It is a story resplendent with valour and uprightness, it is a graphic study of cowardice and foul play; it celebrates womanhood, it blatantly propagates misogyny; it is one of the greatest epics of all times, it is grossly overrated. No magnum work of writing has ever had such polarised views as Ved Vyaasa’s Mahabharata, scores of authors having carved entire careers around this mythological tome. In her new novel Until the Lions: Echoes from the Mahabharata, poet, dance producer/curator and author Karthika Nair gives a unique spin to the age-old text.
Amazingly, there is not a trace of jadedness to be found in this interpretation, which could safely be declared the mother of all interpretations. Nair draws inspiration from dance, cinema, television and a pantheon of contemporary writers who have tackled the Mahabharata in recent times—Shashi Tharoor, Devdutt Pattanaik and Samhita Arni, among other luminaries. Told almost entirely in metered prose and free-flowing verse, this novel is precious in the sense that the narrators are chiefly women and hail from the lowest rungs of society to the highest. Also unusual is the fact that none of the women are intimidated by the magnitude and grandeur of the canvas being discussed, rather they are delightfully prone to pass ironic observations on the side, “thousands have to turn into several crores in ballads, else how will heroes take wing and soar?” asks a narrator who likens herself to “vermin on outer rims.”
Thus, we have Satyavati, the alluring young woman from the fisher folk community with whom King Shantanu of Hastinapur falls in lust at first glance and who kick-starts the entire saga. The young prince Bheeshma’s earth-shaking oath of celibacy in order to allow his father and his young wife’s progeny to be successors to the Kuru throne is described in decibels of thunder by Nair. What follows is old wine in a very new bottle. The abduction of Amba, Ambika and Ambalika, curses of a sage resulting in the birth of a blind son and an albino one, a clever decoy planned by Ambika, which results in a maid bearing the only healthy and balanced part-royal child in the kingdom, are forcefully portrayed by the author. There is hate taking seed in many breasts, a hate destined to fester and lead to a series of events and tangled relationships that will eventually lead to the ultimate blood bath: the Kurukshetra.
Nair seizes the epic, punches it soundly and kneads it into an astonishing shape. Perceived and mulled over by the feminine gaze, the saga unfolds in the words of Satyavati, Gandhari, Ulupi, Hidimbi, Kunti, Uttaraa, and others.
Satyavati reigns over the entire novel by the sheer power of her persona. As she morphs from a low-born ambitious and scheming woman into the queen mother adept at palace politics and who puts the good of her kingdom above all else, Satyavati is complex, layered and indomitable. Her verbal skirmishes with her step-son Bheeshma are described with a tautness that is all the more chilling for its repetitive minimality. The mother-son relationship is at the core of every turn of events, a leitmotif that Nair traces skilfully. It is the shape of words that mesmerise the reader; rich, cadenced, lyrical prose-poetry gushing like a river in full flood. This is gut wrenching text that strips the story of every kind of nicety and grace, dipping it in a raw ruddy fluid that shocks and repels even as it fascinates. As sons are sacrificed, used as human shields, cousins, aunts and gurus slaughtered, the novel depicts an ancient society spinning on the axis of blood-lust and hate.
Tapping the perceptions of fellow authors, almost a crowd-sourcing of thoughts one might say, distilling the essence of the collective and pitching it as amorphous verse, Until the Lions is a remarkably original experiment. Though the feminine tone dominates all through, we are privy to some masculine soul searching as well; Bheema’s deep-seated insecurities (conveyed via Hidimbi), the gift/curse of ‘sight’ and the agony of having to pen the bloodiest of tales, is poignantly captured in Vyaasa’s long monologue. Gender shifting—probably the earliest recorded ones—is evident in the Amba-Shikhandi and Krishna-Mohini phenomena. A seminal work involving vast research and remarkable inspiration, and told with flair and aplomb, Until the Lions is a rare treat for lovers of poetry, mythology and accomplished writing.