Anuja Chandramouli

The riddle of Padmavati — a rivetting reconstruction

by admin | May 25, 2021 | Books

By Vikas Datta,

Title: Rani Padmavati — The Burning Queen; Author: Anuja Chandramouli; Publisher: Juggernaut; Pages: 240; Price: Rs 299

There could scarcely be any Indian historical/myhtological character presenting more delicacy in artistic depiction as Queen Padmavati of Chittor, with any story of her tumultous life liable to invite a raging controversy or worse as a filmmaker and his cast have already learnt. But should she become a symbol of competing narratives than having her story told?

Bollywood, with its penchant for spectacle, simplification and sensationalisation, may have not succeeded in retelling this significant episode from late 13th-early 14th century India, but what about a gifted story-teller in an older medium? And there could be no one better than Anuja Chandramouli to tell the tragic story of this queen, in a compelling manner and with the modern sensibility she brings to bear.

In her first foray in a historical topic instead of the mythology and urban fantasy she has hitherto excelled in, Chandramouli shows the story that brings Rani Padmavati, Rawal Ratan Singh and Alauddin Khalji into a fatal clash was no “love jihad” as some vested sections would seek to categorise it.

As she presents it, it is indeed a story of love, proud traditions, honour, duty, patriotism, valour and conflict, but as it is about humans, not symbols, the noble motives are also supplemented by some more baser — and more prevalent ones — lust (for power), greed, envy, jealousy, fear, self-preservation, treachery, and so on.

And then there is the overwhelming yearning for a happy, peaceful life with someone we love.

Chandramouli begins with a prologue showing how Alauddin Khalji (depicted as cruel but clear-headed — and no psychopath) ascended to the Delhi throne, occupied by his uncle and father-in-law Jalaluddin Khalji, and dealt with the traitors who helped him, and also his wife, before launching her story proper.

We then follow the to-be queen Padmavati in her teenage years at her parents’ house, their discussion of her future, her father and uncle’s summons to their uncle and liege lord — along with her, her marriage as part of a political alliance to counter the expansionist aims of the Delhi Sultanate, and what this led to.

In parallel, we see Khalji’s plans to extend his realm, by any means possible, till people term him “Sikandar Sani” (or a second Alexander the Great), and also his energetic efforts to keep the Mongol hordes from over-running the subcontinent.

The author takes us on to the opportunities — and problems — following Padmavati’s marriage to (an already married) Ratan Singh, their marital life, along with the jealousy their closeness caused among the harem and court, and then the case of the despicable Raghav Chetana.
Action starts coming to a head when Ratan Singh acts against Chetana following his involvement in an episode of that era’s “sex tapes”, leading to the breaking of a high-profile marriage, the “honour-killing” of a blameless woman — and a rift in the realm.

However, Chetana, on the eve of his execution, is saved by a mysterious figure, who stuns him with the price he must pay. Soon he is in Delhi, telling Khalji of Padmavati’s beauty in a bid to convince him to invade Chittor and seize her.

Then follows the range of events most Indians are familiar with — Chittor’s siege and sacking, Ratan Singh’s capture and Padmavati’s self-immolation. But Chandramouli, who has consulted a number of authoritative history books, gives her story a unique but much plausible twist.

There is also a surrealistic dream scene — a particular motif of the author — and a rather unexpected but powerful ending a decade later, which shows how even a powerful ruler can succumb to ravages of time.

On the whole, this book, one of three the author has out simultaneously, combines a tender love story with some incisive political and historical insight, especially why the Rajputs failed to counter or defeat the “invaders” (who had already been around for a century), and offers a peep into Khalji’s mind — especially what later generations would think of his Chittor campaign.

This along with her deft characterisation, evocative descriptions, spirited dialogue, and adding other contemporary happenings (the case of Karan Vaghela of Gujarat and arrival of Venetian traveller “Malpua Poha”) makes this possibly the best examination of this episode.

(Vikas Datta can be contacted at vikas.d@ians.in)

—IANS

Not merely a war god: The enigma of Kartikeya (Book Review)

by admin | May 25, 2021 | Books

By Vikas Datta,

Title: Kartikeya: The Destroyer’s Son; Author: Anuja Chandramouli; Publisher: Rupa Publications India; Pages: 240; Price: Rs 295

The Hindu pantheon has a number of eminent, eclectic, and enigmatic deities. But few can be more mysterious than its god of war — a key figure in any divine assemblage. Yet, Kartikeya’s origin and even appearance have variant accounts, his achievements eclipsed by his younger sibling, and his following not as universal.

While the general consensus is that he is the son of Shiva, the Destroyer, and Parvati, born to defeat the asuras, who yet again dethroned the devas, there is a certain school that attributes his parentage to fire god Agni. Then there are accounts that say six babies were born of Shiva’s seed and became one, while some say he was one with six faces.

Then did Kartikeya defeat the asura Taraka, or was the asura ruler Soorapadma? What did he do after defeating the asuras? And why is he more popular across south India?

Despite Sanskrit’s pre-eminent poet Kalidasa writing about the birth and exploits of the god in “Kumarasambhava”, there are no definite, conclusive answers — but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any. As Anuja Chandramouli, who is a unique combination of new age classicist and a most compelling storyteller, shows in this book.

And her work on Kartikeya — one of the three new books she has out this month — is not merely a recounting of the god’s story in modern language, but an inspired and imaginative retelling. And in this, comes out the essence — which was these accounts’ original motive before form trumped content, and ritual bested right conduct.

For Chandramouli, who has earlier presented Kamadeva and Shakti as seen never before, keeps to her trait of not only working a unique and contemporary sensibility into the lore, but also a more nuanced depiction of good and evil, duty, destiny, power, love, gender relations and rights, especially, and above all, mercy and redemption.

And true to her style, she doesn’t begin with the travails of the devas, but Parvati, who has finally realised her goal of union with Shiva. And when the devas come, it is with their king Indra, who is delivering a long harangue to the trinity’s Preserver, Vishnu, how the divine couple are delaying emergence of their progeny, who will help him regain power.

Chandramouli doesn’t have a very high opinion of the king of the gods as per her unflattering depictions in the past, and here too, it is not much different — with Indra more a resentful, manipulative power-hungry debauchee than a celestial being.

On the other hand, Soorapadma, despite being the “undisputed Lord of the three worlds”, has “grown heartily sick of it all”. And then while his his brother Simha is conscientious in helping better the lot of his subjects despite facing slurs, the other, the infamous Taraka, is cruel but mostly to keep his family’s honour.

The obvious point is that even those portrayed as evil have redeeming points and those as good may not be spotless, and it can also be a circular process — like the cyclical idea of time in the Hindu ethos.

But coming back to our protagonist, Chandramouli lyrically recounts the strange circumstances of his birth — and how it affected the fire god, and the wind god and Ganga herself, his raising, and his relationship with his parents.

And before his battle with the asuras (instigated most cynically by Indra), there is a telling episode where Soorapadma and Simha go to see Kartikeya on Mount Kailash and discuss the limitations of power. The inevitable conflict — told in a dream form that is a staple of Chandramouli — is set against how Kartikeya treats his defeated foes.

All this has to be read to be relished, but not necessarily believed as gospel. For that is the beauty of Hindu religion, in which many versions can co-exist without any problem.

(Vikas Datta can be contacted at vikas.d@ians.in)

—IANS