*Note: this review is best appreciated if you have read or know about the Mahabharat, the Indian epic.
when i first picked up this book from the library, i didnt know what it was about – i was randomly choosing books for my mum and having read Divakaruni’s work before, felt it might be a good choice. ironically, my mum never did read it. so there it was, sitting among my other reads, when i idly picked it up and read the synopsis on the back cover. only then did i realise that it was a rendition of a large part of the Indian epic, Mahabharat, through the eyes of the central female character – Draupadi.
i have been fascinated by the Mahabharat ever since i saw the whole series on TV while growing up in India, and as well, after reading the full version by C. Rajagopalachary. it is one of the most extensive works of literature ever written, with every single event linked by a karmic chain to its cause in the past as well to the related developments in the future. to rewrite any portion of this massive epic is in itself a gargantuan task, to express it through the eyes of one person is frankly, commendable for its very effort.
with the narrative told in Draupadi’s voice, the tale takes on a personal feel. it is very clearly a woman’s tale, with her concerns and prerogatives (her feelings about women being treated as lesser beings, her concern about being beautiful), with her likes and dislikes openly expressed (yes, Draupadi does have her share of complaints about her husbands and mother-in-law), her triumphs and struggles, her love for Krishna that is boundless despite her interal debates as to who he really is. reading through it all, Draupadi emerges as a woman, one who was composed of flesh and blood, even if she did rise from the sacrifical fire – one who is not distanced by the idealistic impositions of traditional literature.
but there is one single aspect that sets this work apart – Divakaruni adds a twist to the very basis of the whole epic with Draupadi falling in love with Karna at her swayamvar, but being swept along with the tide of fate and refusing his effort to win her hand. her harsh question that pokes at Karna’s questionnable ancestry becomes a thorn in the flesh when she starts to live life as the wife of the pandavas. her love for Karna comes through as tender yet tempered with disappointment at his vindictive behaviour when Yudishtir loses his all through the notorious game of dice; it has the strength of a young girl’s first love but the control that a wife and queen has to exert over her emotions; it tantalises yet betrays. given that most of us acquainted with the Mahabharat have been used to a rendition that talks about the great love between Arjun and Draupadi (which remains the strongest bond even when she is wed to his four other brothers), this version can be discomfiting to say the very least. it almost seems to hint at a lewd version of the exalted work that bears within its pages the Bhagavad Gita, the sacred text.
and yet, put aside your judgement and follow through with the novel to the very end, and you will realise that with each page turned that the human emotions expressed make this story come alive. despite the grandiose elements of magic and mantras, kings and gods, the characters in this story are as much bound by their emotions in their everyday lives as they were by their ideals of kinghood, justice and loyalty. at some point, you start to appreciate that virtues were often upheld not by men and women who were born with innate nobility, but by those who were ready to put aside themselves for their ideals.
that, yes, as in all households, the closed doors of the palaces held secrets that were not shared with the outside world.
until maybe, someone decided to try telling the tale through the voice of the queen within.
the world in my eyes 