Category: academia

Draupadī’s Question

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The order of the stakes of the dice game in the Mahābhārata goes as follows:

1) Yudhiṣṭhira stakes and loses the Pāṇḍavas’ wealth, army, empire, throne, weapons
2) Yudhiṣṭhira stakes and loses the autonomy of his four younger brothers, and they are enslaved on the spot (and they submit to it)
3) Yudhiṣṭhira stakes and loses his own autonomy, rendering himself enslaved (and submitting to it himself)
4) lastly, Yudhiṣṭhira stakes and loses Draupadī’s autonomy. The Kauravas roar in excitement, and they send a servant to fetch Draupadī to the sabhā (the royal hall) so she can be enslaved publicly.

Draupadī is absent from the sabhā at the time the dice game unfolds, as she is in her private chambers, menstruating. The servant comes to her and announces the outcome of the dice game. She is told that she has been ordered to present herself as a servant before the Kuru dynasty. She refuses to go, and says she wants one question to be asked to Yudhiṣṭhira:

“Did you first lose yourself, or me?” (2.60.9)

The servant returns to the sabhā and asks Draupadī’s question to Yudhiṣṭhira, who remains silent. The Kauravas become enraged by what they perceive to be Draupadī’s defiance, and one of them, Duḥśāsana, goes to fetch her himself. When she still refuses to come, he grabs her by her hair, drags her to the court and molests her publicly.

However, Draupadī is unbent: she delivers an incredibly powerful speech in which she continuously asserts her independence, challenges and rejects the men’s claims to her freedom, questions and denies the validity of the dice game, and, ultimately, overturns its verdict. In this speech, she presents a series of arguments, and I will analyse each in a series of upcoming posts.

Her first argument is her first question, which infers that, even if Yudhiṣṭhira did have any authority over her status (which she later challenges and denies as well), he lost all authority which could have been argued that he exerted over her the moment he renounced his independence. One who is not their own master cannot be the master of someone else, and one who is dependent cannot impair another’s independence.

My Mahābhārata blog: https://www.tumblr.com/musingsonthemahabharata

IG: @musingsonthemahabharata. ❤️‍🔥

graduation | warwick MA :)

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incredibly thrilled to have graduated from my second Master’s Degree awarded with a Distinction and with A+ on my final portfolios & dissertation. ❤️‍🔥

moving forward with the beautiful words spoken by Baroness Ashton, Warwick University’s first ever woman chancellor, as one of my precepts in life: assume that anyone you ever meet knows something you don’t. further, i was moved by two of our professors’ kind reminders to us, which i will share here.

first: yes, what we have achieved is great and we must celebrate it “wildly and loudly”; and yet, we must not be complacent and rest on our laurels. don’t stop; keep moving. there is always room for refinement, growth, expansion. of course, there is and there isn’t – as in, the whole is not separate from the parts, and the part is still the whole even if it appears part, as the Upaniṣads teach us. and yet; when the grasping to knowledge that comes from insecurity and self-loathing begins to stop… glimpses of the human potentiality that is never-ending yet whole begin to become accessible.

second: do not hoard knowledge. do not claim it as solely your own. share generously.

grateful our professors reminded us of our limitations. onward with enthusiasm and dedication to knowledge and to perfecting my craft.

finally… this is my third degree yet first awarding ceremony i have attended due to pandemic reasons and life circumstances, so i was especially excited to have this experience. 🥰

gratitude to my professors, supervisors, family, colleagues and friends. 🙏

Her Name Was Sītā

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I attended a screening of “Her Name Was Sītā” at Edinburgh University’s Centre for South Asian Studies last month, an incredible film by Heshani Sothiraj Eddleston that explores shame and the concept of female virtue, and how these can drive women to suicide through religious discourse and socio-cultural castigation.

Sītā, as a character, Goddess or symbol, is not addressed directly in the film except for in the title, but I would maintain that this initial evocation builds a framework to process the film in. Sītā, as a key figure of itihāsa (Sanskrit for “so it was”, a body of work that accounts past events / the history of the Hindu streams or Hindu universe, of which the Mahābhārata and the Rāmāyaṇa are central components), holds an emblematic position in the South Asian collective consciousness as an archetype of female virtue, sacrifice, female suffering and tragedy. Notably, I would maintain that this is a limiting association and that Sītā, as with any element of itihāsa, can be decoded in expansive ways that subsume and transcend those connotations.

Regardless, the associations are there, and there is power in that, as well as in a name; symbols and names such as Sītā and Draupadī hold in themselves potential to be approached as mediums through which we can understand gender programming, socio-cultural gender relations and the moral biases related to that. They therefore offer us the opportunity to deconstruct gendered conditioning; however, unfortunately, we generally do not take the leap to do so, and instead become further embroiled in contractions such as our identification with gender through the very tools that could free us.

Final note — the film shook me in many ways, would recommend watching it!

The stunning artwork credit: Kristina Ooo.

on writing as an act of transcendence

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the beautiful image is a painting of Sarasvatī that belongs to a set of sixty which chronologically depict a tale told in the Mahābhārata (as well as in the Mārkaṇḍeya Purāṇa and in the Śrīmad Devībhāgavata), that of King Hariścandra. this painting is one of two beginning the set, and it depicts the invocation of Sarasvatī, the Goddess of knowledge, speech and poetry, who is invoked as the flow of (and to flow the) words and wisdom of the telling. Gaṇeśa is invoked, as well.

in a seminar i recently went to, we discussed sacred texts, and the invocation of Gods & Goddesses in their openings – the muse in the Iliad, the deities in the Sanskrit texts etc. it made me reflect on writing as an inherently transcendental act. as in, it is not you who writes (or creates etc). it is being written through you, and it is therefore futile to take ownership for it.

as a ‘writer’, i oftentimes read my work and feel as if it was written by someone else. of course, my biases seep in (in editing, especially), but if i fully connect, the experience is that of it being written through me, and not by me.

i understand the invocation of the muses and Goddesses to reflect, in part, this understanding: that the act of creation subsumes and transcends the self or ego, even if only momentarily. that in creating, we tap into and open pathways within that we usually do not access customarily, when we are so entrenched in our sense of self that the energy can only flow in one way (that of sustaining our identity and the patterns which construct it). in creating, the energy can be freed to flow in new or in more ways. this is how i understand the surrendering to the muse or to one’s art that is so lauded by poets. 🦢

Draupadī and the Dharma of Women

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“Strī” translates from Sanskrit as “woman”, while “dharma” is a complex principle with manifold meanings, in this context bearing the significance of “duty”; in simple terms, it refers to an individual conduct that contributes to harmony in a greater framework, be it societal or cosmological.

Draupadī is lauded in the Critical Edition of the Mbh several times as being the epitome of strī-dharma, of the dharma of women. (2.62.20; 2.63.25-30; 2.64). Interestingly, she is most intensely praised as such after she angrily (yet elegantly!) questions the men of the royal court and demands justice, being anything but meek and demure. I would argue that this showcases that in the Mahābhārata voicing oneself and standing up for oneself are considered responsibilities belonging to the dharma of women.

To nuance this even more, Eknath Easwaran, an eminent translator of the Bhagavadgītā, highlights that, etymologically, the term “dharma” can be traced back to the root ‘dhri’, which means ‘to support, hold up, or bear’; “dharma” therefore translates as “that which supports”, and Draupadī’s conduct therefore supports both society and cosmology.

In the Sanskrit Mbh, Kṛṣṇa does not appear in the sabhā (royal hall) at the time of Draupadī’s attempted disrobing, and no direct mention of him is made during this episode. In a conversation with Dr. Brian Black, a Mbh researcher whom I had the honour to have as my MA supervisor, we talked about the implication of this, which is that Draupadī’s adherence to strī-dharma appears to be that which shields her. A question that could arise here could be whether there is a contradiction between the Critical Edition and modern renderings of the Mahābhārata, with Draupadī being shielded by her dharma as opposed to by Kṛṣṇa.

For me there is no contradiction.

Kṛṣṇa in the Bhagavadgītā establishes himself as ‘the eternal dharma’ (14.27); and so, Kṛṣṇa is all dharmas, including strī-dharma. We tend to associate Kṛṣṇa with a fully-fledged incarnation; but he is beyond that. I would maintain that, as the divine principle, he exists in Draupadī’s consciousness and in her actions as dharma (and not only!). The latter renditions, for me, in which he is physically there, only bring forth in tangible projections the internal process extending Draupadī’s consciousness.

I will write more about strī-dharma as it appears in the Mbh. ❤️‍🔥

You can find me on IG: @musingsonthemahabharata

and on Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/musingsonthemahabharata

Painting: Jadurani Dasi, 1986.

Kṛṣṇa and Draupadī Discuss Karma

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One of my favourite interpolations from modern tellings of the Mahābhārata is a conversation between Draupadī and Kṛṣṇa that occurs after Draupadī’s sexual assault and attempted disrobing by the Kauravas.

Clutching his feet, Draupadī sobs: “Govind, why? Why did this happen to me? What sins did I commit? I am reaping the fruit of which actions of mine?”

Picking her up and caressing her hair, Arya tells her: “What happened was neither because of your ‘bad’ karma, nor did you reap the fruit of your past actions. It was the Kauravas who reaped the fruit of their past actions by engaging in such a grave misdeed. Sakhī, this is the meaning of karma.”

“But I am the one experiencing agony, Govind.”

“Then relinquish it, Sakhī. Although what happened was not the result of your ‘bad’ karma, the way you transform following these events will be your karma.”

This is such a beautiful and profound exchange which offers rich nuances to the teaching of karma. Oftentimes, when events we perceive as terrible happen to us, we create a story of unworthiness around them; we wonder if we are being punished, if the root cause is our evilness, if God or the universe are rejecting or dooming us. A question that rests on these lines that is often asked would be the common: “why do bad things happen to good people”. A first layer to this, in my view, is a deconstruction of ‘bad’ and ‘good’ as solid concepts. The second layer is the understanding that any event ‘just’ happens aleatorily, rises and falls, and karma is not a simplistic cause-effect reaction.

Karma encapsulates, in my understanding, the ingrained patterns held within us through which we act, react, and process the world around us and the events that occur in our lives. There is freedom from karma in finding new ways of reacting, engaging, processing.

Finally, a significant teaching encased in this interpolation is that the way someone treats us, ultimately, is a reflection of their karma (ingrained patterns), and not a reflection of our ingrained patterns. We cannot control another’s patterns, but we can aim to understand and rewire ours accordingly.

The magnificent art: @beauty_of_art_aditi 💙

My musings on the Mbh – IG: https://www.instagram.com/musingsonthemahabharata/
Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/musingsonthemahabharata

Glimpses in the Nature of Reality in the Mahābhārata

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Something I find fascinating about the Critical Edition of the Mahābhārata is that the characters sporadically move from addressing Kṛṣṇa as an embodied mortal (as their friend, cousin, son-in-law etc) to addressing him as the Godhead; as Viṣṇu, as the Supreme Being, and as Īśvara. The succession of change between the modes of address can sometimes even happen on the same page, at a distance of a few lines. The veil is lifted, and the characters see through Kṛṣṇa’s illusion, and, through that, they become immersed in the nature of Reality; the veil promptly drops back, and God is lost.

An argument for this could be that the divine modes of address are interpolations, a theory being that Kṛṣṇa became identified with Viṣṇu only in later renditions of the Mahābhārata. While this could be true at the level of historical analysis of the epic, for me, there is a subtler teaching encased here: how all of us, without exception, glimpse into the nature of Reality as we move through life, yet we perpetually proceed to return to becoming engrossed in the superimpositions we project upon Reality; and the dance continues. From Truth to dream, from dream to Truth. It is quite endearing, really. What committed and imaginative dreamers we are! 💙

Adyashanti once talked about how one inadvertently glimpses truth; it is, after all, inescapable as it is our nature; the trick is not forgetting / losing the glimpse.

Gorgeous artwork of Kṛṣṇa: Awedict.

the flow of knowledge

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knowledge flows from teacher to student, and from student to teacher.

at the beginning of my academic journey, i was continuously surprised by the way the majority of our professors engaged with me and my colleagues; not only did they genuinely express interest in our opinions, but they also valued our input, ensured the openness of dialogue between us, and consistently encouraged us to become independent in thought and in writing. the learning environment i had been exposed to until then, namely secondary education in my home country, had been completely different: it had been one of strict hierarchy, in which plurality of thought was not existent, and in which the minds and experiences of students were not valued. it took me awhile to become used to – well, being valued, and to valuing my input myself.

i remember one particular exchange i had with a professor of mine, in which i expressed my understanding of one subject and proceeded to reflexively dismiss it by cloaking it in the “i am just a student, and who am i to say anything about this” garb. my professor stopped me and said something along the lines of: “yes, we are just people. but that doesn’t mean our contributions can’t be meaningful.”

the first week of my Ph.D. was similar: professors consistently reminded me and my colleagues that we are more than students, and they see us as valuable members of a research community that works together. they encouraged us to renounce our inhibitions, and to think, write and act as such.

it has become exceedingly important for me in my journey to be in such learning environments in which, past the roles of students and teachers that we play, there is an understanding of the flow of knowledge, which, in my view, would be limiting to think of as flowing rigidly in only one direction. knowledge flows from teacher to student, but also from student to teacher, and from student to student. i believe that to cut oneself off from receiving the flow from any source because of preconceived ideas of how it flows, and who to learn from, is a great loss.

sometime ago, i had a great conversation with my dear friend Avi Sato about how these same principles of knowledge flow apply in the area of spirituality as well, nuance which had long eluded me. 

my second MA in Poetry & Literary Translation

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my second Master’s Degree is officially COMPLETE!! 🥳💖 these past two years at Warwick University were a rich immersion in the art of poetry & in the practice of literary translation. milestones achieved have been:

☁️ completing my dissertation, entitled “Rendering Sacred Texts: Ethics and the Question of Untranslatability”, in which i explored the practice of translating sacred texts and the intricate issues it presents in the field of translation studies, mainly posed by the dilemma that is the hypothesis of an intrinsically sacred quality to languages such as Sanskrit or Latin. i argued that in the case of non-dual traditions, the subsequent question, of whether translation would defile the text, is incongruent with the philosophy & cosmology the text is rooted in. i used the Lalitāsahasranāma, a central hymn of Śrīvidyā, as a case-study.

☁️ conducting my poetic research centred on bhakti or devotional poetry, a genre of Indian poetry which worships the Divine as the Beloved. i worked on two bhakti collections: “odes to the Monsoon One” and “the Monsoon One and the pilgrim”, which explore a woman’s mystical journey. written as a response to the lingering legacy of female exclusion from spirituality that is present literature, the poetry rebels against misogynistic religious texts thematically, through female-centred imagery deifying the demonised body, through the subversion of elements of oppression such as motifs of marriage. the Divine is worshipped in my poems as a lover. i argued that for as long as remnants of a religious culture exclusive of women persist in South Asian literature and practice, for so long will bhakti poetry be needed for devotional rebuttal.

more on this soon! i am hoping for these to be published in 2024 or 2025. 🤍

i extend my gratitude to my extraordinary professors: my supervisors Dr. Jodie Kim & Rosalind Harvey; Professor David Morley, as well as Dr. Chantal Wright, who generously & expertly encouraged and guided me, as well as expressed genuine interest in my work – interest which i especially appreciated when my work took unconventional routes! 🙏

as this chapter ends, a new one at Edinburgh begins! 🥰 onward!

Draupadī’s Disrobing: Menstruation as Purification and the Price of Blood

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In response to the article about Draupadī’s disrobing that I shared yesterday, Jim beautifully questioned whether the act of violence spurred from limited views around nudity and if it would have been avoided if nudity was perceived differently in that society (if it was common, seen as sacred or normal). This was a very rich ground of contemplation for me, and the reflections I have had are the following:

First, I would like to establish that Draupadī was not wearing a sari when her attempted disrobing took place. She was wearing a single cloth which covered her body through which she was menstruating, which was the custom at the time. It can be deduced through various references toward her appearance found throughout the Mbh that, outside of the timeframe of her menses period, she did not customarily wear an upper garment, so her breasts were uncovered. At the time of her attempted disrobing, she was wearing more clothes that she usually was. The men had already seen part of her body which they wanted to disrobe. There are scholars who argue that she was not wearing a single cloth at the time of her disrobing and she was instead wearing both an upper garment and a lower garment. I would argue that this is irrelevant, as the point still remains that her breasts were covered, and they usually were not.

Second, I would maintain that, the disrobing episode, as most acts of sexual violence, was more about power than about sex or nudity, and that the key factor here, lost in so many adaptations, was not the attempted disrobing & possible nudity, it was the fact that Draupadī was menstruating, and she was brought to the royal hall in a stained garment through which she was free-bleeding. Menses was / is considered a period of purification. The act of dragging a menstruating woman by her hair to the royal hall – who, as I priorly mentioned, was wearing more clothes than usually – is exceedingly violent & cosmologically destabilising especially because it disrupts the menstruation ritual of purification and it does not allow it to be finalised. Further, hair in itself is a symbol of sexual power for a woman. Duśāsana grabbing Draupadī’s hair is an attempt to curb her sexual power and own her sexuality.

Draupadī bleeds in the hall and leaves Hastinapura bleeding through her clothes. Scholar Alf Hiltebeitel argues that it was the dishonouring of her blood that held in itself the requirement for it to be paid with war; with bloodshed. In the cosmological cycle, blood pays for blood.

The Kauravas wanted to humiliate, own and disempower Draupadī; nudity was one of the means to get there, along with disturbing her purification rituals, not the end goal. However, one could argue that in a society in which nudity was seen as sacred the intention to humiliate wouldn’t have arisen in that openness or expansion of consciousness – but maybe it would have just taken a different form and found different means.

Photo: Pooja Sharma as Draupadī, bathed in the blood of her principal offender. The cosmological cycle is finalised. 

references on Draupadī, the symbols of menstruation as purification and hair as female sexual power: https://press.uchicago.edu/…/book/chicago/C/bo3626877.html