Here comes a book for all those who wanted to know but did not know where to go for a readable book on Hindu mythology.
It will take you to a world where the gods go beyond being multi-coloured divinities. They say when Vishnu created Mohini, the Enchantress, he took the lightness of the leaf and the grace of the fawn, the gaiety of the sun’s rays and the tears of the mist, the inconsistency of the wind and the timidity of the hare, the vanity of the peacock and the softness of the throat of the swallow.
To this, he added the strength of the diamond, the sweet flavour of honey, the cruelty of the tiger, the warmth of fire and the chill of snow, the cooing of the dove and the chatter of the jay. Out of this melting pot came Mohini.
And what a woman!
Enough for men to forget their past and stake their future to get a whiff of the distilled essence of Vishnu’s creation.
Indeed, she carries a part of him, given her extraordinary powers of beauty, magic and enchantment.
This she wields, now and again, at her discretion. Desired and loved by all creation, she can be a sum of what created her or a sum of all of it together.
She has her own autonomy as she floats across the bumpy ride of fable and myth.
In the hurly burly of a celestial quest for immortality, Chandramouli brings alive the incredible tale of Mohini.
The author takes the reader on a dizzying roller-coaster ride through the shifting sands of time. With amazing dexterity, she navigates the choppy waters of gender, love, lust and desire.
A deft untangling of tall tales and terrible truths unfolds, but nowhere is there a faltering, a hesitation or doubt as the knotty yarn moves on.
During the churning of the oceans, as the Devas and Ausras try to get their hands on Amrita, or the Celestial Nectar, that guarantees immortality, she finds herself in a love triangle.
She goes on to a tryst with Mahadeva and becomes the mother of Shastha, who in turn is a lighthouse to those lost in the stormy waters between the two sexes.
Oftener than not, the truth can elude us like the fragment of a forgotten dream, or the fragile figment of fantasy.
Living in an uncertain world, Mohini is perfection personified. That is why she is loved and desired by all. Call it magic, or call it charm if you will, for she is as elusive as she can be, always within reach but untouched.
As a reviewer, I have no hesitation in recommending this book to anyone interested in Indian mythology.
This book is not only written from Mohini’s perspective about all the Indian gods and goddesses, but from the perspective of women. I liked the perspective that gods can be disastrous and not only brightly coloured divine beings.
The writing is crisp and easy. Chandramouli makes it easy for the new entrant into the world of Indian mythology.