The Mahabharat is the greatest epic India has ever produced. The
layers to the story, the symbolism, flawed heroes, upright ‘villains’ – it has
the works. You could enter a debate on the Mahabharat and it could continue for
weeks and months J
The Thirteenth Day begins at the end of the Bhishma campaign or
the beginning of the Drona campaign, depending on which way you look at it. It
attempts to humanize the characters we have come to know and love/loath. Aditya
Iyengar cuts through the mists of legends and introduces them to us as normal
people, with their strengths and fallacies. It makes us relate more with them
in terms of understanding their fears, their desires and their reasons for
being in ‘The Great War’.
The story is told from the viewpoint of three figures: Yudhishthira,
the leader of the Pandav clan, fighting for the crown and recognition. From our
earlier readings, we remember him as a just, honourable, silent man who is
remorseful of his treatment of his wife. Here, he is torn between who he needs to
be as a leader of the war, an active combatant and a valorous one at that; and
who he is, a thoughtful leader who does not see the need for so much bloodshed,
one who would see the war end even with a victory for the other side.
The second figure is Radheya/Karna, a man who for me is the most
intriguing character in the great tale - the lost son of the Pandavas; the best
friend of the leader of the Kurus, Suyodhana – the man who would be king. Fresh
with the knowledge that recognition would give him the throne in case of a
Pandava victory, he is torn between his duty and desire. Does he abandon
Suyodhana’s cause for pursuing his own ambition of being king; one that will
potentially end the bloodshed? Or does he stay true to the man who brought him
to the limelight and remains his closest friend till date? This dilemma is what
defines Radheya, and what makes him the most human character among all.
The final character is Abhimanyu, the boy warrior itching for a
chance at glory. This is the character I found to be cast in the most different
light. Rather than be a prodigy thrust into the pitch of battle because of his
Dharma as a warrior; he comes across as a warrior yearning to make his mark on
history and be remembered forever. He is not a fledgling prince, but a fully
aware, honourable warrior.
The author writes of the Chakravyuh used by the Kauravs as an
onion with layer upon layer. His story is something similar. As a reader, you
go through multiple iterations of the major characters, and come to know newer
and newer nuances of not only them; but the people, times and even how history
was written for them.
War is no light matter, and you can sense a shadow of gloom
towering above everyone, a sense of impending doom pervading the air. As the
story builds towards it crescendo, you can see yourself yearning for the best
ending – one that would do all three of our narrators well – and see it coming
towards you, in sight. And then you see it being torn away cruelly, and the
reality or the yatharth of war,
stares you squarely in the face, and smiles a hard, yet understanding smile, as
if saying – “This is what was to happen, and this is what will”.
If you want to strip away the layers of the mystique, and
understand the emotions of the people and the war around them, pick up a copy
of The Thirteenth Day. You will enjoy it thoroughly. I rate it 4.5 out of 5.
