Mahapost

So in the last post I talked about how my curiosity about the Mahabharata was reignited by The Palace of Illusions by Chitra Lekha Divakaruni Bannerjee (and may her name be a lesson to us all to rethink multiple last names).

This might seem kind of new agey for some, but this book taught me something. It taught me about myself.

I found myself identifying with Draupadi which is something I didn’t expect (because I have always perceived her as something of a victim and feminists might argue that this retelling doesn’t particularly change that). There are many nuggets of wisdom I’ve gained from this book but I’ll concentrate on just one scene.

The famous one. The one where a sari comes unraveling.
In that episode, it all comes together just as things are falling apart.

All this time I’d believed in my power over my husbands. I’d believed that because they love me they would do anything for me. But now I saw that though they did love me – as much perhaps as any man can love – there were other things they loved more. Their notions of honour, of loyalty towards each other, of reputation were more important to them than my suffering. They would avenge me later, yes, but only when they felt the circumstances would bring them heroic fame. A woman doesn’t think that way. I would have thrown myself forward to save them if it had been in my power that day. I wouldn’t have cared what anyone thought. The choice they made in the moment of my need changed something in our relationship. I no longer depended so completely on them in the future. And when I took care to guard myself from hurt, it was as much from them as from our enemies.

I have always struggled to articulate why I felt betrayed by the men I chose to love. And this paragraph laid it out for me. It’s the realization that in your moment of crisis, the person who professed to love you the deepest, may not be there for you. You may ask but you may not receive. Of course, he may rise to the occasion but it’s the uncertainty that’s unexpected. The song doesn’t go “I may die for you, I may lie for you”. It’s realization that there’s a “but” and also the realization that so far, in your love, there were no “buts”. That’s when you change and decide to insert one. And that insertion, that protective shield that not being unconditional affords, changes you and makes you harder.

And there’s more. As she rests her mind on Krishna (and this too is curious, and she surmises its because Krishna owes her nothing that she can think of him without getting angry), she is calmed and the unraveling of her sari refuses to end because she refuses to be shamed. And then she is faced with two choices:

“Is the desire for vengeance stronger than the longing to be loved?”

When she comes out of her trance, Draupadi chooses vengeance over love and forgiveness, and the rest is history. In my darkest hours, I’ve found myself facing these same choices. My pride makes complete forgiveness impossible. And so the cycle goes on, and because of the previous lesson (the need for a “but”) it’s really hard to break out of it.

And of course, I identify with Draupadi’s relationship with Kunti. Nice to know it’s timeless 🙂

Finally, Draupadi’s relationship with Krishna plays out the function of God. God is what you call to mind when you’re confused and miraculously the answers come. God is what you rest on when the world is whirling. God is what works only if you believe it will. Strangely, Draupadi doesn’t see Krishna so much as God but as a friend and even as the one she loves the most.

II

I’ve come across a couple of less than flattering reviews of the book on blogs. What was interesting to me was that most (and I could be wrong here) of those who didn’t seem to like the book were male.

There were also a small proportion of women who disliked the book but they fell into the category of people who had read other versions of the Mahabharata and couldn’t bear changes to that reading, kind of the same reaction anyone has to their favourite book being redone. So it could be that I (and the Mad Momma) liked it because we had relatively little exposure to the Mahabharat so we didn’t feel as if something we held dear was being tampered with.

But, that apart, the male-female divide in response to The Palace of Illusions again made me wonder about the idea of ecriture feminine. At the simplest level, the book may appeal to women more because it adopts a woman’s perspective and this is something we can relate to. But that apart, there is also the question of style. Many of the male commenters, including I think the blogger-reviewers, had problems with her “flowery” and “exotic” language. Frankly, I didn’t find her any more flowery than, say, Salman Rushdie. It’s a style of writing called magic realism, now recognised as a literary genre. However, of course, Bannerjee’s writing differs from Rushdie’s. The question is: is it more feminine and is this why it turns men off?

I have now started reading Prem Panicker’s online version of MT Vasudevan Nair’s retelling of the Mahabharata through Bhim’s perspective. I’m loving it. And I’m not finding it that different from Bannerjee’s approach. I don’t see the multiplicity of perspective that Jai Arjun Singh is talking about. And I don’t have a problem with that lack. If it’s obvious from the outset that the story is from the perspective of one character, one assumes there will be biases no? Even when they report events that others have told them and they have not seen themselves, there can be bias in hearing too.

Moreover, at the outset itself, Bannerjee writes in quite a lot about the storyness or stories:
Were the stories we told each other true? Who knows? At the best of times, a story is a slippery thing…Perhaps that was why it changed with each telling. Or is that the nature of all stories, the reason for their power?

So what’s the problem? I don’t get it, someone please explain.

Apart from subjectivity, it could be said that Bannerjee’s telling is more “magical”. But again, that’s a stylistic thing. So is it that guys don’t appreciate magical realism that much? Just wondering and would love it if people who have read this book and other examples of magical realism weigh in.

III

MinCat‘s going to join me in reading a novelised version of the Mahabharata. We’re probably going to have two different versions and I think that makes it interesting because we can compare notes. As with Blogyssey, whoever wants to is free to join in. Rules are simple: read, post on it and then we’ll cross link and comment on each other’s posts.

Also I’m wondering about a tag for this endeavour. Should I continue with Blogyssey, because it’s something in that vein, or does it deserve a separate tag? Anf if so, what? Mahassey? Mahaproject?

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Mahaproject

Unlike most Indians, I’m unfamiliar with the Mahabharata. (There! I said it.)

Maybe this is because as a Christian child, knowing the stories of other faiths was not actively encouraged. Going to a convent school and a Christian college didn’t help. Maybe it’s because my Hindi was so bad the televised version passed me by. I watched Ramayana avidly as a child but that story is relatively simple to follow (and a lot of time was taken up by the fantastic arrows meeting each other which didn’t require much linguistic skill). Mahabharata was infinitely more complex and my Hindi could just not keep up with its twists and turns, side stories and allusions.

Nevertheless my first encounter with the epic was the televised serial. I remember the blind king and his blindfolded wife and the Pandavas and the Kauravas. Because I like to support the underdog and the Pandavas were clearly who we were expected to support, I tried to pick a Kaurava to champion. Unfortunately, and maybe this was the intention when it was written, there were so many Kauravas that they pretty much merged into one and didn’t have personalities of their own except Duryodhan who even I didn’t want to support. I remember, like everyone else probably, plumping for Arjun. There were scenes with the five brothers and Draupadi in the forest – the five husband bit scandalised my young self – and later Draupadi and the heroine of this other serial Mriganaini merged into one in my mind (still not sure if it was meant to be that way or just me).

Then I stopped watching the serial and forgot all about the story/ies till Std X when I got my hands on someone’s Bhagvadgita and started reading it under by desk in class. Unfortunately, that lasted only one lesson.

My third encounter with the epic was when I watched a theatrical production staged in Bandra fort. It was then that I got really fascinated and I realised I had missed out on a lot because there were references in the play that I couldn’t get. And it was my first encounter with Karna. I had never heard of him before this. I’m still confused about whether Karna is to be pronounced Kar-na or Kar-an. Either way, I was slightly in love with him. I’m not sure if that was because the actor that played Karna was the best or whether that production focussed on Karna and Kunti more (I think it did). But does anyone else who has read the Mahabharata have this Karna fixation? Or is it very clear that he got his just desserts?

At the play, I became confused by Hindu morality and realised how different it was from Christian morality. I thought it was unfair that Krishna helped the Pandavas in the war. I didn’t understand this talk about dharma. What if your dharma was to be evil? The logic seemed at odds with the Christian one I had grown up on where the line between black and white, good and evil was very clear. None of this grey business. Of course, the grey business is what’s real and what’s interesting.

And recently, I read about The Palace of Illusions here and got a copy when I went to India. From the first line I was hooked. I don’t know whether it’s the female perspective that makes it so unputdownable. But it came home to me that I needed to read this epic pronto. This was one of the best stories ever told. It was like the mother of all soap operas with some hardcore philosophy thrown in.

So, probably 10 (15?) years too late, I’ve decided to read the Mahabharata. Dipali has suggested some options and I’ve already reserved a copy in the public library. Failing that, I’ve identified someone who is going to India and will pick up a copy for me. I’ve reserved the RK Narayan one (no choice) and I’m leaning towards buying the Ramesh Menon but here are the other choices and if anyone has a vote of a version that love, speak now or else:

Should I choose:
R.K.Narayan’s Mahabharata
C.Rajagopalachari’s classic
Mahabharata by Badrinath Chaturvedi,
Ramesh Menon
Cloth bound condensed version by P.Lal of the Writers’ Workshop
Mahabharata by William Buck.

?

Since Blogyssey, I realised that I’m probably going to do one big book a year. My choices this year were Gandhi’s autobiography The Story of my Experiments with Truth or the Mahabharata. Since I’m a roll with the Mahabharata I’m going with that. I’m going to read a novelised version and maybe read the poetic text online as an accompaniment. Who knows, I might make it an India year and read the Gandhi too.

Hong Kong

1. When I disembarked and called V, he asked me to get him a burger from Burger King. I was surprised because he’s usually making fun of me for being obsessed with food and thinking in advance of what I can eat where. I was pretty much shocked though when he tapped me on the shoulder in the departure lounger. V has NEVER come to get me at the airport, not even when I first came to HK. He is immensely practical about this and points out that it is just a waste of time and money for someone to come to the airport when the Airport Express is so quick and easy. Which is true, and I agreed at the time, though I hold it against him when I’m running out of things to hold against him. Anyway, either he was really bored or he really loves me (I think a combination of both), but he came. This did not stop us from having our first fight that evening.

2. The week I arrived it was freezing in Hong Kong. My apartment is on the top floor and thus like an icebox. Getting out of bed, changing clothes, taking a shower, all this was torture. I wanted to get on a flight right back to Bombay where I had spent my days in sleevely t-shirts.

3. The impassivity and self-centredness in HK immediately began to get to me. Not anything anyone did or said in particular but absence of engagement with other people. Only when you live abroad do you realize what people mean when they say Indian people are warm. I’m getting over this now, though, having been warmly welcomed back in office and had lunch with my two sweet Chinese friends.

4. I went for a dim sum lunch and I realised I have missed Chinese food. I ended up eating dim sum lunch for three days straight. And burgers in the evening, weird! Mid-lunch at every restaurant came the banging of drums and the arrival of the lion dance. While people who have grown up with this are probably a bit irritated by the noise, I have to say I love it! I’m like a kid, totally kicked every time the lion shook his head or booty.

5. We plunged right into shopping for furniture for the impending move. The first time we bought furniture together it was a big fight. Every item was argued over. This time around I can’t bring myself to care. Since we’re only renting, I’m ok with cheap, simple furniture as long as it’s functional and not too terrible. We bought a couch, cupboards, bed, TV stand and curtains over a couple of days with minimum fuss.

Up in the air

1. I’m astonished at how much the international airport has improved. Specifically, that there is this food courty thing that made me wish I hadn’t eaten dinner. I wish they had more accessible shops though, instead of pretentious Coach etc. though I guess those are ubiquitous in airports now. I suppose extreme boredom could convince some people to spend obscene amounts of money on an ugly monogram bag. I also wish they had a better bookstore. If the domestic airport can have a proper Landmark why does the international have to have sad magazine style shops with unfortunately only two women’s magazines? However, the toilet was pristine and fragrant! (See? It is possible for flushes to actually work) so overall full marks to the airport and JK Tyres.

2. The flight was delayed for a good hour which is the one thing that has not improved. There was this kid that bawled for the entire hour. What has changed though is that people either stared annoyed or ignored the mother who was clearly struggling whereas in the past, at least two auntyjis would have jumped in to help. There was one lady who was in the same row of seats as the bawling kid who was particularly stary/unhelpful. Later, I noticed that she had this rash all over the face and I began to fear she had measles. So I spent a good part of the hour speculating over whether I would rather sit near the measles or the bawling kid. As luck would have it, it was the bawling kid. (Life lesson: do not opt for emergency exit seats as that’s where people with kids are put). I have now accepted being seated next to (screaming) children as my karma. However, (vaguely attractive) guy next to me suddenly pointed out that the flight behind us was pretty much empty so we both got up and got ourselves a row each. This trip I’ve had pretty decent men sitting next to me on the flights (like not super handsome – then again they’re Indian –  but decent and with halfway interesting things to say which they inevitably do). I wonder whether it’s some conspiracy by the groundstaff.

3. I looked down at Bombay twinkling beneath me and I realised I was crying. I have gone through phases on my trips to India. The first time I came and went back I was horribly homesick and sobbed my way through the flight back, then got drunk when I reached and had this terrible throwing up episode made even worse because V had stayed back. The next couple of times, although I enjoyed my trips, I found myself increasingly critical of the way things are done in India (the roads, the dirt, the inefficiency). This time, I’ve made my peace. For one, I’m actually seeing an improvement in infrastructure (or is it just me?) but also more importantly, I’ve realised that there’s no point comparing Hong Kong and Bombay. They are two different places despite their similarities and my passion for both of them.

Bombay

1. I did not do any shopping in Goa and Hyderabad, which is shocking. However, I outdid myself in Bombay. Day 1 and I decided to take a stroll down Hill Road. Famous last words. I came back with an assortment of bras and panties, a couple of t-shirts and shawls of varying quality and some awesome stuff from Creative Handicrafts (which sells stuff from self-employed women’s cooperative). Day 2 and I hit Linking Road with my mum. Seven pairs of shoes heavier (three for mum!) I headed home to staunch disapproval from dad. Fab India and Cottons were duly taken in but managed not to buy anything for self. Rounded the trip off with a revisit to Hill Road for “last minute stuff” – make-up and hairclips.

2. Spent loads of time with the rents this trip. Or at least I think so. Maybe it’s because I got my girlie fix in Goa and then everyone disbanded or because I have pruned down the people I must hang out with in Bombay and some people have moved away. Either way, mommy was pleased. I think. Anyway, lots of (her) shopping got done.

3. As intended, I had delectable dinner at Soul Fry (Curly, you’ll be pleased to know I ate the Portuguese squid rice the next day) highlights of which were squid chilli fry and crumb friend prawns and a bonus dessert at Five Spice (which I did not eat Chinese at) to compensate for us being boring grown-ups and wanting to go sleep instead of partying, baida roti and chicken egg rolls from Tavaa (sadly, not the baida roti of choice from a roadside cart) and Chinese from Chinagate which I stretched over two lunches. Unfortunately, I missed out sev puri. But tummy had kind of collapsed by the end of it. I also feasted on biryani and rogan josh at the café in Lands End thanks to vouchers I had. There I noted with horror that a plate of rice costs Rs. 275 plus tax. I insisted that we order a naan instead (don’t’ remember what the naan cost but at least it’s not something I can make myself for Rs 10). The meal, despite astronomical prices and quite nice view of the (grey) sea from above, was strictly ok. I remember V once calling me from Bombay and telling me he had just eaten dal which cost Rs 500 or something at the Taj. I was incredulous. He justified it saying that it was really good. Well Rs. 275 rice beats that.

4. Got teeth fixed and scanned ovaries. Amazing how much more professional medical people are in India. It helps that the radiologist is my neighbour so she took special pains but apart from the fact that she explained in detail what she was seeing on the screen and what it might mean, I got a nice set of scans and a signed report.

5. Most wasteful part of the trip was time spent at the bank. Generally, the most wasteful part of my life is the time I spent doing banking work, and I do very little banking work. My philosophy of banking is to park my money somewhere where I forget about it for several years and then discover to my delight, a nice nest egg. I don’t see why I should be bothered by such things as cards, letters and offers to help me with my investments. Specifically, I dislike being sent about four debit/ATM (why do they have to be different?) cards in a single year and having to run around to collect them because the courier guys come in the day when I’m working and then I have to call them and arrange a time or make a trip to the post office. The final straw was when having finally laid hands on the damn card, the atm swallows it up when I’m trying to use it. Determined to close my account, I found myself cooling my heels in the so-called Premier Centre for more than half an hour listening to another lady crib to her friend about how crap the bank is and how she wants to move to a nationalized bank (my sentiments exactly!). Unfortunately, when actually called upon by my “relationship manager” I got convinced not to close the account under promises that I would not receive another card for the next five years. Then I made the mistake of asking about investments (because ever so often I think I should be doing something with my money) and he went on and on about mutual funds and sips and then took 20 minutes to photocopy something. Now that I’m back in HK, of course, I’ve forgotten all about investing, except for the odd notion that a nice some gold might not be a bad investment.

Hyderabad

1. Drive from airport to Secbad is endless and weirdly I could not recognize anything including turn off to place I spent two years studying in or road to cousin’s building (blame that on the circle being blocked off, not me). I was impressed by the bus service though and the airport in general (which today’s news said was voted fifth best in India, behind Seoul, Singapore, HK and Beijing!). What has not changed is inability of auto drivers to go by the meter and their ability to whine you into giving them more than the already increased sum.

2. Cousins wedding was fun but disorienting. Flew into Hyderabad, pretty much rushed out of airport in 20 minutes having not checked in anything, took almost as long as flight to reach cousin’s house, changed and drove to wedding. Fact is cousin, who I consider a child, being married is strange too.

3. Caught up with soulsister cousin (ie- different one from the wedding one) and played with her kid a lot. But find I cannot relate to boy children. There is only so much you can do with a football or a toy car (namely, kick it, run it between you endlessly). Thank god future niece is, well, a niece.

4. Ate everything I wanted to eat. That is, idli/dosa/coffee from Kamat, fish from Narmada (some hole in the wall that convinced me that fish is not disgusting), chicken 65 (though not up to the usual standard since not from roadside cart of choice), biryani at the wedding and Chinese food from Nanking. At the airport had an awesome Uttappam and then it turned out there was food on the flight too so I had a pav bhaji on top of it (did I say I love Indian airline food?)

5. Had lovely time at MinCat’s awesome apartment. It is one of those cool-type places that one would really want to live in as a Young Working Person if one could be bothered to move out of one’s parents’ house. However, it is also evident that we have grown up. The apartment has proper furniture and a maid and a very serious, very beautiful view and MinCat cooks regularly. On the other hand, we went out and got quite drunk and many cigarettes were consumed so not quite grown up after all.

Goa

1. No matter how rushed one was prior to the trip, there is something about Goa that just makes you chill out. I began to think about this on the long ride from the airport to Candolim and I figured it’s because people there are so chilled out (ok, I know everyone already knew this). Most of the ride is on these winding tree-lined roads, and whenever you spot people they are ambling along or just sitting around talking. And it’s a known fact that they will have a nap (ie- siesta) in the afternoon, or else.

2. We decided we must eat at Brittos asap. So we drove there from the airport and dragged our bags through the sand till we found a table facing the sea. Then we ate two seafood platters, and a plate of sausage fry. Annoying thing about waiters in Brittos is that they will get you a drink pronto but after two hours or so, there was no sign of a plate of rice. That is, they brought the other stuff eventually but my pleas for rice fell on deaf ears.

3. Friend’s wedding in Goa was funnest wedding I have attended in a long while. Too much alcohol and smoke was consumed but lots of dancing to work it off. Unfortunately, we missed the sunset which was sort of the point of the beach wedding (owing to being four girls in a house trying to dress up at the same time and getting distracted with other people’s clothes/makeup/photo-takeouting).

4. We were escorted around town by two nice Goan boys. I get wistful thinking about them and my inability to fall for anyone nice. There was something simple about those two that is beyond anyone I have ever gone out with. Then again I don’t think a simple lad would know what to make of me so maybe it’s all for the best.

5. I did not swim once. Which is kind of a relief because I am no longer attractive in swimwear (not that that would deter me had the opportunity for swimming arisen). Nor did I buy anything which is also a relief because I have the propensity to buy hippy-looking things that I would probably not use in HK. I did, however, discover a feni cocktail. So not an absolute loss.

India

1. Like a typical Indian, I flew back bags choc-a-block with gifts for every member of the family, 10 kg heavier in baggage than I was allowed. The check-in girl didn’t raise a hair. With my two – albeit heavyweight – bags neatly packed and ticket and passport in hand, I was the easiest check-in of her evening. Everyone else was in unwieldly clumps, garnished with plastic bags, and somehow managing to take around 15 minutes each at the counter.

2.  I’m a sucker for airline food and Jet didn’t disappoint. This is the point of travelling on an Indian airline – to start the feasting in air only. And to not get sneered at by snooty Chinese airhostesses. And to chat with one’s neighbour because that is what Indian people do when travelling.  Helps of course if it’s a cute desi boy. Somehow I’m lucky that way. Of course, I was a row away from a jumpy child but I have accepted that as my karma. Thankfully I was sleepy enough to tune her out.

3. Bombay airport is vastly improved.  Only drawback is the baggage carousel which is miniscule and of course, those who get there first – elbowing others out of their way – shove through with trolleys in tow thereby making it impossible for half the flight to catch sight of their bags. You exit from the airport into a courtyyard flanked on all sides by loving relatives. Someone seems to have realised that Indian families will come to greet arriving relatives en masse so might as well give them enough space to do it.

4. The roads in Bombay seem to have vastly improved too. The drive home was smooth. At one point, I breathed in the full blast of Bombay smell – sea, shit, garbage and grime. And this time, instead of wrinkling my nose, I smiled.

5. The domestic airport is good too but sort of bursting at the seams. I rediscovered the amazingness of CCD Frappe.

TBC

India reading list

1. My Friend Sancho (Amit Varma): Slightly bizarre but enjoyed this. The whole journalist thingie was so close to home. I remember trying to rewrite a write-up about an encounter – we used to use them as fillers when news was short – and being told by the crime writer that we shouldn’t change the wording. Format being – police asked the guy to surrender, he refused, so police were forced to open fire. Right.

2. This is It (Meenakshi Madhavan Reddy): Loved! And totally didn’t expect to, considering I mostly heard that it was a disappointment. But I loved it. It’s chicklit but thoughtful. I’m just going to say it – if I ever write a novel, this is how it’s going to be. This book taught me that it’s possible to write something interesting even if it’s drifty and nothing happens (in a way that Ulysses did not, ha!).

3. Almost Single (Advaita Kala): ok. Readable with some honest moments but generally get the feeling that she shoved in a number of elements that she thought chicklit should have at the expense of properly developing the romantic story.

Also read:
Wolf Hall (Hilary Mantel): Very good. Initially, I found the floaty style a bit disconcerting but then it grows on you and you realize that historical fiction can be stylish too. Now everyone leave names of other excellent historical (and in particular Tudor) fiction (but not Philippa Gregory or Alison Weir because I’ve read both, the former is passable, the latter awesome).

Want to read:
Palace of Illusions (Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni): Although I have not read the Mahabharata. On that note, does anyone know a good English version of the entire Mahabharata that I can read?

Italy reading list

So, at long last, I’m posting my Italy-related reading list (with which I cheated on poor Joyce – you cannot imagine what a relief it is to use the past tense):

1. I Claudius and Claudius the God (Robert Graves): First book is much more gripping than the sequel but by the end of the first book, you’re gagging for more so the sequel follows through.
2. Under the Tuscan Sun (Frances Mayes): I remember liking the feel of the movie based on this book though not the movie itself. Now, I can say the same for the book. There are some recipes in there that almost inspired me to cook though. Almost.
3. Extra Virgin (Annie Hawes): Loved this one; kind of what I thought Under the Tuscan Sun would be.
4. The Didius Falco series (Lindsay Davis): Awesome fun this is. Detective stories set in ancient Rome. Still reading them.
5. Italian Neighbours (Tim Parks): Like the Frances Mayes’ book, this one didn’t grip me. Returned unfinished.