Pradip Bhattacharya

Indologist, Mahabharata scholar

MAHABHARATA

               

               

          

 

 

 

Review of the Anushasana Parva

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Yudhishthira’s Questions and Bhishma’s Answers
Suganthy Krishnamachari
The Book Review, Feb. 2024

THE MAHABHARATA OF VYASA: THE ANUSĀSANA PARVA | (VOLUME 13) By Veda Vyasa.

Translated from the original Sanskrit by Pradip Bhattacharya. Writers Workshop, 2023, pp. 1256, Rs. 3000.00

The Mahabharata of Vyasa: The Anusāsana Parva, translated by Pradip Bhattacharya deals with Yudhishthira’s questions to Bhishma and the latter’s answers. It also has Uma’s questions to Shiva and his answers to her.

Bhishma is not perfect, is a flawed character himself. When Chitrangada, son of Shantanu by Satyavati died, his brother Vichitravirya ascends the throne. Bhishma does not want the family line to end. He could well have approached a royal family for a bride for the young king. But instead, he abducts three princesses as brides for his brother. It is ironic, therefore, that in the Anusāsana Parva, he tells Yudhishthira that swayamvara is an excellent form of marriage for Kshatriyas, and condemns marriage following abduction (rakshasa type of marriage) as adharma. And yet, he stopped the swayamvara of the three princesses and abducted them. In the Anusāsana Parva, he talks of the respect that we must show to wife, mother, elder sister and so on. How then does one explain his inaction when Draupadi was being disrobed? The Anusāsana Parva shows us what a bundle of contradictions Bhishma was.

These are among the many verses Bhattacharya quotes, before translating them. The reader will find this highlighting of important shlokas in Bhishma’s discourse useful. It makes the book a ready reckoner for those looking for specific topics in the Anusāsana Parva.

In Section 122, Verse 28, Bhishma says that if someone grants freedom from fear to all beings, then he is granted freedom from fear of all beings. Here Bhattacharya quotes the verse:
abhayam sarvabhutebhyo yo dadati dayapara
abhayam tasya bhutani dadatity anushushruma.
It was Bhattacharya’s reproduction of the original verse that caught this reviewer’s eye and helped make the connection to Vibhishana Saranagati. In Valmiki Ramayana, when Vibhishana arrives at Rama’s camp, Rama says:
sakrd eva prapannaya tavasmi iti ca yacate
abhayam sarva bhutebhyo dadami etad vratam mama
If a person surrenders to Rama just once, then he will ensure protection from all beings for that person, promises Rama. This Ramayana verse is often quoted in Visishtadvaita as proof of the efficacy of surrender. The idea is expanded
in the Anusāsana Parva, where all beings grant freedom from fear to a practitioner of ahimsa. The verbatim quoting of verses, even while providing translations, makes Bhattacharya’s book useful for researchers, looking for cross-references.
Bhishma has some practical advice for Yudhishthira about the need to care for tanks, which present-day rulers and administrators would do well to read, for in the modern world water bodies are being increasingly lost to urbanization.
Apart from Bhishma’s talk on dharmic practices, there is also some science in the Anusāsana Parva. In Section 110, verse 17, Bhishma warns against seeing the rising or setting sun or the midday sun directly. Never look at the sun in an eclipse or its reflection in water, he warns. Science tells us that looking at the sun directly harms the eyes. And even during an eclipse, one has to view the sun only through eclipse glasses or a telescope fitted with a special purpose solar filter. Seeing the sun’s reflection in water or snow can cause photokeratitis, when reflective UV rays result in
blindness.

Anusāsana Parva gives some interesting names of Vishnu, which one does not find in the Vishnu Sahasranamam. Here are a few: Yugantakaraa: Yuga-ender; Shiva pujya: adored by Shiva; Bhutabhavya bhavesha: past, present and future; Samkrta: piercer; Sambhava: source; Brihaduktha: loudly lauded; Jvaradipathi: lord of fever. The Anusāsana Parva also gives 1008 names of Shiva.

In Section 119 Bhishma lays down what we know as the golden rule: do unto others as you would want them to do unto you.

Bhattacharya’s translation is in verse form, and therein lies its appeal. As GK Chesterton said, ‘… The soul never speaks until it speaks in poetry…In our daily conversation, we do not speak; we only talk.’ Reading Bhattacharya’s translation is like listening to Vyasa speak to you through English verses, with Sanskrit verses interwoven into his narrative.
Bhattacharya often gives a Sanskrit name or epithet and then gives its meaning in English alongside. But the
flow of the translation is never impeded because of this bilingual presentation. This kind of presentation, in fact,
gives us an idea of the richness of Sanskrit. While agni means fire, it isn’t the only Sanskrit word for fire. And it helps when Bhattacharya writes—pavaka: bright agni; chitrabhanu: variedly radiant agni; vibhavasu: resplendent agni; hutashana: oblation eater agni. Had he just used fire instead, the translation would have been bland. In some cases, he retains original Sanskrit words like maha, for example, which finds a place in the Oxford dictionary. So, we have maha fortunate, maha energetic, maha souled, maha mighty (section 2, verse 9). No qualifying English adjective or modifying English adverb is used. And one must admit that ‘maha fortunate’ and ‘maha energetic’ read better than ‘very fortunate’ or ‘very energetic’. Sometimes the translator retains Sanskrit words and adds some suffixes as he does with puja, namaskar and pranam. In these cases he adds an ‘ed’ at the end of each word (example puja-ed, pranam-ed), and this sounds rather odd. And horribler than the horriblest (Section 148, Verse 49) can do with some rephrasing.

Bhattacharya’s is a monumental work, splendid and impressive, and would be a great addition to any library.

Suganthy Krishnamachari is a Chennai-based freelance journalist, and has written articles on history, temple architecture, literature, mathematics and music. Her English translation of RaKi Rangarajan’s Naan Krishnadevaraya, and Sujatha’s Nylon Kayiru were both published by Westland Publishers.

THE EPIC AND THE NATION

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G.N. Devy: Mahabharata: The Epic And The Nation. Aleph, New Delhi, 2022, pp.142, Rs.499.

It is a testimony to the firm foundations upon which the Mahabharata (MB) rests in India that the traumatic Covid pandemic, which generated so many new phenomena, led Professor G.N. Devy to ruminate on the significance of Vyasa’s mahakavya for the country. His proposition: while the myths we live by lie in the Ramayana and the MB, the West draws upon religious texts, not epics. He asks, why has the caste-split land yet to become anation, “a substantially homogeneous people, despite its exposure to the epic for thousands of years?”

Devy covers an extensive expanse from genetics (David Reich’s Who We are and How We Got Here) to linguistics (David Anthony’s The Horse, The Wheel, and Language, Maheswar Neog’s Essays on Assamese Literatures) to literary theory. For him, Indo-Iranians entered the subcontinent with the horse-and-chariot and mingled with Out-of-Africa southerners to produce the MB culture, shifting from pastoral to agrarian, urban and feudal society. MB combined the mythic and historical pasts as a history marked by “assimilation, synthesis, combination, acceptance and moving forward without exclusions (p.72).” Its great success lies in “making alive two powerful symbols, the wheel and the horse…for future generations.” (p.93). “Its mesmerising appeal is its ability to use history to enliven myth…a veritable mine of ideals of courage, moral truth and liberation.”

Devy’s dissertation rises to several peaks. He is one of the few who realise that the MB was a watershed in socio-political thought. Wandering rhapsodes (sutas) brought to the general public, including the depressed classes and women, scriptural ideas, mystic insights and philosophical ruminations that had been the privilege of priesthood and royalty so that “It became the non-Brahmin’s book of religion (p.106).” To Devy the MB embodies our civilization’s “great negative capability” (p.109), comfortable with multiple beginnings, no definite end, many diverse strands of life and thought, no rigidity of caste structure. We meet bloody Brahmins (Parashurama, Drona, Kripa, Ashvatthama); Kshatriya Vishvamitra becomes a Brahmin, creates new celestial bodies, has Vasishtha’s son killed by turning a raja into a rakshasa, even steals a dog’s haunch from an untouchable for food. None of the protagonists are true-blooded Kshatriyas. After Parashurama’s massacres of Kshatriyas, the class was regenerated by Kshatriya women approaching Brahmins. The Lunar Dynasty itself progresses through Raja Yayati’s sons by Brahmin Devayani and Asura Sharmishtha. Vyasa, born of sage Parashara forcing himself on a fisher-girl, engenders Dhritarashtra and Pandu. The Pandavas’ fathers are unknown, as Duryodhana scoffs publicly. Therefore, Arjuna’s quandary over engaging in a war leading to miscegenation is entirely questionable and ought not to need elaborate philosophical discourse to be dispelled. Devy feels this concern was inserted later because the story brings together tribes, cultivators, herdsmen, “descendants of the society that had created Sindhu culture…a new language, better methods of warfare, and a different pastoral culture.” He refers to the Andhra “Vyasa community that has preserved its genetic identity through strict endogamy over the last 3000 years” as an example of the obsession with avoiding caste-intermixing. His claim about the Gita being “seamlessly woven into the epic-text” is questionable because at its end the Bhishma Parva continues seamlessly from where the text was interrupted by the Gita.

The MB did not avoid contemporary philosophical debates as Devy claims (p.78). Gleaning is explicitly extolled over Vedic yajna, a righteous meat-seller and a housewife over an ascetic Brahmin. Character, not birth, makes a Brahmin. Preservation of life and social order is preferred to blind adherence to truth. The eight-fold path of moderation is voiced and there are references to Jains and Charvakas too. Yudhishthira’s grand horse-sacrifice is shamed by a mongoose who glorifies a gleaner’s gift instead. To cap it all, in a supreme tour-de-force, Yudhishthira himself reviles the gods as well as Dharma itself in the final book.

A peak insight of Devy’s is that Kunti is an unparalleled heroine in the literary world. Kunti, her abandoned son Karna and her nephew Krishna occupy the heart of the story. She ushers Vedic gods into the Mbh (p.60). However, Devy overlooks how it is Kunti’s Yadava blood that rules after the Kurukshetra War, not the Kuru dynasty. Parikshit, grandson of Arjuna and his maternal Yadava cousin Subhadra, rules in the Kuru capital Hastinapura, not the elder Yudhishthira’s son Yaudheya or Bhima’s Sarvaga. Vajra, Krishna’s great-grandson, rules in Indraprastha of the Pandavas. Satyaki’s grandson Yugandhara rules near the Sarasvati and Kritavarma’s son in Martikavat, both Yadavas. So, was Krishna’s game-plan to replace Kuru by Yadava hegemony?

Devy points out that Arjuna alone, Rama-like, strings the Kindhura bow Shiva gave Drupada (vide the Southern recension). As Brihannada he parallels Shiva’s Ardhanarishvara (male-female) form as well as his dancer role. Not only does he become a eunuch, but he also hides behind trans-gender Shikhandi to kill Bhishma. Arjuna sees the trident-wielder preceding his arrows and felling the targets in Kurukshetra. Actually, Shiva’s presence is heralded early when Indra insults Shiva and Parvati playing dice and is condemned to take human birth along with four previous Indras.

Devy provides an important insight: the two towering figures on either side, Bhishma and Krishna, both 8th sons, do not fight for themselves but for the Dhartarashtras and the Pandavas respectively. Further, blessings, curses and supernatural interventions are used as devices (deus ex machina) to move the plot along. Even demons intervene to dissuade Duryodhana from committing suicide. Vyasa himself intervenes often in person to change the course of events.

Devy does sink into some troughs though. Ganesha snapping off a tusk to transcribe Vyasa’s dictation is not in the MB (p.10), nor is Gandhari making Duryodhana’s body invulnerable (p.68). What the MB does have is Shiva making Duryodhana’s torso adamantine and Parvati making his lower part lovely and delicate as flowers. Satyavati’s son by Shantanu was Chitrangad, not Chitravirya. Kunti is not chosen to wed Pandu but chooses him (p.59) and is not born because of any blessing (p.71). Jayadratha did not expose himself to Draupadi in the dice-game-hall (fn p.70); that was Duryodhana. Bhrigus are not Kshatriyas but Brahmins (p.61). Nowhere does the MB state that Varuna as Vayu became Bhima (p.60). How is Saranyu equated with Cerberus the three-headed dog guarding hell (p.35)? Saranyu is not the dark, as Devy writes in one place, but the dawn as he correctly states elsewhere. It is not that no attempts have been made to collect regional translations for comparison (p.21). In 1967 M.V. Subramanian ICS documented variations from Vyasa in the South Indian languages plus Bhasa, Bhatta Narayana, Magha and Bharavi. The IGNCAshould now cover all regional languages. The 11 pages long genealogy at the end fails to engender a sense of “a seamless combination of myth and history” as claimed.

Devy overlooks the remarkable motif of the Yadavas, descendants of the disinherited eldest son Yadu, ultimately regaining dominion. Nahusha’s eldest son Yati turns sanyasi, so the younger Yayati inherits Khandavaprastha. He disinherits four elder sons (Yadu etc.) in favour of the youngest Puru. In Hastinapura, Pratipa’s eldest son Devapi is disinherited because of a skin ailment.The younger Shantanu is enthroned. He bypasses his eldest son Bhishma for the younger stepbrothers. The elder Dhritarashtra being blind loses the throne to his step-brother Pandu. Yudhishthira, the eldest, is tricked into exile by his younger cousin Duryodhana who rules. Another key feature missed is the theme of parricide and fratricide is—a reason for the narrative’s continuing appeal through the ages.

Devy accepts Abhinavagupta’s assertion that the MB’s prevailing emotion is “shanta, empathetic detachment”. In World of Wonders (2022) Hiltebeitel argued convincingly that it is an epic of wonder, adbhuta being the rasa mentioned most frequently. Devy’s identification of Yama with Dharma is questionable. Kunti does not summon Yama for a son, as he claims (p.51), but Dharma as Pandu wants his first son to be beyond reproach. All of Yudhishthira’s interactions are with Dharma, not Yama. It is Dharma whom Animandavya curses to be born as a Shudra (Vidura). Yama as god of death first appears in section 199 of the Adi Parva as the butcher-priest in a yajna of the gods, because of which humans do not die. Only in section 9 is Dharma called the god of death who resurrects Ruru’s snake-bitten wife Pramadvara, raising the speculation that he got identified with Yama.

Devy misses the backdrop of the divine plan (as in the Trojan War) to rescue earth from proliferating demonic rulers. Gods take human birth to engineer a massively destructive war whereafter they merge into their original selves. There is no cycle of rebirth here, which distinguishes the MB from religious texts.The MB articulates the concept of four “yugas” (like the Hellenistic four ages) of which Vyasa calls Kali the best when bhakti fetches swift salvation, without the intensive ascesis and elaborate sacrificial rituals of earlier eras. Devy proposes that the MB war keeps the kala-chakra, wheel of time, in perpetual motion. It is not a war to preserve ritualistic dharma. Balarama’s strange aloofness from the fratricide at Kurukshetra and Prabhasa, despite being the avatar of Shesha and a white hair of Vishnu’s, goes unnoticed.

With the expanse and depth of Devy’s reading, not mentioning Sukthankar’s profound insights in On the Meaning of the Mahabharata is strange. Further, as Devy pinpoints Yudhishthira and Yama as the composition’s main focus, the omission of Buddhadeb Bose’s masterly portrayal of Yudhishthira as the true hero in The Book of Yudhishthira is puzzling.

Devy concludes that the MB “unites us as a nation through a similarly perceived past, not through a similarly perceived collective self…not in any imagined territorial national space…(but) in Time…the never-stopping kala chakra…a great spirit of acceptance of all that is.” Vishnu’s couch, the infinite coils of Shesha, and Krishna’s discus, both symbolise Cosmic Time and its endless revolutions.

The appeal of the MB, however, is not limited to India. Even when shells and bombs were exploding in the streets during the siege of Leningrad in 1941, Vladimir Kalyanov was translating the MB into Russian in the Academy of Sciences on the Neva River embankment by the dim light of wick lamps, with no light, no fuel and no bread in the city. Nehru admired that nothing interrupted the work even during the hardest of times.

[This was published in a slightly altered form in The Book Review issue of October 2023, pages 21 to 23

The Anushasana Parva: The Book of Instructions

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This is Book 13 of the Mahabharata, and the most complete English translation, in verse and in prose carefully following the original, published on 5th October 2023 by Dr. Ananda Lal from www.writersworkshopindia.com

The project that Prof. P. Lal began in 1968 and was unable to complete (he could publish only 16 of the 18 books before passing away) is now complete. My translation of the complete Mokshadharma Parva came out in 2016.

My guru-dakshina to my Acharya is complete.

https://www.facebook.com/553071972/videos/837756184467669/

An Epic of Wonder, not of War and Peace

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Alf Hiltebeitel: World of Wonders: The work of Adhbutarasa in the Mahabharata and the Harivamsa. Oxford University Press, 2022, pp. 343.

When Akbar commissioned a Persian rendering of the Mahabharata (MB), he named it Razmnama, the Book of War. Centuries earlier, however, the Kashmiri aestheticians had argued that the dominant flavour (“rasa”) of MB is shanti, peace, with its stable emotion (“sthayi bhava”) of “vairagya”, detachment. Alf Hiltebeitel, the most prolific scholar on MB, who passed away in January 2023, presents a challenging thesis in his most recent foray, namely that neither the heroic (“vira”), as generally presumed, nor peace (shanti), but rather wonder (“adhbhutam, ashcarya”) is the primary flavour along with its stable emotion of surprise (“vismaya”). He is building on a realisation recorded in the last chapter of his earlier book, Freud’s Mahabharata, about the replenishing of Draupadi’s garment (referring to it anachronistically as “sari” repeatedly) being termed the greatest wonder in the world, “adhbhutatamam loke”. His search of the electronic text for the cluster “adbhutam-ashcharya-vismaya,” in MB and the Harivamsha (HV) confirmed the preponderance of the wondrous and showed that HV is part of the epic, not a mere appendix. He finds roughly 592 occurrences of “adbhutam-ashcharya” and 339 of “vismaya-vismita” distributed fairly evenly across both HV and MB. It is this dominant “rasa” that makes for the unity of the epic.

Hiltebeitel points out that the last three books of MB, with a total of eighteen chapters (like the Gita’s and the 18 books ot the epic), expose us to a series of rude shocks, presenting “unexpected outcomes”. The deaths of Krishna and Balarama, the submergence of Dvaraka, the looting of Arjuna’s caravan that destroys his heroism, Yudhishthira’s condemnation of dharma and the gods after his vision of hell and Janamejaya’s last question are analysed in detail. After Vaishampayana has explained that every hero (the women are not mentioned) merged into his original identity, Janamejaya was highly astonished (“vismito ‘bhavad atyartham”). The dominant flavour “wonder” and its stable emotion “surprise” are repeatedly evoked. The epic ends with the “Bharata Savitri” of the concluding statement by Vyasa “of wondrous deeds” to his son Shuka.

Varying perceptions about MB existed contemporaneously with the Kashmiri aestheticians of the 9th and 10 centuries CE. The first regional retelling of MB saw it as a heroic narrative, which is why Peruntevanar made Krishna his hero in the Tamil Paratavenpa (9th century CE) and Pampa had Arjuna crowned king at the end after Yudhishthira’s abdication in the Kannada Vikramarjunavijaya (10th century CE). Hiltebeitel finds that the “adbhutam” clusters are fairly evenly distributed in both MB and HV, missing only from Book 17 (the Great Departure). He concludes that the element of surprise is as evident as the didactic and other elements like Krishna and the divine plan, Vyasa’s role, the snake sacrifice, the ending of Janamejaya’s tale, Sauti and Shaunaka.

The two lists of contents identify sections as “wondrous”, not referring to any other “rasa”. Vyasa’s miraculous summoning of the dead in Book 15 is described as exceptionally and uniquely wondrous, while Books 5, 8 and 4 are called particularly “adbhutam”. Before Hiltebeitel, no had one noted these. Analysing the occurrences in each book he finds that Book 3 (Forest Exile), is the most wonder-laden book. Among the four war books, the largest wonder-cluster occurs in the Book of Drona while the Book of Karna is the only one of them to be described in the list of contents as “full of meanings and wonders” and to devote an adbhutam-cluster to Karna. In the Bhishma Parvan they are applied to Arjuna; in the Mokshadharmaparvan they occur in the Shuka story and the Narayaniya, and in the Anushasana Parvan in the Uma-Maheshvara dialogue.

In most of the wonder passages the focus is mostly on the three Krishnas: Krishna (Books 5-9), Vyasa (Book 1, alternating with Krishna in Books 10-13 and dominating in 14-15, 17-18), Krishna (Book 16) and Draupadi (end of Book 1 to Book 4). The others focussed upon are Arjuna, Karna, Bhima and Shiva. It is the three dark Krishnas who represent, writes James Fitzgerald, “wondrous realities of the world.”

Most episodes in Book 14 (the horse-sacrifice) have the wondrous quality. Vyasa’s pupil Jaimini’s version of the book is chock-full of magic and marvels, which is possibly why Akbar chose this to be translated into Persian for his Razmnama instead of Vyasa’s original composition and why regional Mahabharatas often do the same. This book culminates in the utterly surprising debunking of the horse-sacrifice by the episode of the mongoose. This Ashvamedha Parva is surpassed by the “very great wonder” of Book 15, as the list of contents describes the Forest Ashram. Here Vyasa not only conjures up all the dead heroes, but also gets all the widows to commit suicide in the river to meet their husbands, ridding the new monarchy of the sound of endless lamentation Much earlier he had made his mother and two sisters-in-law leave the world too. Nowhere in any epic world does the epic’s composer kill off so many of his characters himself.

Hiltebeitel commits a major mistake in glossing Satyabhama as Kamsa’s sister (p. 259). On p. 289 the printer’s gremlin is very much in evidence (“Virad”, “Vior”, “vita”, “Vi”, “amring the en”, “Vieap’s” etc.), p. 292 (“amatamanthana”) and footnotes 161 (“collerium”) and 162 (“Markakrsnadeya”). Footnote 191 refers to “Haberman” who is missing from the references.

At the very beginning of HV Shaunaka praises the MB for its extremely wondrous deeds and amazing discourses. HV is replete with amazing revelations of Krishna’s divinity to Akrura et.al. that tie-up with Narada’s visions in MB’s Narayaniya. Hiltebeitel notes that the 36 clusters of surprise and wonder in HV “speak the same language as the MB”, not that of bhakti rasa. Both works stress “devotion to the vigorous heroic deity in the same world of wonders and not on his being at the centre of the devotions of his parents, sons, friends, lovers, or admiring sages.” It is by looking at MB and HV as works of literature and not primarily as theological and ethical texts that their wonders and surprises work, hinting at “a below-the-surface sense of sacrificial beauty.”

Hiltebeitel explores this aspect through the conflagration set off by Krishna’s Vaishnava energy during his ascesis and by that of Shiva when Uma covers his eyes, that consume life on the Himalayas. The same Vaishnava tejas decapitates Shishupala, whose energy merges into Krishna. The production of amrita by churning the ocean that destroys all life on Mount Mandara, mingling their “rasas” and by the Nara-Narayana duo killing asuras is analogous to this. In HV the acme is Krishna uplifting Mount Govardhana and simultaneously becoming the mountain as Indra drenches it, just as he did Mount Mandara. The Govardhana incident would have been a far more appropriate cover than the Kalighat painting depicting Krishna with Yashoda milking a cow. Hiltebeitel shows how HV is original in “thematizing an aesthetic of sacrifice” in which the Earth becomes “sacrificially beautiful…it is through her that all forms of life and death flow meaningfully together.” The Harivamsha Parva closes emphasizing that Krishna is the sole wonder and that all wonders emerge from Vishnu, the most blessed. HV is as much an adbhutarasa text as MB and is part and parcel of the epic.

Freud, Bose and the Mahabharata

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Alf Hiltebeitel: Freud’s Mahabharata. Oxford University Press, New Delhi, pp. xxiii+298, Rs. 650.

The cover of Hiltebeitel’s “Freud’s Mahabharata” has an interesting personal involvement on my part. Alf had emailed me in desperation having failed to trace this sketch drawn from a portrait of Freud (sent by Freud to Bose in 1926) by a Bengali artist Jatindra Kumar Sen commissioned by Dr. Girindrashekhar Bose which he used as the cover of the first edition of his Bengali work, “Swapna” (1928). With some difficulty Smt. Sunita Arora of the National Library (who had been put on the job by my young colleague Shri Raghavendra Singh IAS, its Director) traced it to a very fragile copy, repaired their high-resolution camera for taking a good photograph and sent that to me which I emailed Alf. That is how a Bengali artist’s sketch ended up on a work published abroad and in India. Bose removed the sketch from subsequent editions of “Swapna” possibly because he fell out with Freud around 1931. Dr Bose had sent Freud an icon of Vishnu seated on Ananta which Freud kept on his desk. This features as the cover of Hiltebeitel’s “Freud’s India”.

Hiltebeitel’s new work follows up on his “Freud’s India” where he explored personal experiences following his father’s death and his divorce that recalled Freud’s life. The cover of the book has an interesting story. Hiltebeitel had emailed me for help having failed to trace this sketch drawn from a portrait of Freud by a Bengali artist, Jatindra Kumar Sen commissioned by Dr. Girindrashekhar Bose, founder of the Indian Psychoanalytic Society, from a portrait Freud had sent him in 1926. Bose used it as the cover of the first edition of his Bengali work, “Swapna” (1928). With some difficulty Smt. Sunita Arora of the National Library (who had been put on the job by its Director, my young colleague Shri Raghavendra Singh IAS) traced it to a very fragile copy, repaired their high-resolution camera and sent me a photograph which I emailed Hiltebeitel. Bose had sent Freud an icon of Vishnu seated on the serpent Ananta, which Freud kept on his desk. This features as the cover of Hiltebeitel’s book, “Freud’s India”. Bose removed the sketch of Freud from subsequent editions of “Swapna” possibly because he fell out with Freud around 1931. Freud had referred to Bose in 1922 as an extraordinary professor who had founded a local psychoanalytic group in Calcutta.

The book immediately stimulates interest by its intriguing title since Freud never mentions the Mahabharata (MB). Dipping into it we find that it is in three parts of which the middle portion consists of chapters 2 through 5. Chapters one and six are the first and third parts. Beginning with Freud’s essay, “Das Unheimliche” (The Uncanny, as translated by James Strachey), Hiltebeitel links the MB by arguing that its dominant flavor (“rasa”) is the uncanny, as Sheldon Pollock translates “adbhuta”, and not the heroic (“vira”). He interprets the story of the five Indras immured in a cave as a pre-Oedipal intra-uterine fantasy of being buried alive, which Freud called “the most uncanny thing of all”. Hiltebeitel misses out Edgar Allan Poe’s terrifying take on this in “Tomb of Ligeia”.

In an elaborate examination of the myth of Aravan/Iravat/Kuttantavar, Hiltebeitel links his overhearing in the womb about Krishna’s wish to kill him and then emerging feet first to kick Krishna into the ocean with Freud’s theory about the return to the womb in sleep. Hiltebeitel sees in this ocean a reflection of “the oceanic feeling” that Romain Rolland wrote to Freud about, troubling him no end. There are analogous stories about Ahiravana in the Bengali Ramayana of Krittibas and Vivek in the Bengali Mahabharata of Kavi Sanjay which would have added grist to Hiltebeitel’s mill.

Influenced by Freud’s “Moses and Monotheism”, Hiltebeitel theorizes that the MB’s core myth of the divine plan to unburden the Earth reflects the trauma experienced by rural Vedic Brahmin communities of foreign invasions and the impact of “India’s second urbanization” after 500 BCE in the Gangetic plain, the first having been the Harappan civilization. This is the “urban unconscious” of Brahmanism, like Freud’s Judaism. Interestingly, the demons-on-earth (Jarasandha, Kamsa etc.) occupy the chief cities (Rajagriha, Mathura etc.). Hence, the extolling of forest-living gleaners.

It is surprising to find Hiltebeitel supporting the long discredited theory, revived by F. Wulff Alonso, of Indian epics drawing upon the Greek mythic corpus for their matter of the divine plan to relieve Earth’s burden. He does admit, however, that the MB’s myth is apocalyptic unlike the Homeric. This myth that is practically the frame story is repeated five times. First by Vaishampayana in his genealogical account, next twice by Vyasa narrating the five Indras myth and while consoling Dhritarashtra after the war, the fourth time by Narada during the rajasuya yajna and finally at the end by Vaishampayana.

Hiltebeitel finds a parallel to Freud’s “phylogenetic myth-making” with the MB’s combining myths of genealogy, cosmology, sacrifice and war in the ontogenesis of its divine plan. Freud’s assertion that the primal patriarch drove his sons out when they came of age, virtually castrating them, whereafter they could remain in the horde as harmless labourers (a stage corresponding to dementia praecox), is paralleled in the MB’s myth of Yayati disinheriting and banishing all but one of his sons. Hiltebeitel even suggests that at 23 volumes Freud’s work is larger than the MB, both texts looking to forge a new consciousness of a civilization, both heterogenous in relating myth to narrative, stylistically varied , dialogical, propounding a heroic persona with a prominent role for women.

Hiltebeitel juxtaposes the MB’s three tales about dead mothers (Madri, the Nishada woman, the corpse supposedly of their 180 year old mother strung up on a tree by the Pandavas) with Freud’s three texts dealing with the dead mother complex. Kunti is seen in the role of a dead mother to Yudhishthira, staying aloof from him and finally abandoning her sons, just as Gandhari never looks upon her children and finds Duryodhana rejecting her in open court. Hiltebeitel posits that it is Satyavati or even her fishy mother Adrika (Acchoda in the Harivamsha) to whom the Pandavas refer, as the corpse of their 180 year old “mother”, its stink being linked to her fishy birth. The dead mothers stack up over five generations (5 x 36 years per generation = 180) beginning with Satyavati (from the Yamuna) and Ganga, ending with Draupadi’s ultimate sonlessness. Satyavati is known by her fishy odour inherited by Vyasa. She is dark like the river Yamuna across which she plies a ferry, as contrasted with the pellucid celestial river, the Ganga. That she is originally called “Kali” is very significant. In iconography, Vishnu’s two wives are the Earth goddess and Shri-Lakshmi, both of whom are at the core of the MB’s divine plan.

Hiltebeitel devotes considerable space to examining how Freud’s interests are paralleled by the knowledge about Indian goddesses of Dr. Girindrashekhar Bose (who sent Freud an icon of Vishnu and had his portrait sketched which forms the cover of this book). Differing from Freud, Bose said that in India the wish for castration occurs early in childhood when, identifying with the mother, he wishes to be female. Dread of castration comes later in the Oedipal identification with the father. Hiltebeitel posits that Kali fits the profile of Bose’s “Oedipus mother”. Issues of castration come up in the cult of Aravan/Kuttantavar who sacrifices himself to Kali before the MB war.

Bose theorized that the wish to be hit always accompanies a wish to hit. In “Freud’s India” Hiltebeitel had wondered whether this wish to be struck characterizes snakes. Aravan’s mother is the female serpent Ulupi. Snakes who “infest the MB”, argues Hiltebeitel, largely represent not tribals but the unconscious, “basic raw wishes, hostilities, or desires” of the unconscious. Analysing three versions of the Aravan/Iravat/Kuttantavar tale, Hiltebeitel finally admits that his self-sacrifice before the war (“kalappali”) cannot be said to involve a wish to be struck. However, this Tamil cult, much celebrated by Hijras, has evidence of a link between the castration wish and a desire to be female that Bose posited as occurring in the pre-Oedipal stage. In this phase the “Oedipus mother” has a powerful role, as seen in Aravan’s multiple mother figures (Ulupi, Draupadi, Kali). Hiltebeitel concludes that Bose’s theory explains these Indian cults which Freud’s does not.

Examining Freud’s work on Moses and on Jokes, Hiltebeitel links the discussion to the tales of gleaners in MB, claiming that the epic was the composition of “a committee of ‘out of sorts Brahmins’” (hence the extolling of gleaners) in the 2nd century BCE in Kurukshetra. Vyasa’s stink and disagreeable appearance makes him “the consummate out-of-sorts Brahmin.” This period of second urbanization (600-300 BCE) saw the rise of towns vis-à-vis forest life. Gleaners in the Naimisheya grove near Kurukshetra complete a twelve-year yajna during which, because of the numerous rishis, the tirthas got urbanized (“tirthani nagarayante”). Hiltebeitel imagines them traumatized by foreign invasions (hence the prominence of the north-west in MB) and the challenge of heterodox movements backed by royal patronage (Chandragupta and Jainism, Bimbisara and Ajivikas, Ashoka and Buddhism). He argues that they “projected features of current second-or first-century urban architecture back into” the Vedic world whose memories lay in their subconscious. They developed the Rig Veda’s ten mandalas (16th to 11th century BCE) into the ritualistic three other Vedas (11th to 9th century BCE) and then their branches (8th to 3rd century BCE) climaxing in the encyclopaedic MB in the fourth stage in the 2nd century BCE. The references in MB to Greeks, Chinese and Shakas, but not the Pahlavas or Kushanas, indicates a completion of composition before the end of the pre-Common Era, by the late Shunga or Kanva times. Support is found in the MB’s reference to the land being dotted with “edukas” (Buddhist mounds of relics). In the Book of the Forest, one Shaunaka discourses to the Pandavas on the Buddhist eight-fold path; a butcher speaks the Jain version of ahimsa and in the Shanti Parva Bali lays out the Jain doctrine of six “leshyas” (colours) of matter.

Seeking to find correspondences in MB with Freud’s theory about jokes, Hiltebeitel makes a laboured argument that Vyasa’s levirate episode with Ambika and Ambalika contains an innuendo: the two “mahishis” (chief queens/female buffaloes) unite with the smelly, unkempt Vyasa in the role of the horse of the ashvamedha rite. In the “Narayaniya” narrative Vyasa reveals that he is born of Harimedhas, the essence of the Horse-headed avatar. The year-long vow Vyasa wanted them to observe parallels the horse-sacrifice’s prescription of abstinence for a year. By rejecting this, Satyavati renders the queens impure for the rite. Hiltebeitel hazards a bad joke of his own: “Vyasa’s shaggy-dog story has turned out to be a shaggy-horse or a talking-horse story.”

A very rewarding read is Hiltebeitel’s analysis of the narrative structure of the “Narayaniya” identifying how the dialogue level shifts thrice from the inner frame (Janamejaya querying Vaishampayana, within which Vyasa speaks to the former too across six generations) to the outermost (Vyasa discoursing to his five pupils) through the outer frame (Rishi Shaunaka querying Ugrashravas Sauti) via the intermediate dialogues (Yudhishthira querying Bhishma). Ultimately, Hiltebeitel sees the MB as “the recovered memory” of a Vedic past replete with “partially unconscious and forgotten meanings about that past”. —Pradip Bhattacharya

‘“This is not Heaven,” said Yudhishthira. He reviled the gods and dharma.’

By

Wendy Doniger: After the War—The Last Books of the Mahabharata. Speaking Tiger, 2022, pp. 221. Rs. 499/-

Doniger’s “After the War” immediately brings to mind Mahashweta Devi’s three brilliant short stories entitled “After Kurukshetra,” a unique imagining of the post-war scenario that, strangely, does not feature in Doniger’s bibliography. Doniger’s latest work is an exciting prospect for Mahabharata aficionados. English translations of these short closing “parvas” of the Mahabharata are limited to the turgid Victorian prose of K.M. Ganguly and M.N. Dutt of the Vulgate and Bibek Deb Roy’s pedestrian version of the Critical Edition which drops many passages. The far superior rendering, and the only one in verse and in prose faithfully following the Vulgate text, of Padma Shri Professor P. Lal is surprisingly, is missing from Doniger’s bibliography as well. The succinct and insightful prefaces of Prof. Lal to each volume are not to be missed. While Doniger’s is a prose translation, the language flows and her style is most engaging.

This book is practically her lecture-notes to the last class she taught at the University of Chicago to second year Sanskrit students translating Books 15-18: the Ashramavasika (Forest Life), Mausala (Clubs), Mahaprasthana (Great Departure) and Svargarohana (Ascent to Heaven) Parvas drawing upon the commentator Nilakantha whose edition is the Vulgate and adding passages from various manuscripts as she wishes, possibly to make the narrative more complete. She omits the 6th and final chapter of the last book which details the benefits of listening to the Mahabharata and how it is to be recited and heard, specifically including the Harivamsha. So this is Doniger’s Wikipedia-text of the last four books, not adopting the Critical Edition which she considers “misguided” and as leaving “the patient in a critical condition…Like Frankenstein’s monster…”  Her omission of the frame story in every case deprives us of the interaction between Janamejaya the audience and Vaishampayana the narrator as well as the outermost frame where Ugrashravas Sauti recites the epic in the Naimisha forest.  It is Sauti who brings the narration to a full circle stating that when Vaishampayana’s recital ended so did the snake-holocaust and Janamejaya returned from Taxila to Hastinapura. Repeating from the opening chapter (Anukramanika), Sauti calls it “Jaya-Victory,” explains why it is called Mahabharata (it narrates the great birth of the Bharatas and is highly profound), that it outweighs the four Vedas and the 18 Puranas and took Vyasa three years to compose. He repeats the claim: “Whatever there is here—about dharma, politics, pleasure and liberation—you can also find elsewhere; but what is not here is nowhere.”

A very illuminating and provocative Introduction running to 60 pages teases out implications of the narrative that we generally overlook. Appendices provide cross-references to the Critical Edition, explain Sanskrit adjectives qualifying characters, list the names of major and minor players, provide a summary of the earlier books and a valuable bibliography. However, there is no index. The cover of this Indian edition of her book is somewhat pedestrian compared to that of the Oxford University Press edition which is a full-colour reproduction of a medieval illustration of Yudhishthira’s vision of hell.

Doniger sees the book split into three parts, each beginning with the arrival of Narada. Therefore, she chooses to begin with chapter 26 (chapter 20 of the Vulgate) in Book 15, omitting the Pandavas’ futile arguments to dissuade their old, grief-stricken uncle who insists on retiring from royal life to live out his last days in the forest and his lengthy advice to Yudhishthira on good governance. Left out also is Bhima’s unremitting assault on Dhritarashtra’s sentiments by repeated loud mentions in his hearing of killing all his sons. When Dhritarashtra needs wealth for the shraddha of the slain, Bhima refuses to part with any. Then Yudhishthira and Arjuna who share their personal riches. Dhritarashtra donates gold, gems, slaves, sheep, goats, cows, blankets, villages, fields, horses, elephants and lovely virgins in the names of Bhishma, Drona, Somadatta, Bahlika, all his sons and Jayadratha:-

                        All the four castes,

            one after another, were gratified

                        with abundant food and drink.

Vestures and wealth and jewels

                        were its billows,

            the mridanga-drumbeats

                        its maha-reverberations,

            cows and elephants its makara-creatures

                        various gems its whirlpools,

            Villages and gifted lands

                        were its islands,

            diamonds and gold

                        were its rippling waves,–

            such was the plenitude

                        of the cornucopious Dhritarashtra-ocean. 14.12-14 (P. Lal).

Vyasa sees poetic justice here, comparing the departure of the aged royal couple to that of the exiled Pandavas. The Pandavas’ shock when their mother decides to accompany Dhritarashtra and Gandhi to the forest and the reason Kunti gives for her decision are part of this omitted portion revealing the emotional backlash suffered by the victors. Her directive to Yudhishthira to respect Sahadeva, to remember Karna always by donating generously in his honour and always to please Draupadi is also omitted. Having enjoyed the kingdom with her husband, Kunti does not desire that of her sons. This remarkable heroine never desired anything for herself—a true parallel to her nephew Krishna. Sanjaya and Vidura accompany the three.

Dhritarashtra is instructed in the way of forest-life by the royal rishi Shatayupa, former king of Kekaya, at Kurukshetra. Gandhari, Kunti and he, wearing bark-cloth and deerskin, mortify their bodies, attended by Vidura and Sanjaya. Narada visits them and assures him and Gandhari of going to the world of gandharvas and rakshasas after three years, of Kunti joining Pandu who is with Indra, of Vidura entering Yudhishthira’s body and Sanjaya attaining Svarga. Narada mentions one king Shailalaya as the grandfather of Bhagiratha. However, it is Asamanjasa who is the grandfather in the puranic lineage.

All joy is driven from the lives of the Pandavas, Draupadi and Subhadra, their sole consolation being Parikshit. They are unable to carry out royal duties, immersed in grief for their mother, uncle and aunt. Finally, importuned by Sahadeva and Draupadi, Yudhishthira decides to visit them in the Kurukshetra ashram of Shatayupa. Leaving Yuyutsut and the priest Dhaumya in the city, the Pandavas wait outside their capital for five days for citizens to join. Kripa leads the army, crossing the Yamuna to reach Kurukshetra. The meeting of Sahadeva and Kunti brims over with pathos. Yudhishthira runs after Vidura into the dense forest. Vidura is skeletal, naked, filthy, matted-haired, pebbles in his mouth, starving himself to death like a Digambara Jain. By yogic power Vidura joins his self to Yudhishthira’s, as a father does to his son, and dies standing against a tree, proceeding to the Santanika world. There is no mention of Vidura merging into Dharma. A skyey voice prohibits his cremation as he was a world-renouncing “yati”.

Book 15 begins with three questions put to Vaishampayana by Janamejaya: how did his victorious forefathers treat vanquished, forlorn Dhritarashtra; how did Gandhari behave; how long did his ancestors rule. Yudhishthira never objected to the old king pardoning condemned people, going on pleasure trips, spared no expense and ordered his brothers to ensure that the son-less monarch never felt desolate. The Pandavas (except Bhima) were apprehensive that Dhritarashtra might die of despair. The Pandava ladies, Kunti, Draupadi, Subhadra, Ulupi, Chitrangada along with the daughters of Shishupala and Jarasandha, attended on Gandhari. After bearing 15 years of Bhima’s boasting about how he killed the Dhartarashtras, the old king and queen take to eating on alternate days and then twice a week, sleeping on a grass mat on the ground (of which, strangely, Yudhishthira was ignorant). Vyasa urges Yudhishthira to accept their decision. Dhritarashtra discourses to Yudhishthira over three chapters on how to govern. The material is drawn, quite appropriately, from Bhishma’s lectures on raja-dharma lying on his bed-of-arrows, to Yudhishthira. When Dhritarashtra bids farewell to the citizens, they declare how well they had been governed by him and by Duryodhana.

At the request of the ashramites, Sanjaya describes the appearance of the Pandava men and women (Chapter 32; 25 Vulgate), a very rare glimpse indeed. Yudhishthira is golden, lion-like, long-nosed, eyes large and copper-bright. Bhima’s complexion is like molten gold; he is broad-shouldered, massive-armed, wolf-waisted. Ajuna is dark-skinned with leonine shoulders and eyes like lotus leaves. Nakula and Sahadeva are innocuous—simply good looking. Draupadi is middle-aged, dark as a blue-lotus, lotus-eyed. Krishna’s sister (Subhadra) has golden skin shining like the moon. Ulupi’s complexion is like pure gold while Chitrangada’s is like the madhuka blossom. Blue lotus-like in colour is Bhima’s unnamed chief wife (Balandhara), sister of Krishna’s inveterate foe who is left nameless (Shishupala or the Kashi king?). Sahadeva’s wife is the champak-complexioned daughter of Jarasandha. Nakula’s wife with large lotus-leaf eyes has blue lotus-like complexion. With skin like molten gold is Virata’s daughter (Uttara), her son in her lap. Yudhishthira’s wife Devika of Shaibya, mother of Yaudheya, is not mentioned and remains just a name in the Mahabharata.

Vyasa’s appearance in this ashram is a narrative tour-de-force. At Janamejaya’s snake-holocaust at Taxila, it is at his request and on Vyasa’s bidding that Vaishampayana narrates the Mahabharata in which its author himself appears as an actor at critical junctures. Here Vyasa makes some crucial observations regarding the births of Vidura and Yudhishthira. Doniger’s mistranslates “Ordered by Brahma” as “through the Levirate arrangement with a Brahmin,” he fathered Vidura. Vyasa conclusively states that Vidura procreated Yudhishthira “by the power of his yoga,” that “Dharma is Vidura / and Vidura is Pandava Yudhishthira,” and that again “by the power of his maha-yoga” Vidura has entered Yudhishthira’s body.

At this point the narrative re-starts (chapter 36; 29 in the Vulgate) and Doniger inserts a passage from one manuscript to begin that tale afresh with Yudhishthira arriving in the forest-ashram with his entourage. The frame-story passage she omits provides the rationale for this re-telling in questions Janamejaya puts to Vaishampayana about what they subsisted upon and for how long. He is then informed that the Pandavas stayed for a month in that forest-ashram living on varied food and drink. This time several Gandharvas are mentioned by name as being present. Why is Doniger baffled (in a footnote) by the presence of such celestials when celestial sages are also present? After all, celestial beings and humans rub shoulders throughout the epic.

Gandhari begs Vyasa to grant peace of mind to them all. Kunti confesses to him about Karna’s birth, adding that she gave in to Surya only when he threatened to consume both her and Durvasa, as she wished to protect the sage. In earlier accounts she is virtually raped by Surya. Vyasa absolves her of guilt making this astonishing statement, made earlier by Bhishma to Draupadi when she was molested in the assembly:-

“Everything is within bounds for those who have brute power; everything is pure for those who have power. Everything is dharma for those who have power; everything of those who have power is their own.”—Doniger 15.38.23

“The path of the powerful

            is always right.

Everything connected with the powerful

            is pure.

Everything the powerful do,

            is dharma.

Everything there is,

            belongs to the powerful.” 15.30.24—P. Lal

In other words, might is right.

Vyasa then informs them of the celestial origins of the protagonists. Doniger gratuitously makes Pandu Indra, which is nowhere in the text. An unexplained, intriguing feature is that the god Surya is Karna on earth, yet he is aligned with rakshasa-Duhshasana, Kali-Duryodhana and Dvapara-Shakuni. Conversely, rakshasa-Shikhandin is on the Pandava side with Agni-Dhrishtadyumna. It is clearly not clean-cut black and white, good and bad. Shades of grey prevail. Both celestial bodies, Surya and Soma, split themselves in half, one part staying in the sky, the other becoming Karna and Abhimanyu respectively.

Now occurs a stunning miracle. Vyasa causes all the dead to appear before the assembly out of the river Bhagirathi, a scene similar to Odysseus seeing the dead appear in Book 11 across a trench full of sheep-blood:

“What a tumultuous clamour

sprang from the waters!

It resembled, O Janamejaya,

the combined uproar

of the battling armies

of the Kauravas and Pandavas.” (P. Lal)

“Then the sound of a great commotion arose from within the waters, like the sound when the two armies of the Kurus and Pandavas met in the past.” (Doniger)

The point is that there was,

“No more bitterness,

no more ahamkara-ego,

no more hatred,

no more jealousy.” (P. Lal)

“They were free from enmity and free from egoism, and they had lost their rage and their vengeful pride.” (Doniger)

This is repeated a few slokas later. As he had done with Sanjaya for the war, Vyasa grants Gandhari and Dhritarashtra divine sight to enjoy the sight. Reconciliation takes place and all spend the night in amity, as if in Svarga. Then they vanish in a trice in the waters of the Bhagirathi.

At this juncture an event occurs that is unique in literature. As Hiltebeitel has pointed out, no author has ever become a character in his own work, killing off his own characters. Here Vyasa urges widows who wish to join their husbands to commit suicide in the river. Believing him, they all do so. The chapter (41; 33 Vulgate) concludes with a recital of the benefits accruing to the listener, which always ends a book. Doniger feels that this is where the second part of this “parva” originally ended. She does not translate the subsequent two chapters in which Janamejaya questions how the bodiless can be seen in the same bodies and then obtains a vision of his father Parikshit. In this narration, twice it is Sauti who narrates, thus reminding us of the original setting of the epic’s recital. Delighted, Parikshit tells Astika (thus the narrative recalls how the snake holocaust began in the first book) that his grief is gone. Astika tells him that the snakes who perished, save Takshaka, have attained the state of his father.

Despite the epiphany, Yudhishthira’s depression persists and he tells Kunti:-

            “Hollow is this earth now,

devoid of delight.

            Kinsmen dead, strength sapped.” (P. Lal)

“This whole earth is empty and gives me no pleasure…Our relatives have been decimated and our power is not what it used to be.” (Doniger)

Sahadeva too (Yudhishthira says Kunti loved him the most) pleads to be allowed to remain. Once again it is Kunti who persuades him and the others to leave as their staying back will hinder her ascesis. Her’s is the role unexceptionable.

Two years later Narada arrives with news of their mother, uncle and aunt being consumed in a random fire as they were wandering in the forest at Haridwar, with no fixed habitation. Kunti, who had burnt a Nishada woman and her five sons alive in the house-of-lac, meets with poetic justice, as does Dhritarashtra who had consented to its construction to consume the Pandavas. Like Vidura, Dhritrashtra starved, pebbles in his mouth. Their tragic death occurs eighteen years after the War (the epic has 18 books; the war lasts 18 days; the Gita has 18 chapters; Krishna dies 18 x 2 = 36 years after the war). Why the sons and daughters-in-law maintained no surveillance, with their fervid protestations of devotion, remains a puzzle. Sanjaya escapes and departs for the Himalayas. What mystifies Yudhishthira most is why they should have been consumed in an unconsecrated fire, not a holocaust, specially when Arjuna had granted Agni a favour long back. Narada offers consolation by spinning a yarn about this forest-fire having arisen from Dhritarashtra’s own sacrificial fire. People are sent to perform rituals with the bones of the dead at Haridwar, while the Pandavas and Yuyutsut do the same at the Ganga outside Hastinapura. Yudhishthira somehow continues to rule, bereft of pleasure. Strangely enough, in their misery they do not turn to Krishna as they always used to.

Years pass. Again, it is the 18th year (36 years after the war as Gandhari had cursed) that sees ominous portents and Yudhishthira receives news of Krishna’s death and how his people slaughtered one another. There is a problem with translating “vimukta” here as applied to Krishna and Balarama. “Freed” or “escaped” cannot be correct, as Ganguly, Dutt and Lal have rendered it. Doniger correctly translates as “finally freed”, i.e. “dead”. Again we wonder why the Pandavas were not in touch with their beloved “sakha” and mentor and the growing social disorder in Dvaraka. Doniger glosses Jambavati as “the daughter of a monkey chief” (fn. p. 116) whereas she was the bear-chief Jambavan’s daughter. She translates Krishna’s killer Jara as “Old Age” although he was his step-brother born to Vasudeva’s fourth wife and was brought up by the Nishadas. By order of the raja (Doniger’s naming him Ahuka is wrong, for he was never king of Dvaraka) the iron club Samba delivers is pulverized and flung into the sea. Prohibition for the first time is imposed on pain of impalement of the brewer and his family, which still prevails in Gujarat. The society begins to degenerate in morals. A lunar eclipse occurs duplicating the Kurukshetra War. Krishna makes a puzzling reference to what Yudhishthira had said on that occasion. Doniger fills in the gap from a manuscript, viz. the best course is to donate, offer oblations to pacify and act righteously. Wishing to fulfil Gandhari’s curse, Krishna orders a pilgrimage to Prabhasa on the seaside. Instead, the citizens pack food and drink for a picnic. The Sudarshana discus and the standards of Balarama and Krishna disappear into the sky. Krishna’s chariot is taken by the four steeds to the sea. At Prabhasa the first to depart is Uddhava who divines the impending carnage.

Once again it is an instance of cherchez la femme. As Draupadi was the immediate cause of the great war, here it is Satyabhama in tears hugging Krishna, reminded by Satyaki of Kritavarma’s role in her father’s murder, infuriating him. To avenge her, Satyaki beheads Kritavarma, setting off a mad frenzy of killing. It is Krishna who, furious at Pradyumna and Satyaki being killed, seizes a handful of reeds that transmute into adamantine clubs and lays about him indiscriminately. Then seeing his other sons and grandson Aniruddha killed, he uses his mace, bow and discus to kill everyone except Daruka his charioteer and Babhru. Balarama does not engage, as he had not at Kurukshetra. Daruka is despatched to summon Arjuna and Krishna rushes to his father in Dvaraka asking him to protect the women. Then he returns to join Balarama only to find him merging with the ocean as the serpent Shesha. Krishna withdraws into yoga and, fulfilling Durvasa’s prophecy of only the soles of his feet being vulnerable, is shot by his step-brother Jara precisely there, as Achilles was by Paris. Doniger is mistaken in her footnote (p.130) that Krishna is the only avatar of Vishnu who dies. Rama dies too as is mentioned twice in the Mahabharata in the account of sixteen great rajas who died and also in the Ramayana. Unnecessarily Doniger inserts at the end of chapter 5 a long passage occurring only in a couple of manuscripts incongruously having four-armed Vani (Speech) asking Krishna to join her in Bhanu the sun where gods cannot enter.

According to the Bhagavata Purana (III.3.15), Krishna realised the earth’s burden persisted even after the great war because of the massive Yadava forces guarded by Pradyumna. None but they could destroy themselves in drunken frenzy. Hence, he organised what follows. In this version Krishna does not engage but rests under a tree. The Jain Bhagavati Sutra (7.9) describes two battles in Mahavira’s time (6th century BCE?) involving King Kuniya/Ajatashatru. One is “the battle of thorns like great stones” in which the touch of thorns was like blows of great stones. The other was “the battle of chariot and club”, Kuniya’s automated chariot with club that killed. The manic violence is as in the Vrishni massacre. The time of composition of the Mausala Parva might be the same.

Krishna refers to Arjuna as “Vibhatsu” which Doniger translates as “the Disdainful” whereas it connotes both “dreadful-deed-doer,” (P. Lal) and “not acting dreadfully”. Vasudeva tells Arjuna about Krishna foretelling that immediately following Arjuna’s departure for Indraprastha Dvaraka will be submerged. Arjuna announces that the Pandavas have realised it is time to move on. Vasudeva’s four wives join his corpse on the pyre. Although Arjuna locates the bodies of Balarama and Krishna, strangely enough there is no account of what he saw. After seven days he leaves the city with all Krishna’s widows, other women, children, youths and the aged in carriages led by Krishna’s great-grandson Vajra. Here Doniger unaccountably introduces a speech by the sea that is found in just one manuscript declaring that it will protect the city with all the people’s treasures for the next avatar in the Krita Yuga.

Now we face a shock. In Punjab invincible Arjuna, unable to summon his special weapons, strings the Gandiva with great difficulty and fails to prevent staff-wielding Abhira dacoits from looting the wealth and abducting the women.

            “His divine weapons nullified,

                        his physical strength sapped,

            his bow refusing to nock,

                        his inexhaustible quiver empty…

            O raja, in frustration he said:

                        ‘All is uncertain. Nothing lasts.’” –P. Lal

“The loss of his magical weapons and the waning of the manly power of his arms and the uselessness of his bow and the exhaustion of his arrows broke the heart of Kunti’s son Arjuna…said, ‘This no longer exists.’” –Doniger

Arjuna settles the surviving old men, women and children in Indraprastha with Vajra as ruler; Kritavarma’s son in Martikavat with the women and others of the Bhojas and Satyaki’s son on the banks of the river Sarasvati with old men, women and children. It is not Babhru’s widows as Doniger translates but Akrura’s who retire to the forest. Nor is Rukmini of Gandhara, rather it is Shaibya of Gandhara who, along with Haimavati and Jambavati, enter the funeral pyre. Satyabhama and other women of Krishna enter the forest for ascesis (in the village of Kalapa beyond the Himalayas, as Doniger adds from three manuscripts).

Arjuna approaches Vyasa and reports of five hundred thousand Yadavas perishing and his own humiliating defeat. Vyasa consoles him that Krishna has lightened earth’s burden and that Arjuna has accomplished his divine mission with the help of Bhima and the twins. It is significant that he does not include Yudhishthira here. The time has come for them to leave for the final destination. The inexorable end is at hand.

            “The root of all

                        is Cosmic time Kala.

            Cosmic time Kala

                        is the seed

            of the universe.

                        Kala is the giver,

            and Kala is the taker.

                        That which is strong

            is that which becomes weak.

                        He who rules

            becomes he who is ruled.” –P. Lal

“All of this has Time as its root. time is the seed of the universe. And it is Time that once again draws things together into annihilation, spontaneously. Someone who becomes powerful once again becomes powerless; someone who becomes a ruler here once again is commanded by others.” –Doniger

The Book of the Great Departure is profoundly ironic. Abdicating, the Pandavas leave the kingdom in the hands of their nemesis Dhritarashtra’s sole surviving son Yuyutsu, born of a Vaishya maid as regent, installing Parikshit as raja in Hastinapura with Kripa as guru. Note that Parikshit is 36 years of age at this point and should need no regent. Yudhishthira warns Subhadra not to consider taking over Indraprastha where Vajra rules, but to protect him. As once before, the six leave dressed in bark-cloth, followed by a dog. Ulupi enters the Ganges, Chitrangada returns to Manipura. Arjuna cannot let go of his bow and quivers, although they have failed him. When they reach the surging red sea (Lauhitya-Brahmaputra?) Agni appears in human form and takes back the weapons which belong to Varuna. From the east they go south till the salty sea, then turn west to Dvaraka, and thence northwards, thus circumambulating the earth. Doniger needlessly adds passages from a solitary manuscript elongating the journey. Approaching Meru, starting with Draupadi, one by one each collapses. Bhima alone is shocked and enquires—not any of the others. Yudhishthira cites reasons for their fall. His jealousy of Draupadi’s fondness for Arjuna is blatantly exposed. Never once does he look back at his fallen wife and brothers. Vaishampayana for the only time refers to himself in the first person, saying that he has often mentioned the dog following Yudhishthira. When Indra invites him to board the chariot, Yudhishthira begs that his brothers and lovely Draupadi accompany him. Indra assures that having discarded their bodies they are already in Svarga, but he will enter there with his body.

Yudhishthira now refuses to go without the faithful dog despite Indra’s repeated urging that dogs are prohibited in heaven. He explains that he left the others only after their death, but cannot desert a faithful living companion. The dog assumes his true form as the god Dharma and blesses Yudhishthira to reach Svarga in his physical body, which, however, does not happen. Yudhishthira has to give up his physical form by bathing in the heavenly river and only then is he escorted to Svarga by the divine fathers of the Pandavas—Dharma, Indra, Maruts and the Ashvins.

We recall that it all began with the bitch Sarama cursing Janamejaya’s yajna in Book 1. Curiously, Indra is associated with a dog elsewhere. In the Ashvamedha Parva he appears as a Chandala with dogs before Uttanka. Again, In the Anushasana Parva, chapter 93, Indra appears to the primordial Seven Rishis disguised as a wandering mendicant named Sunahsakha accompanied by a dog and saves them from a demoness. Doniger has not commented on this peculiar feature.

Reaching Svarga, Yudhishthira is furious at finding Duryodhana gloriously ensconced and no sign of his brothers and Draupadi and allies there, insists on joining them wherever they might be. He waxes eloquent about his guilt over Karna, whose feet always reminded him of Kunti’s. “This is not Svarga in my view,” he says.

“I want to go there where my brothers have gone and where big, dark Draupadi has gone, a woman of intelligence, goodness and virtue, the best of women, the woman I love.” –Doniger

“I want to be

            where my brothers are.

I want to be where Draupadi is—

            the lovely ample-bodied lady,

the dark-blue-cloud-complexioned lady,

            the sattva-guna-endowed lady,

the lady who is youthful.

            Take me to my Draupadi.” –P. Lal  

Yudhishthira is then ushered into horrendous hell where he finds them. Enraged, he reviles the gods and dharma, insisting on remaining there, rejecting Svarga once again. In this condemnation of dharma he is echoing his elder sibling Karna who, when his chariot-wheel got stuck, censured dharma repeatedly for not protecting its devotee. This is a stunning reversal of the entire ethic he has represented and defended stubbornly against all odds throughout, which readers mostly overlook. Vyasa rectifies the balance immediately as Dharma re-appears and the horrors vanish. Truly, as Milton’s Satan proclaimed,

“The mind is its own place and in itself

 Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.”

This is Dharma’s third test (the first was Dharma as a crane during the forest-exile) and expiation of the lie Yudhishthira told to trick Drona. Now he has to give up his physical body in the skyey Ganga, abandoning which his vengeful pride also disappears. Entering Svarga, he sees Draupadi and is about to question her when Indra stops him. There are no questions in heaven. Each hero merges into a divinity, except Shikhandi who is not mentioned, while Pradyumna, who was supposed to be Kama reborn, here enters Sanatkumara. Krishna’s 16000 wives commit suicide in the Sarasvati and become apsaras staying with him. But here Kunti and Madri are not given any celestial origin (in the Adi Parva they are Siddhi-Success and Kriti-Action, while Gandhari is Dhriti-Constancy). They simply accompany Pandu to Indra’s realm.

But the narration has a stinging shock at the end—the Bharata Savitri. Sauti says that having taught his composition to his son Shuka, Vyasa exclaimed,

“I myself cry out with my arms up, but no one hears me. From dharma comes politics and also pleasure; why is it not practised?”—Doniger

“I raise my arms and I shout

            but no one listens.

From Dharma comes Artha and Kama—

            why is Dharma not practised?” –P. Lal

Is anyone listening? Or is it a host of phantom listeners?