Devdutt Pattanaik's latest book Jaya (published by Penguin; Rs 499) is a retelling of the Mahabharata, in which he weaves plots from the Sanskrit classic and its many folk and regional variants, and comes packed with 250 line drawings. In this first column in a 5-part series, he discusses what retellings of the Ramayana and Mahabharata have often chosen to ignore

From Jaya to Mahabharata

Reading the Mahabharata makes one experience rage; reading the Ramayana makes one experience peace. But things take a U-turn when one reaches the last chapter. The last chapter of the Ramayana, which speaks of how Ram abandons Sita, shatters the peace and fills one with horror and disgust. The last chapter of the Mahabharata explains how Yudhishtira finally experienced heaven, and leaves one filled with great joy.
Why did the authors of the two epics twist the tales so? It is like creating a grating sound at the end of a memorable musical concert and serving succulent fruits after a lousy meal. The experience transforms at the moment of climax. The negative ends on a positive note, and the positive ends on a negative note. Was this deliberate? Or was this a coincidence, just an accident? I believe it was deliberate.

The two epics are twin epics ufffd one cannot be understood without the other. And so, they display remarkable congruence in form. The Ramayana is about upholding rules at all cost. The Mahabharata is about rule-breaking. Rule-upholding seems good in the Ramayana until the last chapter, when an innocent Sita is at the receiving end of draconian family traditions. Rule-breaking seems necessary in the Mahabharata, until one realises the underlying truth through Yudhishtira's epiphany in the last chapter.

Most retellings of the Ramayana ignore the last dark chapter of Sita's abandonment. It is too much to take. It destroys our image of Ram. Likewise, few narrators of the Mahabharata amplify the epiphany of Yudhishtira in the last chapter. It is overshadowed by the complex plot full of dark secrets, intrigue, exploitation, rage, rape, yearning, frustration and bitterness.

Not surprisingly, the Mahabharata has not merited as many translations as the Ramayana. Most storytellers focus only on a few episodes, those that bring joy, like that of Bhima killing Bakasura, Drona teaching Arjuna, or Krishna rescuing Draupadi. Modern sanitised versions of the tale edit out controversial characters like Shikhandi, and disturbing stories related to sex. Not appropriate for the children, is the standard excuse. So many generations of Indians have grown up with little knowledge of the true extent of this grand cultural inheritance.

The original epic was called Jaya, then, it was called Vijaya, then Bharata, and finally Mahabharata. Jaya had about 25,000 verses, while the final form had over 100,000 verses. Jaya was about spiritual victory. Vijaya was about material victory. Bharata was the story of a clan, and Mahabharata included the wisdom of the land called Bharatvarsha.

What began as an auspicious idea, ended up becoming a massive documentation of realities that frightened the common man. Many modern scholars, writers and playwrights, exhausted and overwhelmed by the maze of
stories of the final version of the epic, are convinced that the Mahabharata is only about the futility of war.

But if one strips out excess fat, one realises that the Mahabharta is not a preachy tale making an appeal for peace. It is a determined exploration of the root of conflict. Hence, the original title Jaya. It refers to victory without any losers. This is in contrast to Vijaya, which refers to victory with a loser. We realise that the Pandavas achieve vijaya in Kurukshetra, but only Yudhihstira attains jaya, much later... six chapters after the war ends.

Devdutt Pattanaik is a Mumbai-based mythologist who makes sacred stories, symbols and rituals relevant to modern times. Reach him at devdutt@devdutt.com

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