When the Corona pandemic forced us into the first lockdown, most people took to Netflix and Hotstar like moths to a flame. For my family and me, our sanity was kept intact by none other than Mr. Ramanand Sagar himself through the age-old favourites (favourites for my family mostly) Ramayana and Mahabharata. To be honest, I have some issues with Indian mythology – I tend to ask logical questions such as how X’s blatant disregard for the rules of the society can be considered ‘moral’, why Z is considered a villain even though his supposedly unethical acts are justified, etc. The answers given to me have never managed to satisfy my curiosity. So, when I found about the book ‘Asura’, I was very excited to see if Raavan would do a good job as a protagonist instead of Lord Ram - and I was definitely left savouring this version of writer Anand Neelakanthan’s Ramayana for a long time.
So, the story unfolds dramatically as a dying Raavan is contemplating his death and the deaths of thousands of his people, the Asuras, at the hands of the Devas (By the way, the book depicts the Asuras and Devas as humans, just like you and me, and not as demons and gods like our grannies told us). This battered and helpless image causes the reader to feel sorry for Raavan and start wondering about his side of the story, effectively setting the tone of the book – Raavan as the hero, the conqueror, the ‘good’ guy or the ‘anti-villain’. Most of the book is narrated through Raavan’s perspective. The other major character is Bhadra who also uses first-person narrative to take the story ahead. On one hand, we read the epic through Raavan’s eyes – transforming from an oppressed child to a mighty emperor; while on the other, through the eyes of Bhadra – going from a naïve villager to a vengeful servant whose loyalties are questioned several times in the book. This contradiction in narration styles makes the book even more interesting.
Living in the ‘Kalyug’ has made me realise (or I may be getting wiser with age, fingers crossed!) that there is no black or white in this world; they are shades of grey all around us. Therefore, one of the highlights of the book is how Raavan prides himself on being an imperfect man and is content with not being called a God.
“I had lived as Ravana and I would die as Ravana. I did not intend to become Rama, the perfect man and God. There was no dearth of gods in my country. It only lacked men.”
Another impressive part for me is the explanation of ‘Dasamukha’ – why Raavan is ten-faced. Spiritual gurus from all over the world advise us to get control of our emotions and consider Intellect as the supreme power which would elevate our souls. Raavan, however, justifies and exults in the possession of the other nine base emotions of Anger, Pride, Jealousy, Happiness, Sadness, Fear, Selfishness, Passion and Ambition. So, what our epics projected was a demon with ten faces and twenty hands, but the writer manages to make these abnormalities seem human, in a way.
While talking about grey shades, I must mention the two important characters – Kumbhakaran and Vibhishan. While Vibhishan walked on the path of ‘dharma’ and betrayed Raavan, his own blood, for the greater good, Kumbhakaran died fighting for his brother’s cause, making him loyal and righteous in a way. Which side would you choose? (something to think about later)
Overall, the book is likable because of its unique perspective, riveting narration style and relatable characters. What made it special to me was the time I read it. As we struggle to adjust to a new ‘normal’, the story proves that sometimes it becomes necessary to challenge the norms. As we try to conquer fear, the book helps us come to terms with the fact that fear is necessary as it keeps us ready to face dangers and to realise that there are things we cannot control.
If you have not read it yet, I recommend you bid adieu to the year 2020 with this thought-provoking novel.
Apoorva Apte
Full-Time Faculty
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