Swadharma

One of my many purchases on a recent trip to India was a copy of Chakravarti Rajagopalachari’s English translation of the Mahabharata.  Rajaji (1878-1972) was an important Indian statesman, but he spent a bit of his active life on literature and religion rather than politics.  His Mahabharata is ~450 pages long, which can hardly include everything from Vyasa’s masterpiece, so I am attempting the following: during the next few months, I plan to also read Kamala Subramaniam’s ~750 page version and K.M.Munshi’s 7-volume Krishnavatara.  Perhaps I’ll also (finally!) watch the entire dvd series, made by B.R.Chopra and Ravi Chopra.  We’ll see how far I get! If anyone has recommendations for any other version that I should take a look at, please let me know.

Many of us Hindus, as children, were told (or read ourselves) the basic story of the Mahabharata over and over.  I have taken so much from it, and it has truly affected my perspective on life.  That being said, I cannot truly give the epic that responsibility without studying it more thoroughly.  Before this, I had never read more than a children’s version!  I am sure many of you readers may feel similarly, and so one reason why I have chosen to write about my experiences reading these versions is for you to find one that appeals to you.  I hope that all of you will someday (if you haven’t already) pick up a more thorough version of Vyasa’s story.

Having finished Rajaji’s version, I thought I might share with you all a few memorable passages from it.  (If you’d like to read it yourself, here is an online version, which is only 217 pages!)  What I particularly like about this version (who knows, it may be true with others as well) is Rajaji’s delicate commentary throughout the story.  Sometimes it gets to be a bit too much.  Here is a passage from when the Pandavas are attempting to make peace with the Kauravas while simultaneously preparing for battle:

In December 1941, the Japanese were carrying on negotiations with the Americans and, immediately on the breakdown of those talks, took them unawares and attacked Pearl Harbour destroying their naval forces there.  Drupada’s instructions to the brahmana would show that this was no new technique and that, even in the old days, the same method was followed of carrying on negotiations and even sincerely working for peace, but simultaneously preparing, with unremitting vigour, for outbreak of war and carrying on peace talks with the object of creating dissensions in the enemy’s ranks.  There is nothing new under the sun!

A bit much, right? At other times, Rajaji’s words precisely capture the idea of the story.  He details a side story of a brahmana and a dutiful wife with the following end remarks:

The moral of this striking story of Dharmavyadha so skilfully woven by Vedavyasa into the Mahabharata, is the same as the teaching of the Gita, that man reaches perfection by the honest pursuit of whatever calling falls to his lot in life, and that this is really worship of God Who created and pervades all (Bhagavad Gita XVIII: 45-46).  The occupation may be one he is born to in society or it may have been forced on him by circumstances or he may have taken it up by choice but what really matters is the spirit of sincerity and faithfulness with which he does his life’s work.

There are too many times in the Mahabharata where people clearly make the wrong decision.  Rajaji comments thus:

The Puranas wherein right conduct is always preached, sometimes set out stories in which conduct, not in conformity with Dharma, seems condoned.  Is it right, one may ask, for religious books thus to seem to justify wrong?

A little reflection will enable one to see the matter in proper light.  It is necessary to bring home the fact that even wise, good and great men are liable to fall into error.  That is why the Puranas, although ever seeking to instill Dharma, contain narratives to show how in this world even good people sometimes sin against Dharma, as though irresistibly driven to do so.  This is to press home the truth that howsoever learned one may be, humility and constant vigilance are absolutely necessary if one wishes to avoid evil.

Why indeed, did the great authors of our epics write about the lapses of Rama in the Ramayana and Yudhisthira in the Mahabharata? Where was the need to make mention of them and then labour arguments to explain them away, thereby disturbing men’s minds? It was not as though other had discovered the lapses and Vyasa and Valmiki had to defend their heroes.  The stories are artistic creations in which lapses themselves impress the desired moral.  The parts dealing with the lapses deeply distress the reader’s mind and serve as solemn warnings of pitfalls which wait to engulf the careless.  They dispose the mind to humility and watchfulness and make it realise the need for divine guidance.

The modern cinema also projects on the screen much that is bad and immoral.  Whatever may be the explanation offered by the protagonists of the cinema, evil is presented on the screen in an attractive fashion that grips people’s minds and tempts them into the path of wickedness.  Not so in the Puranas.  Although they do point out that even great now and again fell into error and committed wrong, the presentation is such as to warn the reader and not to allure him into evil ways.  This is the striking difference between our epics and the modern talkies, which arises from the difference in the character of the people who produced them.

Ok, he again goes a little too far in the last paragraph (or sentence).  Rajaji is clearly not of our generation!  But I find the rest of his discussion illuminating.

Rajaji presents an interest view of choices in a chapter on Balarama’s lack of involvement in battle (Krishna’s elder brother is torn between sides and loses all interest in the world):

This episode of Balarama’s keeping out of the Mahabharata war is illustrative of the perplexing situations in which good and honest men often find themselves.  Compelled to choose between two equally justifiable, but contrary, courses of action, the unhappy individual is caught on the horns of a dilemma.

It is only honest men that find themselves in this predicament.  The dishonest ones of the earth have no such problems, guided as they are solely by their own attachments and desires, that is, by self-interest.  Not so the great men who have renounced all desire.  Witness the great trials to which, in the Mahabharata, Bhishma, Vidura, Yudhisthira and Karna were put.  We read in that epic how they solved their several difficulties.  Their solutions did not conform to a single moral pattern but reflected their several individualities.  The conduct of each was the reaction of his personality and character to the impact of circumstances. Modern critics and expositors sometimes forget this underlying basic factor and seek to weigh all in the same scales, which is quite wrong.  We may profit by the way in which, in the Ramayana, Dasaratha, Kumbhakarana, Maricha, Bharata, and Lakshmana reacted to the difficulties with which each of them was faced.  Likewise, Balarama’s neutrality in the Mahabharata war was a lesson.

Perhaps I include these specific passages because I agree with them, but I cannot avoid that bias.  One of the reasons I feel compelled to read the epic in so many different ways is because the story itself appeals to me in so many ways.  For me, the Mahabharata is the truth of life: that we humans are all faced with difficult decisions and we navigate these decisions by following our moral compass, our Swadharma.  That is all we can do to make peace with, and in, the universe.

Related posts:

1. Authentic or Apocryphal? Does it even matter?
2. Question of the Week: Are Hindu Epics Literature, History, or Scripture?
3. Learning from others
4. Question of the Week: Hinduism and Relationships
5. Holi: The Festival of Colors