When Vyasa wrote Mahabharata, it is believed, Lord Ganesha acted as his scribe and wrote with his tusk on palm leaves. But why did Vyasa write Mahabharata? There is, of course, a purpose and on what it is, the debate goes on. Two school of thoughts were formed on — the historical school of thought and the structural school of thought.

The historical school of thought anchors on the clairvoyance of the Maharishi who predicted future events through a bank of stories. What is the logic behind Gandhari bearing a lump of flesh which was cut into 101 pieces and stored in 101 vessels, that later bloomed into 100 warrior sons and one beautiful daughter, if not a pointer to the future development in the infertility treatment— test tube baby technology, to be precise.
Or if Sanjaya, sitting in the palatial comforts of Hastinapur, could deliver a running commentary on the great war of Kurukshetra to the blind king Dhritarastra, it has to have some reference to the satellite technology to be developed later, they claim.

Structural school of thought begs to differ. It believes that life follows a structure. What happened centuries ago continues to happen even now. We experience fear with the same intensity with which our ancestors experienced it decades back— emotions and experiences remain the same, only the technology has changed.
Vyasa’s intention may continue to evade the reader but Devdutt Pattanaik had a clear cut agenda on mind while weaving a complete fiction around Yuvanashva or the pregnant king who appears only twice in Mahabharata— to blur the gender lines. Yuvanashva, the king of Vallabhi is referred to in Mahabharata as the father-mother of the great Chakravarti Mandata who lived many years before the Kurus and Pandus battled out for the supreme reign of Aryavarta. But in his latest book, ‘The Pregnant King’, Yuvanashva drinks the magic potion meant to impregnate his wives accidentally, gets pregnant and bears Mandata, almost at the same time the war of Kurukshetra commences. The idea, according to the author, is to give more relevance to the character by juxtaposing him alongside similar characters who writhe under the gender-governed dharma of the time.

Gender-bender

The narrative starts with Pruthalashva, who must be father because he is a man, and Shilavati, who cannot be king because she is a woman. There is Shikhandi, who’s born a woman and raised a man and Sthunakarna, a Yaksha, who forsakes his manhood to make Shikhandi a husband. Then there’s Somvat who becomes Somavati. The kingdom of Vallabhi worships Ileshwar Mahadev, god on full moon days and goddess on new moon nights.

And like the author confesses in his note— “This book is a deliberate distortion of tales in the epics.” Here, history is folded and geography crumpled. The book deals with socio-political issues of modern times and is a take on the hypocrisy in society. “The world must have changed but people are still discriminated on the basis of gender. We have made peace with women taking bolder roles in the society. But can we tolerate a boy playing with dolls? When I read about Yuvanashva, I thought: What does the son call Yuvanashva? Father or mother? Can mothers be kings? Can kings be mothers? These questions are not answered in the epic,” Devdutt says.
When Yuvanashva becomes pregnant, his thigh acts as the womb; the long scar that runs down his thigh after childbirth remains an ominous sign of his physical imperfection. In mythology, the thigh is often used as a metaphor for the genitals. “So typically in mythology, when a man gives birth to a child (and there are many stories such as this), the child comes from either the thigh or the side,” Devdutt says.

A medical doctor by training, a mythologist by passion and a marketing consultant by profession, the author— like his protagonist— has made room for all the truth in the world; biological, mystical and even material. “One life, two parallel streams. The medical and management parts play together and help me engage with the material side of life. The mythologist helps me focus on the spiritual. But the lines are getting blurred,” confesses the author.

In the book, it’s the author who asks the questions on life’s puzzles and giving answers. Has the knowledge captured in 350 pages made him any wiser? Says Devdutt: “It taught me so much about people. The imperfection of our being. And our yearning for perfection.”

 And our struggle to balance matter with spirit, society with soul, yearnings with acceptance...