In an age witnessing record atrocities against women, it is entirely befitting that a book should come along celebrating some legendary women of India. Author Ira Mukhoty chooses eight women for her debut book, Heroines: Powerful Indian Women of Myth & History, openly admitting to making her choices chiefly from the north of India. Thus, we have a collection of historical characters where battle-smart figures in masculine attire alternate with uber-feminine lovelorn heroines. There is a link between
the characters. All eight women, at different points in time, had dared to challenge tradition, deviate and cast aside prescribed gender roles to waft/stomp through uncharted territory.
Although each section is named after a legendary woman, there is a wealth of historical data contained in the chapters and the author’s fertile imagination conjures vibrant images of a bygone era. The book begins with Draupadi. Skimming over the much-chronicled happenings but with a freshness of gaze, Mukhoty etches the events leading to Kurukshetra and the tragic outcome of the battle. In direct contrast, Radha comes next. Mukhoty compares ancient texts that depict the love between Radha and Krishna, a layered and mystical affair that is open to multiple interpretations. A fascinating section explores the heroines’ relationship with forests—for Draupadi, the forest was a place of exile; for Radha, a venue for amorous dalliances; and for the others, a place of lurking uncertainty. It is interesting to note that like all the other heroines, Radha’s physical descriptions change from one ancient text to the other. There is subtle comparison between the legendary enigmas, Sita and Draupadi, and also Meerabai and Radha. While the lovelorn Meerabai emerges as an out-and-out woman’s woman, the feisty Radha, according to Mukhoty, continues to be adored by women and desired by men. The fading of the lyrical Brajbhasha and the age of nationalism led to a different kind of heroine emerging; a heroine who was no less than a hero. Thus, we are introduced to the militant Rani Laxmibai, the accidental heroine who fought the British for her son’s rights and then add Rebel Begum, Hazrat Mahal.
Raziya-bint-Iltutmish is another formidable figure in history. The daughter of a slave, she brushed aside the gentler ‘Sultana’ and became an astute, ruthless and competent Sultan. Abandoning the purdah, exposing her face in public and donning male headgear, Raziya cuts an exemplary figure in an age defined by male dominance and widespread misogyny. The chapter on noblewoman-poet Meerabai, likewise, explores early sixteenth Century palace politics and the valorous mindset typical of the Rajputs. Descriptions of jauhar committed by scores of Rajput women when faced with imminent capture by the enemy could send a chill down the reader’s spine. Mukhoty describes the beautiful courtesan Ambapali’s meeting with the Buddha and the consequences thereafter. The renunciation of wealth and vanity, Ambapali’s transformation into a senior nun, the forming of Bhikkuni Sangha and the conquests of king Bimbisara are depicted in a crucial chapter of history. We learn about Jahanara Begum, the darling of her father Emperor Shah Jahan, her flair for Sufi music and exquisite architecture.
Taking a feminist’s look at history, Mukhoty bemoans the over-sanitisation of heroines in the ancient texts in an attempt to squeeze them into socially acceptable images. Also, the misogynistic tweaking of stories. Extensively researched and dense with historical information, Mukhoty’s sparkling prose prevents the book from becoming merely a chronicle of events. An informative book, there is a commendable effort at setting the records straight by gazing at past from an unbiased viewpoint. Every women-sympathetic reader will feel the weight of gender-injustice tumbling down the ages. And given the current scenario, hope for a reincarnation of the tougher heroines portrayed so vividly by the author.