Week 11: Storytelling--Roseate Waters

Early in the morning, as the birds trilled their songs in the skies, as the dew glistened on the blades of emerald grass, and as the sun tinged sky and river rich violet and rose hues, my mother sighed softly and closed her bright eyes for the last time.  Never again would I hear her laugh resonate through the palace halls; never again would I listen warily as she told me a story of her youth.  And never again would I receive her wisdom and advice to heal my troubles.

Yet still certain of her final words to me echoed through my mind.  "A fair maiden waits for you along the Ganges.  Meet her secretly--ask her not who she is or from where she comes.  Take her as your wife, for she loves you and will bring you much happiness.  Trust me in this as in all else."

And so I found myself there, standing on the shores of the Ganges, wishing to drown my sorrows in the river before me.  A single tear escaped me, falling to the waters below and creating ripples that distorted the sky's reflection.  The troubled waters seemed to reveal my turbulent emotions as I struggled for control, for a semblance of composure.  I'm here, Ammi.  I trust you.

From behind me I heard the soft rustling of silken garments, causing me to turn.  And when I saw her, all grief left me, for in the presence of such beauty and such an overwhelming feeling of love, it is impossible to remain in the company of despair.

Breathless from kindled passion and recently departed sorrow, I spoke softly; my voice carried to the ethereal woman on the light breeze.  "O Beautiful One, O Ruler of My Heart and My Desires, I care not whether you are goddess or Naga, Asura or Apsara, or human being like myself.  My mother told me that along these banks I would meet my wife and regain my happiness, and now I know that these words were true.  Please, do me the honor of returning with me as my Queen!"

Passion sparked in her deep brown eyes, as rich and comforting as the nourishing silts of the river.  Her cheeks were tinged with a pink blush, displaying her pleasure.  Plump lips slowly curved into a sultry smile, and the woman before me gave me the slightest nod.  Her voice rang out clearly, like nothing so much as the pleasant murmurings of a stream as it courses through the woods.  "I would like to do this.  But if I am to be your lady, you must first agree to my requests.  Never must you ask my name, nor speak to me unkindly, nor interfere with any of my actions.  If you do, I will leave you."

With fire racing through my veins and heart pounding in my chest, I knew these requests were but trifling things when compared with my passion for this mysterious figure.  And so I agreed with a steady nod, took that exquisite woman's soft hand in my own, and ushered her home to my kingdom where she promptly became my wife.

As our life together as husband and wife--as King and Queen--began, my love and respect for the enigma alongside me only grew.  My pulse still thundered through my veins with every heated look, every gentle touch, every taste of her rich lips.  That delicate pink blush of passion and attraction seemed always to color her cheeks.  And then came the first test of my trust in her.

A year after our meeting, My Love bore me a beautiful son whom possessed deep mocha eyes so similar to her own.  But before I could hold him in my arms, before I could christen him with a name, she carried him down to the river and promptly drowned him there, holding our tiny babe beneath the waters until nascent limbs went limp.  As his body sunk into the life-stealing waters of the Ganges, My Queen whispered in her murmuring voice to the deceased child.  "This is for your good.  Return."  Looking at me with eyes as deep and inscrutable as the waters of the river, she rose and came to stand before me.  Remembering her words to me on the day we met, knowing questioning her actions would cost me her love and companionship, I inhaled deeply, exhaled, and whispered.  "I trust you."  Together we returned to our palace in silence.

Once each year, for six more years, my enigmatic wife bore a child.  And once each year I would follow her down to the river Ganges, the river known for bequeathing unto all things her nourishing lifeblood.  But to this river, one by one, I lost a total of seven sons.  And each year, as my Queen stood silent before me with garments streaming and hair flowing, I would say the same three words.  "I trust you."  Yet each year, the statement stuck in my throat a little more, came a little slower.  And while my passion remained as strong as that first day, I could no longer bear to watch our children drown.  Thus when in the eighth year another son was born, a babe endowed with his mother's rosy cheeks, and when for the eighth time My Love knelt on the riverbank and slowly dipped our child into the cold waters, I could not help but cry out.  "Stop!  Do not kill him!"

She stopped.  Turned towards me.  She smiled softly, though her profound eyes were sorrowful.  "Take him," she murmured gently.  "Take him as my gift.  I shall not free him from life.  My Lord, My Love, I am Ganga, and I leave you now with your son!"

Astonished, breathless, I watched my ethereal lady step into welcoming waters.  She turned back to me, and for the last time I looked into her eyes and felt the fire race under my skin.  For the last time I watched her lips curve into a slow smile, and then--she disappeared under the reflective waters before me.

Once again I found myself standing on the shores of the river Ganges, grief and loss filling my heart and soul.  The sun was setting in the sky, tinging my Ganga pink, the same rosy hue decorating those waters as once adorned her cheeks.  A single tear flowed down my cheek, joining with the river below.  My son stirred in my arms, and embracing the last remnant I had of My Love, I returned to my kingdom, with two words echoing around me on the wind.  Trust me. . .





Author's Note.  So I wrote this story through the eyes of Santanu, the Kuru king.  Which was different for me, to say the least.  Normally if I tell a story in first person, it's through the female perspective, so this proved an interesting change but a fun challenge.  I chose to write the story of Santanu and Ganga because I found it hard to imagine the depth of love and trust you must feel for someone to allow them to drown seven sons before objecting.  So often nowadays (and throughout history, really) trust is a hard pill to swallow.  It is so much easier to be distrustful than to let down your guard and just trust.  I actually admire the fact that Santanu could trust so deeply a woman he didn't really know.  Thus this retelling was born!  I hope you enjoyed it.  :)

Bibliography.  Buck, William (1973).  Mahabharata.

Image Information.  Sunrise over the South Esk.  Photograph by Gwen and James Anderson, 2012.  Geograph.

Week 11: Reading Diary B--Blades of Grass, Impossible Thoughts, and Lack of Sleep. Thus Are Deep Contemplations Born.

"Life is like hot iron. . . "

And with those words to inspire some deep, sleep-deprived thoughts, let's begin!

So I understand the whole "by the stars he may know direction" part.  And possibly the "by wandering, one may know paths."  But what does "by taking care, none shall oppress him" mean?  And why is the whole code about the burning house so much more inscrutable here?  Good thing Yudhishthira knows what he's doing.  Ish.

Need a stand in?  Apparently any five handsome male corpses will do.  They obviously think a lot of themselves and little of Duryodhana.

How thoughtful, to snap the neck of the man who was going to set you alight and murder you in your sleep so that he doesn't have to burn to death like you would have.  Such a nice man you are, Bhima.

How come no matter where the characters of the epics are, they are always within sight of the Ganges?

What the heck is the barbarian tongue everyone is talking about?

Oh Aeneus, carry your father far!   I-I mean. . . Oh Bhima, carry your brothers and mother far!  So many parallels. . .

May the odds be EVER in your favor!  How come when it comes to the lottery, a one in a million chance seems easily possible, but when it comes down to a human sacrifice, a one in a couple thousand choice seems impossible?  What kind of logic is that?

Love that Buck drew the comparison between a blade of grass and a sword.  Just awesome word play.

Son, you're being sent unarmed to a demon so that he may dine on you and a cartload of rice and two buffalos.  Logical response?  No, Mother!  How could you!  Bhima's response:  "This is wonderful!  I've never yet had enough to eat here!"  Gotta love Indian epics.

At least here Yudhishthira's response makes sense.  'Cause later on, not so much.  It's probably a good thing they try to ingratiate the reader/listener with him early, since otherwise he'd just be frustrating.

"He just kept on eating away.  He had made himself hard."  Oh, the thoughts on how this can be misinterpreted out of context, haha.  Also, I am a terrible person for thinking and then typing this.

"Bhima had made himself huge."  And so it continues. . .

Does Vyasa ever not speak in code?  And how much forethought do all these codes take?  Can you imagine?

[Obviously when I don't get a lot of sleep I simply question everything.  Naturally.]

You defeated me in battle.  My daughter was just born, and all I could think of was that you should be the one to marry her.  I don't care that I'm thinking impossible thoughts since everyone says you're dead.  I'm king and can bloody well think whatever unreal thoughts I want.  Why, sometimes I think as many as six impossible thoughts before breakfast.

Muscles that when straining break bronze armor.  Even if I hate Duryodhana's personality, I've gotta admit that's impressive.  And would be attractive in practically anyone else.  Yup, that.

"'Well, after hearing ten thousand explanations, a fool is no wiser.  But an intelligent man needs only two thousand five hundred.'"  A very specific number.  Also, no one ever explains anything to me that many times, so whether I am intelligent or not it seems I shall never grow any wiser.  Alas!

Interesting how in Narayan's version, Kunti's joking gave Draupadi five husbands, while in Buck's version, Draupadi herself chose all five Pandavas for her husbands herself.  Seriously, that's a significant difference.

I have no idea what she thinks, and at a swayamvara she could chose anyone to marry.  So if you want my advice, just take my sister by force.  I mean, what can she do?  Archaic, misogynistic swine.  Stupid overbearing "I know everything!" deities.  Gahhhh.

"'Transferred from one clear lake to another, like a lotus."  I'm too tired for this.  Such beautiful imagery, but I can't appreciate it today.  I just keep thinking, why can't they speak plain English?!

Too much butter--there is no such thing!!  Come on, Agni.

Can you imagine how many arrows it would take to make a roof over an entire forest?  Arjuna must have a very impressive quiver.

How old must something be to have existed since before the time of the architect of the olden gods?!  Like, dang.

And of course, they were put there by Krishna to decorate the house of Arjuna.  Totally makes sense.  Uh huh.  Yup.  My sleep-addled brain can not comprehend all these circular moments. . .

I want a palace constructed by Maya!  (A girl can dream, right?)

Hahahahahahaha.  I literally laughed out loud at the whole scene where Krishna tried to enter the palace of illusions.  Great.  Just great.

I love Bhima:  "'But you must act the king:  do what you want, in haste, without thought--and above all, do not consider the consequences.'"  Gotta say, though, I hope that this is simply an indictment of the current king and not a generalization about all Indian kings.  Otherwise they may have a problem with their approach to monarchy. . .

"'You resemble a young maiden prancing over rain puddles. . . You are a great actor.'"  Again, Bhima!!  Fantastic insult.  I wish I could have seen Duryodhana's face, haha.  You know, if this were real.  (I promise, I do have a firm grasp on reality.  Or at least on my perception of reality.  But since everything is an illusion, and senses can be deceiving, who knows how real my reality is?  Or if it is even anything like the next person's reality.  I guess I don't have a grasp on reality at all. . . Soooo, yeah.  Can I see Duryodhana's face now?)

And with those profound thoughts (or at least those thoughts that seem profound to my exhausted self at this moment), we shall await Yudhishthira's dice addiction with growing frustration!

Week 11: Reading Diary A--More Bang for your Buck!!!

Oh, William Buck, how I missed your delightful prose!!  I cannot wait for you to tell me all of the stories that were omitted from Narayan's Mahabharata, and to retell the main storyline with your wonderful imagery!  Therefore, let us begin!!!

Even before we enter the chapters of Buck's Mahabharata, he presents us with a teaser description of the characters.  And once again, I realize just how much Narayan's versions of these epics lack in style, how much Narayan's versions lose in overly simplifying the stories and not utilizing the glory of descriptive language and perfect word choice.  Or maybe I just realized how much I missed Buck. . . That could also be it, haha.

Additionally, it's interesting that Yudhishthira is "the embodiment of all manliness," and yet the key characteristic of his personality is that he is "kindhearted."  Not at all what you would expect, with the emphasis put on religiosity and the warrior.  Intriguing. . .

Ganesha!!  I've always loved you for your image alone.  But seeing as you wrote the epics down for the poets, I love you all the more.

Also, odd that Ganesha is the god of writers and thieves--it makes you think there is some comparison to be made there.  Huh.

Can you imagine first meeting your father and you call him a beggar and he insults you and then decapitates you?  There's a situation that will lead to major daddy issues.  But now I know how Ganesha got his elephant head, so wooo!  Haha.

More etiological myths--yesssss!  Though, I don't know what to think about the fact that the ocean was originally milk. . .

Does anybody else simultaneously love and hate the roundabout ways in which the epics are framed?  How you go from present to past to deeper past to present to deep past to past to . . .  I have no idea.

You have to love how easily people in the epics give away favors.  "You can have anything you wish!"  Hah!  So often it works at cross-purposes with what the person wants, but why not give away an unnamed favor?  Is this a cultural thing?  Or is it simply to advance the epics, haha.

Also, did a lot of ancient Indians live to really old age?  Or at least some of them?  'Cause there are a lot of reallllllly old people in the epics.

You're sweating?  Really?  Ok, then, I guess it's about time for you to be reborn anyway. . .

So, a daughter sits on the right thigh of a man, and a lover sits on the left.  Good to know.  Random, but okay.

"We were wondering. . . Will you be our mother?"  Not at all an unusual request.  So let's just laugh it off--oh, wait, you're serious?  What on earth (or in heaven, should I say) did you do?

You have to really love someone to marry them on your mother's word and agree to never ask their name or interfere with their actions.  Also, you have to love them a lot to let them drown seven infant sons before finally objecting.  Like, damn.

Born of a spilled seed carried by a hawk and dropped into the mouth of a fish.  Totally normal.  And with all that, why not just add in a lingering aroma of fish?  Next, let's have a tryst in the middle of a river in the middle of a day with lots of people around us.  And thank you for removing my fishy odor as a payment for my love!  Wait a sec. . . does that make me a prostitute?  In any case, I gave birth to the famed poet Vyasa, so can I really complain?  (Such convoluted plot lines in these stories, haha.)

Sometimes I wonder if the Indians just didn't have the creativity to come up with new names.  So, instead, they add a syllable or a letter here or there, and thus name their children.  For example, see Amba, Ambika, and Ambalika.

"'. . .the wife is most dear who is stolen by force!'"  I object to this statement--it necessarily depicts women as objects, as something to be taken without any thought to the woman herself.  Stupid ancient, objectifying, misogynistic pigs.

[And now, once again, I really have to speed things up.]

Interesting how Buck didn't emphasize the circumstances of Vyasa's sons' births, whereas Narayan did.  Curious.

The ability to call upon any god in order to have a child with them--what an odd gift.  I mean, what do you say to that?  Thanks for the opportunity for unlimited divine sex?  And is there not some kind of moral issue there?

Pandu killing the deer while they are "joined in copulation" reminds me of Tiresias being cursed for striking two copulating serpents.  Why this of all things is a common story between two different cultures, I have no idea.

Can you imagine carrying one hundred sons?!?!  I just. . . I don't even. . . just no.  NO.

Okay, if they're from a ball of flesh, that's slightly less distressing.  But only slightly.

Ordering your wife to have sex with specific gods in order to bear you sons--that is so messed up on so many levels.

A bow made of sugarcane and strung with a line of bees. . .  That is seriously adorable!

Kripa and Kripi.  Again, such original names, haha.

Can you imagine promising your mentor that if you ever come against him, you will fight to win?  That's harsh, man.

Brahmanas are very forgiving.  That's why when you deny us a night of shelter, we take half of your kingdom.  Hearts of butter, indeed.

Interesting what a strong role Aswatthaman plays with Drona and the Pandavas in Buck's version versus Narayan's.

I love how Buck describes Karna as easily better than Arjuna, as the greatest warrior on earth.  It really provides a heightened sense of anticipation, seeing as I know later on that he will face off against the Pandavas.  Also, we see how Karna becomes indebted to Duryodhana simply because of a competition and a "friendship."

And with this lengthy post concluding, I bid you adieu!!

Week 10: Famous Last Words--Huey Long

"Don't let me die, I have got so much to do."

These past couple of weeks have been insanely busy, and this coming week is going to be no different.  Exams, papers, online assignments, readings, paperwork for study abroad, club meetings, reading groups, orientations, quizzes, open labs--the list goes on.  And with my laptop still out of commission, I have had no reprieve.  I can't even hide away in my room to do coursework at my own pace; instead, I have to plan time on campus in computer labs into what little "free time" I have.  I am seriously going crazy!!!

In any case, I am uber excited about everything falling in place for my semester abroad in the spring!  All of the predeparture orientations and paperwork are totally worth it, seeing as I will be spending an entire semester in Italy, touring Europe in my free time.  So yeah, that's just freaking awesome.  No complaints there.

But, in the case of my laptop, I was told that the screen is just dead, and that in order to get it fixed the entire thing has to be taken apart and replaced.  Which means sending my computer in and being without it for at least a month as well as paying about half of the original price of the laptop.  Great.  Just great.  So that's probably not going to happen.  With all of the issues I've had with this computer over the past few years, I'm thinking of just investing in an entirely new computer.  Or possibly a fancy tablet.  We shall see.

What that means, unfortunately (I just love adding more bad news onto previous bad news!!), is that I will almost definitely be without my own computer for the entire rest of the semester.  Fun times.  *sigh*

In other news, my principles of ecology lab is officially over, giving me some additional free time for the remainder of the semester.  Which is great news!  Hopefully it will be enough to make up for any technical difficulties I'm dealing with.  But if you care to look, I will most likely be practically living in the library for the rest of the fall, so feel free to come observe my frustration and desperation!!  Wooo, haha.

P.S.  I promise I'm not always this bitter.  Sarcastic, yes; bitter, no.  Ah, who am I kidding?  If you're reading this, chances are you've read some of my reading diaries.  Which means you know me well enough to know that sarcasm and dry humor is an integral part of me.  Which also makes this note pointless.  So I'm just going to stop typing now. . .

Image Information.  Photograph of Jesus College Library, Oxford, UK.  October 2010 by Jorge Royan.  Wikimedia Commons.

Week 10: Storytelling--Unfurling One Hundred Queries

A serene pool of water stood surrounded on its margin by a grassy edge, centered in a clearing of the forest of Dwaitavana.  The surface of the pool lay still, with not even a breeze ruffling its surface.  The clear, sapphire waters reflected the sky above.  A few snowy-white cranes flew overhead, their cries echoing across the pool's surface.

Not far from this tranquil scene, the five famed Pandava brothers chased the trail of an extraordinarily large deer who had stolen from a brahmin.  However, this deer was as swift as it was large, and it was not long before the Pandavas lost sight of its tracks.

It was at this point in time, fatigued and parched beyond measure, that the eldest brother, Yudhistira, ordered the youngest brother, Nakula, to climb a tree in the hopes of sighting water nearby.

Fate would have it that the water which Nakula spotted was in fact the sapphire pond.  Without hesitation, Nakula rushed to the spring ahead of his brothers.

Upon reaching the pond, Nakula heard a deep voice resonate seemingly from a crane standing along the far edge.  "Stop!  Do not touch my waters until you have satisfied me with answers to my queries.  Obly then may you drink as you wish."

Intent only on slaking his thirst, Nakula ignored the admonition and proceeded to drink.  Immediately upon the clear drops wetting his lips, he collapsed, dead.

Curious about their brother's delay, the Pandavas next sent Sahadeva to the pond.  Again, the warning sounded, and again it was ignored as Sahadeva bent to drink.  Another Pandava fell dead.

In turn, Arjuna and Bhima, too, fell victim to the accursed waters.  By the time Yudhistira arrived at the tranquil pond, its serene shores were decorated with the cold bodies of his five siblings.  Yudhistira sank to his knees under the weight of his sorrow.

Yet even in his grief, Yudhistira noted that his brothers bore no injury, no wounds to account for their lifelessness.  Knowing some divine power must be responsible for their deaths, Yudhistira decided to act with caution as he entered the sapphire waters to perform the rites of the dead.

"Do not act rashly!  These waters are mine; only answer my questions and you may slake your thirst.  Heed my warning or become the fifth Pandava to die here today."

As the echoes of this message echoed into the surrounding trees,  Yudhistira posed a question of his own.  "Who are you, who have vanquished my invincible brothers?  I bow to you, but implore that you explain to me your person and your purpose."

The snow-white crane standing opposite--until now still--transformed into a tall, shadowy, and imposing figure.   "I am a yaksha.  Answer my queries and unlike your brothers you shall live."

And so began a grueling test consisting of a continuous stream of questions at times as deceiving as the tranquility of the pond itself.  Some questions were fatuous and shallow, but most were profound, delving deep into the obscurities and significance of life and philosophy and religion.

As he answered the yaksha's queries cautiously but hastily, Yudhistira noticed an unusual lotus bud on the surface of the pond before the yaksha.  With each question Yudhistira answered correctly, a petal on the lotus bed unfurled.  One by one, the glowing violet color of the flower was revealed. . . And as the last few questions were answered, the final petals opened to reveal the golden heart of the lotus.  The light emanating from the flower was so bright, Yudhistira was forced to look away, eyes squinting.

"Your answers have pleased me, as has your humility and judiciousness.  Let all your brothers rise, that you may go forth unrecognized through your last year of exile."

The yaksha's voice boomed forth, and as it faded so did the glowing of the lotus.  When the last of the light disappeared from those rosy petals, a similar glow shone once more on the cheeks of the four fallen brothers.  Thus it was that Yudhistira's humility to the disguised Yama saved the Pandavas from certain death in the twelfth year of their banishment.




Author's Note.  So for some reason, this week I had a lot of trouble writing a story.  I don't know if it's just how exhausted I am, whether I'm out of creative juices, or whether I just couldn't find a story I enjoyed enough to retell, but this week's assignment took me much longer than it should have.  In any case, I decided to retell the story of the Hundred Questions, emphasizing more the deceptive tranquility of the scenery and the deceptive nature of the questions even in their straightforwardness.  I also added in the image of the lotus, as I thought that the entire scene lacked the beautiful imagery that I so adore.  Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed my retelling!  Hasta luego!!

Bibliography.  Narayan, R.K. (1978).  The Mahabharata.

Image Information.  Photograph of a nymphaea caerulea lotus.  Posted by razabar.  Pixabay.

Week 10: Reading Diary B--Afraid to Shoot Strangers--I Mean Family! Who Are We Fighting, Again?

Jumping right back in (and trying to be more brief, but most likely failing).  . .

"By exterminating the Kauravas. . ."  He makes them sound like nothing more than rats or cockroaches.  If that's so, just stomp on them and get it over with already!!

Ahh, Yudhistira's afraid of a little baby!!--Wait a sec; does that mean he wants to murder all the babies?!  Baby murderer!!

I wish I had a god arguing on my behalf in all arguments.   Krishna, Krishna, me me me!  Do you want to negotiate with my professors and parents for me?  You could make my life sooo much easier, haha.  (On a side note, I am totally going to many versions of hell.)

Mock the mighty warrior when he finally displays compassion why don't you.  That's one way to get him to change.

Draupadi, again bringing up religious contradictions.  Love that woman.

How much war and violence could be prevented if kings and demons simply listened to their advisers?  Like, seriously.

Yes, Duryodhana, let's just keep a god prisoner.  That seems smart and righteous and moral.  What a great plan.

"'One should accept food only if one is desperate or loves the person who offers it.'"  Oooooh, burn.  What scathing indictments we find in Indian epics, haha.

The last resort is the wife.  That's interesting. . .

Again, with Karna's loyalty to Duryodhana, we see an issue of a moral gray area and religious contradiction.  You can't simply turn your back on someone when you owe them, and so your loyalty is "understandable," but you also can't align with them for fear of destruction.  Ridiculous!!

Off to war!

Is all of India involved in this war?  How many soldiers and chariots do they have?!

When they mention "hot treacle," I imagine them flinging desserts at each other.  Definitely makes the battle humorous and Dr. Seuss-ish, haha.

The jackals are back!  This time, literally!!

". . . a profound philosophy of detached conduct. . ."  Yeah, that seems godlike; teaching someone to murder their family, friends, and mentors.  Good work, Krishna!

On with death and destruction.

And on. . .

And on. . .

Doesn't a suicide squad sound fun?  Let's join immediately, and support another of Duryodhana's immoral and misguided ventures.  Gahh.

And another mention of the wretched number thirteen.  Why?!  (I tried to look it up, and all I found was that thirteen can represent your karmas or mean that everything belongs to the Creator.  Whatever that means. .  .)

If you have a spear that will kill any one person without you needing to be near them, why not take out whichever Pandava is key to their defeat and wrap up the whole battle in a day?  Why not lead with that instead of holding in reserve so you can waste it?  Indian battle scenes make NO SENSE!!!

"I'll lie for you, Krishna, even if it sends me to hell."  Aren't gods supposed to be helpful in ascending to heaven?  What is up with this. . .

And now Bhima becomes a vampire!!  I knew we were missing something.

How nice of Arjuna not wanting to take advantage of an awkward moment.  I wish more people were like that, haha.

Dancing on the head of your enemy.  That's taking "dancing on your grave" to a whole new level.  A whole new level of harshness.

These people sure love hugging people to death.

I'm kinda with Yudhistira; imagine how peaceful and simple the life of a recluse would be.  If only such a life were a possible back-up plan nowadays, haha.

God, I love Draupadi.  Lecture away!!

And we finally come to the coronation of Yudhistira and practically to the end of our epic.

Except we have to let the Pandavas and Draupadi "decide" to die and pass on one-by-one.  I wish I could choose when to die; then again, I would probably choose never, so that could be a problem.  Ah, well, in my fantasy it would all work out, haha.

To think, the Mahabharata ends with only a single surviving character, Abhimanyu's child.  It's almost like Hamlet, but slightly more peaceful. . .

And so we reach the end of Narayan's version of the Mahabharata!!  Woooo!  Now on to Buck's version, hopefully with more of his amazing prose!!  :)

Week 10: Reading Diary A--The Horseman, the Cook, and a God in the Sky

Let's get right back into it!!  When we left, Yudhistira had just lost all the Pandavas had for a second time in a game of dice. . .

A bunch of followers decided to stay with the Pandavas and live with them in poverty, loyal even though their supposed leader had gambled away all of their homes.  Which means all of the Pandavas' followers must be either totally crazy or saints--because the normal reaction would be to slap Yudhistira, yell at him for hours, then probably beat him to a pulp.  (Not that I'm violent, or anything, but seriously.)

But of course as long as you're already respected, just recite the 108 names of the Sun God and he shall save you from your mistakes.  By forcing someone who is not you to hold a bowl for an indeterminate amount of time so that everyone can eat.  Basically, the only effort you need to expend is in reciting a few titles, and other people will do the rest.  Seems fair.

And once again Dhritarashtra shows that he ignorantly cares more for his son than he does for everyone else put together.  And that he really isn't that regretful.  But I'm sure that he would love to hear that in Vidura's estimation he is equated with a young girl; could've been a lot worse, haha.

And again Dhritarashtra immediately takes back his orders.  Do you think he's realized yet that he has foot-in-mouth disease?  And do you think everyone in his kingdom realizes that they just need to ignore him? . . .

What is it with the Indian epics and banishment/poverty for fourteen years?  Why fourteen?  I want to knowwwww.

Now we know that Draupadi is a woman with a violent temper and a desire for vengeance.  And I like her even more for it, hah.

To Yudhistira, I say:  it's easy to be forgiving and demand forgiveness from others when it was your own fault that left an entire kingdom of people in poverty.

It's odd to find in an ancient epic, but it almost seems as if Draupadi's argument talks of a monotheistic religion and that she does indeed indicate that the world would be better off without any God.  The first agnostic/atheist!  And a woman!  And an intelligent and well-spoken woman at that!  Say whatttt!!

Also, her secondary argument seems almost Socratic/Platonic--that the essence and virtue of each thing lies in it functioning well.  Overall, Draupadi just seems like an inquisitive philosopher ahead of her time.  Again, go strong women!!

Odd that in the Mahabharata, thirteen years is emphasized as a long stretch in time, whereas in many of the other tales we have read thousands of years pass without mention.

And now we wait while the Pandavas gather a veritable catalog of divine weapons and pray everywhere possible. . .

And the low-level nature deities/Indian singers take out Duryodhana's entire army; he clearly does not have skilled men at his beck and call.  But at least he comes out of the skirmish wiser--not that that would be very hard to do based off of his previous judgment.

Another deceitful/harmful deer.  I think I'm sensing a pattern. . .

Yama!!!  How I missed you!  But people really need to learn to listen to you. . . Though at times, you view disobedience as courage, so you are sending some mixed messages.  Perhaps we cannot blame the Pandavas after all.

If you didn't have to live in the woods while in exile, why wouldn't you have just settled in a city to begin with?!  Gahhh.

Gamblers never do quit, do they?

The vicious warriors secretly desire to be. . . a cook? and a neuter?  Ummmmm, okay.  Cook is kind of understandable, but to have a favorite hobby of being a neuter?  I literally have no words. . .

Onward to Virata!!  (And now to speed up/be more brief--)

Draupadi's beauty is apparently indescribable and impossible to resist.  Obviously meant to match with the intelligence.  ;)

". . . he was hugged by Bhima, and disposed of quickly."  Most inconspicuous and understated murder scene ever, haha.

Again with the wretched number thirteen!!

Clap your hands for the Kauravas, making war, stealing cattle, and taking advantage of impaired kingdoms everywhere!

I wish I could just go pluck a tree from the ground and use it as a weapon.  No one would ever bother me ever again. . . *sigh*  Ah, well.

The Prince Uttara is a wimp.  'nough said.

"A well-matched, sophisticated fight ensued."  What does that even mean?  How can a fight be sophisticated if it is fought with physical weapons and blows?  Like, what??

We won the cattle!  Hurrah!!  Mooooo!!

Dice make such terrible weapons, haha.  And of course any blood spilled must be collected in a vessel.  The ground is unworthy of a Pandava's lifeblood, obviously.

"Warning Shots."  How intriguing. . .

I thought it was war and peace.  Silly me.

So much discussion of troops and battles and wars, but no actual confrontations.  I'm getting impatient!!

He somehow "did not mind this advice"?!  Did you really think that after 125 pages of supporting his demonic sons that Dhritarashtra would suddenly turn against them and do the just thing?  Seriously?

Just blame your weak-willed decisions on fate.  Whatever.  I don't care.  Really, I don't.  You can go to Yama for all I care.

I wish I could summon people with a thought.  Texting is just too labor-intensive.

And now that Dhritarashtra finally realizes that his doom really is coming, we can anxiously wait for the face-off to begin!!  Ttfn!

Week 9: Famous Last Words--Art Scholl & Manfred von Richthofen

"I have a problem--I have a real problem."       "Kaputt. . ."

While my problem was not with a plane's systems failing resulting in a subsequent crash, this week I had the unfortunate luck of having my laptop crash on me. . . Again.  Gahhhhhhhhh.  So frustrating, especially seeing as I have this class online plus other classes that necessitate regular access to computers for assignments.  As much as I appreciate that at least there are computers for use on campus, it's still damn inconvenient to rearrange homework and free time around campus and chancy computer availability.  Thus I get to spend what little time I have outside of class in the library and other computer banks on campus.  Fantastic.

What with my computer blacking out on me and my sister visiting and deadlines unexpectedly moving forward (which is totally unacceptable, people!), I have been insanely busy this past week, and have been unable to get ahead with work like usual.  In fact, I do believe I'm going to go crazy with finishing everything only shortly before it's due.  (And while I may be good at procrastinating, it leaves me stressed out and anxious, which is never good for either myself or the people around me, haha.)

Which means, of course, that all of my storybook assignments and responses are falling by the wayside.  I'm not behind--yet--but tomorrow I get to play a massive game of catch-up.  Ugh. . .

This week has been one of those times when you realize how useful technology is until it breaks.  And then you realize how much of classwork forces you to utilize technology or fail.  And then you wish excuses such as "My dog ate my homework" were accepted by university professors, haha.  Instead, I get to say I did my best, but I had to deal with my computer going "Kaputt."  O me miseram!



Image Information.  Photograph of Aerobatics Pitts S2 by Hakan Dahlstrom.  Taken September 5, 2010.  Flickr.

Tech Tip: Google in Your Language

Oh, for the days of Looney Tunes and the adorably frustrated Elmer Fudd. . .  Haha.

Week 9: Storytelling--Trapped Among Peacocks

It all began with my swayamvara.  Everything was supposedly proceeding as it should, with suitors of all classes and of various kingdoms preening and boasting of their skills.  Even those who knew they had little chance of earning my hand had come to catch a glimpse of me and to hope for a miraculous win.

Perhaps if I were the type of princess my father and his advisers desired, all of the attention would have been flattering and would have caused a delicate, feminine blush to stain my cheeks.  Instead, as I was paraded into the arena like nothing more than a beautiful prize to be won, I could not help but scorn those around me.  All of them were haughty, arrogant, conceited, egocentric, narcissistic peacocks, wishing for nothing more than to flash their bright plumage and claim me as a trophy and a symbol of their prowess.  But I refused to be so easily won, so easily used.

My brother and father had wanted a simple archery competition, but I convinced them otherwise--it was my swayamvara, after all.  If I'm to be forced into marriage, I'm going to make it a challenge for all involved.  So I got to watch all of those preening peacocks shoot five arrows at a revolving target while using only a reflection in a pan of oil to aim.  And thankfully I was able to get a little bit of amusement out of the detestable misogynistic tournament.

If I weren't so thrilled with the prospect of escaping marriage, the display of spectacular failures would have been embarrassing.  I had hoped to eliminate only the worst, but instead sent all suitors fleeing in shame--that is, except for two.

You see, Karna, a Kaurava, was--and is still--one of the most gifted master of arms and archery.  He stood in the corner watching his "competition" failing with a contemptuous sneer on his face, joking with his men condescendingly.  Despicable as he is, I could not prevent him from competing, and so I watched with dread as he approached the bow in the arena.  Of course, when he looked my way, I continued to play the innocent, bashful, flattered damsel everyone wanted me to be--even if all I wanted to do was storm out of that hall after calling out all the men who thought a simple contest should determine the entirety of a woman's future.

However, it seemed I was not as in control of myself as I like to think.  For, as Karna approached the line to take aim at the target, I released a simple comment on a resigned sigh.  "I will not accept him."

Never have I been so glad to have uttered five simple words.  Those words changed my fate, or perhaps simply enabled fate to proceed as planned.  In any case, Karna turned to me, his eyes filled with arrogant condescension and his smile wry, and dropped the bow on the ground with a prideful air.  Sarcastically, he mouthed, "As you wish," and haughtily announced to his men that I was not worth the trouble if I was not to be agreeable.  Detestable men, wanting nothing more than a pretty doll on a shelf to be taken down when needed!

A brahmin, appearing humble and tattered, then stood up and approached the challenge I placed before him.  Without hesitation, and with obvious ease, he sunk all five arrows deep in the rotating target.  For a moment I thought to deny him, regardless of his skill, but then he looked into my eyes--and I saw my fate.

Perhaps you will say that I must have seen love, or that I must have simply accepted my role as a princess.  Fools!  I would not subject myself to marriage simply because it was expected, because it was traditional.  And perhaps love could explain my change in heart, but that was not the case.  No, when I looked into Arjuna's eyes--for indeed it was he, one of the Pandavas--it was as if there was a cosmic link between us.  I felt a pull, a gravity in his form, and I knew that I could not object, could not fight this marriage.  Whether I desired it or not, I would marry this man.  And seeing also kindness and strength and respect and virtue in the man before me, I gracefully accepted that he was part of my destiny.

And so I draped a garland of fragrant flowers around his neck and acted the demure princess most believed me to be.  Even as the crowd objected to the victory of an understated red spurfowl among so many self-absorbed peacocks, I recognized Arjuna as a worthy complement.  I believe he recognized the spark of fire in my gaze, the undeniable aura of wit and defiance I exuded, and yet he simply nodded in acceptance of me with a slight smile touching his lips.

Of course, my marriage was not to be as simple as my betrothal.  For I was to end up with five husbands, rather than one.  It was seem I do have a tendency to bring about the most unusual circumstances.

But that is a story for another day. . .




Author's Note.  So I decided to write a tale about Draupadi.  She caught my eye in the epic so far in that she always seems to have something to say, some objection about her treatment as nothing more than property or a prize.  And yet, at the same time, in some ways she is very accepting of her fate.  So a strong, intelligent, complicated woman--how unheard of!!!  Haha.  But seriously, I like her character a lot.  Thus my strong, sassy, independent portrayal.  I hope you enjoyed it!!!

Bibliography.  Narayan, R.K. (1978). The Mahabharata.

Image Information.  Photograph of a peacock feather, 2013.  FreeWall Source.

Week 9: Reading Diary B--You've Got to Know When to Hold 'Em. . . Know When to Walk Away, Know When to Run!!

Soooo. . . Due to a busy weekend and a couple of midterm exams sneaking up on me, I decided to skip yesterday's reading diary assignment.  However, I did read both the first and second assignments today, even if I am just commenting on today's section.  So don't think I'm too much of a slacker. . .

Anyway, let's get to Narayan's Mahabharata!!!

In this epic we definitely see a society whose politics are reminiscent of our own--you know, with spies, subterfuge, distrust, lies, no loyalty. . . Did I mention selfish intent?  I could go on.

Oh, codes.  How obvious you can be, when subtlety fails you!!

You have to love the irony of the House of Joy being in reality a murderous trap.  I mean, what else would it be?  And why not escape through tunnels?  That is what every prisoner tries first, of course.  Though most prisoners are forced to dig with a spoon and don't have master tunnel builders to do the work for them. . .

I keep thinking of Bhima as the Lakshmana of the Pandavas.  You know, not sleeping for unrealistic amounts of time, providing for everyone, doing all the necessary things for survival and carrying everyone's burdens himself.  And then having other people take a lot of the credit.  I don't know whether to admire or pity them, so I shall do both.

Of course then Bhima gets a Lakshmana of his own (his son, Ghatotkacha), so life's not too terrible.

Okay, so maybe Bhima gets more for his labors than did Lakshmana.  I pity Bhima considerably less.

Basically Bhima is an amalgamation of Rama and Lakshmana.  Or something.  Yeah, definitely something. . .

Let me just taunt and manhandle this demon and then kill him bare-handed with no effort.  Don't worry, I'm just a simple brahmin. . .  Don't believe me?  Huh.  Guess we'll just have to move on then.  Idiots.  Did you really think you could get away with that without garnering attention?

I kind of hate how Narayan keeps mentioning the Mahabharata in his narration of the Mahabharata.  It just annoys me.  *sigh*

One wife to be shared among five brothers. . . That must be awkward as heck.  Poor Arjuna, poor Draupadi, poor Pandavas.  And how awkward for this all to occur because of a throw-away remark from their mother.  And then to describe the situation to Draupadi's father. . . All sorts of awkwardness here.

Lesson to be learned here:  Never repeat a word when pleading to the gods.  You may end up with five husbands instead of one.  True story.

Poor blind Dhritarashtra being ordered around by his son.  This epic is just filled with poor people.  Even if they are all technically rich.  Money really can't buy happiness. . . Just in case you hadn't yet realized that in your life.

To make peace or to annihilate?  Decisions, decisions.

Need to make a critical decision?  Just turn to the handy god sitting in your midst.  Nbd.

Have you seen your brother having sex with your mutual wife?  EXILE!!  And while exiled, why not pick up two more wives?  What else would you do with your time?

I don't know about any of you, but roasting an entire forest full of animals seems a little excessive as a sacrifice to me--as well as more than a little shameful.  But I guess if it's what the gods want, then it's totally acceptable.  Though I can't help but imagine how harshly my vegetarian sister would declaim this little tale.

I really want to visit this city of wonderful illusions.  It would be like wandering through a beautiful house of mirrors, haha.  Though chances are I would be the one drenched. . . Ah, well.

Gambling--just as much of a harmful addiction then as it is now, and forever the game of the deceitful.

So many descriptions of the prince as a jackal.  Hear him cackle!!

Turning the wife of the five Pandavas into a chambermaid and whore after winning her by cheating in a dice game.  Classy.

I really like Draupadi.  She is one strong, intelligent, defiant woman.  Hells, yeah, Pachali!!

Also, you've gotta love Krishnu for his sari trick to keep Draupadi robed.  Niceeeee.

And finally Dhritarashtra shows some wisdom and lets everyone go free with wealth intact.  Perhaps war can be avoided here. . . Hahahahahaha.  Just kidding.  Like that would happen.

And almost immediately Dhritarashtra once again becomes an idiotic puppet.  Such a strong figure for a king!

Bhima is vicious!!  Maybe justly so, but still!

And after everything has been gambled away once again, again Dhritarashtra tries to undo his error.  Fickle people irk me like nothing else!  Gahhhhh.

And so we are left in suspense as to whether this gambling debt is to be withdrawn as well.  To be continued!!

Week 8: Famous Last Words--George Beard

"Rain had always been a harbinger of tragedy for me."

So, after reading everybody's Famous Last Words posts this week, I decided to try one of my own.  And since quotes are fun, I decided to begin with some actual famous last words--picked in honor of last night's awesome thunderstorm and the rain to come later tonight.  Tadah!!

Haha, in other news, it's OU Texas weekend!!  Woot woot!  Sadly, when having Friday off, I only miss one class. . . *sigh*  Ah, well.  The good news--nay, great news!--is that I have the pleasure of hosting a visitor this weekend.  For my little sister is coming to town!!  Luckily for her, she has numerous short breaks incorporated into her schedule, so she is spending her long weekend flying in from Pennsylvania to visit.  And since I haven't seen any family in over two months, it is a welcome arrival indeed.

That being said, with her visiting I worked all this week to get ahead on schoolwork, rather than procrastinating as per usual.  And it's kind of awesome, being able to look ahead at the weekend and only have a little bit of studying and a short assignment or two remaining.  Definitely a study in why working ahead can be relaxing and worthwhile.  Perhaps this experience will help with my time management in the future, haha.

Anyhow, I love the rain and thunderstorms in particular, so my quote this week is sort of contradictory to fact, but alas, I used it anyways.  Honestly, I think it would be kind of fantastic to die in the middle of a dramatic rainstorm.  So whatever, George Beard.

And on that weird note, arrivederci!  Alla prossima.



P.S.  I apologize for the Italian.  I also learned this week that I was accepted into the OUA program for the spring semester, so I'm uber excited, haha.  Yay, study abroad!!!  :)


Image Information.  Photograph of rain on a window, 2014.  Posted by SplitShire on Pixabay.

Tech Tip: Typing Games

So one of the other tech tips I did recently was typing tests, so I decided to see how I could improve my speed--which led me to typing games, naturally.  It's not like I'm slow at typing or anything, but with all of the typing inherent in classes and research and jobs and such nowadays, you can never type too quickly!

Back in middle school, we took a keyboarding course in which we learned to touch-type using one of those ridiculous, totally repetitive and monotonous, un-fun typing programs with "games."  Definitely not the kind of games I'd want to replay, though.  However in exploring the site link to Ninja Cat, I must say that this game was actually kind of fun, and almost like one of the older computer games I used to play--never underestimate the power of nostalgia in increasing fun-levels exponentially, haha.

While on the site, I also tried the Kayak Game ('cause I love kayaking, so I thought that it might be fun), but that was a total disaster.  The game was kind of clunky and hard to follow, and just awful.  So yeah. . . NINJA CAT ALL THE WAY!!!  Haha.  Enjoy!!

Week 8: Reading Diary--Time to Self-Assess!!

So. . . Yeah.  In rereading the instructions for the reading diaries, I find that I am pretty spot on--in all but one respect.  My posts are consistently longer than advised.   Whoops, haha.

Honestly, I do not think that this is altogether a huge problem.  In my posts, I have tried a variety of methods and have settled with making comments and marking my thoughts on quotes, characters, themes, and events that catch my eye.  This really helps to capture not only plot, but characterization and even emotion.  (Plus the jokes and references I add in are pretty funny, even if only I can understand them, haha.) And at least I am not simply restating plot--there's one improvement made over time! In looking back on my past reading diaries, I can easily recap the stories and characters we have encountered so far.  So in this aspect, I think my reading diaries are quite helpful, if a little long.

Therefore, perhaps I just need to find a way to shorten my posts. . . and possibly my stories. . . *sigh*  I obviously have length issues; I'm probably compensating for my height, haha.  The only other change I may make to my reading diaries in the second half of the semester is the addition of images.  Whether found online or sketched myself, images can further aid in reminding me of past stories, and in a quick glance rather than in a prolonged reading session.  Not sure whether or not I will follow through with this, but it's a possibility.  Besides, maybe if I add some flashy images I can somehow gather a large following of enthralled readers--okay, maybe not.  But images are still cool.

And now, once again, I need to stop or risk being longwinded, haha.  Ta-ta for now, folks!

Week 7: Storytelling--They Claim I'm a Villain. . .

I wasn't always like this.  I wasn't always bitter, jealous, conniving and--as many recently decided--a whore.  And while I know I am not virtuous or even good, I am not altogether evil either.  All I have done has been for the benefit not only of myself, but of my son.  If it seems my actions are wholly selfish, I assure you they are not.  For even if I am not who I was before, parts of my younger, virtuous self remain.

Often I wish I could be who I once was.  I wish that I could be the same person who drove chariots, fought demons, and served her king.  The person who Dasaratha fell in love with.  But am I not her, not anymore.

You see, once upon a time I was fearless, unafraid of anything that came my way.  Call it innocence, ignorance, bravery--whatever you desire.  I was the best mortal chariot driver in the lands--perhaps even better than some immortal beings.  My horses were red, glinting in the light as if made of copper.  I led them not by force, but through friendship.  We were so close we may as well have been different limbs on the same being.

In my chariot, with my team before me, I ruled the skies.  In the skies, I felt free, like nothing could stop me or hold me back.  Perhaps that freedom is what allowed me to be so fearless, so "brave."  Who knows. . .

What I do know is that everything changed in my ninth year.  The Asuras of drought had locked away the rains, and the heavy clouds up above darkened the lands.  The earth grew scorched, and cracks marred its surface.  And with every crack, I felt a fissure rip through my own being.  For no longer could I ride through the skies without viewing the wounded land below and the black clouds above.  My safe haven, my freedom, was gone.  And without it, I began to change.  I began to grow angry and desperate.

Thus when I was given the chance to drive the then-prince, Dasaratha, into battle, I eagerly jumped on it.  And in battling against the drought demons, I discovered that my relationship with my horses and my knowledge of the sky allowed me to anticipate and outmaneuver all of our opponents.  We were unstoppable, and yet this did not grant me hope for the renewal of the lands and skies which I so loved; no, instead the darkness of the clouds and the harshness of the scorched earth seeped into my soul, and the taste of battle unleashed the desperation and anger I held inside.

And so, even as I saved Dasaratha's life when the tide of battle turned against us, even as I spent days nursing him to health, I changed for the worse.  I was no longer an innocent and free child.  Instead, I was a bitter and angry woman.  And even as I selflessly remained by Dasaratha's side, I became wrapped up in myself.  I grew selfish.

Now, when I think back on those days, I wonder.  I wonder about how every crack in the earth became a crack in my innocence and about how as the clouds grew darker and heavier with imprisoned rains, my soul grew darker and heavier with pent-up, selfish desires.  And I wonder if it was worth it, if my greedy, self-seeking ways have served a purpose.  For now Visishtha claims that by my doing, the worlds are saved from tyranny, that my self-serving actions have allowed for the defeat of the oppressive Ravana.

Yet I cannot help but think, why was my virtue the price paid to save the world?  Why must I be the villainous hero, the one everyone whispers about in the shadows and despises behind closed doors?

I promise you, I am not all evil.  I was not always like this.  And perhaps, if I can change for the worse, I can change for the better.

Or perhaps there is no going back to the virtue and innocence that was before.  Perhaps I am evil.  Perhaps I am the villain I never wished or thought I could be.




Author's Note.  I don't know about everyone else, but I for one have never been a fan of Kaikeyi.  She's scheming, manipulative and manipulated, selfish and self-serving, and honestly annoying and melodramatic.  So yeah, I'm definitely not a fan.  And yet, throughout the Ramayana, we get bits and pieces of this story in which she saved Dasaratha even as she herself was injured.  All of which seemed out of character and frankly ridiculous when contrasted with her actions regarding Rama.  Thus when we got this story in its entirety (finally!) and I learned that Kaikeyi was only nine and an amazing charioteer at the time, suffice it to say I was shocked.  And I wondered what could have caused her to change so drastically; what would she think reflecting on who she is and who she was?  What caused her to change? . . .

Bibliography.  Buck, William (1976).  Ramayana:  King Rama's Way.

Image Information.  Image of a dark landscape courtesy of DasWortgewand.  Pixabay.