Reading Notes: PDE Mahabharata, Part A

The first snippet that struck me as interesting came from "Vyasa and Ganesha," when it mentions Vyasa's strength. It mentions that he was "so devoted to asceticism that the gods feared he was seeking to rob him of their power," and they hand-delivered gifts to him as bribes. I'm not sure what I'd do with it, but the idea of the gods grudgingly courting a mortal because they're afraid of his growing strength sounds like a ton of fun.

From "King Shantanu and Ganga," I was also really inspired by the idea of Bhishma, a mortal (demigod) prince who "came to have both a human and divine identity."

There's also the pact that the goddess Ganga made with the celestial Vasus: when they get condemned to being born on earth as mortals, they approach Ganga, who agrees to be their human mother. But she also promises "that she would cast them one by one into the [river] soon after birth so that they might return speedily to their celestial state." The idea of one character grimly promising to murder another character on their behalf, so they can gain a certain power or gain access to a certain place or because it'll give some temporary advantage or revert them to their true form, is really interesting.

In "King Shantanu and Satyavati," the introduction to Vyasa's mother caught my eye, too: when asked who she is, she replies, that she ferries passengers across the river. She's the adopted daughter of a fisherman, of course, and means that quite plainly—but it could be loads of fun to make that jump to the Greek River Styx, and adapt the concept to a dark contemporary fantasy story.

When it came to Shantanu's son by Ganga and his portrayal in "Devavrata's Vow," the reading notes and the story after it allude to some "terrible oath" Devavrata makes in order to secure happiness for his father; his new name even means terrible oath. I was expecting something much worse than just renouncing the throne and the possibility of heirs, so if I were to use this one as my weekly inspiration, I'd probably go with that darker, more foreboding sense of the oath I initially got from this.

Something about Devavrata's role in "Bhishma at the Swayamvara" caught my interest: I think it's the way he was willing to take on the world with a bloody weapon and a grin, all for a prize he knew he could win but never have. "...he stood alert and smiling, with bow drawn and his back to the royal maidens, ready to do battle for his prize against a world in arms."

The next element I found inspiring came from "Gandhari and Dhritarashtra," when it talked about the blind king and his queen. Whenever she's in his presence, she wears a blindfold, making them equals. Something about that stands out to me; it could be interesting if a person's blindness is contagious, making others within a certain distance blind too. (Or really, the blindness is just a placeholder; it could be that, or it could be something else entirely.)

From the same story: when one of their sons was born, there were all kinds of terrible omens, and the advisors explained to the royal couple that their son would bring something terrible upon their kingdom, and it would be better for everyone just to get rid of him. Sacrifice one part to save the whole and all that. But his parents are fond of him—he's the favorite son—and they ignore the advise and spare him. I love the idea of that—of being close to someone and knowing they're going to go on to do or be something terrible someday, but not being able to bring yourself to prevent it. Letting them go on, even though that means letting that awful event happen someday, and owning it—making yourself equally responsible for it in the process.

The next story, "Pandavas and Kauravas," talks about the rivalry between the two factions of brothers—sons of the pale king and sons of the blind king. That was interesting, the fact that they ended up being raised together, treated equally and like brothers, but still had that sense of rivalry and division, little packs of wolves. The description of the pale king's "sons," all demigods with different fathers, was really striking, too: He saw the stately lady Kunti and the five boys, as beautiful as gods, who stood beside her with the bearing of young lions. At her right was the eldest, about twelve years old, and beside him his brother, a year younger, broad of shoulder and long of arm, as strong as a yearling bull. At her left was a slender, dark-skinned boy with curling hair, and close to him were the younger brothers, twins of astonishing beauty.

Of course, the short passage about the sages was even more inspiring and worth noting: The porter had heard tales of sages such as these: how they had freed their hearts of anger and fear and all desire and gained such power of soul that they could live as long as they wished to live; that they could travel a thousand miles in the wink of an eye and could behold the whole universe as if it were a plum in the palms of their hands. 

In the story "Bhima and the Nagas," Bhima ends up almost dying and taking a trip to the underworld because of that—but he returns from that trip with new, supernatural strength. The idea that he not only bounced back from death, but returned better than ever, is really interesting, and I think there are a lot of ways it can be twisted around and played with.

Out of everything so far, it's possibly the initial setup of "Ekalavya" that I love the most. Drona is famous throughout the different kingdoms by now as this great trainer of warriors (which automatically makes me think of Phil from Hercules, but that's beside the point). Anyways, Drona accepted all kinds of pupils from all over—but the only warrior he turned away was the prince of the robber king: This young man pleaded that he might be trained as an archer, but without avail. Drona said, "Are not the Bhils highwaymen and cattle-lifters? It would be a sin, indeed, to impart unto one of them great knowledge in the use of weapons." I love the idea of this—the heir of a criminal empire being turned away from real life because everyone knows his reputation and his family business, knows he's got blood on his hands. So far that, more than anything else, is calling to me for the weekly story. But I'll have to wait and see if I find the right thing to do with it.

Later, in "The Arrival of Karna," I was struck by the eponymous character. He arrives at the contest between the cousins, the eldest and illegitimate son of the Pandavas' mother and the sun god, and they laugh him off as nothing. But he ends up being just as good as their very best, golden boy warrior—maybe even better. That makes the Pandavas all petty and insecure; when Karna has been awarded a kingdom by their cousins to elevate his status, he still lovingly and humbly embraces his poor, charioteer adopted dad, which the Pandavas mock him for. They make fun of his weak, adopted dad and his charioteer background and tell him to go drive a cart and leave the fighting for warriors and princes, basically. And in response, it's just: Karna grew pale with wrath; his lips quivered, but he answered not a word. He heaved a deep sigh and looked towards the sun. At the end of all this, it turns out all the legitimate princes are brats, and I'm officially gunning for Karna to conquer all of them.

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

Image Credit: Glowing Jellyfish by GIRAFFETING. Source: Pixabay.

Feedback Focus

I remember trying these techniques in the sister course last semester, so I thought it would be interesting to see if my ranking of them would change. For the most part, it didn't, but it was still kind of funny to go back and compare.

Reading out loud is one of those techniques that sounds like it should be great, but it's never really worked out for me. For some reason, I find myself focusing more on the sound of my voice instead of what I'm reading—probably because I've never liked my delivery when reading prose. I'm not great with inflection, and it tends to distract me.

I do love the copy-and-paste technique, though, and I've always used a variation of it even before I learned about it here. I like it because I think better on paper anyways, and when I have the source material right there in front of me, I can skip down to a new paragraph underneath to put down all my stray thoughts; if I need to reference anything, the original is right there for easy access. It also helps me make sure I've addressed everything I want to address. It also helps me to take notes as I go, which I prefer, because otherwise I may get distracted by the time I get to the end and forget to make certain points.

As for the timer approach, I'd rank it somewhere between the other two in terms of usefulness. I do see some perks to it, unlike the "reading aloud" approach, because it did give me plenty of flexibility and time in which to read the story and get my thoughts together. The element of time itself was a little distracting, though, since I kept glancing at my time budget while I was reading the story, and then ended up with more time than I needed afterwards and felt like I was killing time waiting. It may be more useful if I have a longer reading selection I want to break up into chunks, though, or a list of shorter articles/stories/etc. to read through, so I'll keep it in mind for future reference.




Image Credit: Temporal Distance (Hourglass) by moritz320. Source: Pixabay.

Week 4 Story: Emergency Exit

“Hey,” I said, shaking the man’s shoulder. Almost gently at first, then a little rougher when he didn’t respond. “Hey, get up. We don’t have much time.”

He rolled over to face me then, blinking muzzily. “What?”

“Nursing check within twelve minutes,” I said, nodding over at the reinforced door. “Maybe sooner. Don’t you want to get out of here?”

Now he sat up all the way, wincing and clutching at his side. Under the sickly fluorescents, he looked thin and pale, short blond hair slicked with sweat. That was what happened when you paid another inmate to shank you, apparently.

Not for the first time since I’d been dragged in here for suicide watch, I wondered if he really had been trying to get himself killed, or if he’d just wanted to buy himself a better shot at getting out of here.

He looked over at me, thin mouth melting into a scowl. “Who the h—”

“Your roommate for the past day, Chris,” I said impatiently. “Cheaper to use inmates for suicide watch than paying extra nurses. Look, I’ve got us a line out of here, but I need your help. Do you still want out?”

He hesitated for a minute, taking in the plain little room they’d stuck us in—gray walls and floor, a mattress on the floor, and nothing else. Wouldn’t want to give the saps in here anything else to off themselves with.

I’d figured he’d take his time deciding: they were usually a pretty suspicious lot in here, and he didn’t have any reason to trust me. For all he knew, this was some elaborate trap to nail him for attempted escape.

But then he just looked down at his long, thin fingers, cupped gently around his wound.

“Yes,” he breathed.

“Okay, then.” I stood. “Time to leave prison life behind.”

***

I’d already worked out our escape route while Chris was asleep, and now we clambered down a dark, narrow tunnel. Chris kept pausing to check his wound, surprised that it hadn’t started bleeding again. Even though he moved with all the grace of a stoned rhino, he didn’t make any noise. I wondered if he’d noticed that, too.

“Well?” I said eventually. “Why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

I turned to give him a look. Not a sharp one, exactly—but by this point, we were way past playing games.

After a minute, he mumbled, “You don’t know how bad I wanted out of there. You don’t know what it’s like.”

“Right,” I said. “Because you’re the only one here who’s ever spent any time in prison.”

But he was right. I had no clue what it was like. Any of it.

“Half the time it was okay,” he said slowly. “I was okay. I’d keep my head down, do my time, get out. Maybe even get to see my boy grow up. God, just to see one of his baseball games...”

He was losing me now with the boy and the baseball. But he was losing lots of things, so I didn’t complain. This was his time, not mine.

“But the rest of the time,” he went on. I turned to see him shake his head. “The rest of the time, it was like I’d never get out. Like I was dying a little bit every day. Hell, half the time I wanted to die. Like the only thing that could fix this mess was a visit from Mr. Death himself.”

“Well,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore, at least.”

We kept going for a while in silence. I tried to prod him along so we’d be gone before the next nurse made her round and saw Chris’s bed was empty. But we hadn’t made it far enough when I heard the nurse’s thin, high voice call the guards.

I glanced over at Chris, and knew he’d heard, too. His hearing was limitless now, after all.

He stopped short, examining the tunnels around us. Probably he was realizing that they were the wrong size and shape to be part of this prison. That it didn’t really make sense for a prison to have tunnels like this at all.

And then his sharp new hearing heard the nurse say, “Chris Wellers—he’s gone,” and he knew.

He twisted around and scrambled down the tunnel, running full-tilt in a space that’d barely supported a crouch moments ago. Perspective really was everything.

A second later, the entire structure shifted, blurring into one of the prison hallways instead. Chris sprinted to the little suicide watch broom closet at the end of it.

When he saw his own body lying on the mattress, pale and still, he actually flinched.

“I don’t...” he whispered, but he didn’t finish.

He didn’t need to. Understand. They always said that, even though most of them really did understand.

“Sure you do,” I said. "You never woke up, Chris."

He turned and looked at me then, stumbling over himself to back away, and I wondered what he saw. Not an inmate decked out in orange anymore, that was for sure—that had probably ended with the tunnel—but still, I was curious. It was a weird thing, never knowing what you actually looked like.

“You,” he whispered. “You’re the one who did this.”

“No,” I said, voice rising a little despite myself, sharper than I’d meant. “You did. I’m just here to clean up your mess.”

“Mr. Death, reporting for duty,” he said bitterly, staring over at his body, even as he clutched the side that would never bleed again. “Lucky me.”

I took a deep breath, but didn’t answer this time. No need. The nurse and guards would come back for his body, and Chris would watch them cart it away, and then the fight would leave him.

He’d face me. Maybe even apologize. And then he’d follow me out quietly.

They always did.

There was only one way out, after all.

Author's Note: Last week when I read the Ramayana, I was struck by an exchange between the death god Yama and a mortal character. Yama had dealt with death plenty of times, obviously, but he was intrigued by this mortal character on his metaphorical deathbed. In that story, Yama was intrigued by the man's strength, but I ended up flipping that in my story without really meaning to, resulting in a story where Death is intrigued by man's weakness instead.

Bibliography: The Ramayana: A Shortened Modern Prose Version of the Indian Epic by R. K. Narayan.

Image Credit: Emergency Exit Sign. Source: Max Pixel.

Reading Notes: Sita Sings the Blues, Part B

Okay, so this is more about the film than the actual Ramayana, but it has to be noted: Dang, that fire/heartbreak sequence right after Nina’s breakup was rad. (From about 00:52-00:55.)

Also, the version of the Ramayana I read ended with the events of the first half of this film, so it’s interesting to see what goes down after Rama and Sita’s triumphant return to their kingdom after the fourteen-year exile.

Especially the fact that Rama tries to ditch Sita in yet another forest because his “wife’s dubious reputation is harming [his] own,” and the fact that he took her back is undermining his authority with some of his subjects. It’s a different side of Rama, willing to sacrifice the people around him to maintain the power he’s spent so long trying to reject, and it could be interesting to explore a character with a similar complicated relationship with power.

It’s also story fuel that even though Sita was proved innocent and was actually technically the victim of the situation, everyone blamed and judged and shunned her when she returned anyways. That could be an interesting crux of a character, and I’d be curious to see how she responds to the rest of the town that’s treating her like that.

Or when the female narrator voices that “I always felt [Rama] had this doubt that [Sita] might not be pure,” that’s a striking seed for a story, too. I love the idea of two people who used to be so close and still at least try to be, but have been torn apart by the fact that something Went Down, and now one of them can’t quite trust the other, can’t quite believe the other. Could be fun to play around with.

That last part is especially interesting because of the fact that the fire god or whoever already corroborated Sita’s innocence when she tried to immolate herself after she was rescued and Rama doubted her. I feel like it could be fun to look at a story in which a protagonist does have that high-ranking, pure backing—but it’s actually false, the result of them striking some kind of deal. A god or supernatural enforcer who’s supposed to stand for honesty and purity but is actually kind of stained and crooked sounds like an interesting character study, and pretty compelling on a writing level.

I also didn’t realise that the writer of the Ramayana supposedly learned the story when Sita was banished to the forest and explained the entire ordeal to him, but that’s a fun way of inserting him into the lore, and matches stuff that’s done a lot with Lewis Carroll and the Alice books.

The “praise songs” Rama’s twins sons are taught was really striking, too—it starts out like it genuinely is praising him, but then quickly turns to criticizing him, his treatment of Sita, and his hypocrisy too. 

Bibliography: Sita Sings the Blues by Nina Paley. Source: YouTube.

Image Credit: "Ten Talas to a Disco Beat: Jhaptal" by Ed Hanley. Source: Vimeo.

Reading Notes: Sita Sings the Blues, Part A

I love how this mixes traditional elements with a modern, occasionally irreverent tone—the mood is set perfectly when Sita rises from the waters and reaches out to cue the music, and you’re expecting traditional stuff...and then it’s American music from the 1920s instead.

That led into a nice intro/title sequence, too, which gave a taste of the world-building and myths to come by introducing various gods and creatures and images unique to this mythos. The music was perfect at setting the mood here, too: traditional music over a modern beat.

My favorite part of this movie, hands-down, are the ancient narrators who squabble lightly over various details of Rama’s story. They were there themselves, so they have firsthand knowledge, but it’s been a while since then, see, so their memories are a little rusty. They assemble the story together like a puzzle, correcting each other on everything from events that went down to timelines to how to pronounce names. Occasionally they poke fun at plot holes or elements that just don’t make sense, too, but the others always convince the skeptic to move on quickly and hilariously. It’s tons of fun.

As for the story itself, I thought it was interesting how casually Rama and Sita were during the great Demon Dispatch in the forest. It might be fun to do a story about a monster-hunting pair who are equally casual, dealing with a fight or hunt while more focused on some personal issue at hand.

I also still think a story about one sibling approaching her/his older crime boss sibling for help could be a lot of fun, like when Soorpanaka approached Ravana for help with Rama.

Plus, I liked the narrators’ discussion of Ravana, and how the guy on the right pointed out that Ravana’s an interesting case because “actually, the only bad thing he really did was capture Sita,” and he was a pretty decent guy besides that. Affable villains are always fun, so that’s one route this could go—but it could also be spun into a story about a good person who made one huge mistake that’s come to define him, which I like better.

It might also be a fun to do a story featuring a prisoner who’s 100% unafraid, like Sita was when Ravana was threatening her and she just said, “Your ugly yellow eyes should fall out of your head at how lustfully you look at me,” and then added that the only reason she hasn’t destroyed him yet is because it’s not necessary. Maybe my prisoner is unafraid because they can’t be killed—because they’re either a creature or supernaturally unable to be harmed or killed. I’ll have to see.

Finally, I also liked the lyrics from one of Sita’s songs about Rama, and think the whole charming rogue/thieving scoundrel thing could be fun to play with too: “He’s not an angel, he ain’t...with all his flaws, I know he’ll get by.” The ability to interpret that last part as him getting by not despite his flaws, but because of them, is pretty great as well.





Bibliography: Sita Sings the Blues by Nina Paley. Source: YouTube.

Image Credit: "Bhavana Sita Contaminated" by Nina Paley. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Reading Notes: Narayan's Ramayana, Part D

This week, for my make-up reading, I finished up Narayan’s take on the Ramayana. Again, I focused more on snippets for use in my reading notes than on the overall material itself.

The first line that caught my interest was when someone reminds Rama, “After all, you are on a mission to wipe out the asura class; and in spite of his noble speech, this person really is an asura.” The description conjures up a trickster figure or a silver-tongued villain with an ace up his sleeve and an easy grin, and I think it’d be fun to explore that character’s dynamic with the protagonist, probably through some sort of forced team-up.

I also loved the part where Ravana realizes things are getting dire and goes to wake up his secret weapon—his big brother, Kumbakarna, who’s “famous for his deep sleep.” After a ton of difficulty, they manage to wake K from what sounds like some kind of long, supernatural sleep; Ravana’s lieutenants have to reorient K to where he is and the situation at hand. Last semester, I optioned a story that involved waking someone from an enchanted sleep in order to use them in some crisis, and this lines up really well; it might be a great chance to revisit that idea and follow through on it this time.

Out of all the characters in the Ramayana, the one that interested me most was Indrajit, one of Ravana’s sons. Especially when K has just died and Ravana is upset, and Indrajit tells his dad, “What have you to fear when I am alive?” Narayan goes on to explain that Indrajit “had the power to remain invisible and fight, and accounted for much destruction in the invader’s camp. He also created a figure resembling Sita, carried her in his chariot, took her before Rama’s army and killed her within their sight.” I love the idea of this calmly loyal, self-assured son, a star in his father’s battlefield with a sharp mind for warfare mind tricks, and I’d love to transplant that into a different story. Probably through someone else’s POV, because that’s apparently how I roll.

I was also really interested in the following passage about Rama and his state of reincarnation, and I’m interested in exploring the idea of his humanity muddling and obstructing his underlying divinity: “The gods, who had watched this in suspense, were now profoundly relieved but also had an uneasy feeling that Rama had, perhaps, lost sight of his own identity. Again and again this seemed to happen. Rama displayed the tribulations and the limitations of the human frame and it was necessary from time to time to remind him of his divinity.”
Finally, a line from Brahma caught my eye, too. He explains that he, Shiva, and Vishnu make up a trinity, as the creator, destroyer, and protector, respectively—and that they “are subject to dissolution and rebirth.” I found that concept interesting, of a group of powerful people connected to each other in some deep way, who are constantly being unmade and remade again in different ways but similar patterns.

Bibliography: The Ramayana: A Shortened Modern Prose Version of the Indian Epic by R. K. Narayan.

Image Credit: "Ramayana Dance Performance at Prambanan Temple" by Maria Ismawi. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Week 3 Story Planning

I don't really like skipping out on the weekly story, but I've got a ton of assignments due this week and multiple story options I could go with, so it seems like a good chance to fall back on the story planning option.

The first option I’m tossing around comes from Sita’s first conversation with Ravana, when he’s disguised as an old hermit. She asks why someone nice like him would chose to live among the demons, “leaving cities where good men are to be found,” and it got me wondering the same thing. If I used this option, my protag will have done the same thing, and I’d like to find out what kind of character would do something like that. Probably someone who has more in common with the demons, or who has something to gain from it—someone who sells the demons some good or service they can’t get from their own kind. 

I also really, really love characters who are impulsive and blindly self-destructive at their core, and my next option gives me a chance to play around with that kind of main character. In the Ramayana, there’s a story about a young demon going around wrecking stuff, and a god finally appears to the demon and tries to bargain with him—what will it take to make him stop trashing the world? In response, the demon kid says, “I want to fight forever. Please grant me that wish.” The kernel of that character—I want to fight forever—suggests so much about him. I’ve got plenty of room for different plots to use with him, but I’d definitely use that as the spine/soul of the story, and see how it expands.

I also found it interesting when the death god Yama is impressed by the strength of a dying Vali. It gives him much more personality than the standard Grim Reaper, and it makes me want to do a story with my own take on Death personified, so that’s also an option.

Finally, I’ve kicked around the idea of basing my story on the bit where Ravana’s brother intercedes on behalf of Hanuman, insisting that they couldn’t kill him because, essentially, that’s shooting the messenger. I think it could be fun to do something about a character who’s part of a messenger agency and then runs into trouble when he learns something he shouldn’t. It’s probably actually a story better-suited to a longer format, but I’ll still see if there’s some snippet of it that could be shaved off and repurposed for something this length.





Bibliography: The Ramayana: A Shortened Modern Prose Version of the Indian Epic by R. K. Narayan.

Image: Notes in Notebook by Pexels. Source: Pixabay.