
































amaryllis (/ˌæməˈrɪlɪs/[1]) – bears the name of the shepherdess in virgil's pastoral eclogues. it stems from the greek ἀμαρύσσω (amarysso), meaning "to sparkle", and it is rooted in "amarella" for the bitterness of the bulb. the common name, "naked lady", comes from the plant's pattern of flowering that blooms when the foliage dies. in the victorian language of flowers, it means "radiant beauty".

































various feminist scholars have accused the Mbh of misogyny and of not expressing the female experience in depth, claims which i would heavily disagree with. i will unpack my arguments in further videos, but the angle that i want to present today is related to my previous video, in which i talked about how all perspectives are contained within the Mbh, and it itself states so. i would like to offer the perspective of the Mbh being a dialogue, which i learned while studying with Dr. Brian Black at Lancaster University during my postgraduate degree.
🌸 what kind of dialogue? between its characters, between different ways of life, different perspectives, between us, the audience, and the epic itself; it does not have an inherent opinion on the characters presented there: everything we learn is from someone’s perspective, either the narrator of a particular story, or the way characters relate to each other. so, are there misogynistic perspectives in the Mbh presented by certain characters? yes; as, similarly, there are misogynistic takes in the world today. the Mbh is more like a neutral observer, i would say; it does not uphold certain views, it merely documents them and invites you to contemplate them, absorb or challenge them.
because dialogue relies on context, it is very important to understand the context of an event in question to understand its nuances.
to demonstrate this, i will use an episode from the Mbh in which Yudhiṣṭhira expresses a misogynistic comment. this happens in the 13th parva; in a conversation with Bhīṣma, Yudhiṣṭhira asks him in an exasperated manner, why are women so deceitful and hard to please? (13.39) context: the war ends, and Draupadī’s sons are unlawfully slaughtered during a night raid. Yudhiṣṭhira faints when he hears the news of his dead son and nephews, then asks Nakula to bring Draupadī to the camp, lamenting that yet another sorrow would fall upon his beloved. Nakula brings a grieving Draupadī, who lashes out at Yudhiṣṭhira and aggressively congratulates him on winning the war and on becoming emperor, the undertone of this being: at what cost? (10.11) additionally, Yudhiṣṭhira is hit by a revelation from Kuntī, his mother, which greatly disturbs him; later on, an exasperated Yudhiṣṭhira asks this question to Bhīṣma.
now, is Yudhiṣṭhira misogynistic? i would say no; in fact, he later praises Draupadī’s merits and speaks highly of other women. is this contradictory? i would also say no; i think this episode showcases a very humane moment between two characters found in a moment of crisis, in which their children were murdered, and they express their pain by lashing out irrationally. in my view, it showcases how messy and multifaceted we are as humans, which, for me, is one of the great beauties of the Mbh. 💗
pt. 2: on authorship
an argument several scholars have put forward is that the Mbh tells stories of men, and it has been written by men, for men. i would maintain that the first part of this claim can easily be deconstructed through the stories of incredibly empowered and empowering female characters such as Draupadī or Sulabhā.
although authorship of the Mbh has been indeed given to sage Vyāsa, the fluid nature of the epic, with many interpolations and changes made to its structure and with contributions which are anonymous in nature, has led scholars to claim that these changes were created by men, and, in this, the Mbh cannot properly encapsulate or express the female experience because women did not write it.
i will present a simple counterargument, emergent from discussions with Dr. Brian Black and my colleagues during a seminar at Lancaster University; more accurately, a question: how can we know this with certainty? how can we know that women did not contribute to the changes and interpolations that emerged in this epic?
i personally find it quite reductionistic and simplistic to automatically assume that women did not write these stories, or contribute to, for example, the creation of Draupadī’s narrative arc; i think this is exactly an assumption that could be misogynistic in itself, one stemming from a projection of women’s silence, namely to assume that such a great epic, which has shaped and moulded the culture in south asia, has not had any female contribution.
i would ask, why is this the automatic assumption that we make? 😊
listen to me speak more on these two subjects on my TikTok or on my IG account dedicated to my research: @musingsonthemahabharata.

the darkest side of academia that the dark academia genre exhibits to me is the ivory tower. the superiority complex. the snobbery. deluding yourself that you are superior to other human beings because of your accumulated information, information used as justification to behave with contempt.
i’ve recently read the brilliant The Secret History by Donna Tartt, a staple book of the dark academia genre, and what marked me was the contempt with which the exceptionally intelligent group of main characters treated everything: from the people around them to technological advancements and innovations in any field which was not theirs (namely, the classics).
i’ve been contemplating that, personally, i am not interested in knowledge that cuts me off from the world. i am interested in knowledge that enhances every facet of my experience of the world. i am interested in knowledge that deepens my connection to myself and to the people i encounter. the moment knowledge instils a sense of superiority, elitism, and exclusivity, to me that is not knowledge. that is a trap of the illusion of knowledge.
the trap will come, and i’ve seen it in me plenty: at our core, we are meaning-making machines and our identity is built on separation, comparison and rejection. the mind will feed into the making of identity any information it gathers. but ultimately we are not slaves to it. when the allure of superiority peeks its head, it can be deconstructed – not from a place of fear or shame, but from a place of understanding and gentleness. that is knowledge to me. what excludes that, to me, is accumulation of information.
i love reading dark academia books because they mirror back to me my ingrained patterns (such as fascination with exclusivity; exclusive teachings, teachers such as Julian Morrow – writing an article on him at the moment!) & the many traps paving the / my way.




I have been asked on Tumblr how the Mahābhārata answers to the question of suffering (is suffering important? why? how?). First, this is an amazing question which hadn’t occurred to me to ask myself in relation to the Mbh, so I’m grateful for this prompt.
Second, I wouldn’t say that the Mahābhārata distinguishes suffering as important, but it does establish that it exists. All its characters undergo extreme suffering: from sexual assault to losing and grieving children, beloveds, friends, subjects. No character is spared from grief, and, in this, suffering is established as an inevitable reality of the human experience.
However, as scholar Emily Hudson argues in her book “Disorienting Dharma: Ethics and the Aesthetics of Suffering in the Mahābhārata”, there is another dimension the epic offers to the question of suffering, which is that of confronting it. Confronting suffering “involves cultivating a clear sense of the factors that contribute to human misery” (p.33) which the epic, I join Hudson in maintaining, equates with “the quality of one’s mind (manas)” or “intelligence (buddhi)”.
In a significant scene that occurs in the aftermath of the war, Yudhiṣṭhira, crippled by guilt and loss, refuses to rule, and wishes to renounce the world and his responsibilities in an effort to both punish himself and escape his pain. Kṛṣṇa, Draupadī and the other four Pāṇḍavas each give individual speeches to Yudhiṣṭhira in which they attempt to convince him that he cannot do so, that he has a duty to uphold, and, most fascinatingly, that the intensity of his suffering is derived from a misunderstanding of reality.
Most beautifully, Yudhiṣṭhira is told by Kṛṣṇa and Bhīma that “the battle he now must wage is the one with his mind (manas)” and he is to accept the impermanence of existence (Hudson, p.33; Mbh; 12.16.21-25; 14.12.1-14).
My understanding of this exchange is that, suffering will come. However, the extent to which we suffer is dictated by the clarity of our perception. One will naturally grieve death and loss and experience sorrow; however, the narratives we create around these emotions or experiences will dictate whether we remain stuck in them, or whether we welcome them as transitory states that experience themselves through us.
Just as Yudhiṣṭhira falls to his grief, yet picks himself up and rules, so can we.
Many thanks again to the Tumblr user from London who asked this question – if anyone has any other question, please, all are welcome here! Receiving questions from different perspectives is helping me see the epic in new ways in which my mind might not take me on. ![]()
Painting: The Destruction of the Yādavas. Unknown artist – do let me know if you know the artist!

I am incredibly honoured and moved to share that I am being awarded the Edinburgh Doctoral College scholarship of the School of Divinity and will be commencing my Ph.D. at Edinburgh University in September with full funding for my research, and with a thesis entitled (as of now!) “The Goddess’s Descent to Earth: In Dialogue with the Reimaginations of the Mahābhārata’s Draupadī”. I am extremely grateful to Professors Mark Harris, Alison Jack and to the board of the School of Divinity for believing in my work. There were times when I was close to not believing in it myself, but the love for the work has pulled me to keep moving forward even in the greatest moments of doubt. More exactly, the love has grown to be greater – and, to be honest, more interesting – than my doubt or uncertainties about myself, which are less exciting to follow than the mysteries that are to be uncovered.
Once, a teacher of mine shared that, if you quiet the mind and listen to your depths, you will be able to feel a thread, a glimmer – pulling you to where and how life wants to move through you. Where that is, as well as getting there, could seem unattainable by way of reason or logic, but the thread will pull you through in ways unimaginable to your perception, with its current limitations and insecurities. This has been my experience, as well.
Follow the thread. Let the love for your work guide you and pave your path. ![]()

*Note, a more accurate translation is:
BG: 11:32; trans. Eknath Easwaran.
Sometime ago, I was involved in a discussion about whether it was blasphemous for Oppenheimer to have quoted from the Bhagavadgītā upon seeing the explosion triggered by the atomic bomb he constructed. I was of the opinion that it was not. The opposing view was that Kṛṣṇa’s demolition was one of divine nature, whereas Oppenheimer’s manmade atomic bomb was not. Whereas, in this perspective, Kṛṣṇa’s violence and destruction were justified through Kṛṣṇa’s inherent divinity, Oppenheimer’s humanness disfigured his destruction with greed and impunity.
This comment rested at the back of my mind while I watched Oppenheimer the other night, and the film solidified my view.

I would maintain that, to one adhering to a non-dual outlook, there is no separation between Kṛṣṇa’s violence in the Bhagavadgītā (or, more accurately, in the Mahābhārata) and Oppenheimer’s manmade, humane violence. Violence is violence, and divinity (or Consciousness) is inherent in the fabric of that, as it is in all that is. The genius of Oppenheimer’s brain which created such a formidable and terrible invention functions on the same patterns that enable and are Kṛṣṇa’s destruction. There is nothing more inherently divine in death by astras (supranatural weapons controlled and imbued by mantras central to the Kurukṣetra war) than death by atomic bomb.
Not only do I argue that it was not blasphemous for Oppenheimer to quote the BG and internalise his work through its prism (and, incidentally, is blasphemy anything but a dual social construct? Can Consciousness be blasphemous of itself?), but I argue that this is exactly how the Bhagavadgītā is lived in direct experience. The Bhagavadgītā and the Mahābhārata are not lifeless ancient texts that are only accessible or relevant in an esoteric, abstract realm. The BG and the Mbh are lived here and now, from a moment to moment unfolding. I would maintain that we cannot pick and choose what we like from these texts or what aligns to our morals (such as teachings on goodness) and disregard the rest — or take it metaphorically. The last parvas of the Mbh are incredibly violent and include gory descriptions of war, and the BG occurs on the battlefield of said war. This, in my view, does not signify that the texts glorify violence — no more than they glorify any other aspect of creation. It is a sign that violence exists as a natural development of the triadic cycle of creation (creation — preservation — destruction), and it is a manifestation of Consciousness.
The Bhagavadgītā coming alive to Oppenheimer upon witnessing his own potential for destruction is a testament to the BG’s existence in the collective consciousness as an expression of truth, pulsing and flowering for the one who expands their individual consciousness enough to tap into it and to allow it to manifest through themselves.
you can watch the videos i have created on this topic here: https://www.instagram.com/musingsonthemahabharata/
recommendations for abridged and unabridged translations of the Mahābhārata, as well as reading and referencing tips 🤍.
to reiterate the last point i made in my video first, i would like to accentuate that those of us who rely on translations and are inhibited by the language barrier are already working with a diluted version of the Mbh; it is for this reason that it is exceptionally important to work with the best and most authentic translation that is accessible for us, especially if we are scholars. in this, we can ensure that we are not perpetuating any misunderstanding or false information in the world. 🤍
🔱 unabridged translations:
🔱 for the first five parvas – J. A. B. van Buitenen | for the remaining books of war – Clay Sanskrit Library | these are exquisite, elegant, all-encompassing, and delicious works of translation.
additionally, i use the abridged translation created by John D. Smith and published by Penguin Classics as a handbook or manual to find my way through the unabridged versions when i write papers. this is extremely efficient for referencing – a compass or map to guide you through the verses. i expand on this in the video, and will additionally create a separate video about how to reference the Mbh.
🔱 the recommendations i have shared have been given to me by my amazing MA supervisor from Lancaster University, Dr. Brian Black, who instilled within me the love for the Mahābhārata in academia, and supported me through my research and my PhD application process. in my opinion, he is one of the most dedicated and passionate contemporary researchers of the Mbh, and i am most grateful to him. his book, ‘In Dialogue with the Mahābhārata’, is a fantastic work of research. read more here: https://www.routledge.com/In…/Black/p/book/9780367547271
🔱 TIPS:
for those unfamiliar with this epic, i would recommend they begin with an abridged retelling. note: a retelling, and not a translation (John D. Smith’s abridged work would be considered a translation as it follows the epic poem verse by verse). retellings are easier to digest! the Mbh is vast and can be overwhelming, so use the retellings to
familiarise yourself with the characters and with their narrative arcs, and, when you feel familiar enough with the Mbh’s universe, move onto the unabridged versions.
please be aware that, due to the nature of reproducing an epic poem in prose, most retellings include errors, omissions or interpolations. hold these lightly while you read through and also hold in your awareness that the author might have taken many liberties. use the unabridged versions to correct and reorientate yourself within the universe. this is how i started my own journey with it 😊
demonstrating how to reference the Mbh
a thorough Mahābhārata reference consists of three parts: the number of the parva in which the event in question takes place in, the number of its corresponding verse, and the number of the secondary verse. in have created a video in which i am demonstrating how to most efficiently reference the Mbh by utilising the abridged and unabridged translations with the example of Draupadī’s birth from fire (1.155.45).
note the difference in detailed expansion between the two versions, and the importance of continuously referring to the unabridged translations:
abridged: “A beautiful, dark girl emerged from the altar, and the voice proclaimed that she was destined to accomplish the purpose of the Gods by annihilating the Kṣatriyas. [She was] named Kṛṣṇā (Draupadī).”
*Kṛṣṇā means She of Dark Complexion.
unabridged: “Thereupon a young maiden arose from the center of the altar, the well-favored and beautiful Daughter of the Pañcālas, heart-fetching, with a waist shaped like an altar. She was dark, with eyes like lotus petals, her hair glossy black and curling – a lovely Goddess who had chosen a human form. The fragrance of blue lotuses waited from her to the distance of a league, the shape she bore was magnificent, and no one was her peer on earth. And over the full-hipped maiden as soon as she was born the disembodied voice spoke: ‘Superb among women, the Dark Woman shall lead the Kṣatriyas to their doom. The fair-waisted maiden shall in time accomplish the purpose of the Gods, and because of her, great danger shall arise for the Kṣatriyas.’ Hearing this, all the Pañcālas roared like a pride of lions and earth was unable to hold them so full of joy”.
this might seem as an over-scholarly topic, but much of the written material you are going to encounter on the Mbh will include this, and i find it relevant to have a framework for it. 🤍


in my undergraduate degree, i studied western poetry, and one of the poets i focused on was the beguiling e. e. cummings. in the past two years, i have been exclusively exploring eastern poetry in my postgrad, and it is only recently that i have begun to see how the two apparent different worlds and approaches illuminate each other. one of the elements i am most interested in at the moment is the process of individualising the universal experience; or how to express the universal through means of individuality.
this, with relation to cummings and bhakti poetry: cummings, a pioneer of experimental poetry, created his own language, which functions, i would maintain, like an authorship stamp: he used conjunctions as nouns, rewrote linguistic rules, introduced spacing as verbs etc. his poetry addresses themes looked down upon by other avantgarde poets of his time (and our time!) such as love and nature, yet it is the creation of his own language and the erotic notes of his poetry that revolutionise and freshen the apparent cliché of his subject matter.
similarly, bhakti poets, who write about ‘common’ topics such as love and separation, revolutionise these universal themes by pinpointing the object of desire to be God, and by introducing eroticism as worship. and, their authorship stamps (example: Akkā Mahādevī’s Chennamallikarjuna – more on this later!) distinguish and establish their poetic voices as individual in the context of universality.
fascinating how the experience can be both universal yet unique as it expresses itself individually through us, and how marvellous the intricacies of language and poetry are, how beautifully they thread us together through traditions, genres, times and worlds! 🤍
sidenote, i did use the word ‘cliché’ as a convention, but i don’t believe in clichés exactly because of this reason.


part of my #poetrybeautyseries, in which i share my favourite poetry lines and muse on their significance! on pessoa:
to me, fernando pessoa is one of the most fascinating poets to have graced this earth. he created 81 heteronyms for himself – meaning, 81 different characters or identities he assumed while writing. each had a different personality, background story, style. in awe with the mind-blowing imagination of this beautiful man. here’s a fragment from ‘discontinuous poems’, which he wrote as alberto caeiro, and which is grounded in a non-dual view, in my opinion. planning to make a video about him soon 🖤



on ginsberg:
although this quote is well-known, its context isn’t! it’s an excerpt from an interview with Ginsberg from Writers Digest, edited by Bill Strickland (p.47), in which he talks about the importance of expressing yourself without caring for validation or recognition.
“It’s more important to concentrate on what you want to say to yourself and your friends. Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness. Take (William Carlos) Williams: until he was 50 or 60, he was a local nut from Paterson, New Jersey, as far as the literary world was concerned. He went half a century without real recognition except among his friends and peers.
You say what you want to say when you don’t care who’s listening. If you’re grasping to get your own voice, you’re making a strained attempt to talk, so it’s a matter of just listening to yourself as you sound when you’re talking about something that’s intensely important to you.”
very excited to share the first academic paper of mine that is published in complete form in a peer-reviewed journal! it is entitled ‘The Western Revival of Goddess Worship’ and it has been published in Feminist Theology, volume 31(2).
‘[Western] Women are resisting secularism and are connecting with the transcendental on their own terms, while seeking self-understanding and self-realisation in a gynocentric cosmology. From deifying female sexuality to revering the cosmos as the womb of an all-pervading Mother Goddess, the Goddess Movement encapsulates women’s defiant quest for wholeness.’
i wrote this article two years ago (which is the approximate duration of academic publishing, haha!) during my first MA at Lancaster University, under the supervision of the fantastic Dr. Brian Black, whom i am most grateful to. this paper encapsulates my views at that time, and although my perspectives have become more refined since – both as a scholar and as a practitioner – i remain pleased with this work and i am hopeful that it contributes to the illumination of the phenomenon of religious revival in scholarship. 🙏
you can read it here: https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/epub/10.1177/09667350221135089

i have officially completed my first year of the Warwick Writing Programme ✅! 🥰! it has been absolutely delightful. 🤍🙏 my gratitude to my professors for guiding me on working on my first collection of bhakti poetry, in researching devotional literature & in translating from sanskrit, as well as from my mother-tongue. 🤍
it was so much fun to venture into freelance writing & to work with my colleagues on different projects – a highlight of this year has been a collaborative audio-translation of my beloved Draupadī’s imposing speech from the Mahābhārata created with Sumithreyi Sivapalan! it is always a joy to work on anything Mbh-related, but it truly is an honour to collaborate with someone equally enamoured with itihāsa! 🙏
you can read a sneak peek here:
https://teanicolae.com/2022/06/18/draupadis-speech-vastraharaṇa-a-collaborative-and-experimental-audio-translation/
indeed, what i adore about academia is the opportunity to meet and connect with people with similar (or identic!) research interests! it truly is so enriching to discuss your research with someone as equally passionate about it as as you, and these discussions unmistakably propel each of you towards greater growth and understanding. in my case, it has been one of the greatest gifts to meet someone as madly infatuated with the Mahābhārata as me!
it wasn’t until meeting my colleague Sumithreyi that i realised how much i had longed to dissect the Mbh with a fellow lover of this magnificent epic, and I can wholeheartedly say that the insights we shared together refined my understanding of the intricacies of its narrative – a narrative so grand that it undoubtedly humbles anyone who dares to venture in it. thank you, dear sakhī! here’s to continuously learning and to emptying our cup of the arrogance of knowing.
pics: all smiles after 7 hours of editing work for the Warwick Anthology 2022!

