I had resigned myself to not finding this book at the library when I returned Book 1 i.e. Govinda. Sure enough, it wasn't there. I checked out some other book and came home, but not before requesting the owner to let me know once the book became available. Sure enough, the same evening, I got a call from him. The next day I was at the library, happily checking out Books 2 and 3. Must be my lucky day!
I am not sure why the second book is titled 'Kaurava'. It should have been titled Govinda instead. Everything in it is about Govinda. He seems to be everywhere, in every incident, in every story, in every dialogue. But then again, the tale of Mahabharata would be incomplete without Him, isn't it?
It has been quite a while, more than 2 weeks in fact, since I finished reading this book. Much of what I intended to say is gone from my mind and memory. But one thing is indelibly etched, rather seared, in both - the incident of Draupadi Vastraharana. I dreaded reading about it, I didn't touch the book for days for fear of having to read about it, I considered skipping the pages concerned. But I knew that I not only had to read about it but also to feel, in their entirety, the misery, the pain, the rage and the anger that she must have felt. As a woman, I owed her that. To ignore the incident would have been an insult to Panchali.
So I read, each and every detail - how her husband gambled away and lost her in the game of dice, how she was asked to come to the royal hall and dragged by her hair there when she refused to comply, how her argument - that her husband lost the right to gamble her when he himself became a slave - fell on deaf ears, how the shameless went to the extent of trying to disrobe her, how the elders failed to protect her and how, finally, a single name brought by sheer anguish and helplessness to her lips saved her from complete doom. Despite the painful event, I liked the twist given by the author to the age-old aspect of the story - that of Krishna remotely providing endless supply of clothes to Panchali.
I didn't read further that day. I couldn't. I doubt if any woman can. And it is ironic that though the author tries to impress upon the readers that the war at Kurukshetra was fought not to avenge what happened to Panchali but for a greater good - to destroy the old order based on royal privilege and restore the realm to the people - I couldn't help but think that what happened at the royal court that day was what caused Kurukshetra.
And if that makes Panchali the Death herself, so be it.
I am not sure why the second book is titled 'Kaurava'. It should have been titled Govinda instead. Everything in it is about Govinda. He seems to be everywhere, in every incident, in every story, in every dialogue. But then again, the tale of Mahabharata would be incomplete without Him, isn't it?
It has been quite a while, more than 2 weeks in fact, since I finished reading this book. Much of what I intended to say is gone from my mind and memory. But one thing is indelibly etched, rather seared, in both - the incident of Draupadi Vastraharana. I dreaded reading about it, I didn't touch the book for days for fear of having to read about it, I considered skipping the pages concerned. But I knew that I not only had to read about it but also to feel, in their entirety, the misery, the pain, the rage and the anger that she must have felt. As a woman, I owed her that. To ignore the incident would have been an insult to Panchali.
So I read, each and every detail - how her husband gambled away and lost her in the game of dice, how she was asked to come to the royal hall and dragged by her hair there when she refused to comply, how her argument - that her husband lost the right to gamble her when he himself became a slave - fell on deaf ears, how the shameless went to the extent of trying to disrobe her, how the elders failed to protect her and how, finally, a single name brought by sheer anguish and helplessness to her lips saved her from complete doom. Despite the painful event, I liked the twist given by the author to the age-old aspect of the story - that of Krishna remotely providing endless supply of clothes to Panchali.
I didn't read further that day. I couldn't. I doubt if any woman can. And it is ironic that though the author tries to impress upon the readers that the war at Kurukshetra was fought not to avenge what happened to Panchali but for a greater good - to destroy the old order based on royal privilege and restore the realm to the people - I couldn't help but think that what happened at the royal court that day was what caused Kurukshetra.
And if that makes Panchali the Death herself, so be it.
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