S. L. Bhyrappa
Like many good books, this one too made its way into my list in a random fashion. A friend saw the different Mahabharata versions on my shelf and asked me if I had read this one. I hadn’t even heard of it! I initially thought I’d skip because I thought it was part of the recent glut of (IMO) ridiculous books being written from different perspectives, which were quickly reaching a stage where even the view of the elephant named Ashwatthama would become a book! But this was published around the time I was born, and the hope was that perspective would therefore be (ironically) fresh. And indeed it was. The best part of it is its overall outlook, which makes it seem contemporary, in a good way.
While I have read many versions, and liked quite a few of them (e.g. Jaya, MT Vasudevan Nair’s Bhima), I found this one to be radically different. There is no first-person narrative. Rather, it sees the story evolve through the point of view of different characters, shifting between past and present constantly. Kunti, Bhima, Draupadi, Arjuna, Yuyudhana Satyaki, Karna, Bhishma, Yuyutsu, Drona – the mix is interesting. Through the strong women characters of Kunti, Draupadi and Gandhari, the book also gives the women’s point of view. Vidura and Karna bring in perspectives of caste. In almost all cases, there is a discourse on what really is Dharma – either with self or someone else. For example, we begin with Salya and the news of the impending war, and how he, his sons, family and the kingdom at large react to it. The discussions around the cultural differences between their kingdom and the Kurus and Panchalas are very interesting because it influences the perspectives of different members of the royal family on Dharma, and therefore whose side they should take.
The book has a firm sense of reality, and moves magic and fantasy out of the picture. It has real people, with the same kind of relationship challenges that most humans have. Granular, day-to-day incidents and decisions, which have an impact on their own lives, and others’. The book draws our attention to the mere mortals with their own egos, mindsets, biases, and worldviews who became key players in a war whose scale and impact were unprecedented. In that sense, the standard versions of the epic seem like a social media highlight reel in comparison. The friction between characters are a great example – Duryodhana thinking about the tension in his relationship with Dushasana, Draupadi’s relationship with her different husbands and biases for/against, Bhima’s disrespect for Dharamaraja, Drona’s bitterness towards Bhishma, Dhritarashtra’s towards Gandhari, Bhima being more of a hero than Arjuna – are not areas that have been explored a lot elsewhere. So are the mechanics of war – no one had fought a war of this scale. What would be the rules, how would each side house the men and animals, feed them, and handle the dead bodies and waste – the people in the thick of it had to make decisions on things they had never encountered before.
The war (and the epic) was about Dharma, and its interpretations. But rather than bring it up at a broad level as the standard Mahabharata book does, this book delves into various strands – the ones important from the point of view of whoever the story is centred on at a particular point. Thus the breadth and depth of perspectives are fascinating. Despite this being a translation, and the occasional grammatical lapses, I found this a fabulous read.
