PART II
THE MAHABHARATA
THE MAHABHARATA
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS
Standing on the beautiful fluted column of red sandstone, known as the Kutub Minar, which towers loftily above the lifeless quietude of ancient Delhi, the eye surveys a landscape which embraces one of the most classic regions in Hindustan.
Across the ruin-strewn plain, towards the lordly minarets and cupolas of modern Delhi, the spectator may note, just a little towards the east, the massive remains of the Poorana killa, or old fort, which still preserves, in its traditionary name of Indrapat or Indraprasta, a suggestion of the glory it enjoyed some fifteen centuries before Christ.
Not only in India and to the Hindus is the Indraprasta a name of reverence; for, away in distant Cambodia, the people believe that they are descended from colonists who immigrated into the southern peninsula from the far-off banks of the Jumna, and the stupendous remains of Angkor and Battambang, near the great lake of Toulé-sap, point unmistakably to Hindu and Buddhist origin, and bear silent witness to the existence, in the remote past, of a powerful and flourishing kingdom of Indian origin.[52]
Delhi, and the great plain north of it, are associated with the most stirring events in both the ancient and modern history of India, and have witnessed the most decisive struggles for empire which have occurred south of the Himalayas.
Perhaps the “Mahabharata” was based on simple Aryan sagas like those of the Norsemen—historical traditions of deeds performed by gallant warriors to whose nervous hands the spear and axe were more familiar than the plough and the pen,[53] but, if so, the poets who have used the materials of the sagas of their ancestors to build up the great national epic, have been not too careful to preserve the strict accuracy of the traditions, and when the narrative of events is interrupted by long disquisitions and endless palavers, we discern unmistakably the hand of the Brahman compiler and his contribution to the record. We may, then, as well admit at once that little real history can be gleaned out of the one hundred thousand verses of the “Mahabharata.” Yet a very great deal of valuable matter, that does not fall under the usual denomination of history, may be readily found in this voluminous epic, giving it a high value for all time.
The authorship of the “Mahabharata” is ascribed to the sage Vyasa, or the compiler, and its production is, at least, as remarkable as that of the “Ramayana” already referred to. We are told in the introduction to the poem itself that, “The son of Satyavati (Vyasa) having by penance and meditation analyzed the eternal Veda afterwards compiled this holy history.” When he had completed the vast epic, without, however, committing any portion of it to writing, he began to consider how he could teach it to his disciples. Sympathizing with his desire to extend to others the benefits of this most sacred and interesting poem, Brahma, the Supreme Being, appeared before the saint. “And when Vyasa, surrounded by all the tribes of Munis, saw him, he was surprised; and standing with joined palms, he bowed and he ordered a seat to be brought. And Vyasa having gone round him, who is called Hiranyagarbha, seated on that distinguished seat, stood near it, and, being commanded by Brahma Parameshti, he sat down near the seat full of affection and smiling in joy” (P. C. Roy).[54] After expressing his entire approval of the poem Vyasa had composed, the Supreme Being said: “Let Ganesa be thought of, O Muni, for the purpose of writing the poem,” and then “retired to his own abode.” Ganesa, the god of wisdom, being invoked by Vyasa, repaired at once to his hermitage and consented to commit the wondrous tale to writing, provided his pen were not allowed to cease its work for a single moment. This condition was agreed to and observed. Thus was the “Mahabharata” recorded, as undying and infallible scripture, from the lips of its inspired bard.