McGrath does not examine this aspect of Yudhishthira’s claim, despite Duryodhana questioning it bluntly. The need for the people’s acquiescence to legitimise the kingship seems to be more implicit than voiced explicitly. McGrath overlooks that Yayati has to explain to the people why he is choosing his youngest son. However, we do not see Shantanu doing the same in the case of Devavrata, nor do the people protest. They only object vociferously when the Pandavas are exiled, but this carries no weight with Duryodhana who appears to represent the “later” type of autocrat, though not a tyrant since the people tell Dhritarashtra they were happy under his reign. The installing of Yudhishthira as crown-prince requires no consent from the public. Their applauding him is not evidence of public opinion featuring as a crucial element in making that decision as McGrath asserts. When he refers to Krishna in his peace-embassy appealing to the kings in the assembly to speak as evidence that Dhritarashtra has to heed the “sangha”, this would be because that is the mode of governance obtaining among the Yadavas. No one in the court responds to this appeal, because the modality of Hastinapura’s monarchy does not envisage such consultative rule. Duryodhana is not bothered about Krishna’s exhortation to behave so that the great warriors install him as crown-prince. He successfully asserts his right singly.

The dharma of a raja had three qualities: punishing, protecting, donating. He rules, as Kunti tells Krishna, by conciliation, giving gifts, causing division, using force and strategy. Yudhishthira always speaks in terms of not just himself but always including his brothers (the most significant being sharing a wife). All decision-making is fraternal for him, except for the game of dice twice over.

Krishna is referred to as sanghamukhyo, leader of the association. According to V.S. Agrawala, in Panini’s time the Bharatas’ profession was ayudhajivin (weaponry) and they lived as a sangha. The MB seems to be showing political systems changing from an oligarchic sangha and a kinship type of rule to absolute monarchy. Neither Parikshit as full-fledged monarch nor Janamejaya shares power with anyone. The Yadavas end up with Krishna’s great grandson Vajra ruling in Indraprastha, and the sons of Satyaki and Kritavarma ruling in nearby kingdoms.

McGrath argues that three forms of time coalesce in the MB. There is the recalled pre-monetary, pre-literate time of sanghas; the time poetry creates representing an ideal; and both are conveyed through the time of actual performance. Thus there is “a compounding of the historical, the mythical and the performative which coalesce into a single instance or event that has been simply transmitted and then recorded in our present text of the poem.” An impressive thesis indeed.

A very interesting proposition in the book is that Parashurama’s genocide of Kshatriyas might represent destruction of Buddhist kingdoms east of the Ganga-Yamuna doab. But where is the evidence for this? J. Bronkhorst proposed that the MB’s earliest written text is from the time when Brahmanism was imposing itself on eastern regions viz. Magadha. The Bhargava Brahmins, whose tales feature prominently in the MB, would have been linked to this expansion.

It is not clear why the MB should be recalling “an imagined former era” of war-chariots, when Persian armies used them against Alexander. Nor is there a shift away from the Rigvedic sacrifice which remains central to the MB. In the Shanti Parva, however, other ways of achieving liberation are described such as Sankhya and Yoga. Ritual sacrifice is even shown as of no consequence compared to the life of unchavritti (gleaning). These, as McGrath writes, could certainly be a response to Buddhism and Jainism. There are references to caityas (funeral monuments) and edukas (ossuaries) in the kingdom of Gaya. Bhurishrava is said to be meditating on mahopanishadam and engaged in yoga. The earliest Upanishads are dated to the middle of the first millennium BC. McGrath points out that Arjuna’s sword is described as akashanibham (blue like the sky). This is the wootz steel which was produced in North India in the 3rd century BC. Further, prior to the battle Uluka refers to the rite of weapon-worship (lohabhihara). Loha means “coppery, red.” McGrath interprets this as indicating bronze weaponry, thus bolstering his thesis about this being a bronze-age heroic culture.

A significant point is that the term chakravartin, turner-of-the-wheel, is only applied to ancient rulers, never to Yudhishthira, who, therefore, was never given the status of an emperor despite the rajasuya yagya. When finally installed at Hastinapura, he is called patim prithvyah, lord of the earth. Other terms used are mahipati, nripa, bhumipa, narendra, nareshvara, synonymous with “raja”. Chakravartin is a term that was used by Buddhists and Jains, particularly in the Andhra region along the Krishna River.

There is a curious incident usually overlooked which McGrath points out as an indication that kingship was oligarchic. After the Pandavas have been exiled, Duryodhana, Karna and Shakuni offer the kingdom to Drona considering him as protector, ignoring Dhritarashtra and Bhishma who appears nowhere at the close of the Sabha Parva. Where is the consent of the public? This recurs when Duryodhana, rescued by Pandavas from the Gandharvas, offers the kingship to Duhshasana. McGrath proposes that this is the consequence of the rajasuya having gone wrong so that royal authority seems to have become mobile. The Udyoga Parva has the subjects discussing Duryodhana’s destructive thoughtlessness (as citizens do in Shakespeare’s plays), a feature that never occurs in the type of kingdom Bhishma describes in the Shanti Parva. The mobile nature of kingship is seen when Karna tells Krishna that Yudhishthira would not accept the kingdom were he to know about Karna’s birth. Gandhari, however, is quite categorical that the Kuru kingdom passes by succession. The rajasuya instead of making kingship permanent for Yudhishthira completely upsets it. The MB seems to be presenting different claims to kingship without projecting a single model. It is subject to family, kinship, the clan, the public etc.

The king’s primary duty is as a sacrificer, which McGrath analyses at length. The primary model is Indra, shatakratu (performer of a hundred sacrifices) the rain-bringer, promoting fertility. Satyavati urges Vyasa to provide a successor to the throne as a kingless kingdom gets no rain. As an offshoot of this, in old age the king finally takes to the forest as a renunciant, which does not form part of the paradigm of the later “classical” model of monarchy where he rules till death.

Besides the pattern of the displaced eldest son in the line of succession, there is the feature of sons being born to queens not from their husbands (Ambika, Ambalika, Kunti, Madri). Further, the earliest kings did not take princesses as wives. Yayati has sons from Brahmin and Asura women; Uparichara from Girika, a riverine woman; Shantanu from Ganga and Satyavati, both riverine women. Only in subsequent times we find the practice of restricting the choice to royal families.

McGrath is mistaken in stating that during Pandu’s rule Dhritarashtra declares Yudhishthira’s right of succession. By the time Duryodhana is born—which is the context of Dhritarashtra’s comment—Pandu  has long given up the throne to his elder brother, retreated to the Himalayas, been cursed by the deer-sage and has persuaded Kunti to beget a son by the god Dharma. It is interesting that Yudhishthira is referred to as “ajatashatru” (whose foes are unborn), since this is name of Bimbisara’s son (491 BC) who killed his father and founded Pataliputra. It is not a name shared with Ashoka’s father, as McGrath states, who was Bindusara. Both expanded the Magadha kingdom considerably. Without conquering Magadha, Yudhishthira cannot become samraj (emperor). There is a historical memory here.

Regarding the dice game, McGrath quotes Yudhishthira as having vowed never to refuse a challenge, which overturns the “fraternal kingship” paradigm. He seeks to cover this in a footnote pointing out that on the second occasion all the Pandavas were invited, not just Yudhishthira. He observes that while Draupadi was treated contemptuously, “there is no overt violence and a certain etiquette is observed.” What about being dragged by the hair and sought to be stripped naked?

McGrath points out a fact that has been overlooked by others: Krishna’s report to Yudhishthira about what Dhritarashtra and Gandhari said supporting his rightful claim to the throne do not tally with what we have heard in the Hastinapura court! Similarly, Krishna’s report to Uttanka and to Vasudeva about the events of the war differ significantly from what Sanjaya has reported. Why?

Another interesting sidelight is provided: Karna tells Krishna that Brahmins will recount the Mahabharata sacrifice. Why not the half-kshatriya sutas? This hints at the Bhargava redaction of the epic.

Yudhishthira is said to have been guilty of lying only once although there is a series of lies all the brothers tell Virata. A very rare example of the fury Yudhishthira is capable of even against his own family is the curse he lays upon all women after finding out that Karna was his elder brother. In his aversion for the kingdom his parallel is Balarama who avoids the war. Yudhishthira’s renunciant bent has parallels in Buddhism and Jainism. In the Shanti Parva he uses a metaphor to describe worldly predicament which Shakespeare’s King Lear repeats: “Thus on this various wheel of samsara, like a chariot wheel…” A similar disgust for the kingdom won by slaughtering kinfolk is voiced by Arjuna the perfect kshatriya in the Ashvamedha Parva.

McGrath holds that Vyasa is older than Bhishma and is not mortal. The timeline does not indicate that. Devavrata is returned to Shantanu as a teenager. Four years after that Shantanu weds Matsyagandha who has given birth to Vyasa earlier. Vyasa would be around the same age as Bhishma. Further, he is definitely mortal, not chiranjivi like Ashvatthama and Kripa. He is divine only in the sense that much later he tells his disciples that he is an avatara of Narayana.

On page 107 there is a curious error: “Shalya’s driver is killed by Kripa”. This is a good example of the sort of mistake the editors of the critical edition made by ignoring logic to follow blindly the maximum manuscripts agreeing with the Sharada script version. It is Bhima who does this, following up by killing the horses and cutting away Shalya’s breastplate. Further, though displeased, Yudhishthira does not reprimand Bhima for kicking prone Duryodhana’s head, despite being urged by Krishna who does not justify this act as McGrath has it (p.108). Rather, Yudhishthira justifies Bhima’s kicking.

It is good to find McGrath speculating about why the movement of the narrative was impeded by introducing the didacticism of the Shanti, Anushasana and Anugita portions instead of peremptorily rejecting them as interpolations. It is necessary to find out what possibly motivated the redacteurs to do this, and how it happened. Why stitch together such widely divergent types of poetry? This could only happen in a literate period.

The manner in which Vyasa exhorts Yudhishthira to be king-like and emerge from depression by drawing upon traditions of ancient monarchy can be seen in the Old English poems “Deor’s Lament” and “The Wanderer”. McGrath compares this to the Gupta dynasty seeking to revive the ashvamedha rite to legitimise power and using the MB recital for this purpose. Why should we not see this as valid for the revival five centuries before that by Pushyamitra Shunga, a Brahmin general who assassinated his king and attacked Buddhists? The wrongs a raja commits are said to be removed by performing such yagyas and distributing donations.

The archaic nature of MB culture is further exemplified by the absence of icons of deities. There is just a solitary mention of images of devas shaking, laughing, dancing, weeping before Bhishma’s fall. Yet, McGrath mentions Yudhishthira offering puja to deities before entering his palace after investiture. The first statues come in Ashoka’s time and are of animals and yakshas. In the late Shunga period (the closing years BCE), we find decorative sculptures depicting human and mythical figures. The MB makes no references to worship of deities in homes or temples or to building of memorials. McGrath opines, “This is because stone sculpture at that time was a solely Buddhist or Jaina phenomenon.”

McGrath points out what is seldom realised, viz. that the warrior’s way, kshatradharma, is first spoken of by Hanuman and is similar to the catalogue in Arthashastra. The raja’s dharma is first enunciated by Narada at the beginning of the Sabha Parva. The Gita does not touch upon this, being directed solely at the hero. McGrath examines three instances when Yudhishthira is advised in practical terms how to function as a raja. Arjuna propounds practical tenets of governance; Draupadi holds forth on what is to be done in crisis; Yudhishthira has his own craving for liberation of the spirit. There is no mention of any ministers counselling him in Hastinapura. This characterises Bhishma’s picture of kingship. However, it overlooks the episode in the Adi Parva where the Machiavellian counsellor Kanika expounds his niti to Dhritarashtra for getting rid of the Pandavas.

McGrath argues that the shift in oligarchic monarchy of the earlier books to a single person’s rule in the Shanti Parva is matched by development of a pre-monetary barter economy into one where currency is exchanged for goods. This is the time dominated by Jain and Buddhist merchant classes when fraternal kingship is replaced by autarchic rule. It is also the time of urbanisation when coins gradually replace land, agricultural produce and cattle as mediums of exchange. The lack of mention of coinage in the Shanti Parva is explained away as because it is describing a mythical time, “blurring historic and poetic reality.” That is not a satisfactory explanation and undermines the argument.

When McGrath believes that the culture MB depicts is primarily a pre-monetary, pre-literate Bronze Age one as Homer’s epics do, why does he contradict himself by saying that it is only “an idealised old world” and “not a portrait of an historical reality, but a pictured heroic time”? Hasn’t evidence of the Homeric world turned up?

The peculiar incident of the Brahmin Charvaka condemning Yudhishthira, which McGrath finds so puzzling, becomes clearer if we look at Duryodhana’s dying speech. Here he says that if the ascetic Charvaka, master of eloquence, hears how he has been killed in unfair combat, he will definitely avenge him. Even more intriguing is how Kripa, despite his role in the massacre of the Panchalas and Draupadi’s sons, goes unpunished and continues as guru to Parikshit. McGrath proposes that perhaps Sauptika Parva was a later phase of the epic’s growth featuring Kripa in assisting in the massacre.

Vidura’s precepts and Bhishma’s discourses on kingship come to be collected in Kautilya’s Arthashastra, which is also an action-less monologue. This picture is an urban one of a classical king and his entourage. What is particularly shocking is Bhishma’s advice that Yudhishthira ought to fear kinsmen like death, because Yudhishthira’s is all along a familial kingship. But why is the use of spies Bhishma advocates “a new practice” (p. 156) when Duryodhana had all along been using them to track the Pandavas in exile? The two parvas are concerned with the king’s morals and are devoid of dramatic effect on either Bhishma or Yudhishthira. Only at the very end the Anushasana Parva says that Yudhishthira was anointed having obtained the kingdom. The heroic epic re-starts with the Ashvamedha Parva. These two books surely belong to a radically different poetic tradition, being upanishadic, not heroic.

In sum, Yudhishthira is not the king Bhishma describes, for he shares his power with Krishna and with his brothers, with approval of his public. He is incredibly gentle and intensely humane. The only instance in which he does not involve his brothers is the disastrous decision to participate in the game of dice. Only twice he displays anger: against Arjuna and Kunti. He is unique for the world-renouncing remorse he feels, unwilling to be king even after the horse sacrifice. Curiously, he shows no signs of spiritual liberation despite the massive discourses of Bhishma. As McGrath pertinently writes, “dharma for him concerns praxis, and it is in no way a medium of enlightenment. He is a moralist, not a mystic.” This is tellingly brought out in his encounters with Dharma-as-crane and Nahusha-as-python. His counterpoint Duryodhana might have been drawn from a different tradition because of the paradoxical presentation of his death. Why McGrath feels this could be Buddhist or Jain is not clear, nor why “his truculence and minatory belligerence…have been laid upon another kind of earlier character.”

Vyasa presents us with three portraits of kingship: Dhritarashtra, Duryodhana and Yudhishthira. All display a dependence upon public opinion and the subjects appear to have been happy under the rule of all three. When Yudhishthira exits, he hands over the throne to the dual authority of Yuyutsu and Parikshit (the courtiers surround the former; the women the latter). He advises Subhadra to protect Vajra in Indraprastha and not follow adharma (i.e. seek to supplant him by her own grandson Parikshit). Like Arjuna much earlier, Yudhishthira enters heaven in his mortal frame—and yet he does not, because he has to experience hell. He is said to be filled with bitter rage here. He will not accept heaven without his brothers, just as he shared earthly power in their company. Only thereafter, having discarded his mortality, is he taken to Swarga.

McGrath makes the very interesting point that the MB is recited at Takshashila, the capital of Gandhara (Kandahar), the land of Gandhari and Shakuni. Kautilya composed his Arthashastra here. Ashoka was viceroy here. The oldest manuscripts of the MB are from Kashmir. In his conclusion McGrath puts forward a very important suggestion for studying how the commentator Nilakantha prepared his edition of the text. While McGrath very rightly points out the puzzling omission of the Sindhu-Sarasvati civilization’s urban heritage in one place, in another he asserts it is “obviously recalled” without citing evidence.

Just as in late 6th century BC Athens, in the Panathenaia festival, brought a re-conceived Bronze Age epic poetry into a single Pan-Hellenic form, so the MB integrated all available material on social living in a single collection. McGrath sees it depicting a religion of hero-worship which continues today. He is certain that the war books and parts of the Virata Parva are older, depicting an ancient Bronze Age warrior tradition, than the Shanti–Anushasana Parvas. Does the poem hark back only to the older world of Vedic deities? Does it not stress repeatedly the primacy of the Nara-Narayana duo and the underlying presence of Rudra-Shiva? Nor does it elide all Buddhist and Jain experience. There are negative references to kshapanaka (naked Jaina mendicant) and pashanda (Jains/Buddhists). The Mokshadharma Parva incorporates much of their concept of world-abandonment for the sake of individual salvation, quite contrary to the stance of the Gita and the kingship the MB portrays. The very concept of the supreme value of yagya is completely undercut at the end of the horse-sacrifice where the half-golden mongoose shows it is much inferior to what is achieved by those living by gleaning. The archetypal seer-king, rajarshi Janaka is thoroughly debunked by the female sanyasi Sulabha! In Yudhishthira’s intense remorse and obsession with dharma much of Ashoka is surely assimilated.

Despite the MB’s final message that in Swarga there is no animosity, the entire epic has presented mutually destructive rivalry between cousins for the throne. Its message is dualistic like the model of monarchy it presents of a ruler making decisions in consultation with kin and with implicit, if not explicit, approval of the public. This portrait undergoes a development summarising “all the historical possibilities, if not temporal developments, of kingship in Northwestern India” around 950 BCE onwards.

There are two appendices on epic time and on epic pre-literacy. McGrath suggests that the war books plus the Sauptika Parva amounting to 23,795 stanzas are the 24000 slokas constituting the Jaya that is mentioned by Ugrashrava Sauti. The archaic Bharata legends were combined with Bhargava myths of the classical period. This stitching together occurs within a ring structure: Sanjaya recites to Dhritarashtra; Vaishampayana recites this to Janamejaya; Sauti recites all this and more to Shaunaka. Sanjaya’s recital uniquely combines past and present, always beginning with death of a general and then going back to describe how it happened. Time is projected triply: Dhritarashtra’s lament summaries most of the action in 56 verses; the anukramanika gives a digest of 100 mini-tales; the parvasangraha lists the books and chapters. There is the crucial importance of fertilising women at the right time that is reiterated repeatedly, and it is the violent disturbance of this in the assault on Draupadi that engenders the sterility of war and of the Kuru and Yadava lineages. Narrative time, chronological time and mythical time are “compounded in one unitary sequence of worlds or poetic montage.”

McGrath’s description of the krita yuga as a timeless, changeless, deathless utopia is not correct because monarchs and sages of that period are shown as dying. It is the passage of time that leads to the onset of the treta yuga. While acknowledging that no dates with full astrological data are supplied, McGrath seems to accept A.N. Chandra’s date for the battle as 3137 BCE. Based upon the same data, widely different dates have been arrived at by a range of scholars, showing that interpretation is highly dubious. McGrath estimates the time-span for the core narrative as spanning fifty years from the infancy of the Pandavas to the investiture of Parikshit. Into it are interwoven tales from the past featuring Vedic divinities as well as the ethos of early Gupta monarchy. The poem oscillates between the microcosm and the macrocosm. Centripetal in form, the stories are narrated in manifold voices creating a tapestry of coruscating brilliance that evokes willing suspension of disbelief.

Just as time in the MB is an illusion, so is space. There is very little description of interiors and topography except in very general terms. It is place-names that feature, not details of terrain. Similarly, details of physique are elided. Individuals are made out mostly by their speech, for it is a world of drama. It is not a poetry of realism but of emotional theatre and didacticism. There is no reference to plastic and visual arts (except a single mention of Shikhandini being adept at “lekhya” i.e. writing or painting), which might be because the first statuary is Buddhist, mention of which the MB seems to avoid.

In the appendix on epic pre-literacy McGrath takes the position that the MB was first written during Samudragupta’s reign combining the pre-literate and literate. Writing is dateable to Mauryan times. The different parvas exhibit great stylistic differences, incorporating popular songs about heroes, folklore and formulaic compositions of professional poets. Sanjaya’s inspiration, which is visual, differs from Vaishampayana’s which is a recital of remembered text. Sanjaya’s is filled with formulaic terms and comparatively little narrative. An excellent example of such epic inspiration is found in the Russian bylina recorded in 1925 by N. Misheyev.[3] Different periods of theological and political thought have been combined along with varied cultural strands. Preliterate narrative is not chronological but proceeds structurally, which we see in the MB. Further, it is based upon the functions of kinship, and its performance is dramatic and metaphorical. Preliterate poetry is also characterised by a pattern of duality (as seen in the Iliad too) which is a function of pre-monetary culture where no single currency existed. Society functioned on exchanging services and loyalties defined by rites. Value depended upon kinship. Wealth was distributed in great yagyas and weddings in the form of jewels, weapons, cattle, servants, but not land (gambling is the exception). Writing and coinage seem to have occurred together. This, of course, begs the question about Harappan culture which had seals and a specific system of weights, neither of which the MB mentions despite featuring Jayadratha as king of the Sindhu area.

McGrath’s slim volume is a densely written book offering new and rich insights into an aspect of the MB that has not been researched so thoroughly in the past. No one interested in the MB can afford not to read it.

Pradip Bhattacharya

[1] Kevin McGrath: Raja Yudhishthira—Kingship in Epic Mahabharata, Orient Blackswan, 246 pages, Rs.1050. A shorter version of this review was published on 14.1.2018 in the 8th Day literary supplement of The Sunday Statesman.

[2] All quotations are from the P. Lal transcreation (www.writersworkshopindia.com )

[3]A woman of 80 in the far north of Russia in an out-of-the-way village suddenly created a new lay, “How the Holy Mountains let out of their deep caves the mighty Heroes of Russia” after reciting the traditional tale of “Why the heroes have vanished from Holy Russia.” http://www.boloji.com/articles/49556/a-modern-russian-bylina

The Last Kaurava

By

Re-imagining the Mahabharata

Kamesh Ramakrishna: The Last Kaurava, Frog Books, 2015, pp. 533, Rs. 525/-

Considerable control is called for while reimagining myth so that it does not degenerate into fantasy. The first successful attempt at this with the Mahabharata was by the Bengal civilian Nabin Chandra Sen in his Bengali epic trilogy, Raivatak, Kurukshetra, Prabhas (1887-1896). Gajendrakumar Mitra did so in the novel Panchajanya (1963), a trend continued today by Dipak Chandra. In Gujarati, K.M. Munshi recreated Vedic India and the Mahabharata in Bhagwan Parashuram and the unfinished octology Krishnavatara. In Hindi, Gurudutt, Acharya Chatursen and Narendra Kohli novelised Vedic and Puranic India. Marathi, Kannada and Malayalam fiction drew upon both mahakavyas. In English, in the 1980s came Maggi Lidchi-Grassi’s magnificent Mahabharata trilogy exploring the psychological quests of its characters. Ashok Banker started off a rediscovery of Indian myth as fiction with his Ramayana heptalogy. This stream has grown from a trickle in the late 1990s to a gushing river by 2015. What is particularly interesting is that now engineers and management executives are turning to this massive narrative heritage to create novels. Unfortunately, except for Krishna Udayasankar’s Aryavarta trilogy and Rajiv Menon’s Thundergod, the rest leave much to be desired in terms of language and style. Since most Indian publishers scrimp on editors, these flights of mythic fiction are riddled with errors of idiom, spelling and grammar. This is where Ramakrishna’s debut novel—the first of a trilogy—comes as a welcome surprise. A software architect with a doctorate in computer science from Carnegie-Mellon, reading him is a rare pleasure. He reimagines the events as occurring in 2000 BC. This is India north of the Vindhyas with a non-literate oral culture, bereft of iron, horses and chariots, with onager and cattle drawn carts, mud wattle cottages, bows, arrows and bronze weapons. There are no missiles, no aircraft, no huge gem-encrusted palaces and gleaming silken attire. But why are there no ornaments when archaeological evidence exists?

Beginning with the reminiscences of the dying Kuru patriarch Bhishma is not a new device. Pratibha Ray used it very dramatically, opening Yajnaseni with Draupadi’s life flashing before her dying eyes. In somewhat similar fashion, the dead Karna speaks to us in Shivaji Sawant’s Mrityunjaya. The Mahabharata is a series of extended flashbacks at several levels, beginning with Dhritarashtra’s plangent lament over past incidents that presaged no hope for victory—tada na shamse vijayaya sanjaya! However, Ramakrishna does start with a shock: Bhishma, ambushed by Shikhandin (his son by Amba), kills him and is shot by Arjun. Vengeful Amba drives the arrow deeper into him.

Ramakrishna creates the Kavi Sangha, a guild of bards, functioning as the memory of over 2000 matriarchal communities led by the Purus, trading with Mesopotamia, Persia and Egypt. Ramakrishna calls Egypt “Pitri-vihara-naad”, the land of temples to ancestors, although its original name still remains “Misra”, a mixed people, harking back to the Bhavishya Purana which speaks of sage Kashyapa with his son Misra going to that country and Brahminising the people. As the Sarasvati basin dried-up, the Purus migrated from Panchanad (Indus etc.) to the banks of the Yamuna and Ganga, establishing Hastinapur as a trading outpost to the east. In the process, they pushed out the slash-and-burn Naga culture and clashed with the hunter-gatherer Rakshasa tribes. A transition occurred from a matriarchal trading and forest-based life to a patriarchal urban society with an army of farmers. Ramakrishna is quite the geographer, drawing a clear picture of the how the changing courses of rivers brought about changes in prehistoric cultures. He is an ethnographer too, providing details of the matriarchal, matrilocal and matrilineal cultures at tedious length. He is also a linguist discoursing on the Phoenician alphabet used by the trading “Baoga” (Sanskritised “Bhargava”) and the development of a phonetic, metrical script (Sanskrit) by Vaishampayana, who is prejudiced against writing. He is persuaded to dictate the memorised archives to a Bhargava scribe, as narrated by Bhishma to the archivist Lomaharshana in the presence of the Vyasa named Shukla, Satyavati’s brother.

The problem is one of verisimilitude. Nowhere in Indian myth are the Nagas depicted as matriarchal. Ramakrishna could easily have kept to the original Nishada descent of Satyavati without any problem. The Nagas were an ethnic group living in and around the original kingdom of Yayati at Khandavprastha which the Pandavas reclaimed as Indraprastha. Ramakrishna creates a siege of this city by Suyodhan who cuts off the water supply, foolishly allowing the Pandavas to escape into the forest. He goes to great lengths to set up Bhishma as the dynast of a trading family who builds an army to establish a comity of communities along the Himalayan foothills against Saka inroads. The proposition may not be difficult to swallow for readers unfamiliar with the Mahabharata.

The Kavi Sangha’s chief is called “Vyasa”. Anachronistically, Ramakrishna makes Vasishtha and Vishvamitra precede Bhrigu as Vyasas. This guild functions as the Chanakya-like advisor to the ruler, imposing a one-child norm on migrants from Panchanad to the Kuru habitation and upon the Nagas who are the crop-growers. To set an example, Shantanu has to do away with all his sons from Ganga born after Devavrat. Ganga commits suicide in despair. Devavrat, though taken with Satyavati of the Meena-Nagas (also called “Matsya”), sacrifices his desires for his father’s sake. Satyavati’s brother Shukla spins the plot whereby her sons get the throne instead of Devavrat—an interesting twist. Another innovation is in the death of her son Chitrangad, rashly attacking marauding horse-riding Sakas. Ramakrishna paints a gruesome scene in which Devavrat, finding that the Sakas have blinded Chitrangad and torn out his tongue, secretly cuts his throat to spare him further agony and spreads the tale that he was killed by Gandharvas. Devavrat acquires the sobriquet “Bhishma—Terrible” because of his horrific torture of captured Saka families in revenge. From the Sakas he rescues the Naga maiden Amba, falls in love with her and brings her with her two sisters to Hastinapur. Satyavati constantly upstages her co-regent Bhishma, even forcing him to have the widowed queens live in his palace so that they imbibe the true Kuru aura, pleading that physicians have so advised! Bhishma is shown to be clueless about what was happening within the palace, always busy with constructing water-works and building an army to establish an empire. There is no mention of the levirate custom. Amba, driven away Satyavati when pregnant with Devavrat’s child, delivers Shikhandi among the Panchals, the traditional foes of the Kurus. Ramakrishna’s Panchals are a standing Naga army set up to tackle the rogue Naga band led by Takshaka. Draupadi is the matriarch of the Panchals, Krishnaa Agnijyotsna, the Dark Lady. Whatever happened to King Drupada and what is gained by naming Drona “Kutaja”?

Unaccountably, Ramakrishna makes Dhritarashtra the son of the younger Ambalika instead of Ambika, whose son he names Mahendra, called “Pandu” being an albino. Disagreeing with Bhishma’s policies, Mahendra exiles himself. Duryodhan repeatedly shouting “Shut up!” at his father jars because in the Mahabharata he does not insult Dhritarashtra, as he draws all his authority from him. The grand heroic scale of Devavrat’s vow is diminished drastically. There is an incongruous reference to the Roman deity Saturn as arbiter of fate on page 415.

The novel ends with Bhishma’s shock at discovering from the Vyasa Shukla that Dhritarashtra and Pandu were not of Vichitravirya’s blood, but are progeny of the son of Parashara, the earlier Vyasa, and Satyavati. This is a signal departure from the original where it is Bhishma who advises resorting to levirate by an eminent Brahmin and assents to Satyavati summoning her illegitimate son Vyasa. However, Ramakrishna’s insight is correct, that neither of the contending cousins had any Kuru blood in them. At least Dhritarashtra was Satyavati’s grandson, while the Pandavas are not her grandchildren, each having a different, unknown father. Thus, the Kavi Sangha, guild of bards, came to wrest the throne from the trading dynasty of Purus. Ramakrishna may have drawn inspiration from the Brahmin Pushyamitra Sunga wresting the throne of Pataliputra from his Mauryan master.

The book has an excellent map, a helpful family tree and a descriptive glossary of names. For a welcome change, there are practically no typos and the novel reads very well, except that it could have been tighter by omitting the excursions into geography, linguistics and ethnography which the appendices cover in detail. We certainly look forward to the sequels.

Indraprastha Revisited

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Neera Misra, Rajesh Lal ed.: Indraprastha Revisited, B.R. Publishing Corporation, Delhi, 2017, pp. 264

The Draupadi Dream Trust founded and chaired by Smt. Neera Misra of Kampilya—Panchali’s birthplace—organized the first Indraprastha Festival in November 2016 to highlight the need for recovering and showcasing evidence of this millennia old city. Besides a performance of the Indonesian “Wayang Kulit” depicting how Indraprastha was built according to the legend in Bali, an international conference was held covering a variety of topics centred on Indraprastha. 23 of these papers have been published in this large format volume along with a host of sketches and plates that make it an important book for anyone interested in the heritage of ancient India.

There are several papers by eminent archaeologists led by their doyen Dr B.B. Lal who was the first to locate and excavate both Hastinapur (in Meerut district) and Indraprastha (in Purana Quila) 60 years back. Unfortunately, since then only desultory digging has taken place. So far nothing earlier than Painted Grey Ware pottery (around 1000 BCE) has been found at sites associated with the Mahabharata. It is puzzling why there is no reference to Dr. Gauri Lad’s thesis on the archaeology of the Mahabharata for which the renowned Dr. H.D. Sankali was the guide.

However, J.N. Ravi’s extremely valuable study of Balarama’s pilgrimage along the Sarasvati reveals the links that would have existed between Harappan culture along this river (e.g. Rakhigarhi, Bhirrana dated around 3000 to 2000 BCE), Hastinapur on the Yamuna and Indraprastha on the Ganga. That is why it is puzzling why no excavation has been carried out at Kurukshetra, the site of the bloodiest of all carnages where eleven armies were decimated. Surely some metal artefacts ought to turn up if there is any historical basis to the “itihasa”. Ravi’s paper unaccountably omits the tirthas named after the Vriddhakanya (old woman) who could attained Swarga only after marrying and the Kanya who went to heaven remaining a virgin throughout. The latter half of his paper is an excursion in Euhemerism with Yayati’s sons migrating to become Danaans, the Irish (Danavas), Avestans (Daityas), only missing out on linking Ila with Elam in ancient Iran! Acharya Chatursen had presented a far more evocative picture in his great Hindi novel, Vayam Rakshamah.

“Archaeo-astronomy” is a new term coined by those dating the Mahabharata war by using astronomical data from the text. This book exposes the mutually contradictory dates arrived at. Narhari Achar fixes it in 3067 BCE, along with precise dates for Draupadi’s birth, marriage and the lacquer house episode. As the editors have not provided the bibliography for his paper, the references cannot be verified. A.K. Bhatnagar decides upon 14 October 1793 BCE for the start of the war, besides fixing dates for Varanavat, Krishna’s embassy, the deaths of Bhishma, Drona, Karna and Duryodhan. Besides interpreting the same data differently, Koenraad Elst favours post-1900 BCE because the Sarasvati “must have” (?) dried up around that time and as S.R. Rao dates Dwarka to 1700-1500 BCE. They are all unaware of Dr. Sita Nath Pradhan’s research finding that the war occurred in 1150 BCE. Clearly, no firm date upon which twelve good people and true agree can emerge!

A.D. Mathur draws only upon the Shanti Parva for the principles of governance instead of linking it to what is found elsewhere, e.g. the Machiavellian advice Kunika tenders to Dhritarashtra for getting rid of the Pandavas, or the questions Narada puts to Yudhishthira at Indraprastha. Come Carpentier skips all over the immense span of comparative mythology, compares Indraprastha to Angkor and can come to no conclusion about the historicity of the city. In asserting the existence of copper weapons for the war he is mistaken as no such weapons have been found in any site of that antiquity in this region. Shashi Tiwari’s account of Kaliyuga dynasties with reference to Indraprastha is disappointing as it merely paraphrases Pargiter’s research instead of looking at the different findings of Sita Nath Pradhan in his Chronology of Ancient India (1927) and Kunwar Lal Jain’s Chronology of India in the Puranas (1993). She even mis-attributes a list of puranas to the Mahabharata. She assigns the last date for them to 7th century AD whereas the Bhavishya Purana includes references to the British, the Brahmavaivarta Purana is of the 16th century and the Linga and Shiva Puranas are 10th to 11th century. The most flagrant error is her assertion that Yudhishthira’s line ruled in Indraprastha whereas it is Arjuna’s dynasty that ruled in Hastinapura while Krishna’s great grandson Vajra (and his descendants?) ruled in Indraprastha. What the Kurukshetra War achieved was the establishment of the hegemony of the Yadavas in the heartland of Northern India. The bloodline of Puru/Kuru died with celibate Bhishma. Actually, even Kuru is not a Bharata by blood because King Bharata disinherited all his sons, adopted the Brahmin Bharadvaja re-naming him Vitatha and put him on the throne. It is this Brahmin’s lineage that ends with Bhishma.

There is an important paper by Chahan and Pachauri on the role NGOs and citizens can play in preserving and promoting our cultural heritage. This deserves wide dissemination for implementation. Renu Khanna contributes an architect’s vision with pictures on showcasing Indraprastha as a tourist destination. She refers to having studied “the detailed English illustration of the Mahabharata” which does not exist. The editors should have corrected this to “translation” and provided the reference.

Swapna Liddle’s paper is a valuable presentation of how local builders introduced traditional Hindu motifs even while constructing Muslim edifices, e.g. the Kirtimukha, the lotus and the water pot but did not adopt the true arch till 1280 (cf. Balban’s tomb). She shows a picture of the invocation to Vishvakarma and the name of the Hindu architect inscribed on the Qutub Minar. Unfortunately these fascinating aspects are not highlighted in the ASI plaques, although these provide excellent instances of communal harmony. Sudha Satyawadi contributes an illuminating paper on art and architecture in the Janapada period while Arundhati Dasgupta summarises how modern art depicts the Mahabharata. Rupali Yadav describes the dice-game scene in a mural of the Chattar Mahal of Kota Palace, Rajasthan. Unfortunately, the plate only shows the full mural with no enlargement showing the detail of Duryodhana consulting an astrologer. The editors should have ensured this.

Somnath Chakraverty writes on the ethnography of the epic. He draws upon B.S. Upadhyaya and H.D. Sankalia without citing the references and asserts that names of nagas are drawn from Assyrian kings and therefore they came from that region. Without citing any evidence he asserts that the Yadavas were from Western Asia and Iran. He also says that “there are enormous evidences” from Indus towns of serpent worship, again without supporting reference. It is disconcerting to find him claiming that rock art at Bhimbetka and elsewhere records “mass genocide and battle” that is replicated throughout India. While he states that these belong at least to the Gupta period if not earlier, actually rock art is dated much earlier (10,000 BCE at Bhimbetka).

Major General G.D. Bakshi’s paper on the geo-politics of that time is a superb analysis showing that the autocratic royalty banded together to crush the nascent “democratic” (actually oligarchic) government of the Yadavas. Krishna kept the Yadavas out of the war so that when the field was swept clear, they could take over Indraprastha under Krishna’s great grandson Vajra. Kritavarma’s son and the Bhoja women were given Marttikavat (unknown) while Satyaki’s son was settled on the banks of the Sarasvati, both nearby. K.T.S. Sarao’s very interesting paper describes little known data from Buddhist sources regarding Indraprastha, e.g. that Buddha’s razor and needle were deposited there and its ruler was Dhananjaya Koravya of the Yudhitthila gotra.

Several of the contributors make the common error—not expected from Indologists—of asserting that initially the Mahabharata consisted of only 8,800 verses. This is the number of riddling, knotty slokas Vyasa composed to gain time to compose more while Ganesh scratched his head trying to understand them. The “Jaya” version was 24,000 slokas without ancillary tales, which Vyasa expanded to several lakhs of which one lakh verses were recited to Janamejaya by Vaishampayana in his guru’s presence during the snake-sacrifice in Takshasila.

Neera Misra’s paper presents an overview of the archaeological and other data on the subject, most of which has been featured in individual papers. Hers is a fervent plea for opening up the Purana Quila site for displaying the excavations which ought to be taken further and making it a tourist destination. The editors should have added a line or two about each contributor instead of merely providing their e-mail addresses. The large number of colour plates and sketches of archaeological finds, maps and paintings make this volume a collector’s item. Hopefully the publication will stimulate excavations in key sites mentioned in the Mahabharata and lead to the setting up of a Mahabharata tourist circuit.

Pradip Bhattacharya

 

The Mahabharata as a Whole

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RECONSIDERING THE MAHABHARATA

Vishwa Adluri (ed.): Ways and Reasons for thinking about the Mahabharata as a Whole, Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, Pune, 2013, pp. xxv+201, Rs.500/-

One of the signal achievements in Indology that Indian scholars can be proud of is the publication by the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, Pune, of the Critical Edition (CE) of the Mahabharata (MB) and the Harivansha (HV) in 22 volumes, along with a Pratika Index and a Cultural Index. However, scholars the world over have turned this into another instance of “Others abide our question; thou art free!” It was the French scholar Madeline Biardeau who, in the 1990s, stated her preference for the Vulgate text, free of the CE’s excisions and for treating the MB as a whole instead of as a hotchpotch of materials. Actually, way back in 1901-2 Aurobindo Ghose, had done this in his Notes on the Mahabharata” which scholars are unaware of. A case for taking a second look at the CE was made out by Alf Hiltebeitel, the American scholar and the most prolific writer on the MB. Wendy Doniger and David Shulman “have also expressed reservations about the CE.” A justification for revising the CE was advanced by me in a national conference held by the National Mission for Manuscripts in 2007. Papers relating to this trend of thought, which is gathering momentum, have been compiled in this important publication edited by Vishwa Adluri of Hunter College, New York, with an elaborate Introduction and a 16 page Bibliography. Two essays bring out the thematic unity of the epic while others explore historico-textual issues and the question of Greek influence.

In a thought-provoking lengthy Introduction, Adluri critiques the tradition of “higher criticism” (a philological term denoting matters influencing the text) and prefers the “hermeneutic method” which focuses on the CE text to interpret it. This approach takes the epic as a whole, discounting the theory of “layers” and the search for the “Ur text” exemplified by Hopkins and German scholars who were importing Biblical research methodology on the Old Testament into the MB.

The first essay is a riveting study of the Uttanka story at the beginning of the MB, recurring in the Book of Horse-Sacrifice, which apparently has nothing to do with what follows, bringing out its symbolism as an “education in becoming” and its relevance in the epic. All on a sudden, why should Sarama, the hound of heaven, curse Janamejaya that his sacrifice will face a serious impediment? Here Adluri painstakingly lays out the narrative structure of the Adi Parva, the Book of Beginnings, showing how Vyasa’s epic has two sacrifices (Shaunaka’s and Janamejaya’s) in two tales, one embedded within the other. There are other sacrifices he overlooks: Parashara’s to annihilate rakshasas, Drupada’s two rites birthing Shikhandi, Dhrishtadyumna and Draupadi leading to the Kurukshetra war, repeatedly referred to in terms of a holocaust. And it all has its origins in yet another yajna: the sacrificial ritual the gods hold in Naimisha forest with Yama as the butcher-priest. Adluri highlights the multiple levels of the text: Vaishamapayana’s narrative; the allegorical sacrificial rites and, thirdly, Uttanka’s interpretative tale, the last providing the key to how the story is to be read. Besides this, however, the Uttanka tale also contains Vedic symbols related to a spiritual journey, which Adluri does not touch upon. Vyasa states he has retold the secrets of the Veda in the MB, an aspect explored utilizing nirukti (etymology) in my Secret of the Mahabharata (1984).

Hiltebeitel’s fascinating paper investigates the possibilities of the MB as history, itihasa, as it calls itself 8 times (which the Ramayana never does, always referring to itself as kavya). From 2001 onwards, several Western scholars besides himself, like Biardeau, Fitzgerald and Sutton, have agreed that the MB is a post-Ashokan composition. He argues that references to Cinas suggest a date post 221 BC of China’s first emperor. It is curious that he does not cite the reference to denarius, which would also date the MB to early Roman times in the 3rd century BC. Hiltebeitel shows why the MB predates Ashvaghosha’s Buddhacharita (1st-2nd century AD), suggesting that it was composed between 150 BC and 100 AD.

Hiltebeitel accepts T.P. Mahadevan’s thesis that the MB was composed by Purvashikha Brahmins (wearing tufts on the front of their heads) of the Kuru-Panchala area, taking historical data from the Vedas, between 300 and 100 BC. The Yuga Purana dated around 60-25 BC has 12 slokas on the MB, refers to Greek-Panchala-Mathura forces sacking Pataliputra (the end of the Mauryas c. 190 BC), to Shaka invasions and to safe havens in the south where the Purvashika Brahmins migrated during the Tamil Sangam culture, carrying the MB. From this, written on bark or palm-leaf in Brahmi script, the elaborate Southern recension was created, drawing upon the HV, in Grantha script in the Tanjavur area. A subsequent migration from eastern Haryana and Malva, fleeing the Huna raids c. 6th century AD, occurred in the 7th century AD by Aparashikha Brahmins (wearing tufts on the back of their heads) carrying the Northern Recension of the MB text in a northern variety of Brahmi that influenced Tamil script. under the Pallavas who produced the inflated version in Telegu Grantha script. Meanwhile, in the 5th century AD, in the context of the Kalabhra Interregnum, a chaotic period in Tamil history, some Purvashikha Brahmins (the future Nambudiris) moved to Malabar region carrying the MB where it is found in the Aryaeluttu script. Here an entire section, the Sheshadharmaprakaranam, was added to the Harivansha (available thanks to Purshothaman Avaroth at http://www.dvaipayana.net). One branch of the Purvashikhas remained under the Cholas creating the Krishnaism of the MB borrowing from the HV. Mahadevan analyses as a case in point the presentation of argha to Krishna in the Sabha Parva (2.35.6-29). He shows that around 300 CE three texts exist simultaneously in the Sangam Tamil region: a Sharada text (the foundation of the Critical Edition) with an additional Krishna-bhakti portion called “A-21”, a similar section in P.P.S.Sastri’s Southern Recension in the process of construction drawing upon the Harivansha’s sections 38, 41 and 42 in response to the Alvar bhakti movement. The killing of Madhu and Kaitabha is the main part of this insertion.  Mahadevan draws attention to an untraced complete text of the MB lying in the Bharat Itihasa Sanshodhaka Mandal of Pune referred to by Edgerton, editor of the Sabha Parva of the CE. It is a great loss that the National Mission for Manuscripts has not pursued this. An exciting development is mention of a joint project by Hiltebeitel and Mahadevan to compare the Sastri southern recension with the CE to reveal how the text took shape.

Taking off from an earlier paper by Adluri on Ruru and Orpheus using etymology (nirukti) to plumb the symbolism, Joydeep Bagchee shows that the myth of Ruru is part of the epic’s response to the philosophical problem of time and eternity. The introduction itself states that one who knows the etymology of the MB is liberated from all sin, niruktam asya yo veda sarvapapaih pramucyate (1.209). Salvation inheres in turning to self-knowledge. The entire Bhrigu cycle (Pauloma and Astika Parvas) is about a fall from being into becoming. It is the snakes who form the interpretative apparatus for comprehending the action of time amongst humankind.

Simon Brodbeck analyses the analytic and the synthetic approaches to the MB suggesting that with the CE it is the latter that is appropriate. The former seeks to outline the historical process by which the MB came to be built, varying from a thousand years (400 BC to 400 AD) to a couple of generations (150 BC to 100 AD). The focus is on the “original” form of the MB. He critiques Tokunaga’s paper on Bhishma’s advice to Yudhishthira to expose weaknesses in the analytic approach, such as Yudhishthira being enthroned twice, which does not occur. The search for historical clues within the text blinds the analyst to narrative subtleties within it. Brodbeck points 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 including and leaving out passages.

The book ends with F.W. Alonso’s paper arguing that the MB drew upon a vast quantity of Greek materials, particularly the Homeric cycle and the myths about Heracles. He finds as many as seven parallels between the former and the design of the MB. There are numerous commonalities between Achilles and Bhishma, Helen and Draupadi, Alcmaeon and Parashurama, the lament of Yudhishthira over Karna and of Menelaus over Agamemnon, Arjuna and Rama with Odysseus in the contest for Draupadi/Sita/Penelope. Alonso finds as many as 11 themes common to the tenth book, the Sauptika Parva, and the tenth book of the Iliad. He claims there are 8 clear borrowings from the account of the fall of Troy. But why can it not be the other way around? From this evidence, Alonso suggests that the epic was written after Alexander’s invasion which provides the historical basis for relationships with Greek and early Roman culture. During the same time (1st century BC), writing pervades Roman culture and the Aeneid is composed with Greek materials.

This is truly a very important book, which every Indologist dealing with the epics ought to study. Unfortunately, for such a significant collection, BORI has produced a disappointingly shoddy publication. There is not a word about the editor and any of the six contributors, nor any index; the cardboard covers are of the poorest quality; the typeface used is shabby; some articles are followed by a blank page, others by none, suggesting that each article was printed separately and the lot stitched together without regard to consistency in composition and printing. For an institution that will be a hundred years old in 2017, this is a lamentable display indeed.

 

 

 

 

Origin of Kali Worship

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Kali in Lalgola Rajbari, Murshidabad, with shackled hands that inspired Anand Math’s description by Bankimchandra

That Bengal is the core area of the cult of Kali the dark devi is well-known. But was the goddess always offered puja in the form prevalent today? Actually, up till the 17th century CE she was worshipped in the symbolic form of a pot. How that changed is the stuff of fascinating legend.

Mahamahopadhyay Krishnananda Vagisha Bhattacharya, the author of Tantrasara, (Tantra Omnibus) lived in Nabadwip in the district of Nadia (West Bengal). Popularly known as “Agam-vagish” (expert in scriptures) he was a devotee of the devi, possibly in the late 16th century CE, worshipping her as symbolized in a gha?a (pot). Once an intense desire arose in him to give bodily form to the goddess. The Tantras described her as four-armed, but not which hand held what and in which mudra. She was stepping on Shiva, but with which foot? So what was he to do? Finally, one night in a dream he heard an unseen voice directing him, “Tomorrow at dawn in the one on whom your eyes first fall will you find my form. Making me in that shape, worship me!”

Thrilled with delight and anticipation, Krishnananda set out as the first streaks of dawn lit up the eastern horizon. Outside a village hut he saw the newly wedded bride of a cowherd starting to smear cowdung on its walls. Her right foot was extended, the left bent back (in Bharatanatyam this is the alidha pose). The left hand held a ball of cowdung and the right hand was raised up and inclined forward, holding a small pat of cowdung to plaster the wall. Her hair, undone, spread all over her back. In haste, wanting to finish the work quickly before the household awoke, her forehead glimmered with perspiration. While wiping it off with the back of her hand (as it was full of cowdung) the spot of sindoor on her forehead had got smeared, reddening her eyebrows. Krishnananda did namaskar to her. Finding that a stranger had seen her face, the bride bit her elongated tongue in shame. Krishnananda had found the exact form for his icon. Returning home, he gave that shape to it in which she is worshipped still in Nabadwip as Agameshvari Kali Ma. This form is also called Dakshina Kali, the benevolent form of the devi as distinct from the form worshipped in crematoria.

Krishnananda’s brother Sahasraksha was a staunch Vaishnava. Once, in Krishnananda’s absence, his brother offered the bananas he had kept aside to offer the goddess to his deity, Gopala (Krishna as the cowherd). After a heated argument, both sat down and began invoking their deities. At midnight both had a vision of Kali feeding bananas to Gopala cradled in her lap. They realised that the two were one. The worship of this dual form is recorded in the Gopala-Kalika Kalpa.

The Mahabhagavata and the Devi Puranas relate that once Shiva, wonder-struck by Parvati’s beauty, wished to experience femininity. He told her that he would like to assume female form and she should be male and be the husband. She agreed and said that her thundercloud complexioned form of Bhadra Kali (benevolent Kali) would descend to earth as Krishna. Shiva descended in nine forms as Radha and eight others like Rukmini and Satyabhama, the wives of Krishna. The devi took birth from Devaki as a son and from Yashoda as a daughter. To assuage Devaki’s fears, the son showed his true form as the terrifying four-armed Kali with three eyes, terrifying mien, astride a corpse, with hair free flowing, a crown, and a garland of skulls. When the Pandavas prayed to the devi at Kamakhya, Bhagavati appeared and assured Yudhishthira of victory, saying that to support him she had taken male birth from Devaki.

At the end, Brahma approached Krishna in Dvaraka and told him that at Shambhu’s request and for relieving earth’s burden the Devi had taken birth as a mortal. As the task had been completed, she should now return. Krishna then smiled and asked Drupada’s daughter, born of his portion, whether she would stay back or follow him. Draupadi said, “I am your portion. You are the original Kalika. Like a bubble merging into water, I will merge into you.” At the seashore, Krishna became Kali and sped to Kailasa on a lion-drawn chariot. Draupadi, touching the sea waters, merged into her. Thus, Krishna and Kali are one.

Devi Kali and Krishna

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WHEN DEVI KALI BECAME KRISHNA

The Mahabhagavata Purana gives extremely interesting variations on the MBH story. The Purana is recounted by Vyasa to his pupil Jaimini. As in the case of the Bhagavata Purana, the account states that dissatisfied with the MBH and the Puranas he had composed, Vyasa desired the ultimate knowledge and went to the realm of Brahma who advised him to listen to the glory of the Supreme Creatrix who had created the trinity and everything else. With great reluctance, after being much praised by Narada and requested by Vishnu, Mahadeva agrees to recount who it is that the trinity worship. Chapters 49-58 contain the MBH story following the story of Rama (including the worship of Durga for Ravana’s destruction which Valmiki does not mention, but is found in the Bengali Ramayana of Krittibas).

Once Shiva told Parvati that he would like to assume female form and she should be male and be the husband. She agreed and said that her thundercloud complexioned form of Bhadrakali would descend to earth as Krishna, while her attendants Vijaya and Jaya would become Krishna’s friends Sridam and Vasudam. Shiva said he would descend in nine forms as Radha, daughter of Vrishabhanu and also as eight others like Rukmini and Satyabhama. When earth had approached Brahma to lessen the burden of the daityas who had been reborn as wicked kshatriyas, he had requested Jagaddhatri to intervene. She said that as her female form was worshipped by kshatriyas, she would not fight them. But her Bhadrakali form would be born displaying Vishnu’s signs to Devaki-Vasudeva and destroy them. Vishnu himself would be born as Pandava Arjuna. A portion of the Devi would be born as the wife of the Pandavas, KrishnA whom wicked Duryodhana would insult in the assembly hall, having deceitfully defeated Yudhishthira in a game of dice. In the war that would follow, the goddess would delude all warriors to kill one another and at its end the earth would be bereft of kshatriyas, with only the old and children alive besides the five brothers devoted to her. She directs Brahma to convey all this to Vishnu who took birth in two portions: as Vasudeva’s son Rama and as Pandu’s son Dhananjaya via the mediation of Indra.

Kashyapa and Aditi had pleased the Creatrix with severe ascesis and begged her to be born to them. She agreed to be born male with the complexion of newly risen rain clouds, her garland of skulls being turned into one of wild flowers, her appearance attractive, displaying Vishnu’s signs though with two arms and two eyes.

Finding that Kamsa had killed six newborn sons of Devaki, Brahma anxiously approached the Devi who bade him ask Vishnu to be born to Devaki as the Devi’s elder brother. She herself would split into two and be born from Rohini and Yashoda and as Devaki’s eighth son. In the fifth month, from Rohini’s womb she would enter Devaki’s, while Vishnu would migrate from Devaki’s womb to Rohini’s. Kamsa would not be aware of the eighth birth. Vasudeva would bring Yashoda’s daughter—a portion of Devi—who would slip from Kamsa’s hand when he tried to dash her against a stone and rise to the heaven in the ten-armed, lion-riding form announcing that his killer was growing in Nanda’s home. All this would have to be done until Kamsa’s prowess got exhausted. Thus, Vishnu first enters Devaki’s womb, and the Devi enters Rohini and Yashoda’s wombs. In the 5th month Devi shifts from Rohini’s womb to Devaki’s, while Vishnu moves from Devaki’s womb to Rohini’s who has been shifted to Nanda’s home in Gokul and gives birth to the fair Rama, an incarnation of Vishnu. At midnight of ashtami under the Rohini asterism and Vrisha lagna the Devi is born from Devaki as a son. At the same time she is born to Yashoda as a daughter. To assuage Devaki’s fears, the son shows his true form as the terrifying four-armed Kali with three eyes, terrifying mien, astride a corpse, with hair free flowing and a crown, a skull-garland. At Vasudeva’s request, she changes to the pleasing ten-armed form.

After recounting Krishna’s childhood exploits including the rasalila with Radha (Shiva) and the killing of Kamsa, the narrative shifts to Hastinapura in chapter 55 stating that Vishnu took birth through Purandara from Kunti’s womb as Arjuna who was supreme in archery and all other disciplines, while his four brothers were also of great prowess. Wicked Dhritarashtra, Karna, Shakuni and Duryodhana plotted against them despite the advice of Ugrasena conveyed through Akrura, who informed Krishna of Dhritarashtra’s perversity. Krishna determined that this hatred would surely lead to the death of Dhritarashtra’s son and wicked Shakuni. Krishna shifted to Dvaraka with the Yadavas at this point. Then he abducted the daughter of Bishmaka king of Vidarbha, Rukmini (Shiva’s portion along with 7 other wives of Krishna).

Having got married, the Pandavas wished to perform a sacrifice and summoned Krishna who, in order to aggravate the hatred of the Kauravas and destroy kings, advised performance of the Rajasuya (this yajna has invariably been followed by destructive conflicts, enumerated in the Devi Bhagavata Purana by Vyasa). Krishna sent out Bhima to conquer all directions and by deceit got Bhima to kill the king of Magadha. During the yajna when Shishupala insulted Yudhishthira, Krishna and the yajna itself, enraged with the honors offered to Krishna, he was decapitated in that assembly of kings by Krishna. Aggrieved with the splendor of the yajna, wicked Duryodhana, cruel Karna plotted with wicked Shakuni to invite the Pandavas to a game of dice in which Yudhishthira was cheated and lost twice over and had to go into exile. Duryodhana insulted Draupadi in the assembly hall and was regarded by Bhishma and other kshatriyas as the thorn of kshatriyadom. They consoled Draupadi and restored her to the Pandavas, criticizing the Dhartarashtras. Krishna considered all this as the chief cause leading to removing earth’s burden, and returned to Dvaraka (this implies that from the Rajasuya yajna till the exile he was present in Hastinapura).

During the exile the Pandavas came to Kamakhya to beg the death of sinful Kauravas in battle and restoration of their kingdom. Bhagavati appeared and assured Dharma’s son of this and said to support him she had taken male birth from Devaki in the home of Vasudeva being prayed to relieve the earth of burden. She told him that at her bidding, for the same reason, Vishnu had taken birth as Arjuna. She would ensure the destruction of Bhishma, Drona etc. through Arjuna and Bhima. A long paean to the Devi follows by Yudhishthira in which she is repeatedly addressed as “Kameshvari” and “Kamarupa vasini”.

Bhagavati then asks him to beg another boon. He begs for her protection during the incognito period of exile. She tells them to live in the city of the king of Matsya. So they went to the city of Virata, keeping their dresses, weapons on a Shami tree. Carrying golden dice, dressed as a Brahmin, Yudhishthira came to the king of Matsya giving his name as Kanka. Similarly, Bhima was engaged in the kitchen, Arjuna—disguised as a woman—to teach dance and Draupadi as Queen Sudeshna’s Sairandhri.

By the grace of the goddess, none was recognized in the 13th year. When just a month was left for the year to end, Sudeshna’s brother, mighty Kichaka saw Sairandhri. He insisted on Sudeshna to let him have her on pain of suicide. Sudeshna told him Sairandhri had assured her that no man could approach her because of her five Gandharva husbands, when the queen was apprehensive that the king would leave her on seeing Sairandhri. Kichaka was not bothered and insisted. When Sudeshna asked her to visit Kichaka, Sairandhri refused saying he would die if he approached her. Sudeshna informed her brother of this who was enraged and determined to violate her by force. Afraid, the daughter of Drupada prayed to the Devi Jagaddhatri (invoked as Katyayani, Jagadambikey and symbol of chastity). Durga durgatinashini assures her that any lustful person who desires her will die.

For some special work she went to Kichaka’s apartments at night. He seized her hand. Draupadi pushed him away hard and fled, followed by furious Kichaka. Draupadi rushed into the Matsya king’s hall where the old king was dicing with Dharma’s son. Here Kichaka grabbed her hair and kicked her. Drupada’s daughter lamented and criticized the Matsya king, glaring with red eyes at Bhima and depressed king of dharma. Then, wiping her tears, she left, biding her time. Bhima determined to kill Kichaka and advised Sairandhri to invite him at night to the dancing hall where he would kill him, and she should then announce that the sinner had been destroyed by the Gandharavas. Draupadi did so and the citizens said the Gandharvas had destroyed Kichaka. Hearing this the Upakichakas came and lamenting took his body for cremation. Outside the hall they decided to burn Sairandhri with it and abducted her. Draupadi cried aloud, hearing which Bhima leapt over the walls and destroying the Upakichakas freed Sairandhri. The citizens said that the Gandharvas had destroyed the Upakichakas. Then the fearful king told Sairandhri to depart from his town. She assured him she would do so in a few days.

A few days later 13 years were over. So far Duryodhana’s spies had failed to spot them. Now, hearing of the death of Kichaka and his followers he decided that the Pandavas must be living there and consulting Bhishma, Drona etc. arrived with his army at the Matsya kingdom. There they fought Partha at the cattle stables and were defeated. Then, recognizing the Pandavas, humbly king Virata honored them and married his daughter Uttara to Arjuna’s son Abhimanyu. Then the Panchalas and the king of Kashi and other kings arrived to help the Pandavas, who assembled for war at Kurukshetra.

To relieve earth of her burden, Devi KrishnA in the form of Krishna arrived to help Yudhishthira with his soldiers and Satyaki. Bhishma, Vyasa and others failed to dissuade Duryodhana from war. Depending on Karna’s views, he was determined on war. Both sides assembled at Kurukshetra. Yudhishthira approached the elders individually and touched their feet and obtained their permission to engage in war. Then the Pandavas descended from their chariots and prayed to Jagadambika for victory, recalling that by her grace Rama had destroyed the Rakshasas. Devi granted them the boon of winning back the kingdom and told them that for this she had taken the form of Vasudeva on Arjuna’s chariot.

Bhishma led the Dhartarashtras, Karna stepping aside out of hatred of Bhishma, while Bhima led the Pandava army. Bhishma destroyed an arvuda of soldiers in 10 days. On the 10th evening Shikhandi, with Arjuna’s help, felled Bhishma who awaited Uttarayan on a bed of arrows surrounded by a moat. Karna and others chose Drona as general and he fought for 5 days during which Subhadra’s son was slain in unjust battle. Arjuna took a vow and in the evening killed Jayadratha. On the 5th day Drona was killed by the son of Panchala. Karna fought for 2 days, killing rakshasa Ghatotkacha. Arjuna of the monkey banner slew Karna. King Yudhishthira, waxing angry, slew Shalya and Bhima killed Duryodhana in a terrible mace duel having killed the other Dhartarashtras earlier. At night, Bharadwaja’s son slew sleeping Dhrishtadyumna and Draupadi’s five sons. Arjuna drove immortal Ashvatthama and Kripa with his arrows from the field. Thus in 18 days of battle 18 akshauhinis were destroyed. On the 8th day of the white fortnight of Magha Bhishma died. By the grace of Mahadevi the Parthas enjoyed their kingdom.

As earth’s burden had been removed, Brahma approached Krishna in Dvaraka and told him that at Shambhu’s request and for relieving earth, Devi had taken birth as a mortal. As the task had been completed, she should now return. Jagadishvari, in the lovely Shyama form, agreed to return. Calling the counselors he said that by the curse of Ashtavakra muni most Yadavas were already dead and only some aged were alive and he no longer wished to remain on earth.

Yudhishthira be summoned forthwith with his brothers. They arrived with Draupadi and other women determined to follow Krishna. Krishna asked Yudhishthira and Bhima to protect his citizens after his departure. All the Pandvas said that they had no wish to remain alive if he left. Krishna then smiled and asked Drupada’s daughter, born of his portion, whether she would stay back or follow him. Draupadi said, “I am your portion. You are the original Kalika. Like a bubble merging into water, I will merge into you.” Balarama asked Krishna to take all Vrishnis along. Krishna wore yellow garments and donating wealth to Brahmins left the city followed by all Vrishnis and Pandavas along with servants, mothers, women and reached the seashore. Nandi arrived in the sky with a jewel encrusted lion chariot, and Brahma with thousands of chariots. Flowers were rained by the gods. Suddenly Krishna became Kali and sped to Kailasa on that lion-chariot. Draupadi, touching the sea waters, merged into her before the eyes of all. Then Yudhishthira rose to svarga on a wonderful chariot. Balarama and Arjuna touched the sea waters and left their bodies and assuming dark complexioned, four-armed bodies, rode on Garuda to Vaikuntha. Bhima and other Vrishnis left their bodies. Rukmini and the 8 chief queens assuming Shambhu’s form left their bodies. The other women of Krishna re-assumed the form of Bhairavas. Sridam and Sudama became Jaya and Vijaya again.