Ours is an age where inordinate space has been forcibly carved out for the upkeep of individuality, often at the expense of collective well-being. Political and regional sensitivities have never been more pronounced, and it seems we are forever in the midst of culture wars, which paint an incongruent picture of reality because real wars are also being fought with genocidal intent. This makes it a risky but necessary endeavor to devote oneself to the study of comparative mythology with the focus on stories, traditions, rituals, and myths from across the globe, with the aim of discovering a common ground that might strengthen the fragile bond of our shared humanity and lived experiences, serving to unite rather than divide.
Drawing from a treasure trove of mythology lovingly gathered from Indian, Judaic, Christian, and Greek sources with a smattering of pop culture tossed in, Wendy Doniger’s The Cave of Echoes attempts to make great stories across time and space accessible to all, allowing us to think deeply and live more fully. Doniger has clearly internalised the world of mythology and is eager to share her insights on the relevance of myths, as well as the potential that they have from different lands, to shed light on existential conundrums in our world. This inquiry takes on special significance in the current climate, where rationalists on a mission to modernise and demythologise are on a rampage to sever science from spirituality, ignoring the possibility that coexistence is possible. As for those who would paint mythology as little more than falsehoods carefully preserved over the ages, Doniger has the perfect rejoinder: “Myths are not lies, or false statements to be contrasted with truth or reality. Picasso called art a lie that tells the truth, and the same might be said of myths.”
Doniger is keen to emphasise the fluid, ever-changing nature of mythology, which nevertheless presents itself as a fixed entity in the consciousness of those who claim it as their own. To the Westerners, she cautions, “We think that our classics are in a sense eternal—forever fixed, frozen in the amber of carefully preserved written documents…our classics are not fixed and eternal.” As for the Easterners, who seem convinced their mythology is set in stone, she states firmly, “As the culture retells the myth over time, it constantly interprets it, however much the culture may claim that the myth has been preserved intact.”
The book is expansive in its scope and proposes sensible measures that could be incorporated into a scholarly quest for a systematic study of diverse mythologies. It argues that these mythologies, despite their regional quirks and distinctiveness, have an underlying universality of truth and wisdom—patterns that might prove to be invaluable tools in navigating the landscape of our complicated existence. However well-intentioned though the book may be, the author occasionally gets stuck in the web she is so adroitly weaving, and her tangled thought processes keep reiterating the same points about the efficacy of the “other” as a method to embrace our own selves. There are many overly belaboured points – about hunters, sages, sages who hunt, and hunters who are sages in their head, and fishermen who fish souls, and the like.
Some pages of the book are devoted solely to the prevalence of sacrifice—animal as well as human in the Vedic age, ancient Greece, and Biblical times—and how it sits uneasily with modern views on cannibalism as an act of unforgivable barbarity and villainy. She is particularly keen to enumerate the impropriety of this savage practice in a religion that supposedly champions vegetarianism. Skilled scholar though she is, it indicates gaps in her research that she seems unaware of—or knowingly skirts the fact—that a majority of Hindus are meat-eaters.
It is well known that Brahmins partook of flesh in the Vedic as well as Puranic age, since they consumed the burnt offerings of the yagnas and were feasted with meat–based cuisine in many stories from the epics. A story in the Mahabharata talks about Ilvala and Vatapi—Asura brothers, one of whom could transform into a goat to tempt Brahmins with the promise of a succulent cooked goat meal, before assuming his true form within their entrails and tearing them apart. It was only after the Bhakti movement that some Brahmins—inspired by Buddhists and Jains—gave up meat. Despite shortcomings, it is still a worthy book that offers a lot for the thoughtful reader to chew on.