'They can claim to know her because she is unknowable. They see her form because she is formless. They speak her words because she never utters a word.'This is the story of Ganga, Madri, Pritha and Gandhari: powerful women who, driven by their fears and ambitions, trigger events that lead to an epic war, propelling kings, princes and warriors towards glory and bloodshed, sin and redemption. Here is a retelling of the Mahabharata through the eyes of its female characters, for what came to an end at Kurukshetra took root in throne rooms and bed chambers; hermitages and sacred lakes; prisons and shrines; on horseback and under the stars.
'Fans of The Winds of Hastinapur, who should be legion, will delight in reconnecting with Sharath Komarraju's alternative-Mahabharata universe, where divinities and royals are both complex, capricious beings - with the former distinguished only by slightly enhanced powers, and the latter by more immediate desires and ambition. Komarraju has set himself greater challenges in this sophomore outing of his series: the plot thickens, the players multiply and the geopolitical chessboard on which this epic game unfolds is a thing of beautiful intricacy.' - Karthika Nair, author of Until the Lions For the story of the Great War is also the story of the women . . .Amba lives for revenge, but circumstances and men conspire against her. Will her daughter bring her the only salvation she seeks? Kunti stakes all to free her brother Vasudev and his wife Devaki. Yet it is the groom-choosing ceremony that will define her life. Gandhari too has come of age, and is faced with a difficult choice: she must marry the blind prince of Hastinapur if she is to save her kingdom from the certain ruin it faces due to Hastinapur's deceit.In the background, Bhishma pulls the strings, making alliances and marriages, devising new strategies, ever increasing the might of Hastinapur.
'In a few moons the Goddess will claim me, and I do not have a fresh young virgin by my side to absorb my knowledge and take my place once I am gone. The Mysteries of Ganga and her Sight will vanish with me.' 'My hair is white and thin, now. In a few moons, the Goddess will claim me, and I do not have a fresh young virgin by my side to absorb my knowledge and take my place once I am gone. The Mysteries of Ganga and her Sight will vanish with me, and the Great River will become nothing more than a body of lifeless water ... It is my intention, therefore, to tell you the story as it happened, as I saw it happen.' The Mahabharata is the story of women, even though men have focused far too much on the Great Battle. It is women who have set events in motion, guided the action and measured the men. The Winds of Hastinapur begins at the point that Ganga was cursed and sent to Earth. She lives among the mortals and bears Shantanu, the King of Hastinapur, seven children, all of whom she kills. With the eighth, she leaves. That boy, who returns to Earth, will prove to be the key to the future of Hastinapur.The story, as told through the lives of his mother Ganga and stepmother Satyavati, is violent, fraught with conflict and touched with magic. A lady of the river who has no virgin daughter to carry on her legacy, Celestials who partake of a mysterious lake they guard with their very lives, sages overcome by lust, a randy fisher-princess - these and other characters lend a startling new dimension to a familiar tale. SharathKomarraju does not so much retell the epic as rewrite it
Matsyagandha, Daseyi, Yojanagandha-the queen of Hastinapur, Satyavati. Abandoned as a baby, preyed on by a rishi, she hardens herself, determined that the next time she is with a man, she will be the one to win. And win she does: the throne of Hastinapur for herself, and the promise that her sons will be heirs to the kingdom. But at what cost? In a palace where she is disdained and scorned, Satyavati must set aside her own loss and pain if she is to play the game of politics. She learns to be ruthless, unscrupulous-traits that estrange her from everyone around. Everyone, except the man she cheated of his birthright.
Among the many characters who inhabit the Mahabharata, the world's greatest epic and the oldest, sometimes other stories unravelled from it, such as Shilavati, who cannot be king because she is a woman.
In eternal dusk a ravaged Mandodari sits waiting... sitting there, alone a thousand years… scarred and naked without a shred of clothing, no defense against the elements, animal or man - questioning fate - challenging the ultimate. Her body filled with scars stand testimony to her suffering. Her desolate surroundings echo death and destruction. What were the sins committed by her to warrant such a punishment? Was it the hand of God or man? Would her silence reveal the answer? For the first time, after a thousand years Mandodari breaks her silence… She opens up with the secrets of her life. Was it a regular childhood she had? An ordinary husband? Was an ordinary life possible with Ravana, the great Lord of Lankapuri as her husband? Oh! Ravana – the name that brings loath and fear. Who was he? Did he really have ten heads? Was he the jealous, lustful and selfish one as history says? Is Ravana really an evil demon as he is being portrayed? Was Ravana a loser, just because he didn’t win the war? Was it an ethical war? Why was he murdered? Was it fair dragging Mandodari naked and molesting her in front of the whole army? Who was to blame, Rama or Ravana? Or was it her karma? Who decides karma? Is it always right? It is only Mandodari, who can explain… Enough! The questions of a thousand years will be answered now. History will be re-written. This story is not Ramayana. It is Ravanayana . . . Yes, it is Mandodari’s Ravanayana. . .
Gandhari, the blindfolded queen-mother of the Kauravas, sees through it all... Gandhari has one day left to live. As she stares death in the face, her memories travel back to the beginning of her story, to life's unfairness at every point: A fiercely intelligent princess who wilfully blindfolded herself for the sake of her peevish, visually-impaired husband; who underwent a horrible pregnancy to mother one hundred sons, each as unworthy as the other; whose stern tapasya never earned her a place in people's hearts, nor commanded the respect that Draupadi and Kunti attained; who even today is perceived either as an ingratiatingly self-sacrificing wife or a bad mother who was unable to control her sons and was, therefore, partly responsible for the great war of the Mahabharata... In this insightful and sensitive portrayal, Aditi Banerjee rescues Gandhari from being reduced to a mere symbol of her blindfold. She builds her up, as Ved Vyasa did, as an unconventional heroine of great strength and iron will – who, when crossed, embarked upon a complex relationship with Lord Krishna, and became the queen who cursed a God...
An accomplished Kshatriya princess who falls in love with and dares to choose the sutaputra over Arjun, Uruvi must come to terms with the social implications of her marriage and learn to use her love and intelligence to be accepted by Karna and his family. Though she becomes his mainstay, counselling and guiding him, his blind allegiance to Duryodhana is beyond her power to change. The story of Uruvi and Karna unfolds against the backdrop of the struggle between the Pandavas and the Kauravas. As events build up leading to the great war of the Mahabharata, Uruvi is a witness to the twists and turns of Karna's fate; and how it is inextricably linked to divine design.
Irawati Karve studies the humanity of the Mahabharata`s great figures, with all their virtues and their equally numerous faults. Sought out by an inquirer like her, whose view of life is secular, scientific, anthropological in the widest sense, yet appreciative of literary values, social problems of the past and present alike, and human needs and responses in her own time and in antiquity as she identifies them... Seen through her eyes the Mahabharata is more than a work which Hindus look upon as divinely inspired, and venerate. It becomes a record of complex humanity and a mirror to all the faces which we ourselves wear.
