Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Reading Notes: PDE Mahabharata, Part C


In the story "Arjuna and Indra," one line stood out to me in particular. It comes after Arjuna is cursed by a nymph because he rejected her advances; understandably, Arjuna is less than thrilled at the idea of being cursed. But Indra, the god and his dad, assures him, "This curse will work out for thy good." I'm not completely sure yet what I would do with that, but I do think it has potential: I like the idea of someone suffering through the curse (or whatever curse analogue I would end up using for the story), having always been told it was for the best and would be a blessing in disguise—but then getting fed up with the whole thing, and deciding to do something about it.

"Bhima and Hanuman," meanwhile, didn't have much going for it in the way of plot, but it's still probably my favourite one from this section so far. In it, Bhima comes across Hanuman in the forest; after some minor confusion at the start, the two end up talking, and having a good conversation. It turns out they're half-brothers—both sons of the wind god, Vayu. Ultimately, they hug it out and go their separate ways. I've always been a sucker for a good brother story, and I find the dynamics of half-brothers especially interesting; I might end up taking the bond between these two as the bones of the story, then seeing what I can do with them. (The Great Expectations story, maybe?)

Another thing I found interesting is the way mortals and celestials casually coexist in this world. In "Duryodhana and the Gandharvas," for example, a group of nymphs and other heavenly beings are hanging around the forest and refuse to let the prince and his men pass. The prince, completely undeterred, orders that they get out of the way, and the nymphs aren't having it. I guess I just find it really interesting that the nymphs and other non-human creatures are so accepted and commonplace that the humans don't even think twice about treating them like regular people, and vice versa. It might be a fun concept to play around with in a fantasy world.

And then there's "Duryodhana and the Gandharvas," which features one of the most interesting ideas so far. Duryodhana has officially called it quits on taking out his enemies, the Pandavas, and has decided to die instead. Which leads us to this little gem: 
But the daityas and danavas desired not that their favorite rajah should thus end his life lest their power should be weakened, and they sent to the forest a strange goddess who carried him away in the night. Then the demons, before whom Duryodhana was brought, promised to aid him in the coming struggle against the Pandavas, and he was comforted thereat, and abandoned his vow to die in solitude.
It's interesting in its own right, but it sort of makes me want to do a story in which the "hero" and "villain" are actually just two pawns that've been chosen by warring factions of gods (or, better: monsters) and manipulated into doing things for their masters' gain. I would obviously want to tell that story from the "villain's" POV, who's really more of a misguided antihero, and is pretty conflicted about the whole thing: yeah, maybe the monsters are using him, but they're also the only ones who seem to care about him, and he cares about them, too. What a messy situation and conflicted loyalties all around. (Edit: I looked back at this and realized I may have just described the plot of The Lion King II. Funny how these things happen.)

I also think Karna's natural invincibility is interesting. As mentioned again in "Karna and Indra," Karna's dad is the sun god, and Karna was born with armor that was part of him, and grew as he grew. In this story, he gets ripped off by Indra, godly dad of that brat Arjuna, and loses that armor: then "news went about that Karna was no longer invincible." I love the idea of this impassive, quietly bitter warrior, bastard child of both the royal family and one of the most powerful gods, who's gotten cheated by life so many times but who does have this supernatural gift of invincibility, just like his dad—and everyone knows it.

Also, even though Draupadi may have initially been won by Arjuna and almost given to Y because he's the oldest, I'm always struck by how she and Bhima seem like the best match out of all of them. Their bond seems closer, somehow, dark and bloody. There's the time Bhima swore he'd kill the prince and drink his blood, and Draupadi had a similar vow, when she swore she wouldn't tie her hair up again till she'd washed it in the blood of the prince's brother. And now in "Bhima and Kichaka," when a guy in the royal court keeps trying to assault Draupadi, Bhima is the first one she goes to. He promises to take care of it for her, and after he kills the guy, he learns that Draupadi was there the whole time: she wanted to see Bhima kill him. She smiles and commends him on a job well done, and he basically stands and kisses her head and says, "Go tell the other maids this guy is dead, because your immortal husband found out what he was up to and defended you." Because she and Bhima and the others are posing as servants for a year, and anything else would blow their cover. Long story short: I find their dynamic really interesting, especially compared to the rest of her husbands, and the couple that slays together, slays together, I guess.

Krishna has been one of my favourite characters of this epic so far, somewhat by default, but I was still surprised by how much I loved this exchange from "Krishna's Mission to the Kauravas." In it, Krishna visits his cousins to see if they can make peace with the Pandavas, because he genuinely loves both sets of cousins and so doesn't want to see them hurt each other. But the prince and his sidekicks are flat-out disrespectful, and the mild, gentle Krishna snaps for a second, revealing his true form in all its terrifying, godly glory: all breathed fire and sparking skin and divine entourage. Then, just as suddenly, he reverts back to his human form. I love this: the insanely powerful monster or god, strong and terrifying in his true form, who chooses to pose as a human most of the time and try to be one of them—but still isn't quite, and shows it from time to time.

Since Karna is my very favorite, though, I was pretty pained by "Krisha and Karna": after all Karna's been through, a lot of it at the hands (read: mouths) of the Pandavas, it seemed pretty stupid of them to approach him now, admit he's their brother, and act like that suddenly makes everything okay. He's kind of a tragic hero in that sense, because while he's sided with the villains of this piece, it totally makes sense why he did. The Pandavas were jerks to him and put him down for his adopted parents and supposedly low birth (when he's their own freaking brother), all because he was talented enough to challenge their skill. And the Kauravas took advantage of that, befriending Karna when nobody else would, treating him with respect and giving him power and treating him like one of their own.

When Krishna reveals Karna's true parentage and asks if he'll side with Kunti and his brothers because of it, Karna explains that he knows it won't end well for him, "Yet I cannot desert those who have given me their friendship. Besides, if I went with thee now, men would regard me as Arjuna's inferior. Arjuna and I must meet in battle, and fate will decide who is the greater. I know I shall fall in this war, but I must fight for my friends." Later, his birth mother approaches him, reveals that he's a half-god prince, and asks him to side with his real brothers. She mentions Arjuna in particular, Karna's half-brother and only real rival: "If you two were side by side you would conquer the world." But it's too little, too late, and I imagine it really must sting for Karna, only being approached and accepted for what he really is and should've had all along just because he's needed now. Because he's a threat if he's not on their side. Talk about mother of the year.

Two items of note from "The Armies at Kurukshetra." One, the fact that they recruited Bhima's demon son from way back when to fight in their army, and that guy sounds rad: Bhima's rakshasa son, the terrible Ghatotkacha, who had power to change his shape and create illusions, had also hastened to assist his kinsmen. And two: the blind king's charioteer, who hangs out with him at the back of the battle assembly and "related all that took place, having been gifted with divine vision by Vyasa."

And finally, in "The Battle Begins," we're treated to a whole host of terrible, fascinating omens. I don't think I would try to do anything with them for a weekly story, but they still strike me as really interesting, so I'm noting them here so I won't forget about them:
As both armies waited for sunrise, a tempest arose and the dawn was darkened by dust clouds, so that men could scarce behold one another. Evil were the omens. Blood dropped like rain out of heaven, while jackals howled impatiently, and kites and vultures screamed hungrily for human flesh. The earth shook, peals of thunder were heard, although there were no clouds, and angry lightning rent the horrid gloom; flaming thunderbolts struck the rising sun and broke in fragments with loud noise.
and this one, specifically the part about the maimed soldiers rising and fighting again: 
Many were slain, and rivers of blood laid down the dust; horses writhed in agony, and the air was filled with the shrieking and moaning of wounded men. Terrible were the omens, for headless men rose up and fought against one another; then the people feared that all who contended in that dread battle would be slain.

Bibliography: Mahabharata Online: Public Domain Edition. Source: Laura Gibbs's Indian Epics blog.

Image Credit: Dark Path at Night by Unsplash. Source: Pixabay.


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