Literature always finds a way to introduce an avid reader to its most profound works, its authors, and their discrete voices. The Palace of Illusions, a chance download from Kindle, opened my heart to the works of a writer who hit a chord from the very first page. Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s version of the Mahabharat, much like the epic itself, is by no means a fairy-tale. It is foreboding in context (isn’t the Mahabharat so?), yet you find joy in her words; she eloquently describes the sentiments of a woman who begged to differ, by taking us through mythical personalities who were a part of the Grand stage in those days of yore.
The book is, fictionally, of course, narrated by the most beautiful women of the epics, Draupadi. It seemed like the author had a conversation with this mystical woman before penning this down, that it almost felt like an autobiography of hers.
Draupadi, as fans of the Mahabharat would testify, was in some ways the luckiest of women to have inhabited the earth, and in other ways the most unfortunate. She was by no means a typical woman of those days, but someone who rather chose to defy the odds.
The author, through her voice, beautifully narrates her relationship with the enigmatic Krishna, her dearest friend. I have little idea of how Krishna is described in the Mahabharat or in the Gita, though I’ve admired His romanticism and Raasa Leela whenever I got an opportunity to watch a dance recital depicting the same. This book is an ode to His mysticism, through the soothing voice of Draupadi, who wanted her dearest friend beside her at all times.
The book throws light on how women were regarded those days by the so-called celibates, and the way Draupadi responded to it. It shows how the prophecies then came with startling accuracy, in contrast to these days of Kaliyug. It, through the Swayamvar, takes us into the mind of a young woman who is in the process of finding a new partner and the play of circumstances here that determined her course of life. It deals with love, loyalty, courage, insult, punishment, revenge, the price of mistakes and impromptu decisions, and of boons and curses. It is a poetic rendition that the Mahabharat deserves.
It must be said that not all decisions of the Lady were peace-worthy, let alone admirable. She let the past dictate her thoughts and her very living, she was loyal to her husbands but in some ways manipulative as these words indicate -” I took love and used it as a balm to soothe my ego”. She was a woman who, without her own knowledge, clung to her past with hidden affections and longing for a man who could have been hers but wasn’t; and yet she was admirable, quirky, and worthy of honour.
No work of the Mahabharat is complete or even readable without a mention of the Great War of Kurukshetra, which may have been fought for honour and pride but with emotions of brotherhood, unflinching loyalty, and unrequited love; until when things started going haywire and when the law of ruthlessness took CenterStage. These battles weren’t fought with nuclear weapons but with an even stronger arsenal.
It was a battle that had a winner, but did it really? These words of Krishna (as voiced to Draupadi) conveys it all – “Be strong! Such is the nature of war, and you’re not the only one to feel its lash. As a winner, you can’t take the easy way of oblivion.”
Much like the Mahabharat, the tales here are mind-blowing in proportion, This book is a witness to the virtues that the Mahabharat stood for – love, pride, righteousness, ruthlessness, bravery, envy, greed, honour (sometimes even at the cost of humanity). The Mahabharat is undoubtedly a timeless and vivid portrayal that even today has a say in the Hindu way of life, and while this rendition cannot match its grandeur, it comes with a voice that deserves to be heard.
Musings of a Quirky Soul 