At the outset of this review, I must immediately admit that I am a big fan of The Mahabharata and that it is singularly my favorite story to read. I do not say my favorite book, because there is no one book on the tale. In fact, part of the reason why The Mahabharata remains as relevant and eternal today as it was all those 5000 years ago is because it can be interpreted any which way possible, limited only by the experiences and perspectives of the authors and readers. In that very sense, there is no book and there is no one story.
Hundreds of authors the world over have interpreted The Mahabharata in their own spirit and millions of readers have found different tales, characters and subplots to relate to, often changing as they themselves grow up and experience new things and gain new perspectives.
The hallmark of any great story lies in the number of times it can adapt itself and be reinterpreted to suit the existing culture and prevalent views, blending seamlessly into it while still maintaining its essence. In that sense, there is no story as vast as The Mahabharata, nor as complete.
Having said that, the narration of the epic by Ramesh Menon is the 6th version of the tale that has crossed my hands. Great authors like Kamala Subramaniam, Devdutt Pattanaik, Maggi Lidchi-Grassi (a French author), Iravati Karve (whose Yuganta was an absolute delight to read and study) and Chitra Divakaruni (The Palace of Illusions is possibly the only modern, feminist retelling that I could appreciate, notwithstanding the hundreds of clones that came after) have adorned my desk (or Kindle) before him.
I make it a point to read the epic once a year, not to see if the story is any different, but to know whether I have changed in the last year. The way I interpret the story tells me a lot about myself.
While it is hard to separate the story from the book in most cases, the intention here is not to review The Mahabharata itself, but rather the interpretation of it by Mr. Menon. The story itself is perhaps the most well-known one in India, with deep roots in every facet of our culture, and still used to justify and vilify actions. It is also one of the most ambiguous stories known to man, introducing us to shades of grey and destroying the concept of black and white characters and situations so much more prominent in The Ramayana, much before it became trendy to have ambiguity and fifty shades of grey in every story we tell.
Evidenced by the fact that no character in the epic, right from Krishna and Yudhishtira to Duryodhana and Shakuni, is purely good or evil, with each using their own version and interpretation of Dharma to justify their actions and ultimately facing the consequence of those actions. Cause and Effect itself is a major theme throughout the epic, with karma playing a big role in how the story pans out. The Butterfly Effect, defined much later, plays itself out in practically every subplot in The Mahabharata, with even the slightest actions having drastic consequence, sometimes immediately and sometimes lifetimes later. Actions and decisions taken by multiple, unrelated characters, across space and time, come together to have consequences which cannot be imagined. The importance of following the spirit of the law rather than the letter of the law is emphasized on every page, all the more stark because this is a quality we still have not imbued.
Great people like Bheeshma, Drona and Karna had to die because they knew what Dharma wrote ages ago but forgot why it was written. They followed without questioning, and when the question arose, they had the wrong answer.
Even today, we forget why a particular law, custom or tradition is important and follow them blindly, even as they stagnate, rot and hold society back from progress. The Mahabharata, in its entirety, ultimately asserts why Dharma must be fluid in order to allow progress in the right direction, and why a stagnant Dharma inevitably becomes Adharma and what was once an engine becomes a shackle. In other words, Memetic evolution is as important as Genetic evolution.
Needless to say, The Mahabharata, due to all these many lessons, none of which are very obvious nor are they immune to debate, is a very complicated story. Multiple characters cause conflict, and each is justified in their own motives and destiny. The definition of right and wrong, good and evil becomes excruciatingly difficult, and the only answer may be that it would be impossible to define them without the context, which changes from character to character. As such, it takes an author of extraordinary skill to interpret the story coherently and present it so that the messages are as clear as possible.
Ramesh Menon has been inspired by Kamala Subramaniam, as he states right off the bat. Kamala Subramaniam’s, I must state here, remains my favorite version of the story, given how balanced her approach was, bringing out the ambiguity embedded in the tale with poise and elegance. To write a story like this without bias is extremely difficult, given how Krishna is considered a God and how the Pandavas and Kauravas have been immortalized as heroes and villains respectively.
Mr. Menon tries to take the same approach and does succeed in parts. While he tries hard to be balanced, there are places where the bias he holds towards Krishna and the Pandavas comes forth and the tendency to vilify the Kauravas shines through. Yes, the heroes and villains in the story are ultimately clear, but they are not nearly as black and white as one would imagine. The prime example of this would be Krishna himself, the God who came to wipe out adharma in the world. The fact that he himself uses treachery and adharma to do this is constantly justified because he is God and because it is his destiny.
While reading Kamala Subramaniam’s version, one gets the impression that Krishna was an extraordinarily intelligent politician and kingmaker rather than a God, who played the Pandavas much in the same way as Shakuni played the Kauravas to become the most powerful man in the empire. He is subject to human failings and mistakes. In Ramesh Menon’s version, however, he is constantly referred to as a God, all-knowing and practically infallible. This serves to somewhat reduce the ambiguity of the story, and makes the story much clearer, hiding the faults of Yudhishtira and the virtues of Duryodhana.
One other gripe I had with the book was that it was truly inspired by Kamala Subramaniam’s version, and does not really differ from the story she told. There is nothing new Mr. Menon brings to the table, and one would rather read the original than the almost exact retelling presented here, minus the ambiguity. Moreover, there are spelling errors to be found in the book at places, which is unforgivable in this age of editors and proofreaders.
However, the book written by Mr. Menon is exhaustive enough that anyone reading the story for the first time would be introduced to most facets of the exceedingly complicated tale without preaching too much. The author brings forward the apathy of war and the descent of the human race into decadence with an atmosphere of destiny and irrepressible fate, with a sense of epic inevitability, as we enter the Kaliyug and Adharma takes center-stage. Across 2 volumes and 1600 pages, the complex story is presented with grandeur and all the splendor worthy of it. In most cases, I would want books to be short, sweet and deep, but for a story like this, the length is more than justified and in fact, I’d say necessary.
The reader would be left to his own interpretation and that, in my opinion, is the crux of the story. That every reader has the freedom to choose his own heroes, his own villains, his own dharma and his own treachery is the reason why The Mahabharata is as relevant as it is today, as human beings continue to enact the same traits and cycles they did 5000 years ago.
There is no clear message here, and there are no clear guidelines. The end sometimes justifies the means and the means must be justice themselves at other times.
However, one thing remains clear. The Mahabharata is one of the most complete stories ever told, encompassing every shade of human character, of kindness, apathy, destruction and construction, of human failings and eternal hope, of revenge and forgiveness in its pages. As it boasts, everything which exists finds it place in the tale and what does not find its place does not exist. To not read this story from a human perspective would be to rob yourself of something which could fundamentally change the way you look at life and how you interpret situations.
It is, after all, Ithihas.