From the introduction to Great Bharata: The Invasion Begins, Volume 1
My approach
As my main sources, I have relied on the critical Sanskrit text of the Mahā-bhārata, which provides the most complete record possible of known text variants. I have also regularly consulted Vettam Mani’s well known Purāṇic Encyclopedia, which explains how important characters in the epic were depicted in the eighteen major Pūrāṇas, and other ancient Sanskrit texts. I paid special attention to the famous Bhāgavatam, which I have already described, and which occupies a unique position in the tradition, both in spiritual and literary terms.
My presentation of this ancient story does not require the reader to hold a particular worldview. I hope that all kinds of readers will keep an open mind and enjoy the story.
My approach to the text is both critical and devotional. I agree with devotional scholars such as the 13th century Madhvācārya, and with most modern scholars, that the Sanskrit texts of the Mahā-bhārata available to us today are seriously corrupted versions of the original. So, a literal translation of the surviving texts, or a summary of them, would not fulfill my dream of reconstructing, or one might even say reimagining, as far as possible, the original story.
I am keenly aware of how pretentious or impractical my dream will appear to some, both on cross-cultural and spiritual grounds. Some will reject my ability, or any contemporary person’s ability, to deeply understand an ancient culture so far removed from us by time and custom. However, in my view, we must not be confused by major differences in the surface culture of their world and ours. Beneath that surface we discover not only a universal humanity, but explicitly a story of souls, a story that all souls in all times can understand, if they will open their hearts and minds to it. Kṛṣṇa himself teaches that clear knowledge sees unity in diversity, the universal within the particular.[1]
I confess that fifty-three years of disciplined practice within the primary spiritual tradition of the Bhagavad-gītā have convinced me that serious attention to the geo-political and human reality of the epic, as well as to its clear, overarching spiritual narrative, can indeed enable us to excavate in its broad outline something like the original story. Rather than argue for my understanding, I will leave it to each reader to consult their own mind and heart about the plausibility of the story you are about to read.
Apart from that claim, which I know will leave some incredulous, what is special or unique about this version of an endlessly told tale? Here are a few ways in which this version may be somewhat unique.
1. The many translations and adaptations of the epic, in whole or in parts, seem to adopt one of two approaches. The outsider, such as the skeptical, secular scholar, sees mainly myth and fable. The faithful insider sees and presents the epic story chiefly as history, even when such authors change or reimagine some details of character and plot.
I am an insider who accepts unbiased evidence from both secular and devotional scholars. I seek to excavate an original history by examining all important events through the philosophical lens of the Bhagavad-gītā, and the corrective narrative lens of the Bhāgavatam. Within this framework, I seek to apply rigorous historical analysis. The specific method and the result are somewhat unique.
2. Previous translations, summaries, and reimaginings of the Mahā-bharata tend to focus on the fifth generation of the central narrative, the generation in which Kṛṣṇa, the five Pāṇḍava brothers, Duryodhana, Karna etc all appear. However, following an ancient option mentioned in the epic itself,[2] I begin with the reign of King Vasu of Cedi, four generations before those central characters. I find this essential to fully grasp the historical context in which the most famous events unfold.
3. I follow another ancient option by omitting the epic’s secondary stories (upākhyāna-s) which do not directly bear on the main story, yet strikingly make up around 80% of the unabridged text![3] I believe that for my purpose, this superfluity of marginal material disrupts the flow and momentum of the central narrative. Some ancient reciters and audiences also felt this way, for the Mahā-bhārata itself refers to a shorter, abridged version with four times less verses, and without the secondary stories.[4]
4. I also seek to address in my work a rather curious phenomenon—modern attempts to “correct” the text that in my view, actually take us farther away from the text’s original meaning. These distortions of the main story and characters arise both in the devotional community, and among secular scholars. I will give but one example of distortion, among many, within both Hindu and secular communities. I begin in the Hindu realm.
The central character in my first volume is the brilliant young lady Satya-vatī (prounced Satya-vatee), whom I greatly admire. Contrary to what we find in the critical Sanskrit text, many Hindus have come to see Satya-vatī as a lady of rather terrible character.
We find one of many examples of this in an uncontested Wikipedia article on Satya-vatī [spelled there Satyavati]. “While Satyavati’s…mastery of realpolitik is praised, her unscrupulous means of achieving her goals and her blind ambition are criticized [by many Hindus].
“Dhanalakshmi Ayyer, author of Satyavati: Blind Ambition, [claims that Satyavati’s ‘…motherly ambition [blinds] her vision at every turn.’
“For Satyavati the end matters, not the means…Her actions (and decisions) create a generation encompassed by a greed…”
What is perhaps most interesting about these unchallenged public insults to Satya-vatī, is that none of them, not one, finds a source or basis in the critical text of the Mahā-bhārata itself. Confident Hindu critics, of which there many, forget that Satya-vatī, far from being a selfish, scheming materialistic woman, is the mother of a major Avatāra. She was chosen to play a leading role in rescuing our planet because of her divine qualities. We observe here how those within a sacred tradition can drift from their sacred texts, and slander their own great matriarchs.
But the privilege of gratuitous criticism extends equally to those outside the faith tradition. I cite here one example from an esteemed scholar who often contributed valuable insights. The late J.A.B. van Buitenen of the University of Chicago, was the first scholar to begin a translation of the Mahā-bhārata‘s critical text, completing three volumes before his unfortunate demise.
In the Introduction to his first volume, the Ādi-parva, or first book, van Buitenen made a scathing criticism of a key theme of the sacred narration — the descent of Avatāras, superhuman entities, both good and evil, who appeared on Earth as apparent human beings, using our planet as a type of cosmic battleground. A long list of these descents, in the epic’s first book, Chapter 61, garnered van Buitenen’s special disdain.
He declared this central Mahā-bhārata theme to be “…decadent sanctification by mythology.” Moreover, it is “inept mythification…decaying mythology,…needlessly presented…and best ignored.” It is “inane”, which in my dictionary means silly and stupid. [JAB xx-xxi]
Yet much of what this scholar saw as decadent, needless, inane, inept and best ignored, has struck countless devoted readers, for countless centuries, as thrilling and deeply meaningful. Indeed the descent of Kṛṣṇa to this world, his fight for justice again superhuman foes, and his speaking of Bhagavad-gītā on a climactic battlefield, stand at the center of Indian self-understanding.
Even if, for whatever reason, one rejects the spiritual claims of the epic, the general theme of interplanetary battles between earthlings, and aliens disguised as earthlings, constitutes one of Hollywood’s most popular genres. Clearly, the human mind is deeply, perhaps intuitively, receptive to, and fascinated by, this idea. Thus, whether one takes this Mahā-bhārata theme as real history, or as mere epic story-telling, it has powerfully connected with deep human intuition and dramatic taste. It does not deserve all the scorn heaped upon it by numerous scholars. And of course a secular scholar ultimately can have no idea, in his or her role as a secular scholar, whether such extra-terrestrial battles actually took place or not. I have utilized what I consider to be good neutral secular scholarship, and I have passed on skeptical metaphysical claims posing as neutral scholarship.
5. Sadly, I must agree with both devotional and secular scholars that the surviving recensions of the Mahā-bhārata display clear and numerous text corruptions. Thus, even for the faithful, the surviving text itself impedes our understanding of an original sacred history.
Among various discernible categories of text corruption, I will here focus on only one, since it specifically weakens the epic’s ability to attract modern readers. I define this problem as narrative amnesia. The mere 20% of the text that tells the main story more often than not forgets the overarching theme powerfully presented at the beginning — the invasion of Earth, and the battle to save it.
Kṛṣṇa emphasizes this central theme in two of the Bhagavad-gītā‘s most famous verses, wherein he explains exactly why he came to this world at all.
“Whenever justice fails and injustice prevails, I myself appear. [4.7] To deliver the righteous and vanquish the wicked, and to restore justice, I appear in every age.” [4.8][5]
The Bhāgavatam itself strongly criticizes the Mahā-bhārata for neglecting this central theme.[6] The problem, from this perspective, is not as van Buitenen claims, that a human story was polluted with inane and inept mythic overlays of Avatāras descending to Earth. The problem is exactly the opposite, as the Bhāgavatam points out— an amazing spiritual and cosmic story was shrunk into mundane human proportions.
As I worked on this book, I happily discovered that the central theme, if kept central, sheds dazzling light on many parts of the story that have long confused readers. So, as presumptuous and improbable as it may sound to some, this book is an earnest, painstaking attempt to correct centuries of textual and extra-textual corruption, the latter coming from both inside and outside the sacred tradition.
6. My rendition of this ancient story assumes that it is possible to connect with, and deeply grasp, people and events that took place long ago in a faraway land. Naturally some will deny the possibility of anyone today fully or deeply understanding an ancient culture so different from our own.
To justify my attempt, at least theoretically, I appeal again to Kṛṣṇa in the Bhagavad-gītā. Kṛṣṇa explicitly addresses the issue of whether one can legitimately perceive universal principles behind a variegated surface. In fact, one can. Here is Kṛṣṇa’s statement.
“True, essential knowledge perceives a single unperishing reality in all beings, undivided within the divided. [Bg 18.20] Know that it is hazy knowledge that perceives various beings of different types as fundamentally different.” [Bg 18.21][7]
With the term hazy knowledge (rājasaṃ jñānam), Kṛṣṇa describes a state in which our clear consciousness is covered or obscured. Eight times in the Bhagavad-gītā, Kṛṣṇa uses various forms of the verb āvṛ, to cover, hide, conceal, to explain how material illusion covers our pure consciousness. For example, in verses 3.38-40, Kṛṣṇa states, “As smoke covers fire, as dust covers a mirror, and the womb covers the embryo, so is this world covered. The knowledge of the knower is covered by his or her eternal enemy in the form of material desire which, like fire, cannot be quenched. The senses, mind, and reason are its abode. By covering spiritual knowledge, this [material desire] bewilders the embodied soul.”[8]
The Bhagavad-gītā uses the same verb, āvṛ, in five other verses to explain the same point — material desires cover our pure awareness.[9] Consider the simple analogy of a traffic light which alternately shows red, yellow, and green light. In fact, behind the red, yellow, and green coverings is the same white or pure light. Similarly, within the soul is pure consciousness. When that pure consciousness passes through a body, the consciousness takes on the body’s qualities in terms of race, gender, age, ethnicity, species, inclination etc. To understand spiritual knowledge, one must find one’s pure awareness beyond bodily filters. It is precisely that pure awareness, consciousness, that unites all souls in all times and places.
Interestingly, we find a clear analogy to this form of reasoning in the world of empirical science. Indeed, in trying to deeply understand the characters in the story, I have applied a basic principle of physical science to a metaphysical story, finding that it works equally well in both dimensions. I shall explain.
First developed in geology in the late 18th century, the doctrine of uniformity claims that nature’s laws, i.e. physical cause and effect, function uniformly throughout space-time. That is, the same physical laws govern all times and places in the physical universe.
The Bhagavad-gītā teaches that there are uniform metaphysical laws that govern all times and places of our universe. These laws do not oppose free will, but rather respond rationally and reciprocally to our free choices. Just as our bodies activate and respond to uniform physical laws, so as conscious, metaphysical beings, we activate and respond to metaphysical laws that morally govern the universe.
Souls are not identical in every sense. That would make for a dull universe. Each soul is unique, but all souls are endowed with equal ethical and epistemic competence. Thus each soul is responsible for its decisions and choices. The Bhagavad-gītā describes this uniform responsibility of souls, and the universe’s uniform response to their choices, in a single word — karma.
Science cannot prove the uniformity of physical laws, certainly not in faraway places and times. But consistent, predictable results are taken to confirm the principle. Metaphysical science, if we use the term, would logically require a different method to confirm results. Physical science, as stated earlier, requires us to control phenomenon, by controlling access to, observation of, and manipulation of physical things. This method, by its own rules, limits the scientist to the study of objects that are in principle inferior to us, in that we can control them.
Metaphysical science seeks to study that which is greater than us. This rules out empirical methodologies that require control over the objects to be studied. The Bhagavad-gītā presents a metaphysical science that has convinced and enlightened very large numbers of human beings, over very long time spans. Clearly many people do not understand this science, just as most people do not understand advanced physical science. A sustained discussion of this issue will await a later discussion in a more suitable context.
For now, I simply wish to mention the fundamental principles that underly the worldview of the wisest participants in the epic action of the Mahā-bhārata. I must now conclude this introduction, lest it grow beyond reasonable proportion.
I have shown that secular scholarship cannot recover an original Mahā-bhārata, and even if it could, it does not have the power to discern the ultimate historicity of the text, and much less the truth of its metaphysical claims. What about devotional scholarship?
I have spent fifty-three years immersed in an ancient bhakti-yoga tradition which in its broad outlines is the spiritual center of this epic tale. I have personally translated from the original Sanskrit hundreds of chapters of both the Mahā-bhārata, and the Bhāgavatam, my two principle sources.
I would be disingenuous were I not to disclose my conviction that spiritual communication is possible, and that this version of a sacred ancient story has much in its favor. Each reader will have to judge for themself whether this story rings true for them, and to what extent.
In his Foreword to a Bhāgavatam volume that he generously financed, Beatle George Harrison urged Western readers to give this literature and its worldview a chance, concluding that “The proof of the pudding is in the eating!”
[1] sarva-bhūteṣu yenaikaṃ bhāvam avyayam īkṣate
avibhaktaṃ vibhakteṣu taj jñānaṃ viddhi sāttvikam Bg 18.20
[2] Verse 1.1.50 of the criticial edition: “some sages begin their careful study of the text with the story of King Uparicara Vasu.” tathoparicarādy anye viprāḥ samyag adhīyate
[3] The Britannica, in its article on the epic, remarks that “The central plot constitutes little more than one fifth of the total work. The remainder…addresses a wide range of myths and legends.”
[4] 1.1.61 catur-viṃśati-sāhasrīṃ cakre bhārata-saṃhitām
upākhyānair vinā tāvad bhārataṃ procyate budhaiḥ
[5] 4.7 yadā yadā hi dharmasya glānir bhavati bhārata
abhyutthānam adharmasya tadātmānaṃ sṛjāmy aham
4.8 paritrāṇāya sādhūnāṃ vināśāya ca duṣkṛtām
dharma-saṃsthāpanārthāya sambhavāmi yuge yuge
[6] Bhāgavata-pūrāṇa 1.5.8-9,15
[7] sarva-bhūteṣu yenaikaṃ bhāvam avyayam īkṣate
avibhaktaṃ vibhakteṣu taj jñānaṃ viddhi sāttvikam 18.20
pṛthaktvena tu taj jñānaṃ nānā-bhāvān pṛthag-vidhān
vetti sarveṣu bhūteṣu taj jñānaṃ viddhi rājasam 18.21
[8] dhūmenāvriyate vahnir yathādarśo malena ca
yatholbenāvṛto garbhas tathā tenedam āvṛtam 3.38
āvṛtaṃ jñānam etena jñānino nitya-vairiṇā
kāma-rūpeṇa kaunteya duṣpūreṇānalena ca 3.39
indriyāṇi mano buddhirasyādhiṣṭhānam ucyate
etair vimohayaty eṣa jñānam āvṛtya dehinam 3.40
[9] nādatte kasyacit pāpaṃ na caiva sukṛtaṃ vibhuḥ
ajñānenāvṛtaṃ jñānaṃ tena muhyanti jantavaḥ 5.15
nāhaṃ prakāśaḥ sarvasya yoga-māyā-samāvṛtaḥ
mūḍho ‘yaṃ nābhijānāti loko mām ajam avyayam 7.25
sattvaṃ sukhe sañjayati rajaḥ karmaṇi bhārata
jñānam āvṛtya tu tamaḥ pramāde sañjayaty uta 14.9
aneka-citta-vibhrāntā moha-jāla-samāvṛtāḥ
prasaktāḥ kāma-bhogeṣu patanti narake ‘śucau 16.16
adharmaṃ dharmam iti yā manyate tamasāvṛtā
sarvārthān viparītāṃś ca buddhiḥ sā pārtha tāmasī 18.32