This is a humble response to a
comment I had received sometime back. The commentator who was kind enough to
read the post on Kunti and Gandhari had expressed her strong displeasure on the
way Kunti was depicted there. In that story Kunti and Gandhari quarreled and
the commentator observed that Kunti was not one who would degrade herself by
quarreling with anyone. As such, the narrative was unfair to a virtuous and
dignified woman.
As we know very well, Sarala
Mahabharata is not a translation of Vyasa’s Mahabharata, but a
creative retelling of the ancient narrative. Retelling has been one of the two
main traditional ways of engaging with a classical text: be it kavya or
shastra, literary or knowledge-based text. And any retelling of such ancient
texts involves interpretation and re-conceptualization of a text. Kamban
Ramayana is a creative retelling of the Ramayana narrative, as are the
retellings of Mahabharata by Nannaya and Pampa and Kumara Vyasa, who preceded
Sarala. Sarala followed that tradition, but whether he himself was aware that
he was doing so, it is impossible to tell, given the available information on
the poet. However, at least one thing is very clear: Sarala Mahabharata
contains nothing at all on the basis of which one could argue that he was indeed
aware of the retellings that existed before his own.
Sarala Mahabharata being a
retelling, we would expect variations in it from the canonical version of the
narrative: Vyasa Mahabharata. The essential spirit is the same. Let us
read each such narrative composed in other languages with an open mind and with
generosity. We will then appreciate the extremely rich potential of the
Mahabharata story and its creative explorations in different times by different
narrators as they engage with it.
Some characters in Sarala
Mahabharata are cursed divinities, born as humans, in order to undergo the
fruits of their karma and some were born to become part of the lila (divine
play) of the avatara in different ways. To the first category belong, for instance,
Pannaga Narayana, who was born as Duryodhana, one of the Sudraka Brahmas (the
fourteenth one), who was born as Dussasana and Dharma, who was born as Vidura.
To the second belong Sahadeva and Sakuni, for example, who were servitors of Bhagawan
Vishnu in Vaikuntha. They came into the mortal world to assist Krishna in the fulfillment
of his cosmic objective. As for the avatara himself, he was there to redeem his
word to his servitors and devotees in different yugas or aeons and they include
Jaya, Vijaya and Angada, all born as humans.
In Sarala’s retelling, each of
the gods and other divinities born in the mortal world, as the avatara himself,
had the familiar, in fact, defining, human weaknesses. There was a distinct
streak of ordinariness to their personalities. So Yudhisthira, who found unpleasant
atmosphere around him suffocating and tended to withdraw, often kept quiet when
he should have spoken up. Bhima used to deliberately insult and mentally
torture Dhritarastra who was living with the Pandavas after the Kurukshetra war
honouring Yudhisthira’s very genuine request. King Yudhisthira strongly
disliked Bhima’s treatment of the helpless, old Kuru elder, his very own, but
he didn’t say a word to him in this respect. Despite all the care and love that
Nakula received from his foster mother Kunti and from her sons, this Pandava
could not get over the feeling that after all, he and his brother Sahadeva were
not sons of Kunti. As he confided in Krishna once, he was unsure as to how her
sons would treat them once the war was over and the Kauravas were all killed. Draupadi
felt insulted when Ghatotkacha did not pay her due respect during rajaswiya
jajna, so she cursed the young man to die in the battlefield in a manner
disgraceful for the warriors. This punishment was very unjust, being entirely disproportionate
to Ghatotkacha’s misbehavior. What she did was totally unbecoming of a queen of
the illustrious Kuru family and was totally unacceptable considering she was like
a mother to him, who was Bhima’s son. Gandhari, the queen of King Dhritarastra at
that time, was annoyed when she discovered that Kunti, an ordinary subject of
the kingdom - she had by then lost her husband, Pandu - had the temerity to worship
Bhagawan Siva in the same temple, that too even before she did. It hurt her
pride and she scolded her. Kunti scolded Krishna once in such foul language
that even Bhima got mighty upset. Yudhisthira had once done the same to
Krishna, making Arjuna upset. The young and virtuous Bhishma one day ordered
that the helpless Amba, who served him like a dasi, a maid, in his house
at her father’s behest, be thrown out of his house for no fault of hers. The
problem was that he was finding it increasingly difficult to control his
passion towards that beautiful princess. The venerable guru Drona was so
blindly fond of his son, Aswasthama, that instead of asking him to control his
anger and develop a sense of discrimination, he asked him to please Brahma
through tapas and get the boon of immortality from the Creator god, fearing
that being a friend of Duryodhana, he might get killed in a Kaurava-Pandava
war. The great goddesses, Parvati and Lakshmi, once fought, each claiming that
her husband was greater. The venerable sages such as Vyasa and Durvasa would
curse for no reason at all. Durvasa wanted to hold the baby Dussasana in his
arms and the restless baby’s foot hit his chest. So powerful was the impact
that the sage fell down. Out came the curse from his mouth targeting the
innocent baby: may his chest be torn apart in a war! In sum, the ordinariness
of Sarala’s characters is very conspicuous. Such ordinariness, which leads to
moral failings, is part of his vision of humanness: it is about the co-existence
of satvik, rajasik and tamasik tendencies in human nature and none of these is
entirely absent in a human being. In the context of Sarala Mahabharata,
Kunti’s abusing Krishna in harsh language out of frustration or her quarreling
with Gandhari on the issue of whether she must wait for Gandhari to worship
Siva first irrespective of when she arrived for offering worship (before her or
after her) only point to the ordinariness of her character and not at all a
censor of her.
Setting aside Sarala’s poetic
vision for a while, let us reflect for a moment whether quarrel is really all
that bad. Quarrel can be a mode of demonstrating moral power and confidence
through protesting against injustice, as was his mother Hidimbaki’s ’s angry,
hateful and revengeful response to Draupadi when she cursed Ghatotkacha; she
cursed in return that her yet unborn children would meet early death. Quarrel can
be used to convey an argument, when the situation does not make it possible to
engage in a polite dialogue. Hidimbaki gave Draupadi reasons why she had
advised her son against paying her respect: her son was a king and as such could
not pay his respects in public to her. Besides having five husbands she was
unchaste and deserved no respect from him. Quarrel can be a means of drawing
attention and pleading for understanding. It can clarify things and resolve
misunderstanding and save a relationship from disintegration, and very
importantly, it often works as a substitute for physical violence. Doesn’t then
quarrel have a legitimate place in a society? Besides, given human nature, isn’t
quarrel in some sense rather natural? Can one really say that a society free of
quarrel is a utopia? If I have to look for some kind of an answer in Sarala
Mahabharata, such a society, I suspect, will most probably look like a “Babarapuri”.
Ratha Yatra, Nabakalebara 2015