Govinda by Krishna Udayasankara

The Story of a Man and His Empire

Disclaimer: This is a review of “Govinda” by Krishna Udayasankar. Beware of unintentional spoilers.

Mahabharata, the quintessential piece of ancient literature that has survived centuries if not millennia through various cultures, traditions and languages. Time after time, it has been used as an educational tool to demonstrate how certain things can and will go wrong despite our best efforts to contain it. The Bhagavad Gita, narrated by Krishna to Arjuna in the battlefield just before the Battle of Kurukshetra and still considered a guidebook of sort by a lot of people, theists and atheists alike, is but a part of one of the eighteen Parvas (Volumes) of the entire text of Vyasa Mahabharata. The Vyasa Mahabharata (or Jaya Samhita) is the text supposedly compiled by Ved Vyasa, who himself appears as an important character in the epic. There are many other versions of Mahabharata in local languages and regions. Every version of Mahabharata incorporates details from the respective compilers, details differing from Vyasa’s version.

The thing about mythology is that it attracts people because of its elusive nature. Various mythologies around the world were built around primitive observations by our early ancestors. Our first gods were based on forces of nature. Sun. Sky. Earth. Rain. Thunderstorm. Fire. Water. Elements of nature anthropomorphized in form of deities. Sentient beings have the ability to recognize patterns in the environment. We use this ability to determine the patterns of nature. This was our rudimentary attempt at science. Somebody found out that friction creates fire. Somebody else found out that rain helps plants grow. The Sun comes out from one direction and goes down in the opposite direction. The small lights in the sky keep changing places, but their patterns, the shapes, remain constant. All these observations contributed to our previous stories and our gods became complex. As we entered civilization, out previous myths started fading. We learned that fire is not magical and there are ways to control it and use it. We learned that we can grow crops by cultivating lands, planting seeds, and supplying just enough amount of water from the river. Our knowledge eliminated the mysterious nature of the myths and transformed them into something else. We created new gods for new ways of life. Civilizations rose and fell, and so did their gods.

Before we invented writing, knowledge was about memorization and oral transmission. Writing made the task easier, as we could preserve the knowledge for future generations without requiring scholars to memorize entire texts. We started with stone tablets, and then gradually moved towards engraved metallic plates, leaves or tree barks, animal skin, and then paper. Now we are in the age where paper is slowly losing its edge. It will take a few hundred years to completely get rid of paper I guess, but we are already at the stage where I am writing this using a portable computer device that I can keep on my lap. The original Sanskrit text of Vyasa Mahabharata is a few clicks away thanks to the global network of computing devices, better known as the Internet. A few thousand years ago, the story of Mahabharata was an elusive tale with gods, sorcery, and superweapons. In present times, Mahabharata is as elusive as Marvel and DC Comic Multiverses, or Harry Potter, or Tolkien’s Middle Earth stories, or GRRM’s A Song of Ice and Fire series. The morals have remained the same, but the medium has changed, the presentation style has changed. Our early ancestors used to recite shlokas and sing songs. Our later ancestors used to perform plays. We use movies and television as mass media to tell these stories.

These technological advances are a result of progress in various scientific fields. Now we know a lot of things, facts and concepts that we were not aware of, or that we were unable to prove because of lack of technological advances required. And just like it had happened before, this new and improved knowledge poses threat to the mystical element of mythology. How do we explain the genesis of Dhritarashtra and Gandhari’s 101 children? How do we counter the contradictory claims about characters that exist in one version of the myth and not in others? How do we justify Pandava’s decision to have a common wife? How do we explain Shikhandi’s ambiguous gender? Here, we observe the same phenomenon that spawned indefinite versions of Mahabharata in ancient times: Retelling the myths using our present knowledge of concepts.

This trend may have started way earlier, but it observed a significant rise after Amish Tripathi’s Immortals of Meluha was released. Shiva Trilogy is a modern retelling of the mythology surrounding Lord Shiva, taking place during Indus Velley Civilization and explaining its collapse. Anand Neelakantan tells the story of Ravana’s fall in Asura: Tale of the Vanquished, taking the contrary view and painting Rama as an antagonist. Ashok Banker has published entire series of books on Ramayana and Krishna. Similarly, Krishna Udayasankar has reimagined the world of Mahabharata in her The Aryavarta Chronicles series.

Govinda is the first book in The Aryavarta Chronicles trilogy. The trilogy as a whole takes the divine and mysterious legends of the Kurukshetra War and strips it down to human level. The Rakshasas of mythology become Rikshasa or tree-people. Divine weapons turn into scientific and technological marvels. The terrible Danavas turn into tribal mercenaries. The most interesting transformation, however, is that of the core narrative. While Mahabharata is a tale of war between cousins of the Kuru dynasty for the throne of Aryavarta, The Aryavarta Chronicle depict the family squabble as secondary to the larger struggle between two orders. The first of them are the Firstborns. Firstborns are the descendants of Vasishta Varuna, the firstborn son of Brahma. They are the protectors of the Divine Order on the and advisors to various kings of Aryavarta. The head of the order is known as Vyasa, the Record Keeper, and the current Vyasa is Krishna Dwaipayana, son of Parashara Varuni by a fisherman’s daughter named Satya. Dwaipayana is also stepbrother to Devavrata Bhisma, regent to the throne of Hastinapur and son of Kaurava king Shantanu, via Satya’s marriage to the king. When both of Satya’s son died childless, she asked Dwaipayana to perform Niyoga ceremony with her youngest son’s widows, producing princes Dhritarashtra and Pandu along with Vidur who was born to a handmaiden. Pandu was given the throne because of Dhritarashtra’s blindness, but he vacated it and left to live in the forest with his wives and died there. Now, the blind King Dhritarashtra rules Hastinapur with the help of Vidur, his half-brother, and Grandsire Bhisma, the regent.

The other order in this narrative is that of the Firewrights. Firewrights are descendants of Agni Angiras, also a son of Brahma. While the Firstborn strive to preserve the Divine Order on earth, the Firewrights value knowledge above everything else. The pursuit of knowledge often leads them to explore the intricacies of the Divine Order, subverting the authorities of the Firstborn, which has put both the order against each other. For years, kings of Aryavarta depended upon the Firstborn to legitimize their sovereignty on the realm, while the Firewrights served as their weapon-makers. Eventually, the Firstborn influenced the kings of Aryavarta enough to convince them that Firewrights were keen on destroying the Divine Order and therefore they needed to be punished. The kings of Aryavarta began the Great Scourge, the systematic hunting and killing of Firewrights, which reduced and forced the Firewright order into anonymity. A key figure who participated in the Scourge on behalf of the throne of Hastinapur was Govinda Shauri.

Govinda Shauri is a Yadava chief and the Commander of the armies of Dwaraka. Just like our Krishna from Mahabharata, Govinda is a man unlike anybody has ever seen. He was born to Yadava chief Vasudeva and his wife Devaki in the prison of Mathura by Devaki’s brother Kans. Govinda was smuggled out of the jail and raised in a village until he and his half-brother Balabadra defied Kans’s authority and killed him. After that, he assumed the rule as a Yadava chief like his father, but he and his people were driven out of Mathura by repeated attacks from Jarasandha, ruler of Magadha and current Emperor of Aryavarta. Govinda travelled to Dwaraka with his people and built a new city away from Jarasandha’s reach. However, to the rulers of Aryavarta, Govinda stands out like a sore thumb. He does not believe in the Divine Order the way others do. He possesses knowledge that others have never heard of or decided to deliberately avoid. He refuses to take sides in the eternal struggle between the two orders despite aiding the Firstborn cause and participating in the Scourge. He lives by his own principles, as it is apparent by his rule at Dwaraka. He is also a master politician who has only one dream, and that is to bind everyone together and create the great Empire of Aryavarta. The only thing that he remotely appears to care about, apart from the people of Aryavarta, is the princess of Panchala, Panchali Draupadi.

Unlike the popular version of Mahabharata, Panchali is not the wife of five brothers in this book. She is married to Dharma Yudhisthir, the eldest son of Pandu despite the real circumstances of his and his brothers’ conception being shrouded in secrecy. She and her brother Dhrstydymn are orphans adopted by King Dhrupad of Panchala. Shikhandin is the Panchali’s elder brother and not the most favorite son of their father, to the point that there are rumors about his impotency and the questionable paternity of his son Yudhamanyu. Syoddhan is the crown prince of Hastinapur and has a much better characterization compared to the vile and greedy Duryodhana that we usually see in our television shows. Krishna Dwaipayana, the Vyasa of the Firstborn, is portrayed as a master puppeteer who wants his progenies to rule Aryavarta, affirming the authority of the Firstborns as the protectors of Divine Order. Divine weapons such as the Brahm-astra and the Nag-astra are Firewright inventions, as are the various technological advances contributing to the prosperity of the realm. Govinda tells us the tale of the political chess match between Dwaipayana and Govinda Shauri, where both of them dream of creating an empire and neither of them is willing to refrain from using the other characters as pawns in order to achieve that goal.

Mythological tales like the Mahabharata have two aspects to it: historical and moral. The historical aspect is about authenticity. Even though a large part of world population considers Mahabharata as a fictional tale that incorporates real locations and societal practices, some view it as a real story with fictional elements. Govinda takes a similar route and gives us the “real” story (in the context of the novel) that was later exaggerated by adding elements of fantasy to it. Govinda Shauri became an incarnation of Narayana. Pandavas and Karna became children of Kunti by various Devas. The conflict of Pandavas and Kauravas replaced the eternal struggle of the Firstborn and the Firewrights, but the core narrative of the story remained the same.

Books like Shiva Trilogy and The Aryavarta Chronicles represent something that most people tend to overlook. These books are built on the same narrative that is present in almost every mythological tale involving a two-sided conflict, the struggle between order and chaos. In Shiva Trilogy, it is the conflict between the idealistic Suryavanshis and the materialistic Chandravanshis. In Govinda, it is the struggle between the Firstborn, who strive to protect the Divine Order, and the Firewrights, who put knowledge above archaic traditions. Between the Firstborn and the Firewrights, Govinda Shauri represents the point of equilibrium between two ideologies, the best of both worlds. He wants to create an empire that integrates the ideals of the Firstborn with the knowledge of the Firewrights, an idea abhorred by many from either sides. He represents the middle ground, the third option that is beneficial to most and harmful to least. This makes him unpredictable and dangerous, and therefore not a popular choice for emperor, something that he gladly accepts as a part of his life. Govinda is the tale of a man who wants to build an empire but does not desire the throne, because the true victory for him is the prosperity of the realm and he is ready to sacrifice his own life if it comes to that.

The story of Govinda continues in the other two books of the trilogy, Kaurava and Kurukshetra. The reviews for both will be published (hopefully) in near future.

The Land Where Goddesses Are Abused

यत्र नार्यस्तु पूज्यन्ते रमन्ते तत्र देवताः ।

यत्रैतास्तु न पूज्यन्ते सर्वास्तत्राफलाः क्रियाः ।।

मनुस्मृति अध्याय ३, श्लोक ५६

“Where women are worshipped, gods reside there. Where they are not worshipped, all action results into failure.” – Manusmriti 3:46

A few months ago, I saw some ads depicting actresses who looked like they had been beaten and abused, with purple marks and blood visible on their skin. It was intriguing and disturbing, because one of them carried a musical instrument, the other one had four hands and was sitting on a lotus, and the third one had eight hands, various weapons, and a lion standing behind her. These ads depicted our revered goddesses Sarasvati, Lakshmi and Durga in a form that we cannot imagine.

Recently, British actress/producer/director Leslee Udwin directed a documentary film on the Nirbhaya Case. The documentary, titled India’s Daughter, has caused a furor because nobody seems to understand how a foreign national was able to get permission to interview the rapists in the jail. The documentary was banned in India, which was responded by BBC moving the airing date forward by four days. It was uploaded on YouTube and the circulation is going to continue even if the video is removed from official sites (similar to other controversial content like AIB Knockout). People in India feel no shame when they download copyrighted content using P2P clients, so whoever is interested will find a way to watch that film.

The surprising thing about this matter is the reactions from different sections of society. The ban is valid because of the impact this documentary could have on the case (which is still ongoing because of appeals, as convicts have a right to challenge their conviction in a higher court), but the whole uproar surrounding this ban downplays the actual reason. Some people feel that the rapist should not be given a public platform to present his case. That is what the courtrooms are for. Some people see this as an attempt to malign our image in international media, forgetting the fact that our image, at least in this context, is already dirty.

The lines in the beginning are from Manusmriti, the scripture which is often criticized for being the source of patriarchy prevalent in our culture. When a girl is born the family, we say that Lakshmi has arrived in human form. In the new age, we want our daughters to be intelligent like Sarasvati and brave like Durga. It has been said that women who are not your wives should be considered your sisters, mothers or daughters. All women are considered incarnations of Shakti, the primal energy, and should be treated just like we treat our goddesses. And the idea ends here, because women are no longer just women. They are not human, and since they are not human, they cannot act like normal humans.

In ancient times, we did not have spectrums of gender and sexuality. Men were men who liked women, women were women who liked men, and anyone who did not belong to either categories would lead a miserable life. Men were hunters, gatherers, breadwinners, while women were homemakers and caretakers. Men took the responsibility to protect women because biologically they had no contribution other than providing their sperm. Somebody had to protect the women who would bear children and ensure survival of the species, so we established traditional gender roles. Women would stay in the house and take care of the family, while men would provide protection and resources from outside. Men fought over things like land and food, to ensure that the freshly killed deer or the newfound land belonged to the one who deserved it, which meant a man who could fight and win if another man threatened him. A woman would definitely want such a man if it meant that he could keep her safe, while the man would not want to share her women with others. This is how woman became a prized possession like a fertile land. A man was allowed to keep wives only if he could prove that he was competent. The more powerful he was, the more wives he had. This would also allow elimination of weaker, incompetent men who were less likely to protect their women, and the children of strong men were supposed to inherit the strength. Women were the fertile land and men were the farmers who planted seeds in them.

The earliest religions were nature-based so-called pagan religions. These religions equated women with earth, and thus we had Mother Earth. The earliest goddesses were primarily deities of fertility and female sexuality. Women were seen as untamed nature, and men, who were used to taming nature for survival and prosperity, considered that it was justified to tame women too. Women were restricted inside the four walls of their houses. Men would provide everything they wanted, they just had to produce children and take care of the family. These confines then extended to their social status, where women had to follow more rules than men. They could not wear something that would displease their men. They could not go anywhere without their permission or protection. They had to please everyone while masking their own pain. They could not fight oppression or injustice while they were dependent on somebody else. Women were treasure that had to be kept under lock and key. All this happened in the background while we were busy worshipping our goddesses.

We believe that our culture was more advanced and developed compared to other cultures. Ours is a culture that is dynamic and adaptable, and it is the sole reason why it has survived after all these years. The ability to understand and absorb knowledge from other cultures is what makes our country unique, otherwise the disparity among languages and customs would have destroyed us long ago. Our culture treats men and women as equal, and one cannot exist without the other. Our society has shades of patriarchy as well as matriarchy. There are some tribes which follow explicit matriarchal and matrilineal systems. Shiva, one of the three supreme gods, is worshipped as Ardhanaarishwar, a traditionally male god depicted as half-female. Vishnu takes a female ‘avatar’ explicitly to use feminine charm as a weapon. Wives are called Ardhangini, one half of a couple. Purush and Prakrti are complements to each other. I don’t know how a traditionally patriarchal society could develop these ideas. Perhaps they learned to keep an open mind. Perhaps this was a result of the amalgamation of Aryan and Dravidian cultures which were radically different. Whatever the reason might be, but the result was a truly divine culture.

Then the world started noticing us. India was particularly known as the land of spices. Outsiders realized that this country was a mine (figuratively, and in some cases literally). Different cultures started invading us. First there were Persians and Greeks, then came the radical Islamic invaders, and then the shrewd Europeans such as British, French, Portuguese and Spaniards. Their main motive was to spread their culture and religion into other regions, and they somewhat succeeded. Because of the atrocities and strife, we adapted by turning ourselves into a more conservative culture. Dignity of thoughts turned into dignity of appearance. Muslim conquests were followed by Muslim emperors and then by the British Raj that enforced the Victorian ideas on our mindset. By the time we became an independent country in 1947, our culture had changed drastically. Since then, the society has divided itself into factions taking difference stances on different ideas.

As for the film, it is just an ordinary documentary. The rapist thinks exactly what we (or at least I) expect him to think. It is a presentation of facts surrounding the particular event and its impact on our society. But banning this film has revealed what different sections of society actually think about women. The outrageous statements from both the defense lawyers are deliberately sensationalized, and this ploy works because it compels the viewers to respond. If the government had not banned this documentary, it would not have attracted so much attention (again, just like with AIB Knockout). It would have been criticized for what it is, not what BBC presents it to be. Thanks to the ban, the documentary has achieved exactly what we were trying to prevent, an opportunity to provide a voice for the rapist. Now every negative comment made against the rapist gives a perverse pleasure to him and publicity to his lawyers. We are giving the rapist exactly what he wants, a sense of power.

Any psychologist can tell you this basic fact about rape. Rape is about power, not the lust. A minister says, ‘Boys will be boys. They will make mistakes.’ Another political leader thinks that fast food like Chow Mein increases rapes. He even tries to justify it by giving a ‘scientific’ context about hormonal imbalance. One of the defense lawyers says that girls are like flowers. They should be protected and nurtured. If you put them on streets, the dogs will rip them apart. While comparing a woman to a vulnerable flower, they are admitting that men are like uncontrollable dogs. Yes, we are all sons of bitches who cannot control our perverse lust. Women are advised to wear clothes that do not reveal their skins or even the shape of their body. It is ironical that a woman looks sexier in a saree than she does in a skirt or jeans. Ancient temples depict women as wearing sarees without a blouse. Their breasts are not invisible, but rather prominently featured. The small uttariya (shoulder-cloth) or the garlands and ornaments accentuate their beauty instead of hiding them. Sanskrit literature is not shy when it describes these gorgeous women, not even if they are goddesses like Parvati. And while we are talking about lust, there are plenty of examples in which evil Asuras try to claim beautiful women and receive apt punishment for it. Raavan meets his maker because he kidnaps Seeta. Duryodhan and his brothers are ripped apart by Bheem primarily because of what they did to Draupadi. The same Bheem also kills Kichak, brother-in-law of King Virat, because he made advances as Draupadi who was disguised as a maid. The five-headed Brahma loses one of his heads because he lusts after his daughter. The demon Andhaka lusts after the beautiful Parvati, not knowing that she is his mother. We have all these examples of men wanting to claim women just because they can, and yet we think that women should restrict themselves if they want to be safe. We refuse to conform to Western Culture, but we forget that we have only survived because we conformed to the outsiders.

It is time we understand that men and women are not just two sexes. They are two ideologies. The duality of masculine and feminine nature, Purush and Prakrti, was, is and will continue to be as long as civilization survives. Even if we have more women and less men, or less women and more men, or a diverse spectrum of gender and sexuality, the duality will exist. If humans want to control nature, they have to allow nature to exist in the primal form. If we want to save our women, we have to allow them to be what they are, not what we want them to be. We have to teach them how to fend for themselves, so that the flower can fight off the dogs on the streets. Most importantly, we have to teach our dogs that flowers are not things meant to be ripped apart and eaten. We have to teach our boys about the results of their mistakes. We have to teach our men that they are not entitled to have everything just because they are men.

Ours is a land where women are worshipped. By definition, gods are supposed to reside here. But this aesthetic worship strips women of their humanity and confines them into manmade boundaries. When they become goddesses, they cease to be human, and when they are defiled, they cease to be alive. By definition, when goddesses turn into subhuman objects and stop being worshipped, all action results into failure.

At the end, this C&H comic sums up the most common defense argument.

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