Dr.
PREMA NANDAKUMAR
Subramania
Bharati was primarily a lyricist. Whether it was because he had no leisure to
write a sustained long poem or because he lacked the necessary calm of mind
that alone can structure an epic, he wrote no epic although he managed to turn
out hundreds of lyrics. He was especially fond of short lyrical jets, and he
even created a new genre in Kannan Pallu. We have a unique device here, for we see the
poet approaching the Lord as love, friend, king, servant, teacher, pupil and so on. However, during those difficult days in
1912 when Bharati’s political journalism had ceased to
have any publishing avenue due to governmental pressure, he had indeed plenty
of leisure. Bharati could at once afford to be ambitious and calm, and attempt
a major poem. While every poet dreams of becoming the author of at least one
epic, few actually manage to achieve their ambition. Bharati was one such, and
great was his achievement. Wisely he borrowed the story from the Mahabharata.
In fact, he described Panchali Sapatham as no more than a translation of the
corresponding episodes in the Mahabharata. But this is true only up to a
point, for all the moves in Panchali Sapatham are indeed derived from Vyasa:
the game of dice, the righteous stand of Vikarna, the
outrage on Droupadi, Bhima’s
explosive anger, and Arjuna’s mollifying reply. With
a sure sense of the dynamics of epic action, Bharati chose this sequence of
events culminating in the vow of Droupadi as the
proper theme of a poem of epic magnitude in modern Tamil. Acknowledging his
attempt to scale the heights of an epic poem in the day-to-day rhythms of
contemporary Tamil speech, Bharathi wrote in the
preface to the first edition:
“Simple
phrases, simple style, easily understood prosody, the rhythms liked by the
common man – he who creates an epic with these attributes gives our
mother-tongue in Tamil a new lease of life. It should be written in such a way
that all the Tamils with even a smattering of literary knowledge should
understand the meaning and at the same time the writing should never degenerate
from the nature of poesy.
It
is a mighty job; my capabilities are few. I publish this because of my ‘love’.
Not as an example, but as a pathfinder.”
Despite
this modesty, two things are clear in the preface. Panchali
Sapatham was conceived as an epic; and it was
written in the language of the common man. Necessarily, Panchali
Sapatham belongs to the genre of the modern
literary epic. At the same time, Panchali Sapatham is also very much like the ancient epics,
because it springs to life only when it is recited or sung. Since Bharati used
folk tunes like nondi-chindu, the epic
has a rare lilt and freshness. It has remained popular for more than half a
century, and has even been dramatised on the stage
with resounding success.
How
far are we right in describing Panchali Sapatham as an epic? Subramania Bharati called it a “kaviyam.” Obviously he meant that it was more than mere
lyrical or narrative poetry. On the contrary, the poem does not immediately
qualify for the name of epic. An epic strikes us by its sheer bulk. The
subject-matter should be of cosmic significance (including human, sub-human and
super-human action), and also have an arresting contemporaneity.
The poem should be able to touch the nation’s heart-strings. A modern literary
epic cannot be expected to do all this; it can hardly hope to seep into
the inner reaches of a national soul. Partly to offset this grave disability,
an epic poet like Sri Aurobindo chose the theme of Savitri
for his poem; and Savitri has an immediate appeal to
the Indian heart. Bharati, by choosing the theme of Droupadi,
did likewise. Had he come to know from Sri Aurobindo of the latter’s epic in
progress? Anyhow, Bharati chose the other great heroine of the Mahabharata, Droupadi. In the result, the readers of Subramania
Bharati’s poem Panchali Sapatham
approach it with Vyasa’s Mahabharata close
to their consciousness. Bharati was indeed consciously imitating the poet of
the Mahabharata to produce his own small-scale epic.
Yet
the poem does not wholly conform to the broad definition of an epic given by C.
M. Gayley:
“The
epic in general, ancient and modern, may be described as a dispassionate
recital in dignified rhythmic narrative of a momentous theme of action
fulfilled by heroic characters and supernatural agencies under the control of a
sovereign destiny. The theme involves the political or religious interests of a
people or of mankind; it commands the respect due to popular tradition and to
traditional ideals. The poem awakens the sense of the mysterious, the awful and
the sublime; through perilous crises it uplifts and calms the strife of frail
humanity.”
Bharati’s poem is certainly not dispassionate, nor is it
a large mass comprising crises of varying intensity to present the complete
life-story of a whole tribe. But it has the quintessential epic attribute
of being built round a perilous central crisis, and it projects the vision of
sublime grandeur in the climactic scene. It even provides for a supernatural
agency that lends its decisive grace to save the heroine at the most critical
moment in her life. On the other hand, the metrical scheme used in the poem is
not uniform. In fact, there is such a variety of metre
and rhythm that the poem sways often with a balladic spontaneity. And, indeed,
a string of ballads it is, in certain respects. The folk tunes largely
influence the poetic structure. As in a ballad, the story moves quickly.
Incidents are swiftly related, and they form a cascade of ballad poetry.
Subramania Bharati himself says that these quick rhythms helped him to
introduce the epic dialogue with effective ease. On the other hand, Panchali Sapatham is
no mere ballad. Here is a conscious projection of an epic structure, with
attendant attributes like the conference of the gods, the conference of the
heroes, and the conference of the anti-heroes. And the language too hasn’t
always the cloying sweetness of simple lyricism. Words flash and thunder in
response to the appropriate moods, give an epic dignity to modern Tamil speech,
and build new epic similes all along the narrative. Under the circumstances,
therefore, Panchali Sapatham
has to be placed midway between the two forms of creative writing–ballad
and epic. It may be called, perhaps, a long narrative poem, for it deals
extensively with an important episode from the Mahabharata, an episode
that we consider to be part of our ancient history: and this episode is
rendered in terms of dramatic action, and the narration is related to the wider
background of politics, society and religion. So we could safely call it an
epical narrative poem, if not a full-blown epic. Better still, we may simply
describe it as an epyllion, for here is both “amplitude
of feeling and action” and a “formal stretch of the narrative” in the telling
of the tale. Panchali Sapatham
has five Sargas with certain inner divisions, and
there are in all seventy-three lyric clustres, which
together form a united whole. It makes impressive and moving reading from the
beginning to the end. It is a good example of creative art that touches the
inner chords of life, and it even effects a catharsis
in us towards the end of the narrative when Droupadi
takes her terrible vow.
Although Bharati has chosen but a
single crisis from Vyasa’s epic, this is also the
pivot of the Mahabharata. This particular episode is crucial to the
whole epic, and plunges us in medias res. The episode of
the Game of Dice had been preceded by the accumulated injuries
perpetrated by Duryodhana and his henchmen. Nemesis
is sure to follow after the uncompromising stand taken by Droupadi,
Bhima and Arjuna. There is to be no more coming
together, no more room for charity. Duryodhana is
shown as perpetrating quite a few evil things to annoy Yudhishtira.
With the treacherous dice-game he overreaches himself. All the earlier events
and irritations lead to the terrible moment when Duhshasana
rises to disrobe Droupadi. The reader holds his
breach for a timeless moment. Theft the miracle occurs, and life returns to
normalcy. The clock has, however, ticked away imperturbably. There is no escape
for Duryodhana now; nor is there any further trial
for Droupadi. It is true that she has to face future
calamities and yet her real moment of trial really took place in the
The cardinal centre of action in this epyllion
is the conflict between Light and Darkness. It might also be described as Dharma
(Righteousness) versus Adharma
(Unrighteousness). Droupadi and Duryodhana
are the protagonists of this poem. The others–Sakuni and
the Kurus behind Duryodhana,
Vikarna and the Pandavas
behind Droupadi–are little more than painted figures.
Bharati’s sure sense of art crystallises the epic
struggle between Duryodhana and Droupadi.
Any attempt to draw closer to this struggle would involve a brief inspection of
Bharati’s characterisation of these two figures; Duryodhana born of Darkness symbolised
by the blindness of Dhritarashtra and Gandhari, and Droupadi born of
Light symbolised by the fire-sacrifice performed by
King Drupada. It is interesting to note that there is
a visible growth and integration in Droupadi’s
personality and a corresponding decadence and disintegration in the personality
of Duryodhana. Duryodhana’s
supreme sin is envy. That green-eyed monster makes Duryodhana disregard his tremendous wealth, chariot-power,
his vast earth-shaking army, and all the joys of life attainable only by the
gods, and reduces him into a state of utter collapse. And all because the pandavas live and thrive:
In the gaze of manly Arjuna
Who wields the Gandiva
bow:
And on giant Bhima’s
shoulders too,
My shame is seen: O woe is me!
This is a mild beginning. Soon, fed
by its own venom of weird imagination, Duryodhana’s
envy reaches gigantic proportions. Subramania Bharati masterfully uses an apt
simile to describe the mental state of Duryodhana:
As when fire from
earth’s deep centre
Boils and makes way to the crust
And its great heat melts the rocky hill
And the Java streams
away:
The volcanic envy in his heart
Erupted in his mind and soul,
All strength and manliness melted,
Valour and
honour were lost.
And like a weak ill-treated woman,
Or a lost whimpering child,
He became nought
by feeding
On the poison of
envious thoughts.
Though Duryodhana is envious of the Pandavas,
his fiercest anger is directed against Droupadi. She
is his enemy number one! Hadn’t she laughed when he fell down in a swoon in Yudhishtira’s Hall of Sacrifice? She had dared to laugh at
him; he would therefore reduce her to beggary. While Dhritarashtra
sees no harm in the child-like laughter of a close cousin, Duryodhana’s
mind is made up; his envious heart makes him rave like a maniac. It is but one
step from the cursing of one’s cousins to the cursing of one’s father. We
shudder at the poisoned darts flung by the prince towards the king his father.
Nor will Duryodhana take the path of an open contest
of heroism; he prefers the treachery of a false game, and Dhritarashtra
has to acquiesce in it. Even the habits of respect, devotion and obedience to
one’s father take leave of the evil Duryodhana in Panchali Sapatham.
Immediately after the Duryodhana-Dhritarashtra dialogue, we see Droupadi for the first time. She is demure and quiet, shy and
humble, as she bows at the feet of Vidura with her
face “as lovely as the moon at early night.” It is significant that she doesn’t
take part in the discussions between Vidura and the Pandavas about accepting Duryodhana’s
invitation to the game of dice, which seems to be a treacherous one. After this
brief moment we do not hear of her at all: the game in the Kuru
court proceeds along expected lines. Suddenly Yudhishtira
finds that he has lost everything including himself and his four brothers. Egged
on by incarnate evil, Sakuni, Yudhishtira
accepts Panchali as a pawn to try a final skirmish
with Luck. The fourth canto opens vividly:
Would one kill a dear child
For leather to make
sandals?
For the dicing between inimical
princes
Should Panchali
be the pawn?
The stakes agreed upon,
The evil uncle called
For necessary dicing counts:
The false dice rolled as wished.
There is now a further deterioration
in Duryodhana’s character. Envious, petty and weak in
private, he waxes evil, and becomes insulting and cruel in public during his
moment of self-defeating triumph in the court. He orders the forced dragging of
the Panchala Princess to the court. The two
protagonists are now face to face at last. From now on there is a decisive
change in their behaviour. Duryodhana
speaks no more, and becomes wholly silent. It is as though he were shrinking
before Droupadi’s personality, as though he were
darkness being eaten up by the blaze of her glory and disintegrating into
oblivion. On the other hand, Droupadi, silent
hitherto, now slowly rises in stature, until at the supreme moment she seems to
fill the entire space of the Hall of Assembly; and as the curtain rings down,
she is before us, a veritable emanation of Adi Parashakti, dishevelled and dust-spotted
no doubt, but luminous as a cone of uprising spiritual fire.
Duryodhana is vituperatively
eloquent in the fourth canto when he repeatedly chides the charioteer for
failing to bring Droupadi
to the court. In the fifth canto Duhshasana does the
deed and drags the golden princess by her tresses towards the assembled
courtiers. Bharati describes her entry into the hall in moving terms:
She saw the Pandavas
With fire darting from her lightning
eyes;
And Duhshasana
saw them inactive, speechless
And slavish as before, wildly he
jeered:
‘You too a
slave-girl now’. And cursed her.
Karna
sniggered, and Sakuni praised him, and
The courtiers sat immobile.
There is no reference to Duryodhana at all here, nor is there any word from him when
Droupadi abandons the idle attempt to preach Dharma
to an Adharmic court, and becomes sharp tongued in
anger:
Finely, bravely spoken Sir!
When treacherous Ravana, having
carried away
And lodged Sita in his garden,
Called his ministers and law-givers
And told them the deed he had done,
These same wise old advisers
declared:
‘Thou hast done the proper thing:
‘Twill square with Dharma’s claims!’
When the demonking
rules the land
Needs must the Shastras
feed on filth!
Was it done well to trick my
guileless king
To play at dice?
Wasn’t it deceit,
A pre-determined act of fraud
Meant to deprive us of our land?
O ye that have sisters and wives,
Isn’t this a crime on Woman?
Bhima, Duhshasana, Sahadeva, Arjuna, Vikarna, Bhishma–these and a few more register their reactions. But
there is no reference to Duryodhana. When Vikarna rises to defend Droupadi,
it is Karna who chides him; and it is Kama who orders Duhshasana to disrobe
Droupadi. What happened to the source of all this infernal tragedy, that evil
engine of envious fury? Duhshasana fatefully responds
to Karna’s words and we pass on to the next scene. All arguments, all
attempts at persuasion have failed Droupadi to have her angry ejaculations
against Adharma. In this moment of complete helplessness and despair,
she makes the supreme gesture of complete surrender to God. The tamasic belief in the goodness of others and
the rajasic attempt at self-defence give way to
a sattwic mode of supreme Bhakti.
Her faith in the Divine’s Grace is absolute, her rejection of all ordinary
supports is final; and she lifts both her hands from the portion of the robe
still covering her so as to unite them in an act of obeisance; and so her
surrender to Krishna is
nothing less than the ultimate act of Prapatti.
High above the fog of evil surrounding her, Droupadi’s
voice rises in a mighty crescendo of soulful prayer. She becomes the one
Reality in the court, and dominates the scene with her own Viswaroopa
as she makes her tremendous appeal to Lord Krishna, her sole refuge now:
“Thou sky within sky, thou element
Of the elements, earth, air, water,
fire;
Thou who lightest the hearts
Of sages in deep meditation;
Thou that fondly holdst
the hand
Of your consort Lakshmi
Whose dwelling is in the lotus
That blooms in the forest pond!
Thou the first of all beginnings,
Thou the shore and centre of all
knowledge,
Thou light of all lights,
Thou that ridest
on Garuda
Who soars high in the sky,
Thou rich immaculate grace,
Hear me, save me!”
The prayer is heard by
Only the snake-bannered Kuru
Hung down his head
in shame.
The change from vituperation to
silence on Duryodhana’s part and from silence to
eloquence on Droupadi’s, meet at the point when Droupadi enters the Hall of Assembly. Thus the whole epyllion is really structured on the hour-glass pattern
with two protagonists. There is Duryodhana,
synonymous with Darkness and Adharma; when he is
reduced to oblivion, there rises Droupadi,
symbolising Light and Dharma. Whereas Duryodhana throws his weight about only to be made a cipher
half-way through the epyllion, there is a steady
extension in Droupadi’s personality. She is the Light
that defeats Darkness, the symbol of Dharma that slays Adharma,
the image of Bhakti and grace that reduces to nothing the image of hatred and
envy and ungodly power. She is undoubtedly the epic heroine of Panchali Sapatham. Two
spirits strive; the vessel of divine grace wins the struggle, and victoriously
pronounces the dreadful vow or sapatham. Again,
by virtue of this sapatham, she becomes
the main protagonist of this epyllion.
Apart from this main symbol of Light
and Truth defeating Darkness and Falsity, Subramania Bharati also invests the
image of the main protagonist with a four-fold significance. The most obvious
one is that the epic heroine is descended from the pages of Vyasa’s
Mahabharata. She is the suffering wife and sorrowing mother born to
destroy Kuru hordes. She was born in hatred, out of
the sacrificial fire tended by King Drupada. He had
fed this fire with thoughts of vengeance, and hence she and her brother Dhrishtadyumna are the direct causes of the Kurukshetra war; they had been nurtured in hatred even
while in the womb! Droupadi herself grew up to be a
great-souled and fearless girl, but she also became
the cause of the Pandava-Kaurava feud. Born in hatred,
she seems to have become the cause of hatred as well. This was unfair to her
innately noble and generous nature, but became inevitable in the given
circumstances of the story.
Again, Bharati seems to have made Droupadi a symbol of Indian womanhood to highlight the
outrages committed upon Indian women in the name of traditional Hinduism which
could really be thoughtless obscurantism. There are many references to women’s
emancipation in the course of the epic. Often Droupadi’s
wrongs are projected as wrongs being done to women in general. The Bhishma-Vikarna dialogue underlines this problem
effectively. According to Vikarna
“the Queen of women is here on behalf of womanhood”, thus emphasising
this aspect of Droupadi’s personality. In Droupadi’s lone fight and survival, Bharati was no doubt
predicting the remaking of Indian women in the shape of Mother Might, Woman as
Power.
Conceived by the patriot-poet
Bharati, Droupadi is also a projection of
Finally, Droupadi
is also Mahashakti, symbolising
Bharati’s personal mysticism. If Sri Aurobindo symbolised
Savitri as the Divine Mother born on earth as an
Avatar, Bharati described Droupadi as Adi Parashakti who is manifested
upon the earth. There are moments in the history of the earth, when the
resources and efforts of man are doomed to failure. Suddenly mankind finds
itself in a hopeless situation. At that moment Adi Parashakti becomes an active divine worker upon the earth,
and rehabilitates mankind. Bharati describes the immaculate power of Droupadi that saves the Pandavas
and successfully fights the battle of Dharma, as if she were Shakti herself. Hence Droupadi’s
real nature as Shakti is emphasised
throughout the epyllion. When Droupadi
is pawned, there is a shock in the Heavens, and only Shakti
receives a new lease of life:
Youthful Uma,
Kali Herself the strong,
The original Shakti
with the terrible bow,
The Mahamaya
that destroys illusion,
Who is thrilled by ghosts, murder
and corpses,
Who saves all through smiles while
riding her lion
Who has an array of servants
In disease, death and dejections
many,
The Queen of all who is served
By the Rider of the dark
Who is surrounded by the guards Prosperity,
Riches, Longevity, Fame and
Knowledge;
Herself the work; she the
Destruction;
The novelty of the past and the
present,
Through the ages of change and
re-change
And inner change; she the Custom–
Adi Parashakti.....
This Shakti descends into Droupadi;
now victory is certain for the heroine.
Though Bharati himself viewed Panchali Sapatham as
an experiment in epic form, there are some scholars like M. Ramaswamy
and P. Mahadevan who consider it as a poetic drama. To a certain extent this is
true, because of the dramatic effectiveness of the subject that spreads out in
the five cantos as in a five-act scheme. One could even categorise
it as an epic-drama that deals with many-symboled
characters as in Bertolt Brecht’s
plays. But perhaps it would be wiser not to be categorical on these matters, Dramatic
epic or epic drama, an enlarged ballad or a condensed epic or epyllion, the poetry and symbol of Panchali
Sapatham are the Reality. As we read it, we are
made aware of our whole epic background, for this epyllion
has descended from the immortal Mahabharata, which in Rajaji’s words is the “living fountain of the ethics and
culture of our Motherland”; and hence Panchali
Sapatham universally claims our love and
reverence.