I did something I haven’t done in a long time. I read 3 books in a span of 2 weeks. Sheer joy.
Rukmini: Krishna’s Wife, Draupadi: The Tale of an Empress, and Ahalya’s Awakening. Each on a stunning, feisty mythological character I didn’t know much about. I knew Ahalya’s story very briefly. Rukmini’s even less. I’d heard a lot more about Draupadi, but in bits and pieces, as part of many tales from the Mahabharata. Which still wasn’t much.
Revisiting mythology from the point of view of these powerful characters was fascinating. New angles of the same story opened up. I don’t think I’ll ever sing another Rama bhajan with the words “Ahalyo Dharaka” without being transported to Ahalya’s world, one Kavita Kané crafts so masterfully. Saiswaroopa Iyer does the same exceptionally well for Rukmini and Draupadi. I went back in time to Dwapara yuga and lived their intriguing lives, fighting against the mores of that world…
I’m right now battling a sense of dissonance about which world I actually belong to. Wasn’t I just sometime back staring outside my palace window looking for Krishna’s chariot, as His Sakhi? Or in Rukmini’s garden, in front of the Tulsi plant, praying for strength to uphold Dharma and to try and understand my enigmatic Krishna? Or in Rishi Gautam’s Ashram, upset about not having become a Rishika and about the marriage falling apart? When a book is written well, the little details register so deeply that you’re drawn into its world. You stay with it long after you’re done reading. These 3 books were so captivating that I barely watched any TV in 2 weeks. It’s been blissful.
I’m not into writing book reviews, so you’d have to visit those links to read more about each book. What I do know is that I’ve taken a lot of strength from the lives of these women, who’ve all led rather tumultuous lives. I feel a sort of kinship with each of them. I’ve learnt from their courage, their passion, the way the world treated them, the way they dealt with the world, and the way they made peace with it.
I wonder if the retelling of these stories is so powerful because they’ve all been written by women. Another favorite of mine from this genre - The Forest of Enchantments, Sita’s version of the Ramayana - has also been written by a woman - Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni. These are complex characters, who’ve come to be (commonly) defined and judged by specific events (maybe that’s history for you). Rukmini isn’t just the woman who eloped and married Krishna. Draupadi isn’t just the wife of the Pandavas. Ahalya certainly isn’t just the woman who cheated on Rishi Gautam. Retelling their stories calls for sensitivity, showing them as real women in complicated circumstances. It needs a vision without judgement, one that sees their side of the choices they made. I should probably pick up a book on a female mythological character written by a male author to check my bias. But not for a while.
For now, I need to get back to this world of mine. To 2021. To Thane. To the gorgeous rains outside my window. To the emails that call for my attention. To the meal that waits to be cooked in my kitchen. To the Tulsi plant I need to water. And then, just for an instant, when I look at my Tulsi, I’m again transported back to Rukmini’s backyard, and her world…
Looks like these women and their stories are going to haunt my world for quite sometime.
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