What is perhaps most striking about the Mahabharata is the way there are stories within stories, and yet all of them have a logical place in the overall framework, and no story is left with loose ends. An individual episode from the Mahabharata can, therefore, become the overarching theme of a play or a kavya, as happened in the case of Sisupalavadha —a kavya written by Magha Bhatta, a 7th century Sanskrit poet.
There is a Sanskrit verse, which says Kalidasa is the master of simile (upamA kAlidAsasya); BhAravi uses words most meaningfully (bhAravEr arthagauravam); Dandi uses pleasing phrases (dandinah padalAlityam), but Magha has all three skills (mAghE santi trayOguNah).
‘Sisupalavadha,’ which picks up the story of Sisupala from the Mahabharata, has verbal embellishments of all sorts. In one verse Magha uses just one consonant! Magha also comes up with the following verse:
sakArana nArakAsa
kAyasAda dasAyakA
rasAhavA vAhasAra
nAdavAda davAdanA
Here you find a palindrome not only when each line is read from left to right and in reverse, but if you invert the lines, you will find that the palindrome works in all four directions. That is why this palindrome is classified as sarvatObhadra — perfect in every direction.
Martin Gardner, whose column on mathematics for Scientific American was hugely popular, devotes an entire chapter to number and language palindromes in his book titled, Mathematical Circus, where he says Magha’s palindrome is the “most complex and exquisite type of palindrome ever invented.” Such an academic interest in Magha is understandable.
But who would have thought Magha’s poem would play a major role in a work of fiction written in the 21st century by an Englishman? But it does — in Paul Cooper’s debut novel — River of Ink.
Paul Cooper
In Cooper’s novel, Magha’s poem becomes the tool to defeat another Magha, the latter a cruel despot, who invades Sri Lanka in 1215 C.E. Kalinga Magha, as the invader is called, is ruthless. He kills King Parakrama Pandya, who rules Lanka at the time, and resorts to a killing spree. But he spares the life of the court poet Asanka, because he has an assignment for him. He wants Asanka to translate Magha’s Sisupalavadha to Tamil, so that the people can have what he calls “the transforming wealth of high culture.” He also orders that the translation must be faithful to the original.
Asanka is filled with loathing and fear, the latter predominating. He is just the sort of hero you can relate to — he wants to survive, even if it means being labelled a poltroon. While we may all profess heroism, most of us will grab an opportunity to be alive, just as Asanka does? He decides to do the king’s bidding. But the seeds of heroism may be hidden even in the most cowardly among us, and Asanka turns out to be a hero of sorts. He rebels against the king in the only way he knows — by the clever use of words.
He carries out the task of translation, but his Sisupala bears a striking resemblance to King Magha, right down to his bushy eyebrows, and there is a mocking tone to the translation. Asanka’s translation goes out to the people, on the king’s orders, each instalment as it is ready. The people get the message hidden in Asanka’s translation, and muster up courage to rebel against the king. ‘Poetic’ justice indeed! The king has not wised up to Asanka’s literary subversion, although Asanka knows that it will not be long before he is exposed.
Narrative tension is kept alive by Cooper, as Asanka’s translation continues. Everything seems to march to the rhythm of poet Magha’s words — “cooks rattled knives against their chopping boards with the sound of a battlefield — sakAranA nArakAsa.”
The book is a finely calibrated combination of literature (there are translations from Kuruntokai and Akanaanooru too), romance and history. In the end, we are left pondering not only the irreducible mystery of poetry’s appeal, but more importantly the irreducible mystery of human life.
There is a palpable atmosphere of tension throughout the book, and under the watchful eye of Magha, even Asanka’s rendezvous with his lover Sarasi become risky. The story of Sarasi’s escape from Tamil Nadu to Lanka, is too facile to be convincing. We are told that she stowed away on a ship, while the crew were having coffee! Coffee in Tamil Nadu in the 13th century?!
King Magha is not a fictional character, nor are his cruelties imagined. Quoting from the Culavamsa, Professor Anuradha Seneviratna wrote that Magha came with a huge force of “Kerala warriors,” who took away the wealth of the people of Pollonaruva, cut off their hands and feet, and flogged children. Magha was particularly harsh with the Buddhist monks, many of whom migrated to South India. Books in monasteries were destroyed. Cooper’s book captures all these horrors, and you are tempted to echo Seneca — “What need is there to weep over parts of life? The whole of it calls for tears.” But, you don’t, for Cooper shows you that there is always something in life to bring a smile to your face and fill your heart with hope- in this case poetry.
River of Ink by Paul Cooper. Published by Bloomsbury Circus. Price Rs. 499.
