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Sons of Gods: Interview with Hindu Blog

Interview with S. Aruna – the author of book:

 Sons of Gods – The Mahabharata Retold

By Abhilash Rajendran


First published on Hindu Blog, 


Sons of Gods – The Mahabharata Retold by S. Aruna is a condensation of the epic 

Mahabharata. Below is an interview with S. Aruna – to understand what new she offers

 to the reader through the book, the language, the women characters etc.

1.        To those who have already read the Mahabharata or know the story, 

what new aspects does your book offer? 

Every writer who attempts a condensation of the Mahabharata will have a certain 

vision of which elements of the vast epic are essential, which less essential. 

Thus each condensation is unique in itself, since each one moulds together a different

 set of story elements. In my case, I was motivated to achieve three goals:

 first: it should essentially be a whole, rounded story similar in structure and style 

to a modern novel: that is, to bring the central story to life through the characters 

and dialogue while omitting almost all of the hundreds of “side-plots”, and avoiding 

the sermonising which, to my mind, detracts from the story in so many interpretations.

 I also spend far less time on the details of the actual war; I don’t see the point in 

describing a battle blow-by-blow, punch-by-punch. So the actual Kurukshetra war is 

less than a third of the story in Sons of Gods, and limits itself to the fights between 

the main heroes.

Secondly: I wanted to reveal the essential spiritual core of the epic, but without 

beating the religious drum. The spirituality had to be between the lines, subtle yet 

potent.

My third goal was to present the Mahabharata through a different angle by 

emphasising the role of one particular character—but I’ll get to that later.
















2.        I have not read the Mahabharat. Will your book be completely helpful? 

Yes. It will give you the essence of the story and perhaps inspire you to read longer,

 more detailed versions.

 3.        The language used in the book is it scholarly or simple? 

It’s definitely not scholarly; scholarly styles, I believe, only distance the reader from the

 characters, and I wanted the opposite: for readers to feel and be moved by the dilemmas

 the characters face and really get into the story. So I use a plain yet archaic and

 dramatic language; I wanted to invoke the abundance, the colour, the highly-charged 

drama, the very Indianness of the epic through language. These are larger than life 

heroes; nothing is ordinary for them, and I think it’s rather fun to have flowers raining 

down from heaven, and arrows like hissing snakes flying through the air! 

These are not Western images at all—but that is deliberate. I want readers to get into 

the spirit of the epic, which means stepping into this extraordinary world where mortals 

walk with gods, where a word spoken can take terrible, irrevocable effect.

4.        How is the Bhagavad Gita treated in book? 

It’s by necessity condensed to the essential message: Arjuna must fight, but do so with

 detachment, knowing that there is no death, no killing; that he is but an instrument of a

 higher power, and that his innermost Self is divine. As it is in all of us.

 5.        Who do you think is the most tragic woman character in the Mahabharata? 

The Mahabharata is a book about men, yet the few female characters are powerful indeed: 

the goddess Ganga, the Pandava’s mother Kunti, the Princess Amba, and of course

 the Pandavas' common wife, Draupadi. 

Of them all, I find Amba the most tragic, as well as the most interesting.




 6.        As a woman, how do you see the treatment of women

 in Mahabharat? Does your view reflect in the book? 

When we consider the women in the Mahabharata and their treatment, it’s 

important not to see them through the prism of Western feminism. This is a 

story set in an age and a place far removed from our own world. Different 

standards were valid in that age, and it wouldn’t be fair to speak of “repression”

 and “subservience” in that context. Yes, the Mahabharata is a story

 dominated by men. Yes, all the great heroes are male. 

And yes, there are only a few women, whose roles are mainly that of wife and

 mother. Yet, how powerful they are in those roles!

There’s the goddess Ganga, who dictates the terms of her marriage to King Santanu;

 there’s Gandhari, the mother of Duryodhana and his 99 brothers, who, after all the

 leading statesmen and wise councillors have pled in vain for peace, is summoned 

to the court to give the final word: as mother of the Kauravas, her wish is—or should be—

final, and obeyed. Kunti is revered by her five sons, the Pandavas, to the extent that

 a word of hers spoken in jest is taken as an absolute command. 

And Draupadi: it’s for her sake, to restore honour to her, that the entire war is fought.

 

There remains only Amba, who is cruelly wronged by Bhishma near the beginning 

of the story; but I love the way how, after she experiences the most bitter shame and

 dishonour, she rallies her forces, decides on revenge, and focuses all her energy and

 her will on executing justice on Bhishma—even if she must die and be reborn again 

and become a man in order to do so. Amba is without doubt the very first transsexual

 character in literature; but even with a man’s body, she remains Amba, a woman,

 and it is as a woman she seeks revenge, and engages in battle against Bhishma.

 In Sons of Gods I’ve tried in a small way to honour Amba; yes, she makes mistakes, 

but in the end truth wins out and she finds peace.

 

As for Draupadi: she’s the most assertive of all the women; quite the diva, 

in the way she orders her husbands about! She’s not a female character I particularly

 like; she’s proud and vengeful and very bossy, and that’s how I’ve portrayed her. 

But another author, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, managed to portray a

 different side to Draupadi in her book Palace of Illusions, so that I ended up 

understanding and even liking her! We must remember that in Hinduism, the so-called

 female attributes of selflessness, forbearance and gentleness are seen as positive, 

whereas the so-called male characteristics of assertiveness, domination and control 

are considered negative, being traits of the ego that must, eventually, be surrendered

 to God. This why Yudhisthira, the eldest Pandava and rightful king, embodies the

more feminie qualities of forbearance, forgiveness, kindness. He refuses to wage

war with his enemies even when egged on by his more belligerent brothers. In modern

terms, he’d be called a wimp. Yet it is clear that those very qualities are the ones that

define Yudhisthira as great.

Siva and Shakti, male and female energy, are seen in Hinduism as 

complementary, each valuable in its own right, each necessary for a harmonious

life on earth.

 God can be mother as well as father, and the Mother is, finally, divine. Ideally, 

women are seen as the invisible backbone of society; it is that backbone that

 holds society upright, and when it falls, so too, according to Hindu thought, 

does society. Of course this ideal, humans being as flawed as they are, is 

seldom realised, and women all too often trodden underfoot in India as 

everywhere in the world; and women, too, can be evil, avaricious and selfish. 

But it is there, a goal to be aspired to.

 

In Sons of Gods I’ve tried to get under the skin of the few women, so that the reader 

understands their inherent, though perhaps quieter, strength.

7.        What is your approach towards the character of Karna in the book? 

 

Karna is my favourite character. In many shorter versions of the Mahabharata 

his role is skimmed over; he is merely one of the antagonists, Duryodhana’s

 right-hand man, Arjuna’s arch-enemy, a villain. And in the longer versions the

 reader tends to lose sight of him; he is lost amid the sheer vastness of the

 epic. But I’ve always been on the side of the underdog, and I love the fact that 

Karna in the role of the underdog actually possesses a secret power, a power 

he is unaware of. His position is pivotal to the entire story, and I was determined 

to make this clear. That’s why I brought forward the scene of his conception and

began the story with his birth, as a sort of prologue. 

It’s to say: watch this guy. He’s important. Don’t forget him. He’s a great 

character. Flawed, but honourable to his fingertips.
















 8.        Mahabharat is essentially a conflict of Dharma and Adharma – How does 

the book treat this statement? 

 

I tried to make it clear that Dharma and Adharma are not black and white 

concepts. It’s not like a Western movie, with the baddies and the goodies 

clear-cut and indisputable. Many of the heroes on the side of the villains are

 fine men, who know Dharma—take Bhishma, and his dramatic call to Krishna

 to kill him, for he longs for death by the hand of the Lord! And the Pandavas

 are only able to achieve victory in the great war through means that are on

 the surface adharmic, against all the rules of chivalry—and they do so with 

the blessing of Krishna, the Lord. So I think the essence of the story is not so 

much Dharma versus Adharma but Detachment; this is also the essence of 

the Bhagavad Gita. It’s not the action itself that is important, but our attitude

 as we perform the action that needs to be done; our duty, which arises through

 the necessity of the moment.

9.        How long did it take to complete the book? How was the experience like? 

 

I began writing my own version of the Mahabharata in 1975, when I was 24, and

 in India. I did so for my own enjoyment; it was supposed to be a composite of 

all the different versions I had read, trying to mould together all the elements 

I liked best, the parts that moved me most, and omitting those scenes and 

side-plots that I felt were distracting. In the following decades I kept rewriting

 the story, improving on it, reading other versions to see what I had missed, 

paring it down, and so on. Sometimes I put it away for years at a time, but 

always it came back to me. I started out on a very faulty typewriter; sooner or

 later I retyped everything on to a PC and since then revising it has been 

much easier. It’s very likely, however, that in a year or two I will pull it back 

and re-publish it in a new, improved, revision! So you could say it’s taken 

almost 40 years to write. Then I decided to put it on Amazon. 

This was the first cover:
















It has always been a joy to write. I wasn’t even thinking of publication at first; after all, 

I was just a struggling student, not yet a professional novelist. Actually, Sons of

Gods taught me to write. I just loved getting into the story, being moved by it,

 understanding the characters, finding the right words to describe my 

enthusiasm. It was a very emotional undertaking, and I still don’t think the 

form I ended up with is perfect—words are so inadequate! I can only hope

 that readers can get behind the words to actually feel the story as I felt it.




Sons of Gods is available on Amazon in ebook or in print.
















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