Pradip Bhattacharya

Indologist, Mahabharata scholar

Mahabharata

The “Lost” Mahabharata of Jaimini

By

This paper features on pp. 33-67 of IGNCA’s journal of arts, KALAKALPA, Basant Panchami 2019, vol.III, No.2. The Editor-in-Chief, Dr. Sachchidanand Joshi, Member Secretary of the IGNCA, writes in his editorial, “Professor Pradip Bhattacharya is an acclaimed scholar on Mahabharata…Professor Bhattacharya’s contribution is stupendous.” The paper has been published with 3 colour plates of photographs I took of frescos on the walls of the Silver Pagoda in Phnom Penh, 3.65 metres high, illustrating the episodes contained in these 2 manuscripts of Jaimini which retell unknown episodes from the Ramayana in the Ashramavasika Parva of the Mahabharata.

 

Review in IJHS by S.K. Sen of Pradip Bhattacharya, trans., The Mahabharata of Vyasa. Book 12: The Complete Shanti Parva. Part 2: Moksha-Dharma

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International Journal of Hindu Studies (2018) 22:523–549

Pradip Bhattacharya, trans., The Mahabharata of Vyasa. Book 12: The Complete Shanti Parva. Part 2: Moksha-Dharma. Kolkata: Writers Workshop, 2016, 1112 pages.

In 1968 Purushottam Lal began transcreating Vyasa’s Mahabharata in free flowing English verse—indeed a mammoth enterprise. No one before him had attempted a translation of the complete epic in verse. Before his death in 2010, he had transcreated and published sixteen and a half of the eighteen books, leaving the Mokshadharma part of Shantiparva and the Anuśāsanaparva untouched. Pradip Bhattacharya took up the challenge of translating the former. This was indeed very brave of Bhattacharya as this is the toughest section of the epic, containing the essence of Vyāsan philosophy. In many ways Bhattacharya was the right person to undertake this work, given his deep and extensive study of the epic.

The book comprises a short preface, the text, and some interesting appendices: two maps, a list of stories in the Parva, and Bhattacharya’s eloquent reviews of Professor Lal’s transcreations of the Karṇaparva, Strīparva, and Shantiparva (Rājadharma). Bhattacharya’s methodology is to keep to the original syntax, translating sloka-by-sloka in free verse and prose, faithful to Lal’s objective of providing “the full ragbag version.” It is the most complete translation to date and the first in verse, conflating the editions published by the Gita Press, Aryashastra, and Haridas Siddhantavagish, cross-checked with the shorter critical edition (including the supplements), Kaliprasanna Singha’s Bengali translation (1886), and K.M. Ganguly’s first English translation (1896).

Yudhiṣṭhira, having been instructed on the principles of governance, shifts gear from Section 174 of Shantiparva (Section 168 of the Critical Edition) to ascend to the higher levels of philosophy with the question,

“O Pitamaha-grandfather, you have

spoken on auspicious

Rajadharma, the dharma of governance.

O Earth-lord, speak

now of the best dharma of ashramites!”

A series of questions follow that reveal Yudhiṣṭhira’s supremely disturbed state of mind as he tries to find solace, a method for getting over the guilt, the sorrow, and the confusion arising from the loss of all his relations and friends in the pyrrhic battle for which he holds his own greed responsible. Bhīṣma tells him everyone must try to obtain moksha, liberation, by way of detachment which can only come if one remains unaffected by worldly possessions and rises above emotions like sorrow and happiness as these are ephemeral. The true nature of the Self,     ātmajnana, must be realized to obtain liberation, which emancipates from the liability of rebirth and is the highest goal of human existence. This is the only panacea.

Easier said than done! So, for the next two hundred and one chapters, Bhīṣma holds forth on how to obtain liberation, answering myriad questions from the troubled Yudhiṣṭhira, through which the vast expanse of epic philosophy is opened up. To explain the difficult concepts involved Bhīṣma uses fifty-five engaging stories and dialogues, thus establishing a tradition to be followed by Pañcatantra, Hitopadeśa, and so on. Four additional stories from the Siddhantavagish edition and two from the Southern recension are included which Bhattacharya found during his extensive research.

Devala and Pañcaśikha’s Sāṁkhya philosophy is dealt with at length. Ignorance being the root of misfortune, knowledge of the twenty-six principles is a precondition for obtaining moksha. Yajñavalkya delineates the cosmic principles in detail to Janaka who tells Pañcaśikha’s disciple Sulabhā,

“…renunciation is the supreme

means for this moksha and

indeed from knowledge is born renunciation

which liberates.

…That supreme intelligence obtained, I

free of opposites,

here indeed, delusion gone, move free of attachment.”

Interestingly, Sulabhā takes this much deeper, saying,

“Who I am, whose I am, from where I have

come, you asked me.

…If you are free from dualities of

“This is mine,” perhaps

“This is not mine,” O ruler of Mithila,

then what need of

words like, ‘Who are you? Whose? From where?’ ”

Yoga is a necessary addendum of Sāṁkhya. Through Sāṁkhya one attains knowledge and through Yoga one attains direct perception. They are complementary and equally efficacious.

Despite the Brahmanization of the epic, it reflects considerable catholicity. One becomes a Brahmana not by birth, but by gunas and consequent karma. This Parva celebrates non- Brahmanas and women like Sulabhā, Piṅgalā and Tulādhara. Much of the Bhagavad Gita is included here, covering Karmayoga, Jñānayoga, and Rājayoga, with Bhakti as an undercurrent climaxing in the Naran    ārāyaṇiya.

The emergence of Shiva and the Nara-Nārāyaṇa duo as important deities are the salient developments. Shiva is established as a principal deity by getting a share of the offerings after destroying Dakṣa’s sacrifice. By Shiva’s boon Vyasa gets his son Śuka. Nara and Nārāyaṇa are incarnations of the Supreme Soul who defeat Rudra. Nārada has their darshan and initiates their worship as supra-Vedic deities.

Finally, Yudhisthira asks the last question of Mokshadharma Parvādhyāya, which was his first question too!

“Grandfather, the dharma relating to

the auspicious

moksha-dharma you have stated. The best

dharma for those

in the ashramas, pray tell me, Sir!”

Bhīṣma then narrates the story of the Brahmana Dharmāraṇya and Nāga Padmanābha. Moksha is obtained by uñchavṛtti (gleaning), by the grace of Shiva. Uñchavṛtti seems to be Vyasa’s favourite option for attaining moksha. He ends the Aśvamedhikaparva too with such a story.

The most important quality of any translation is its readability and authenticity. Most translations suffer from the use of extraneous verbiage and loss of material— traps which Bhattacharya has carefully avoided. Moreover, he has succeeded in communicating the meaning of concepts that are difficult to comprehend. One moves easily with the easy flow of his language. His poetry is excellent. It is rich yet simple and never causes one to stumble. It has the smooth continuation of a river and the cadence of raindrops, and that is what makes the translation so attractive. Consider:

“Wrapped in many-fold threads of delusion

self-engendered,

as a silk-worm envelopes itself, you

do not understand (329.28).”

The depth of research that has gone into this translation is very impressive. The only problem I perceived was the inclusion of “memorable shlokas,” which break the continuous flow. These perhaps were not really needed. The production of the book is excellent. The readers will be happy to see that the Writers Workshop continues Professor Lal’s innovation of handloom sari-bound production with gold-lettering in his unique calligraphy.

Major General Shekhar Sen Independent Scholar Kolkata, India

Phalguna-Katha and the Yadava Hegemony

By

Nara-Narayana, Deogarh 5th c.AD

Kevin McGrath: Arjuna Pandava: The Double Hero in Epic Mahabharata, Orient Blackswan, 2016, pp.207, Rs. 835/-

Dr. Kevin McGrath, poet and Harvard professor of Sanskrit, engaged in fieldwork in the Kacch on kinship and migration, began investigations into the Mahabharata with his study Karna: the Sanskrit Hero in 2004. Thereafter, in Stri (2009) he switched to Vyasa’s women, following up with performance in the Mahabharata in Jaya (2011). Then, in swift succession, came his studies of Krishna (2013), Arjuna (2016) and Yudhishthira (forthcoming, though completed earlier). An irritation in the book under review is the repeated references to his study of Yudhishthira which cannot be fully appreciated as it is under publication. McGrath follows the Harvard school of epic poetics founded by Milman Parry, Gregory Nagy and Albert Bates Lord which concentrates on the text qua text and envisages epic society as a Bronze-Age-Indo-Aryan-pre-literate-pre-monetary culture.

The only other full-length study of Arjuna is the 1989 book by Ruth Katz who found him to be triple-layered as hero, human and devotee. She rejected the idea that contradictions in his character are a result of layers of composition, accepting them as indicative of the complexity of his nature.

McGrath, however, looks at Arjuna as dual in nature, uniquely godly and humanly heroic, wherein lies the secret of his cult status. He provides a fascinating appendix on Achilles who, a late Bronze Age hero like Arjuna, attained cult status by virtue of the same characteristic of bestriding two worlds, the mortal and the celestial. One might well enquire why it does not hold equally true for Bhima and Karna, shrines to both of whom exist. Well, Arjuna alone lives at length in Swarga and interacts repeatedly with the devas and Rudra-Shiva. He alone shares Indra’s seat, rides in his chariot and slaughters the demons whom the Devas cannot defeat. Achilles may interact with gods, but he never lives in Olympus. Of the others, Kunti has intimate contact with four gods, Madri with two, Karna with Indra in disguise, and Yudhishthira with Dharma as a crane and as a dog. McGrath overlooks Devavrata, brought up by celestial Ganga, taught by deva-guru Brihaspati and uniquely blessed with the supernatural gift of death-at-will.

Arjuna is defined by dualistic patterns: with Krishna (often referred to as a compound, or as the two Krishnas, or as Nara-Narayana); with Karna as his chief adversary; with Yudhishthira (as wielder of his danda, rod of chastisement); and finally in his double deaths. Further, he is uniquely ambidextrous, savyasachin. Even sexually, he is both male and neither-male-nor-female, like Ardhanarishvara Shiva, a persona in which his double is Shikhandi, born as Shiva’s boon to Drupada. McGrath finds that a similar dual pattern with Krishna and Balarama is “strangely obscured”. However, the Harivansha does develop this, which is why it is called the khila, appendix, to the epic.

McGrath’s argument is that doubling is typical of the poetic thought process of pre-literate-pre-monetary cultures while fashioning their poetry. The Iliad has similar sequences of counterpoised speakers presenting dual acts and thoughts. But is it so with the Odyssey too, whose hero has much in common with Arjuna? Such a culture’s literature operates more in terms of metaphor, barter, poetry and syntax, whereas a literate society’s favours metonymy, money, prose and grammar. “Polymorphic duality” or “twofold bivalence” lies at the core of the Arjuna narrative, reaching its acme in the Gita where Arjuna simultaneously experiences two worlds: the human and the cosmic. He is the sole liminal figure in the epic. Moreover, while here he achieves enlightenment and supposedly engages in nishkama karma, detached action, yet he is called “Bibhatsu” for his terrifying violence. Repeatedly Krishna has to shake out of depression. He even forgets the Gita, is soundly berated for it by Krishna who has to impart to him the Anugita. McGrath proposes: “This kind of polarity is an aspect profoundly inherent to both the psychic and the narrative composition of heroic Arjuna.” He suggests that perhaps there was a Phalguna–Katha (a name by which he is called whenever weapons are concerned) which was woven into the Mahabharata. But how can he argue that Arjuna is not a moral figure in the context of his repeated reluctance to proceed against his elders?

Is it not curious that this unique hero is never considered for kingship? Even more intriguing is that Bhishma does not enumerate him among the atirathis (supreme warriors) or maharathis (great warriors) but mentions him as an ordinary rathi(chariot-warrior). A similar triple ranking occurs in Book 12 of the Iliad. Yet, it is Arjuna’s grandson—whose grandmother is a Yadava—who is installed in Hastinapura. Parikshit, like Arjuna, dies twice and is resurrected. Why were the sons of the elder brothers Yudhishthira (Yaudheya) and Bhima (Sarvaga) not considered, nor his sole living son Babhruvahana who alone laid Arjuna low?

The argument that Parikshit’s investiture is “the victory of the matrilineal clan system—Pandavas—over the patrilineal model—Dhartarashtras—represent(ing) the triumph of the indigenous over the intrusive Indo-Aryan,” is founded upon the premise that Arjuna’s marriage to Subhadra “is a Dravidian type,” being matrilineal, while patrilineal marriage is Indo-Aryan. The proposition is questionable being based upon the discarded Aryan invasion hypothesis. McGrath suggests that bheda (division) between two lineage types represents two separate traditions of heroic poetry which were combined early in the 1st century CE. Evidence for substantiating this challenging notion is not produced. It is undeniable, however, that the Yadava link is crucial: through Kunti Arjuna is half-Yadava; he marries Kunti’s Yadava niece; he is devastated by the death of his son by his Yadava wife, not by those of his other two sons; the Yadava Vajra is installed in Indraprastha and Parikshit—part-Yadava in lineage—at Hastinapura. McGrath mistakenly calls Vajra Krishna’s son (p. 78, fn.10) while he is his great grandson, being Aniruddha’s son by Usha. McGrath is the first to call the Mahabharata, “the charter myth of the victorious Yadava clan,” and the Gita “a truly influential Yadava song,” statements that invite vigorous discussion. Hopefully, we will see this in the near future.

According to McGrath, Arjuna alone has sexual relations with three females of whom only one is human (Chitrangada) “and with an apsara” (p. 9). What about the human Subhadra? Moreover, Arjuna refuses to be seduced by Urvashi in Swarga. In abiding by the mortal value of regarding the ancestress of the Lunar Dynasty as a mother, despite her curse, Arjuna abjures his godly heritage from the libertine Indra. Similarly, Gilgamesh refused the advances of the goddess Ishtar, thus inviting her wrath. Arjuna is also the only one to rescue the apsara Varga and her four friends from the curse of a crocodile existence. In Tamil ballads, he is very much of an inveterate philanderer, even masquerading as a snake to seduce three princesses with the help of Krishna during this period of self-imposed exile.

McGrath is incorrect in asserting that none of the Dhartarashtras receive cult status except one temple to Duryodhana in Uttarakhand. Karna is worshipped in Netwar village of the Tons valley in Uttarakhand. Down south, a Duryodhan temple exists in Edakkad Ward (Kara) of Poruvazhy village in Kunnathoor Taluk of Kollam District, Kerala. The legend is that tracing the Pandavas in exile, Duryodhana reached Malanada hill. Tired, he went to Kaduthamsserry Kottaram, where Malanada Appoppan, the priest and ruler of the land was staying. An elderly woman gave him toddy, the customary mark of respect. He enjoyed the drink, but realized after seeing the ‘Kurathali’ worn by the woman that she belonged to an untouchable caste named ‘Kurava’. He appreciated the divinity of the place and its people who possessed supernatural powers (Siddha). Thereafter, he sat on the hill and worshipped Shiva, praying for the welfare of his people. As an act of charity, he gave away hundreds of acres of agricultural land and paddy fields as freehold to the temple. The land tax of this property is still levied in the name of ‘Duryodhanan’. The king also ensured that Gandhari, Duhshala, Karna, Drona and the other members of his family were worshipped nearby by the Kurava caste. There is a temple dedicated to Shakuni in Pavitreshwaram in the same district. Shakuni travelled with the Kauravas and when they reached the place where the temple is situated, they divided their weapons amongst themselves, whence the place came to be known as ‘Pakuteshwaram’, which later became Pavitreshwaram. Shakuni returned here after the battle and attained moksha with the blessings of Shiva and became Lord Shakuni. The other deities of the temple include Bhuvaneshwari Devi, Kiraat Murti and Nagaraj. Further, there is a Gandhari temple in Hebbya village, Nanjangud, Mysore. A Duryodhana (Periyantavar) festival enacting his death is held at T. Kuliyanur village near Dharmapuri in Tamil Nadu. Draupadi is said to have granted permission for him to be worshipped for a single day.

The half-divine nature of Arjuna, along with his celestial arms and chariot and the avatar as charioteer, makes him a hero in the ancient Indo-Aryan tradition. When he speaks to Sanjaya in the Udyoga Parva, the verse is in irregular trishtubhform, the oldest part of the epic, with frequent mention of chariots, indicative of the Bronze Age (the chariot evolved at the end of the 3rd millennium BCE). Significantly, with the spontaneous combustion of the chariot after the war, Arjuna begins to lose the superhuman qualities characterizing the old Bronze Age hero, becomes more and more mortal and even suffers death. McGrath does not explore his unheroic pettiness vis-à-vis Ekalavya, nor his obsession with Jayadratha though Drona made the inviolable discus formation. Why is he not vengeful against the seven chariot-heroes who combined to kill Abhimanyu? McGrath writes that Arjuna alone is so furious with Yudhishthira as to draw his sword to kill him, overlooking Bhima’s command to Sahadeva in the dice-game to bring fire to burn Yudhishthira’s gaming hands.

According to McGrath, Arjuna alone is able to overcome the moral dilemma of killing a guru, but so is it with Yudhishthira regarding Drona, and he suffers from the guilt throughout, expiating it through the vision of hell at the end. Equally, he is tormented by the death of Karna, unlike Arjuna. On the other hand, despite his name “Bibhatsu” (as when violating the warrior-code by cutting off Bhurishrava’s arm when he was fighting Satyaki) Arjuna rejects Krishna’s advice to lie so that Drona abandons his arms. There is also his peculiar Bhishma-like adherence to a number of vows that no one is aware of, e.g. feeling compelled to pursue the Samsaptakas despite his commitment to guard Yudhishthira against Drona’s machinations, and drawing his sword to kill Yudhishthira. These McGrath does not deal with.

In his chapter on the Gita, McGrath describes its doctrine as departing from the pastoral Bronze Age Indo-Aryan culture and approaching the “urban beliefs” of Jainism and Buddhism with their stress on puja with bhakti for salvation instead of sacrificial offerings. How this is “urban” in nature has not been explained. However, we must not forget that the doctrine-of-the-hero emerges from the interaction of a warrior duo, and that Buddha too was a Saka Kshatriya prince. The Gita’s teaching was initially imparted to King Ikshvaku, whence it became hereditary knowledge of seer-kings. The Mahabharata tells of the supreme knowledge of liberation being known only to such rajarshis whom moksha-seeking Brahmins approached for instruction. Significantly, as the Gita prepares Arjuna for the battle of Kurukshetra with the assurance that the atman does not die, so does the Anugita precede his journey protecting the dedicated horse, during which he dies and is resurrected. Why McGrath describes Ulupi here as a “spiritual figure” is not clear. This time Arjuna neither has his divine chariot, nor Krishna as charioteer. He is Nara, man, without Narayana, the Divine. At least twice the Gandiva bow drops from his hand and he is knocked unconscious.

McGrath finds it significant that Krishna announces he is Bhrigu among the maha-rishis in the context of the argument that the Bhargava community inhabiting the area around Dvaraka dominated by the Yadavas redacted the Song of Arjuna (viz. Jaya, covering the four war books), embedding it in the Mahabharata. He also suggests that the books following Kurkshetra where Arjuna is merely a “meme,” a pale copy of the earlier glorious figure, come from a different poetic tradition far removed from the original heroic one, more concerned with evoking pity and fear than horripilation and heroism. Indeed, Krishna describes Arjuna as bahusangramakarshitam, “much emaciated by battle,” on his return with the horse. Also, the picture of kingship after the Stri Parva is of an urban polity, not the earlier archaic form. This assertion requires elaboration. Arjuna, having reached his nadir against staff-wielding Abhiras, consults Vyasa who tells him that the time has come for departure, kalo gantum gatim. The last words Arjuna speaks are, kalah kalah, “time, time,” reminding us of his cosmic vision of Krishna as Kala-Time. Giving up his bow and quivers, he shrinks to the purely human and collapses silently, shorn of the duality that characterized him so memorably. Earlier, Krishna has died an ordinary, human death. In hell Arjuna mutters, “I am Arjuna” to Yudhishthira who ultimately sees him, dazzlingly brilliant, in Swarga adoring Krishna (McGrath gives the reference here as XII.4.4 which should be XVIII.4.4).

The Arjuna-Krishna duo, one semi-divine, the other born of human parents, is an archaic Indo-European “twinning” archetype that we see in Mitra and Varuna and in the Greek Castor and Pollux, Heracles and Iphicles. Vyasa tells Satyavati that he will provide Vichitravirya with sons like Mitra and Varuna while Madri has twins by the Ashvinikumaras. McGrath is mistaken in stating that Krishna receives his discus from Mitra, for it is given to him by Agni. Nor is Krishna’s bow called “Srinjaya” (p. 120); it is “Shaaranga”. McGrath proposes that Arjuna and Krishna’s bows made of horn (as their names signify) connects with the Kushanas who settled at Mathura, whence the Yadavas migrated to Dvaraka.

The origin of the “two Krishnas” is the ancient duo of Nara and Narayana who rush into our sight in the very first book during the churning of the ocean for amrita, Nara wielding a celestial bow and Narayana the Sudarshana discus, slaughtering the demons. Here Nara is the human while Narayana is the Divine. The Khandava massacre is a doubling of the same scenario with the nature of the two reversed. The Vedic deities attacking them withdraw on hearing that they are that ancient duo. In the Nara-Narayana myth narrated by Parashurama in theUdyoga Parva, Nara counters a king’s attack with deadly reeds, while Narayana remains still. McGrath does not notice that this is reversed in the Mausala Parvawhere reeds are what Krishna uses to slaughter the Yadavas. This use of reeds recurs in the Jaimini Mahabharata’s Sahasramukharavanacarita where Sita uses mantra-infused reeds to destroy the thousand-headed Ravana who has knocked down Rama. Such “twinning” is also seen in Achilles-Patroklos and Achilles-Diomedes. Like Krishna driving Arjuna’s chariot and speaking to him, Athena drives Diomedes’ chariot and talks to him.

We can see the Nara-Narayana duo represented in sculpture in the oldest Indian temple which is located in Deogarh, (circa 5th century CE). The antiquity of the Mahabharata is seen in the solitary reference to images of divinities in the Kaurava temple shaking, laughing, dancing and weeping. The first statuary found in India is Buddhist in the 3rd century BC, co-terminus with the appearance of writing. McGrath is wrong in saying that there is no reference to writing in the epic. There is explicit mention of the benefits accruing from gifting a copy of the Mahabharata.

In the very beginning, Dhritarashtra states that Narada declared to him the divinity of Arjuna and Krishna as Nara-Narayana. Then, in the Vana Parva Krishna announces that Arjuna is Nara and that they are inseparable, indistinguishable. In the Shanti Parva they speak in unison—a unique phenomenon. Thus, this epic duo replaces the Vedic Mitra-Varuna pair. At the end of the Drona Parva, Vyasa declares Narayana as a deity “older than the oldest,” born of Dharma, who deludes the world. Nara is a product of his ascesis. McGrath suggests that this duo is Dravidian in origin, turning an archaic concept of divine twins and double heroes into a later idea of conjoint deity-and-hero. To him this becomes “a perfect metaphor for how the preliterate and the literate aspects” of the Mahabharata were combined in early Gupta times. The world of the Shanti Parva “is of a historically later order of culture and society.” Indeed, in the Puranic world Narayana becomes the Supreme Being, equated with Vishnu, giving rise to Vaishnavism. McGrath further proposes that this represents a union of the Kshatriya and the Brahmin orders, of worldly puissance and ritual power. A parallel is visible in the figures of Parashurama, Drona and Kripa—all Brahmins who choose to be mighty warriors and teachers in warcraft.

A character who shares in the doubling of Arjuna and Krishna is Narada, incessantly moving through the celestial and earthly worlds and joining the past to the future through his speeches, knowing all the done and the undone in the world, loke veda kritakritam. Narada also forms a duo with his sister’s son Parvata—again a matrilineal connection. He is the first to use the term omkara(XII.325.83) and is the first to interact with Nara and Narayana, being virtually their first priest. Krishna declares that among the deva-rishis he is Narada. Like Krishna’s theophany to Arjuna, Narayana’s to Narada is hundred headed and thousand armed, vishvarupadhrik, containing all forms, divine and otherwise. As such, opines McGrath, Narada is “thoroughly imbued with that inchoate world of emergent Hinduism” representing “the poem’s own internal oral tradition,” for others recollect what he had said in the past. Vyasa— whom for some unexplained reason McGrath calls a rajarshi although he is no royal seer— and Narada shape the epic narrative “towards crisis and resolution.” Just as Narada understands Narayana and is closest to him, so is Vyasa an avatar of Narayana.

As Vyasa is to the Kuru clan, so is Narada to the Yadavas. He advises Yudhishthira, who promptly complies, to perform the rajasuya yajna. Conversely, when he advises Duryodhana in the Udyoga Parva to ally with the Pandavas, he refuses. In the Stri Parva Dhritarashtra regrets having ignored the advice of Narada and Vyasa. After advising Yudhishthira, Narada leaves for Dvaraka, reappearing during the rite, satisfied that Hari-Narayana, the Supreme Lord Self-Born, will destroy the Kshatriyas in the form of the human Krishna. Then Krishna kills Shishupala, following which Vyasa foretells the apocalyptic Kurukshetra war. It is Narada who informs Bhishma about the true gender of Shikhandin, because of which he does not fight the transvestite and dies. Just before the Gita, it is Narada who makes the renowned pronouncement: yatah krishnas tato jayah, “where is Krishna, there is victory.” Narada narrates Vyasa’s composition to the devas and summarizes the eighteen days of war for Parashurama in the Shalya Parva. The Vyasa-Narada pair informs Bhishma of Karna’s true identity and stands between the all-destructive missiles of Ashvatthama and Arjuna, speaking in unison—like Nara-Narayana—to prevent annihilation. Narada tells Yudhishthira of Karna’s deeds which are unknown elsewhere in the poem. McGrath does not mention that it is only to Narada that Krishna confesses the misery he is subjected to by the Yadavas. Narada foretells when Dhritarashtra, Gandhari, Sanjaya and Vidura will die, tells Yudhishthira of having witnessed Dhritarashtra’s death, and predicts the destruction of the Yadavas. He is, thus, part of the epic’s process of closing the bheda, alongside Vyasa who sends the Pandavas off on their last journey. Finally, it is Narada who brings about “calm of mind, all passion spent,” telling Yudhishthira, distressed on seeing Duryodhana, “This is Swarga; there is no enmity here.”

On the other hand, McGrath points out, Narada’s quoted speeches do not influence the narrative. His is thus a twofold presence: one that is effective and another that brings past oral tradition to comment on the present. His presence derives from the Puranic tradition, “indicating a late acquisition” featuring most in the Shanti and Anushasana Parvas (the latter is the richest in Bhargava material and at some time formed part of the former). He is unique in that no other character is mentioned and quoted so much. To McGrath, “He is a fine exemplum of how preliterate Mahabharata poets once functioned, as they in their performances likewise drew upon what had been formerly heard.”

McGrath asserts that there are three figures of a-temporal consciousness influencing the poem’s movement: Krishna who conducts the political narrative, Vyasa the maker of the poem, and Narada who omnisciently draws upon the past and the future to perfect the narrative. The epic is entirely retrospection and recollection, a characteristic typical of Narada. However, McGrath is mistaken when he says that the only two figures alive when the epic is being sung are Vaishampayana and Janamejaya. Vyasa is very much there, granting permission to the former to recite his composition. In the Jaiminiya Ashvamedhaparva, he grants it to Jaimini. As at the beginning, so at the end we find the statement that Narada recites the Mahabharata to the devas. For McGrath, through Narada’s performance the poem becomes an imperishable, unmatched tradition making Arjuna the epitome of the ancient heroic warrior to be worshipped.

While scholars like J.A.B.van Buitenen feel that the Virata Parva is a burlesque composed later, according to McGrath its account of chariot fighting is highly archaic, as also the scenes about Draupadi and Bhima. Unfortunately, he does not explain how. Sri Aurobindo was also of the opinion that the style here is typical of Vyasa’s style that is “bare, direct and (of) resistless strength (going) straight to the heart of all that is heroic in a man.” Vyasa, Narada and Krishna do not appear in it. More variant readings exist for this book than for any other. Is it, then, a combination of various Bharata traditions inserted after the Vana Parva?

McGrath makes a number of telling points regarding the character of the Mahabharata. The absence of reference to the Indus civilization and to Buddhism suggests a purposeful avoidance. The references to Hari and his being four-armed, to Krishna as maha-yogi, to bhakti (when such devotional practice is depicted nowhere) are all typical of classical Hinduism. Yet, Vedic figures like Indra, Agni, Surya and Rudra move easily in and out of the narrative, showing a remarkable conflation of cultures and periods. McGrath proposes that the poem supports a heroic religion that based itself on chariot warfare characterizing the old Bronze Age heroic world to express new views exemplified by the duo Arjuna-Krishna and Nara-Narayana, semi-divine and immortal. Arjuna, a late Bronze Age persona, is initiated into cosmic knowledge so that he becomes a myth of ritual devotion, connecting “as a metonym…the mortal with the supernatural,” fading out once bheda, the partition, has ended. Hence he is still worshipped. The Yadavas, the Bhargavas and the Gupta rulers changed the Mahabharata “from an old and polymorphic verbal and performative tradition to a uniform and synoptic written text.”

McGrath’s book is a fascinating slim volume that everyone interested in the Mahabharata will benefit from.

A shorter version of this review was published on 20th November 2016 in the 8th Day supplement of The Sunday Statesman.

 

JAYA by Devdutt Pattanaik

By

Devdutt Pattanaik: Jaya, Penguin, 350 pages, Rs. 499/-.

How shall vibrant shoots of the future come forth unless we go to our roots? That is why Janamejaya, king of Hastinapura, requests Vyasa, his ancestor, to tell him about his lineage. Retellings of Indian mythology have been many but for the first time we have a medical doctor ministering to the spirit by evoking archetypal memories through his retellings. Of his work, the most significant is this attempt to re-tell the Mahabharata in a new way.

A.K. Ramanujam spoke of 300 Ramayanas—and was taken off the Delhi University syllabus for it. There are possibly as many Mahabharatas; each of our languages with its own version, besides the Indonesian and Malayan. Retellings of it are legion, from 12-year old Samhita Arni’s to economist Bibek Deb Roy’s, but none includes glimpses of regional variations like this one which, hopefully, will not attract the ire of fundamentalists. For instance, for the horse-sacrifice; Pattanaik—like Akbar in1592 for the Razm Nama and the Bengali and Assamese Mahabharatas—follows the composition of Vyasa’s pupil Jaimini. Sensitively split into 18 chapters like the original, with a prologue and an epilogue, each has a bulleted addendum in a grey box—management manual style—providing insights, commentary and additional information. Lest the “maha”-ness of the work put off the modern reader, the style is kept simple, unpretentious and focused on communicating the significant events clearly (though calling Shiva “the great hermit” is awkward, as is “the father of the planet Mercury is the planet Jupiter”). Fine sketches by the author (assisted by his chauffer), and an attractive, reader-friendly layout enliven the read. His interpretation of the difference between “vijaya” and “jaya” is meaningful indeed: the former connotes victory over others; the latter is spiritual conquest of oneself.

A few omissions detract from the retelling’s dramatic effect, e.g. Keechak chasing Draupadi into Virat’s court and kicking her before Yudhishthir and Bhim. More important is the absence of the overarching themes that are so crucial to Vyas’ weltanschauung: Time, Desire and its fruits, the eidetic image of the cosmic tree that occurs in the Shanti Parva and the Gita. And what about the Bharata-Savitri, that unforgettable anguished cry with which Vyasa ends his great epic, asking a question which remains as pertinent today as millennia ago: “From dharma flow wealth and pleasure. Then why is dharma not practised?”

While making this very commendable effort to reach the world’s longest epic to today’s reader whose attention span is so short, misleading distortions of fact could have been avoided. Vyas’ Shakuntala is not Kalidas’ love-smitten teenager who promptly succumbs to Dushyant’s blandishments, as Pattanaik retells. She first gets him to promise that their son will inherit the throne. For the story of Chitrangada Pattanaik abandons Vyas for Rabindranath. There are departures from the original without any indication of the source for such a different account, e.g. the gods, instead of Shantanu as in Vyas, decree that Bhishma will be able to choose the time of his death. And when was he ever engaged to marry the Kashi king’s sister? It is Pandu, not Kunti, who speaks of women in olden times being promiscuous yet blameless and it is he who worships Indra for a son. Kunti never invokes any god on her own after the fiasco with Surya. All her sons are called “Partha”, not just Arjuna.

Satyavati does not elect to retire to the forest; it is Vyas who asks her to do so as “the green years of the earth are gone/do not be a witness to the suicide of your race.” How is Nanda the brother of Vasudev’s wife Rohini? It is not Balarama’s plough but his pestle (musala) that possibly became Vishnu’s club. Krishna has no role in Dhritarashtra’s giving Khandavprastha to the Pandavas. It is before and not after the burning of the forest that Agni gives Krishna and Arjuna their weapons and chariot, obtaining them from Varuna, which they use in the massacre.

The bard who listens to Vaishampayan’s recital of Vyas’s composition at the snake-sacrifice is not Romaharshan but his son Ugrashrava Sauti, who narrates it to Shaunak (not “Shonak”) and other sages. Shuk narrates it to Parikshit not “as he lay dying”, but while he ekes out the days till he is fated to die.

Bhim’s marriage with Hidimba occurs immediately after the Pandavs escape the house-of-lac, not after the killing of the ogre Bak as Pattanaik has it. Kunti is not uncomfortable with the Hidimba-Bhim marriage; actually, she welcomes it so that the friendless Pandavs obtain allies.

As precedents for Draupadi’s polyandrous marriage Yudhishthira cites Varkshi and Jatila, not Vidula. The Pandavs are not sent to Varanavata at Vidura’s instance to create a safe distance between the cousins, nor does he visit the inflammable dwelling. It is Dhritarashtra who insists the Pandavs go there to celebrate the festival of Shiv. Yudhishthira does not stake Draupadi on his own but only when Shakuni suggests it. The Brihannala-Uttara episode is not just burlesque but anticipates Arjuna’s refusal to fight and Krishna’s exhortations. If Abhimanyu married Balaram’s daughter Vatsala, then what happened to their progeny who and not still-born Parikshit should have been the successor? Parikshit’s revival occurs after the Pandavs return with the treasure of Marutta to perform the horse-sacrifice, not before it.

The account of Parikshit’s resuscitation is disappointingly drab, particularly where the original is so inspiring. Krishna performs an act-of-truth, “If have I turned away from battle; if truth and dharma are ever firm in me; if I am ever devoted to truth and Brahmins; if I have never I quarrelled with my sakha Arjuna; then, by the power of these truths, may Abhimanyu’s dead son live!” Krishna’s miraculously saving the Pandavas from the hungry Durvasa and his disciples occurs after the magical cooking vessel is given by Surya to them, not before as retold. After Ulupi resurrects the dead Arjun, there is no question of his not recognizing her. He thanks her for purifying him of the sin of killing Bhishma by devious means and sends her with Chitrangada and Babhruvahan to Hastinapur for the ashvamedha ceremony after which Yudhishthir loads his nephew with wealth.

Lakshman does not chop off Surpanakha’s breasts, but her nose. It is not Indra but Vishnu who humbles Garuda and prevents him from devouring Sumukha. Drona does not trap Pandava warriors within the wheel formation. They find it impossible to break into it. That is why they cannot follow Abhimanyu who alone knows how to enter it. Arjuna does not slice off Bhurishrava’s arm on his own but only on Krishna insisting he intervene to save the supine Satyaki. At no stage does Krishna shout “Kill him!” about Drona, certainly not after he lays down his weapons. Arjun rushes towards Dhrishtadyumna shouting in vain that he must not kill the guru. Everyone on the battlefield condemns the beheading of meditating Drona.

Pattanaik contradicts himself by writing that Krishna stands before Uttari (sic.) and prevents the unborn child from being harmed by Ashvatthama’s missile, while later he speaks of her delivering a dead child. The Mahabharata does not know of the former incident. Pattanaik attributes Markandeya’s vision of an infant on a banyan tree leaf sucking its toe, afloat on the waters of dissolution, to Arjun. Krishna’s great grandson was Vajra, not Vajranabha, a demon whom Pradyumna killed and married his daughter Prabhavati. After Krishna’s death all the Yadavas were not settled in Mathura by Arjun. He established Vajra in Indraprastha and Satyaki’s son Yauyudhani in the plain of Sarasvati.

There are several misspellings: “Vishaparva”, “Hastinapuri”, “Adiratha”, “Yudhishtira”, “Jayadhrata”, “Uttari”, “Lakshmani”, “Arshitsena”, “Vajranabhi” are not the correct names of Vrishaparva, Hastinapura, Adhiratha, Yudhishthira, Jayadratha, Arshtisena, Uttara, Lakshmana and Vajranabha.

Pattanaik enriches the proceedings by including stories from puranas and regional sources, e.g. Abhimanyu marrying Balaram’s daughter Vatsala with Ghatotkach’s help (made into a landmark film “Maya Bazar”), Krishna’s son Samba marrying Duryodhan’s daughter Lakshmana, Arjun and Krishna confronting each other over Gaya, Arjun and Hanuman at odds. He could have mentioned the Bengali “Dandi Parba” [presented on stage as “Pandab-Bijoy” by Girishchandra Ghosh] in which the Pandavas and Kauravas jointly oppose Krishna who attacks Raja Dandi for possession of a mare that is actually the apsara Urvashi. There is a similar bhakta-vs-bhagavan episode from a regional source regarding Hanuman protecting Raja Shakunt of Kashi from Rama. Krishna reprimanding Draupadi in exile for being responsible for her misery is Pattanaik’s own concoction. However, he provides a new insight by comparing Vikarna and Yuyutsu with Kumbhakarna and Vibhishan. He includes the remarkable tale of Krishna as Mohini marrying Iravan for a night before the Pandavas sacrifice him that is not known outside south India. Sensitively, he includes the fascinating tale of Bhangashvana who experienced life as male and as female and the riveting parable of the drop of honey Vidura tells that found its way into medieval biblical lore as the tale of the man in the well in Barlaam and Joshaphat. Pattanaik concludes on a profound note, evoking the lesson that anrishamsya, non-cruelty, universal compassion, is the secret of a meaningful life.

Kurukshetra as Adharmakshetra: Hitler mirrors Arjuna’s thinking

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Meena Arora Nayak: Evil in the Mahabharata, Oxford University Press, 2018, pp. 355, Rs. 650/-

Lately one has noticed a trend among American scholars of arguing that ancient Indian texts instead of celebrating the primacy of Dharma as the foundation of a meaningful life are actually subversive. Beginning with Emily Hudson’s Disorienting Dharma in 2013, it has been followed up by Naama Shalom’s Re-ending the Mahabharata: The rejection of Dharma in the Sanskrit epic in 2017, and in 2018 by Wendy Doniger’s Against Dharma and the book under review. One is reminded of Lytton Strachey’s debunking of Eminent Victorians by highlighting their warts.

“Where there is Dharma, there is victory,” so says the Mahabharata (henceforth, MB). Nayak, professor of English in the USA and a novelist, has marshalled a long litany of accusations to prove that MB “calls all in doubt.” Her thesis is best stated in the words of Karna (which strangely she does not quote):-

“Those who know dharma

Have always proclaimed

That dharma protects those

Who cherish dharma.

I have always cherished dharma

As best as I could.

It has harmed me.

It forsakes its bhaktas.

It protects no one.” –VIII.90.88 (The P. Lal translation)

What she chooses to overlook is Krishna’s comprehensive demolition of Karna’s claim in the very next section. Of course, she sees Krishna and the semi-divine Pandavas as metaphors created by Brahmins to absolve people from accountability for immoral acts. She sees “dharmayuddha” as a dangerous paradigm for the ends justifying the means. She claims that the (MB) has been used to exploit women and “the others” by deifying characters exemplifying unrighteous conduct; that people never realise that the Gita tradition and the narrative do not tally. She begins by making much of the long discredited Aryan invasion hypothesis propounded by Mortimer Wheeler in the 1920s. She splits this into three waves: Old (pre-5th century BCE); Middle (5th century BCE to 100 CE) and New (post 1st century CE). To this she adds a euhemeristic interpretation of the Devas being these Aryans who split from the Ahura-mazda worshippers, invaded India, demonised the indigenous people and “usurped” the wealth of these Asuras, Nagas and Rakshasas, i.e. the “others”, the Nagas being targeted as devotees of Buddha (there is no such reference in the MB). The original inhabitants were the “dasyus”, later called Asuras and assigned the Shudra caste. In that process she makes some astonishing claims such as, “the atheistic, amoral Vedic system” (despite all the hymns lauding multiple deities); the epic was first “2,400 verses” (actually 24,000); eating beef was “considered reprehensible” (the MB celebrates Rantideva  for his sacrifices of cattle so huge that the river running red with their bloody skins was named Charmanavati); there is little evidence of moksha-dharma (it is as large as the raja-dharma portion of the Shanti Parva); the Aryans moved “westward from the Indus Valley…(to) Kashmir” (the geography is puzzling); “myth is empirical truth”; The first Kaurava to fall is “Bhima”.

She asserts that the Vedic ethical “rita” (she has just called the Vedas amoral) was replaced by a theistic, “desire-oriented concept of purushartha” in the MB and that dharma “subverts” the cosmic rita to “a wholly earthly scheme.” By extolling sacrifices, the MB “promote(d) violence against the ‘other’…resurrected evil practices that the system had already expunged.” This in the face of constant exhortations to pursue righteous conduct, as it leads to Svarga, and non-attachment leading to moksha. She refers to M.N.Dutt (1934) while the bibliography has “P.N.Dutt”. There are Sanskrit spelling mistakes: “Shanti” with both vowels elongated instead of only the first; “daivya” where “daiva” is meant; “mahatamaya” instead of “mahatmya”, “vasva” instead of “vasava”; “asidharavrata” is not “fine-edged as an arrow” but “sharp as a swordblade”. Despite being a professor of English she uses peculiar words like “egoity”, “capsuled”, “intestine feuds”, “slayed”. What happened to the editors of OUP (India)?

Nayak takes flagrant liberties with the text, possibly presuming that the general reader will accept her assertions as facts. The snake sacrifice is “diabolic” because it is “necrophilic” (coitus with corpses of snakes?). In the Uttanka story he is said to create fire from the “horse’s nostrils” whereas smoke issues on blowing into its anus. She turns the moon and soma into the “lunar earth goddess slandered as Nirrti”, whereas it is always a male deity. In the myth of Garuda she interprets the slavery of Vinata as the time the Aryans took to replace indigenous female deities by their solar male gods, although her slavery is to her co-wife Kadru, not to any male. She has Gandhari abort herself by hitting her belly “with an iron rod” which is nowhere in the text.. Nayak invents this to link up with the iron bolt causing the destruction of the Yadavas and, more far-fetched, as “a reversal of Eliade’s sacred pole symbolism” of consecration. She misquotes the Vana Parva where Markandeya does not tell Yudhishthira in the first person that he will create a new yuga, but that Kalki will do so. There is no use of the first person singular in the passage at all. When Brihaspati rapes his sister-in-law Mamata, he does not curse her but the son in her womb to be born blind.

The logic followed is also flawed: following dharma means doing good; the idea of goodness leads to attachment (why?) i.e. ignorance and therefore to evil! Since nishkama karma has liberation as the goal, it injures those in relationships, which is adharma! She ought to have paid attention to the story of how Shuka attains moksha. She asserts that by linking detached action with accomplishing wealth and pleasure “an ethical trap” was created. A person was encouraged to enjoy worldly life while karmic life condemned it. The only solution is to cease to act, or to follow desireless action, both being impossible.

Nayak makes an excellent point that while the ethics envisage pursuit of four-fold “purushartha” (dharma, artha, kama, moksha), morality is left to the individual and is situational. It is more “apad-dharma” being practised—when anything is justifiable for saving one’s life and property—than a Hegelian adherence to a superordinate goodness. However, her definition of morality as “what is done” as opposed to ethics which is “what ought to be done” is questionable. Further, she holds, the MB hardly follows the tenets of the Gita, which, along with the didactic Shanti and Anushasana Parvas, were interpolations. The concept of Karma she finds realized not in the Pandavas but in the Kauravas, and that the former are held accountable, condemned to suffer after the war while Duryodhana goes to Svarga. The Pandavas are morally depraved, killing cousins “for wealth on sanctimonious grounds”. So Duryodhana’s attempts to murder them and cheat them of their inheritance are above board. Nayak finds that the MB has deepened the differences between traditional beliefs leading to creation of “morally corrupt customary laws” and “societal inequities”. Further, with no evidence she asserts that the Shaivic elements (Shiva’s presence is quite significant) are “all later interpolations”. Arjuna’s acts in Khandava forest are heinous, being purposeless violence, while Ashvatthama’s nocturnal massacre of sleepers is avenging his father and fighting for victory. In his condemnation Nayak sees Vaishnava condemnation of Shaivism, and the epic’s bias justifying violence by Krishna and his followers as necessary. To her, Shishupala is another Shaiva and Shiva’s collaboration with Krishna and Arjuna is an interpolation, for which no evidence is advanced. Arjuna’s release of the Brahmashiras to counter Ashvatthama’s makes him culpable as “it reeks of abuse of power” reflecting “how Vaishnavas behaved whenever they gained advantage.”

Nayak even misreads the epic as when claiming that Bhishma refuses to let Karna fight being jealous that he may turn out to be the greater warrior. The reason is very clearly stated by Bhishma from his bed of arrows to Karna. Karna, she claims, was only paying Draupadi back for humiliating him although he brought down the mark in her svayamvara. Actually, he never shot the arrows, nor does Draupadi ever insult Duryodhana as “the blind son of a blind father”. Krishna’s violence in response to Shishupala’s abuses “is shocking; no mythical justification…excuses it.” Duryodhana, she finds, has no free will to change his karma and, therefore, no matter what he does he is condemned as evil! That flies in the face of his deliberate machinations from adolescence to destroy his cousins. For Nayak, despite his adharmas, he is distinguished by “secularity” and “purusharthic dharma” in pursuing dharma, wealth and pleasure. But where is his pursuit of dharma and secularism seen? Duryodhana, she asserts, is portrayed as “a warrior supreme” but never Arjuna. Duryodhana is “aghast” at Yudhishthira staking Draupadi. Bhasa portrays the true nobility of Duryodhana not the Brahmin-redacted MB. Is all this not special pleading? Finally, “Krishna not only makes the victory of dharma imperfect, he also makes the dharmakshetra an adharmakshetra.” In teaching society how to act the MB tradition fails because its “exemplars of dharma…are deeply deficient dharma heroes.”

As dharma is ambiguous the characters are guided not by universal ideals but by their relationships. Universal good being fought for would be dharmayuddha—but that is not so. In this, Nayak overlooks the very reason for the war having been structured to relieve the earth sinking under the burden of oppressive rulers. She argues it is a war against a previous form of dharma by the new Vaishnavism. She asserts that by epic times animal sacrifice was seen as adharmic vide ahimsa paramo dharma. The repeated emphasis placed on this implies the existence of widespread violence and leads to sanction of himsa as “good violence”! Violence being approved in emergencies, the idea of goodness was in flux then as now. She posits a clash between the ethics of Kshatriya conduct justifying lying and morality whereby such action is immoral and lands one in Naraka. Arjuna fails to resolve his moral dilemma: he will not kill Drona, hesitates to kill Bhishma and grieves for Abhimanyu, failing to sunder his relationships of self. He does gain freedom from doubt and the victory of unequivocal dharma. Unquestioning practice of inherited traditions like varnashrama led to varna-based dharmayuddhas against peoples beyond the vedic fold named by Bhishma and Karna. Nayak confuses race with caste in asserting that the concept of ‘the other’ was based on people’s birth, whereas it is clearly those following non-Vedic practices. She even says, “Hitler’s words almost mirror Arjuna’s warning about deterioration of Aryanism” from miscegenation (p. 292) and equates Nazis with twice-born Hindus perpetrating violence upon lower castes. Sectarian violence based upon religion is another facet of Nayak’s dharmayuddha e.g. Vaishnavism vs. Shavism and Shramanic traditions.

Nayak finds that the MB proves that claim to ownership can cause dharmayuddha (cf. Kunti’s advice to her sons via Krishna). The question of who is the legitimate ruler of Hastinapura remains unresolved, hence the Pandava claim to dharmayuddha is negated. Further, for the Pandavas the end justifies the means: “just the fact that the Pandavas destroy the peace and happiness of an entire land proves that their yuddha is an adharmayuddha.” (p. 309). Bhishma’s advice to Yudhishthira never to forgive an enemy plunges people into a cycle of endless wars, almost wiping out a race or community: “The whole MB war is a series of so many blood feuds that it reduces the ideology of a dharma war to gratuitous war-mongering.” The code of conduct in war laid down by Bhishma is constantly violated. Nayak quotes Cicero in “Pro Milone”: silent enim lēgēs inter arma— silent is law during war. What Kautilya recommends is what both Kauravas and Pandavas practise. Nayak’s presentation of this is very interesting, specially breaking the enemy by ruining his reputation (constantly condemning Duryodhana as wicked) and spreading rumours about one’s own power e.g. Pandavas being born of gods, Krishna’s divinity.

Finally, Nayak points out that the MB is an allegory of the yuddha of the self, destroying the baser impulses for self-realization. It is the only MB tradition that succeeds. Opponents disguise themselves as goodness, hence the need of deceit to destroy them. Preserve the Higher Self by destroying the baser self. The violence is figurative. War is a metaphor acting “as a catalytic goad to elicit deep questioning about moral and immoral behaviour.” In that case, is it a parallel “Pilgrim’s Progress”? Duryodana is evil because he knows only his social self, has no internal life. Only after winning the internal war should the external war be undertaken, otherwise it will have an evil causality injurious to self and others. The victories will be those of the lower self. Conflict with desire is yuddha.

The greatest tragedy, according to Nayak, is that when clear guidance is needed the MB tradition supplies ambiguities leading to confusion but no clear answers. However, its internal war is relevant today to lead everyman to victory over the lower self. Actually it convolutes the path. Thus, “the dharmayuddha of the Mahabhrata fails in its practicability…The only tradition the Mahabharata actually institutes is one that makes enquiry customary.” As Dharma is subtle, only the consequence of conduct reveals whether it is right or wrong and this is often different from the expectations of the agents. Not only are their intentions unrealized but the ideologies are also not uniform or absolute. Incomplete executions of good and evil action create paradoxes. The MB provides not answers but ways of contextualizing enquiry according to place, time and circumstance.

Nayak plots the evolving thought through the example of Vritra, an evil power withholding waters in the Rig Veda, but in the MB a Brahmin whose murder is condemned. Nahusha asks gods why they did not stop Indra from cruel and vicious deeds. He even says Vedic hymns are not authentic. Nothing was sacrosanct during the melting pot situation when social changes were occurring. There was conflict between old Vedic dharma and the new Krishna-ized dharma. The Purusharthic goals of artha and kama are misused for selfish gain because dharma’s parameters were flexible. Misogyny is disguised as wisdom when Bhishma denounces women as sunk in tamas who stupefy men, objectifying them as to be blamed for men’s immorality.

The MB calls itself “collyrium” which is the wisdom of questioning what is right and wrong, eradicating the ignorance of narrow-mindedness. It created a tradition of fluid enquiry to question evils in every era. Its becoming a Shastra stopped its evolution. Nayak argues the necessity “to re-examine the text as a chronicle of its time…not binding traditions but metaphors of enquiry into the changeable human condition.”

The Mokshadharma Parva Reviewed

By

Journal of Vaishnava Studies, Vol. 26, No.1, Fall 2017

Book Review III

The Mahābhārata of Vyāsa, Book Twelve, Part Two, Mokṣa Dharma. Translated from

the Sanskrit by Pradip Bhattacharya. Writers’ Workshop, Kolkata, 2016. 1107, pp.,

ISBN 978-93-5045-122-9

Review by Kevin McGrath, Harvard University

Pradip Bhattacharya is the foremost Sanskrit scholar in India today in the field of Mahābhārata Studies. This present volume accomplishes a work of many year’s duration with a translation of the Mokṣa Dharma text of the Śānti parvan, spoken by Bhīṣma Śāṃtanava. In this task Bhattacharya is completing the work of P. Lal’s translation of the whole epic; Lal expired before finishing the work.

The text which Bhattacharya has chosen to translate is that of the Gita Press (1980), not the Pune Critical Edition (BORI) nor the Bombay Edition; these are 168 to 353 in the former text and 174-366 in the latter. There is no apparatus given which means that the book cannot be used as a reference body for those wishing to work exactly with the Sanskrit language of the Pune or Bombay editions and who do not have access to that Gita Press version, although the GP text is presently available online.

This is a book designed for those who wish to simply read the most succinct and extensive of ancient classical commentaries on Mokṣa Dharma or for those who work in the field of religious studies and theology. There is no index although there is a contents page at the rear of the book which indicates the substance of each of the fifty-five parts. Bhattacharya also supplies three essays at the back of the book which situates this treatise on Mokṣa Dharma within the context of the complete Great Bhārata.

As the author himself says: “BORI was used to adopt its version whenever the Gita Press śloka was different in a significant way. That is because BORI is accepted as the holy of holies by Indologists . . . The Gita Press uses the Bombay edition and adds from the Southern Recension, which can be verified from the BORI critical apparatus. I added the Bengali Haridāsa Siddhāntavāgiśa edition which contains passages not found in BORI whose editors did not consult this manuscript which was in Haridāsa’s family.” These auxiliary passages drawn from the Southern Recension or from Haridāsa are always indicated by footnote. As the author says, “Whatever the C.E. has left out has been sought to be included.” Such a method of approach makes for a definitive translation.

Some of the earliest mentions to dhyānayoga or ‘meditation’ occur in this division of Bhīṣma’s magnificent monologue upon the various aspects of practical dharma, and here Bhattacharya sustains the profound subtlety of the original and extremely compressed words. This is given at adhyāya One Hundred and Ninety-Five, or the ninth in the book’s series. Bhattacharya likewise captures well the extremely complex dramatic quality of so much of Bhīṣma’s vast monologue in which the old warrior imitates the hundreds of different voices who inhabit and

who express the narrative; this great event of mimēsis is fully conveyed by the translation wherein Bhīṣma the poet enacts innumerable characters and voices.

The prophets Nārada and Bhṛgu play significant roles in this section of the Great Bhārata as does Kṛṣna himself at times. There are also many episodes that are given in the style of faunal allegory where animal speech and behaviour are important components of communication. The great Naranārāyaṇīya, which comes at the end of the book is beautifully translated and finely captures the tone and flavour of that long anthem which lies at the heart of early Hinduism.

At times the author frequently leaves within his translation certain words in the Sanskrit which brings to the text a much larger authenticity and authority and where the intrinsic vitality of the original language effects—both sonorously and linguistically—a quality that might evade perfect translation. This is a crucial aspect of the book’s effectiveness as a medium not simply of specific communication but also of cultural significance. In the Three Hundred and Thirty-Eighth adhyāya where Nārada speaks in list form this replication of Sanskrit terms is extremely useful insofar as the text here lacks poetry as it is given in serial and nominal fashion only and requires some rendering by the translator in order to bring vigour to the terms which are being engaged.

This wonderful, thoroughly well-composed, and masterful book is faultlessly printed and handsomely bound and will become a uniquely useful reference text for those non-Sanskritists who work in both Mahābhārata Studies and in the field of Divinity; it is surely to become a matchless title on the shelves of any library of theology. This mighty work will long remain as one of Pradip Bhattacharya’s most renowned and paramount contributions to current Indology, both in Asia and in the West.