Reich 2011

Ends and Closures in the Mahåbhårata
Tamar C. Reich
This paper reads the Mahåbhårata in an attempt to clarify how—or

whether at all—it may be said to achieve closure. The term “closure”
refers to the sense of resolution achieved when a narrative ends. In the
case of the Mahåbhårata, a text that makes the totalizing claim about
itself: “Regarding matters of righteousness, profit, love and liberation,
what is here is elsewhere; what is not here is nowhere else” (1.56.33,
18.5.38), how does one identify closure? The Mahåbhårata is complex,
heterogeneous, and composite. It is highly intertextual, has many narrative
strands and levels of meaning. I will explore a number of possible
closures that are introduced within the narrative, and on the whole I find
that there are tensions between these types of closure and that none of
them prevails.1
The first part of the paper deals with the last four parvans as narrated
(mostly) by Vaiça:påyana to Janamejaya. Here we learn that now that
their life’s task has been achieved, all the protagonists die and reach a
region beyond this world. Before they die, many strive to attain inner
peace by reconciling with their earlier enemies, by atoning for their sins
and by taking up the way of life of a renunciate. All these are attempts to
achieve a certain type of closure. At the same time, questions are raised:
why did this mass slaughter happen at all? The answers are not at all
straightforward. The events are said to be inevitable, indeed, part of a
divine plan. What was the nature of this divine plan, however? This is
where things become most complicated. Sometimes it is stated that every-
thing happened for the good of the worlds, but there are some veiled
International Journal of Hindu Studies 15, 1: 9–53

© 2011 Springer
DOI 10.1007/s11407-011-9098-3
10 / Tamar C. Reich
suggestions of a more disturbing possibility. Both types of answers can

only be understood in the context of two metamyths narrated in the first
parvan: the Descent of the Partial Incarnations myth, and the Five Indras
in the Cave and ÇrE myth. This connection between the first book of the
Mahåbhårata and its ending is in itself a textual strategy that creates
closure.
In the second part of the paper I turn to the circumstances of the Mahå-
bhårata’s narration—that is, to the story of Parik‚it’s death, Janamejaya’s
snake sacrifice, its interruption by Åstika and its conclusion. These events
are narrated by the bard Sauti to Çaunaka, and the main plot narrated by
VaiçaApåyana to Janamejaya is embedded within it. Usually, an embed-
ding frame is completely distinct from the embedded narrative. In this
case, however, this distinction is not maintained, since Parik‚it figures in
both. Since Parik‚it is both the grandson of Arjuna and the father of
Janamejaya and links the two narratives by his survival, it is legitimate to
see the embedding narrative as a continuation of the plot, itself leading to
an ending—namely, the conclusion of Janamejaya’s sacrifice. This ending
happens on earth, after the battle is over, does not carry the sinister over-
tones hinted at in the last parvans, and emphasizes a different dimension
of the Mahåbhårata.
On the whole I find that a truly satisfying resolution is not achieved
within the Mahåbhårata narrative itself. I do not see this as a fault of the
Mahåbhårata—rather, I see the Mahåbhårata as a literary work that
addresses theological, ideological, and political tensions and does not
force a monolithic solution.
Ends and Closures
The Mahåbhårata text ends in the last verse of the fifth adhyåya of the
Svagårohana Parvan. What about the story? Perhaps it concludes in
18.4.19 when the finally disembodied Yudhi‚†hira beholds the heavenly
forms of his earthly companions? Both readers and protagonists, how-
ever, want to know the heavenly end (gati) of each protagonist, so the
exchange between Janamejaya and VaiçaApåyana concerning this
question (18.5.1–25) is essential.2 If I am correct that the events of
Janamejaya’s sacrifice are also part of the plot, then even çlokas 26–29 in
which Sauti describes to Çaunaka the conclusion of Janamejaya’s rite are
Ends and Closures in the Mahåbhårata / 11
not only a technical matter of closing a frame but part of the narrative.3
While endings are relatively straightforward, closure is a different
matter. As stated above, the term refers primarily to the sense of resolu-
tion achieved when a narrative ends. Resolutions vary—it may be a
resolution of an actual conflict, but it can also be finding the object of a
search, solving a problem, the union (or death) of star-crossed lovers, the
discovery of one’s true identity and so forth. Reading a narrative involves,
among other things, reaching a sense of its conclusion or lack thereof. In
fact, the very study of narrative as such involves understanding closure,
because all narratives are driven by the tension between the reader’s or
listener’s desire for closure and the pleasure derived from the suspension
of closure. This being said, many types of narrative lack, deny or actually
subvert closure, and understanding this is also an important part of
reading narrative (Abbot 2008: 55–66).
A narrative can be construed in different ways, and the scope of ques-
tions and web of meanings opened by it is broader than its limited world.
Narratives have ideological dimensions and are intertextual. They exist
within an ecology of genres which they either follow or subvert. Thus, to
understand what constitutes closure in the case of each narrative, one
must ideally understand both the world of the narrative and its context.
While classical literary theory derived from the Aristotelian tradition
has seen a definite closure as essential to a good narrative, recent theorists
(for example, Derrida 1974; Barthes 1977) have critiqued the ideal of the
closed narrative, as well as reading strategies that strive to find closure,
arguing that even in the case of a seemingly closed narrative such strategies
promote monolithic interpretations of texts by excluding alternative
readings or by ignoring the inherently unstable logic of language and text
as such (Abbot 2008: 205–13). The concept of closure is also connected
to the assumption that behind a work stands some unifying vision, usually
thought of as authorial design. This is another assumption that has come
under fire recently (for example, Foucault 1984).
When it comes to the Mahåbhårata, it is evident that all of the above
touches upon very difficult and contested questions of its interpretation.
Can we speak of some unifying vision that governs the epic, as the text
itself asserts? If so, is it the kind of vision that requires closure?
As David F. Hult puts it, “an ending is a formal fact; the concept of
closure emphasizes the agency of someone; it is an interpretive act”
12 / Tamar C. Reich
(1984: iv). My reading strategy in this paper aims to unravel the multi-
plicity of meanings within the Mahåbhårata through a thorough exami-
nation of the various ways of closure that I discover in it. Even though I
am a firm believer in the importance of text-historical questions, this
study is based on the heuristic assumption that the text of the critical
edition produced by the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute approxi-
mates a stage of the Mahåbhårata’s history that is worthy of study in
itself because it has become the foundation for all further developments
(Bigger 2002: 20).
PART ONE: CLOSURE IN THE LAST FOUR PARVANS
Some Preliminary Comments on these Parvans
The last four parvans are exceptionally short. The Åçramavåsika Parvan
has forty-seven adhyåyas, the Mausala Parvan nine, the Mahåprasthånika
just three, and the Svargårohana Parvan five. Altogether they comprise
about two percent of the bulk of the Mahåbhårata (Witzel 2005: 57). No
wonder that many scholars treat them as one unit. The manuscript tradi-
tion also supports the attribution of the last four (or five) parvans to one
group, but this may simply be a result of their brevity.4 Scholars who
are particularly concerned with the historical development of the extant
text have tended to relegate these parvans to the “very late” status. For
example, John L. Brockington describes parvan 15–18 as “a series of
epilogues that in all probability were added to the main story significantly
later” (1998: 154–55).5
Because of their perceived lateness, these parvans have in the past
drawn scant scholarly attention.6 However, recently there is a growing
interest in the ideological and literary aspects of the Mahåbhårata and in
the Mahåbhårata as a whole, and as a result scholars have paid more
attention to these parvans (for example, Hiltebeitel 2001; Tieken 2004;
Hudson 2005; von Simson 2007; Austin 2008, 2009; the papers in the
issue) and have discovered matters of great interest in them.
All Exit the Earthly Stage

In the last four parvans, virtually all the remaining protagonists (including
most women) “leave the stage.”7 Most of them die and go to their appro-
priate “worlds” (gati). A dominant form of closure should therefore be

considered the consummation of a protagonist’s life on earth in a world
to come.
In the Åçramavåsika Parvan, Vidura leaves his body and unites with
Yudhi‚†hira, the Kuru and På~ava widows enter the Gagå to join their
dead husbands, and finally Dh®tarå‚†ra, GåndhårC and KuntC, after spending
years in a forest retreat, die in a forest conflagration.
In the Mausala Parvan, the great chariot-warriors of the V®‚~i circle
slaughter each other during a grotesque drinking bout. Balaråma’s soul
then leaves his body and enters the ocean in the form of a huge white
snake. K®‚~a allows himself to be shot to death by the hunter Jarå. K®‚~a’s
father Vasudeva fasts to death. Even K®‚~a’s city, Dvårakå, is submerged
in the ocean. Arjuna proceeds with the V®‚~i women, children, and elderly
men to Indraprastha. Once they reach Indraprastha the senior V®‚~i
widows choose to either mount a funeral pyre or take up the ascetic and
contemplative life in the wilderness. We are told that ultimately they
reached the “Kalpa” heavenly abode beyond the Himålaya.
In the Mahåprasthånika Parvan, DraupadC and four of the five På~avas
die as they cross the Himålaya during their Great Departure (mahå-
prasthåna). The climax of this is Yudhi‚†hira’s end. He is the only one
to reach the top of the Himålaya alive and is invited by Indra to enter
heaven in his human body. This end is deferred by a number of tests that
frustrate Yudhi‚†hira (and the reader) immensely. Finally, Yudhi‚†hira is
reconciled and voluntarily enters the heavenly Gagå, an act by which he
abandons his human corpse and heart. The fact that Yudhi‚†hira is the
last to die, to exit the stage, so to speak, as well as his special adventures
in heaven, all point to Yudhi‚†hira’s character as the main protagonist
(Hiltebeitel 2001: 4).
There are, however, exceptions to the general rule that everyone’s
death is reported. There is no mention of the death of the kings that
Arjuna encountered and spared in his rounds with the sacrificial horse.
The s¨ta Sañjaya does not perish in the forest conflagration and later
takes off to wander as an ascetic. Babhru (apparently a s¨ta) and Dåruka
(K®‚~a’s driver, a s¨ta) survive the Mausala slaughter. Yuyutsu, the son
of Dh®tarå‚†ra by a Vaiçya woman, also survives it and will later act as
regent until Parik‚it finishes his course of studies. Not being a proper
K‚atriya seems to enhance one’s chances of survival.
14 / Tamar C. Reich
In the same parvan, when Arjuna sets out from Dvårakå to Indraprastha
with the caravan of women, children and elderly men, some of the women
willingly join the ÅbhGra bandits out “of lust” (kåmåt, 16.8.57). We hear
no more about the ladies.
The most important exception to the rule that everyone dies is, of
course, the survival of young princes. The Mausala Parvan recounts that
Arjuna installed three V®‚~i kings: K®tavarman’s son in Marttikåvat;
Yuyudhåna’s son on the SarasvatG; and Vajra, K®‚~a’s son, in Indraprastha
itself (16.8.67–70). The Mahåprasthånika Parvan adds that Parik‚it was
installed in Hastinåpuram (17.1.7ab). Thus, the Kuru and the Yådava
lineages will continue, and the K‚atriyas are not totally annihilated as
they were in the times of Påraçuråma. Most important is the fact that
Parik‚it survives, because this makes the narration of the Mahåbhårata
possible, and continues the story into the future.
Movement Toward the Last Stages of Life

Patrick Olivelle (1993) has charted out the historical development of the
concept of åçrama, and shown that the åçramas were first viewed as
optional ways of life and that it was only relatively later that they came
to be systematized into a sequence of life-stages. The main motivation
for this transition, according to Olivelle (1993: 190–96), was the need to
uphold the institution of the householder against the tendency to “opt
out” early in life. Another factor might have been the association of the
hermit’s life with institutions for old age, especially among rulers and
among the poor, where there may have been political and economic
reasons for the custom. Later the åçramas came to be highly systematized
in treaties on law, and details such as the gender and var~a qualifications
required for different åçramas were debated.8
For the purpose of our inquiry into closure in the Mahåbhårata, it is
important to see that once the åçramas came to be viewed as a progressive
system, they came also to chart a vision of the individual’s progress in
life. The life of the student instills in the twice-born man the value of
asceticism and withdrawal which will govern the last two stages of his
life. Then he is prepared to enter the life of the householder which requires
maximum involvement in worldly activities (prav®tti). Only when he has
concluded this stage is he ready for withdrawal from activity (niv®tti) in
preparation for death and in search of liberation. This is in essence a narra-
tive of an ideal life, and liberation (mok‚a) is the ideal closure for such a
life (the second best being heaven).9
The Mahåprashånika Parvan opens with Yudhi‚†hira saying to Arjuna:
“Time cooks all things, wise one! It is time to lay down action. You too
ought to recognize that!” (17.1.3). Arjuna assents: “It is time, it is time….”
As is well-known, this is not Yudhi‚†hira’s first thought of renunciation,
and even Arjuna has had his moment of doubt. Up to this point, however,
K®‚~a, Vyåsa and others counseled against it, and the Bhagavad Gtå is
rather critical of renunciation as a path to salvation. In the last parvans of
the Mahåbhårata, in contrast, renunciation is the right thing to do. We
see a movement here from action, prav®tti (the warrior’s life), to a life of
seclusion, meditation and asceticism (niv®tti). Some concept of åçrama
seems also to be at work here. As Yudhi‚†hira suggests, this (and not
earlier) is the proper time to “lay down action” (17.1.3).
Most occurrences of the term åçrama are found in the Çånti Parvan
and assume a “classical” understanding of the institution (Olivelle 1993:
148–51, 153–55). It remains unclear, however, whether the åçrama system
is universally acknowledged in the Mahåbhårata. The most striking
example is its absence in the Bhagavad Gtå, a text concerned with the
dilemma of action versus nonaction. K®‚~a’s advice to Arjuna is not
coached in terms of life-stages (103–6).
Let us now return to parvans 15–18, the subject of our inquiry. Inter-
estingly, there is no occurrence of the term åçrama in the last parvans (in
the Åçramavåsika Parvan the word åçrama means “hermitage”). The
practice of retiring to the forest is presented not in terms of entering a
prescribed stage of life (åçrama) but as following an old K‚atriya custom.
When Dh®tarå‚†ra tells Yudhi‚†hira that he has made up his mind to retire
to the forest, Yudhi‚†hira protests, but Dh®tarå‚†ra insists that “going to
the forest” is “a custom in our family” (15.6.16). Yudhi‚†hira yields only
when Vyåsa appears and supports Dh®tarå‚†ra: “For this, Yudhi‚†hira,
was the older practice, the noble law of sagely kings: they would either
die in battle or in the forest” (15.8.12).10 In this passage, life in the forest
is presented as a custom unique to kings. In any case, Dh®tarå‚†ra,
GåndhårG, KuntG, and Vidura embark on the forest-life and are joined by
others such as Sañjaya and the widows of the hundred sons of Dh®tarå‚†ra.
They leave town in procession, with the household priests carrying forth
the king’s fires and settle in Kuruk‚etra in the hermitage of King
16 / Tamar C. Reich
Çatay¨pa. The party then walks over to Vyåsa’s hermitage for Dh®tarå‚†ra’s
initiation (15.25.9–12). Soon they receive a visit from a threesome of
sages headed by Nårada, who entertains Dh®tarå‚†ra with stories (kathås)
about famous kings of old. These great warriors and sacrificers bestowed
their kingdom on a worthy son and retired. They “reached the furthest
shore of austerities and attained Indra’s heaven, their sins destroyed.”
Dh®tarå‚†ra, too, concludes Nårada, will surely attain success. So will
GåndhårE, KuntE, and Sañjaya; Vidura will enter Yudhi‚†hira (15.26.6–
20). The emphasis in the kathå is that retirement to the forest is a K‚atriya
practice that leads to heaven.
Does a systematic concept of the åçramas underlie all this? As in the
case of rituals, the Mahåbhårata does not stick rigorously to the system
as it is developed in Çåstra literature, but there are some interesting
coincidences. The only person to whom the forest-dweller (vånaprastha)
åçrama in the strict sense could apply is Dh®tarå‚†ra. He is a K‚atriya
retired to the forest and accompanied by wife, priests and fires, and he is
initiated into this life-stage by Vyåsa (for example, 15.24.16–18). Vidura
possesses many Bråhma~-like qualities and knows all the laws, but he is
the son of a Bråhma~ father and a Ç¨dra mother and is often referred to
as “son of a female slave” (k‚attå). He practices more extreme austerities
than the others and stays away from the hermitage. He does not fit the
forest-dweller’s description, but when he leaves his body his soul enters
Yudhi‚†hira. A heavenly voice proclaims that there is no need to cremate
the body because he has attained to the law of the wandering ascetic
(yati-dharma, not sanyåsa) and will reach the world called “Santånaka”
(15.33.32). Nårada foresees that Sañjaya, also a s¨ta, is destined to reach
heaven. He practices severe austerities and after the death of his master
sets out for the Himålaya.11
Does Dh®tarå‚†ra ever become a sanyåsin? The presentation of the
matter in the Nåradågamanam Upaparvan of the Åçramavåsika Parvan
is complex. Nårada comes to Hastinåpuram and brings bad news from
the hermitages on the Gagå. After the visitors from the city left, he says,
Dh®tarå‚†ra intensified his austerities and gradually lost all interest in his
sacrificial fires. At some point he handed over the responsibility of tending
the fires to his priests and went deeper into the forest in the company of
GåndhårE, KuntE, and Sañjaya. A forest conflagration started suddenly,
and the blind old king and queen, as well as KuntE and Sañjaya, were
trapped. The king has become so emaciated that his nerves and blood
vessels stood out, so he could hardly move. When the fire approached,
Dh®tarå‚†ra commanded Sañjaya to escape and leave the others to their
fate. Sañjaya protested and expressed his dismay that such a terrible end
should befall the king and queens, that is, to be burnt by an “unconsecrated
fire” (v®thågninå, 15.45.24), but he eventually left and survived to tell
the story. When Nårada brings the news, Yudhi‚†hira responds much like
the bard (15.46.13). Neither are concerned with the pain of being burnt
alive—rather, it is the idea of the corpses being incinerated by an uncon-
secrated fire that is disturbing. Yudhi‚†hira is so upset that he damns
“K‚atriya dharma” and accuses the god of fire, Agni, of being “ungrateful”
(he says that Agni forgot the special service that K®‚~a and Arjuna had
rendered him when they burnt the Khå~ava Forest). Curiously, only
now does Nårada remember to inform Yudhi‚†hira that Dh®tarå‚†ra had in
fact performed his last sacrifice (namely, he had become a sanyåsin)
before his death. The priests, he explains, had just abandoned the fire
in the woods and it grew into a conflagration. There is thus a kind of
resolution—the king and the two queens were burned by the remains of
Dh®tarå‚†ra’s sacrificial fires (15.47.2–5). Something is still odd here—a
full renouncer does not need to be cremated at all, whether it is with his
former sacrificial fires or not!
Putting such speculations aside, in the Åçramavåsika Parvan, Dh®tarå‚†ra
is presented as having gone through all four åçramas, even if the terms
are not used and the specifics are not rigorously correct. This is not the
case for the other protagonists. There is no mention of any ritual prepara-
tion before Balaråma leaves his body. He simply enters a yogic trance
and leaves his body. K®‚~a too dies in a state of yogic concentration but
“by an ignominious means”—he was shot by an impure hunter.
What about the På~avas? They “duly perform the final oblation and
cast all their fires into the water” before they go forth (17.1.20). In other
words, they go directly from being householders to being sanyåsins,
skipping the forest-dweller stage. According to Olivelle, “by the first few
centuries of the Common Era, the institution of forest hermits had become
obsolete” (1993: 174).12 Once they become renouncers, they can undertake
the mahåprasthåna, the Great Departure. In doing this they are following
a ritual practice explicitly ordained in the ritual texts (Sullivan 2006: 62;
Austin 2008: 285–86)—for example, in Manusm®ti 6.31–32.13
18 / Tamar C. Reich
Let me sum up our discussion of the åçramas in the last parvans. The
conflict between the values of prav®tti and niv®tti, and more specifically,
between the royal householder’s duties and his desire to renounce and
seek liberation, is a central theme in many parts of the Mahåbhårata. The
classical åçrama system resolves this conflict by delaying renunciation
until the householder has paid his “debts.” A similar resolution seems to
underlie the presentation of the protagonists’ renunciation in the last
parvans, but as is expected in the Mahåbhårata, it is less legal and tech-
nical. The practice of extreme asceticism and some form of renunciation
at the end of one’s life is approved for old age, given that the protagonists
have properly refrained from renunciation earlier in life. The point is not
argued—rather, it is shown by example, as the reader follows the renun-
ciation of the protagonists when they are truly ready for it, having fulfilled
their duties and having reached a genuine state of disinterest in worldly
matters. Furthermore, looking at the entire Mahåbhårata as the story
of the life of the main protagonists, the idea of life stages becomes a
structuring or organizing principle within the epic. The Mahåbhårata
recounts the lives of the main protagonists, taking the reader through
their conception, birth, youth, studenthood, marriage, adulthood and so
forth. Old age and retirement then follow naturally, and yes, renunciation
and death, and even the afterlife! Was this the original organizing princi-
ple of the Mahåbhårata? Perhaps not, if we believe that a heroic epic, a
new bhakti ideology, or the political wrath of disgruntled Bråhma~s is
the main subject of the epic, but there it is—one strand among the epic’s
many strands, and I contend that it is essential to the epic’s vision.
Antidotes to Feelings of Grief and Guilt

After the tragic events of the Mahåbhårata, the protagonists are overcome
with grief and often, guilt. This point is made again and again from the
Str Parvan onward. The last parvans recount how they struggle with such
feelings and sometimes find some sense of resolution. The major themes
related to this topic are (i) renunciation and penance, (ii) sacrifices, and
(iii) preoccupation with the afterlife—and indeed, attaining worlds (gati)
beyond.
(i) Renunciation and penance: The subject of practicing renunciation
and penance is closely related to the subject discussed in the previous
section. As mentioned above, in the Åçramvåsika Parvan, Dh®tarå‚†ra
and company set out for the forest and settle in a forest retreat (åçrama).
The Mahåbhårata very clearly describes the forest-life, including the
extreme penance, as a healing experience. The last pilgrimage of the
På~avas and Draupad? is of course also a form of ascetic practice. All
these are essentially directed toward the goal of transcending the unsat-
isfactory nature of life and attaining liberation (Sullivan 2006: 68–70).
(ii) Sacrifices: Among other things, sacrifice is a way of atoning for
sin. In the Åçvamedhika Parvan, for instance, Yudhi‚†hira is full of
remorse and feels responsible for all the deaths caused by the war. He
offers a horse sacrifice in order to expiate the guilt that he had incurred.
Once the sacrifice has been performed Yudhi‚†hira is considered pure
and fit to rule according to dharma. This in itself may be viewed as a
step toward closure, though there is surely (either intended or unintended)
irony in the fact that expiating the guilt of killing must be achieved by
performing a ritual that itself is a cross between an invitation to battle
and an invitation to a royal ceremony (Reich 1998: 353). The first part of
the Åçramavåsika Parvan tells about Dh®tarå‚†ra’s exaggerated preoccupa-
tion with (too expensive) rites for his dead sons, in an attempt to atone
for their sins. In this case Dh®tarå‚†ra feels that he cannot rest until his
sons’ place in heaven is secured.
(iii) Preoccupation with the worlds to come: The belief in an afterlife is
a type of expectation of closure. For human beings death in itself is felt
to be meaningless, so something beyond it that turns the arbitrariness of
mortality into something meaningful is required. It is the belief that what
seems wrong in this world will be righted in another, that in the end the
wicked will be punished and the good rewarded, and that one’s actions
lead to something. In the Mahåbhårata, the protagonists’ heavenly ends
provide emotional closure for the heroes as well as for the reader, and
satisfy a need to believe that justice triumphs in the end.
The last four parvans are permeated with the theme of the afterlife.
First of all, there is much preoccupation with the question of who earned
or will earn what world and even attempts to change the prospects of
some of the dead. Even after all of his attempts to improve his sons’
otherworldly lot through many sacrifices, Dh®tarå‚†ra continues to worry.
When Vyåsa visits Dh®tarå‚†ra and company in the hermitage, Dh®tarå‚†ra
expresses his anxiety concerning the worlds (gati) reached by the dead,
especially his wicked sons (15.36.26–33). Vyåsa uses his yogic powers
20 / Tamar C. Reich
to grant Dh®tarå‚†ra, GåndhårA, KuntA, the widows, and all the other visitors
a vision of their dead sons and husbands. He declares that the purpose of
his yogic feat is to dispel the doubts of the survivors by allowing everyone
to see for themselves what world their loved ones have attained. This
powerful experience works so well that all the widows, prompted by
Vyåsa, walk straight into the waters of the Gagå to join their dead
husbands. One can be cynical here and notice that regarding the removal
of actors from the stage, Vyåsa’s yogic feat has worked wonders. Yet, as
the text presents this, the widows exit the stage of their own accord, with
the hope of reuniting with their loved ones and reaching a better world.
In other words, they believe that they will attain closure, in this case, a
happy ending.
Is it all for real? “How is it possible to see again the form of those who
have abandoned their bodies?” Janamejaya asks Vaiça<påyana in amaze-
ment. Vaiça<påyana explains that “as long as the bodies that are born
from acts (karmajåni çarrå~i) are not destroyed, form is retained”
(15.42.8). The vision is certainly presented as very “real” in the sense
that the living actually mingle and talk with the dead. It all depends, of
course, on what “real” means here. Dh®tarå‚†ra, unblinking with the
divine sight granted to him momentarily, beholds it like a “powerful
picture painted on a woven cloth” (15.40.21). Vaiça<påyana, however,
explains to Janamejaya that, “He who knows the distinction between the
body and the Self is free from illusion.” Such a one knows that “they
came from the invisible and returned to the invisible” (15.42.15–16ab).
Is this scene a reflection on the nature of illusion (måyå) or a metatextual
comment on the artfulness of the Mahåbhårata, a tale of woe conjured
up by Vyåsa, an author who may just as well have granted a happy end to
his characters? For those present this must have felt like a happy ending
in a play or movie, albeit one so real that the viewer may literally enter
it.14 However, right after this happy ending comes the Nåradågamanam
Upaparvan already discussed above which subverts the reader’s sense
that for these people at least closure has been attained. The report of the
old people’s horrible death in the fire prompts Yudhi‚†hira to curse the
K‚atriya dharma as well as the fire-god Agni.
In the last book, the Svargårohana Parvan, Yudhi‚†hira walks all the
way to the gate of heaven. Indra welcomes him and invites him to enter
heaven in his own body (a very unusual privilege), but he must of course
abandon the impure dog that has been his companion along the way.
Yudhi‚†hira refuses, saying that he would rather stay out of heaven than
abandon the faithful dog—but it all turns out to be a test. The dog was
really Yudhi‚†hira’s father, Dharma. After passing this test Yudhi‚†hira is
again invited to enter heaven, still in his human body. Here he continues
to experience strange things—illusions and tests. When he sees only the
wicked Duryodhana and none of his virtuous brothers and companions in
heaven, he again refuses to stay. In accordance with his own wishes, he
is escorted to hell where he finds his brothers, Draupad9, Kar~a and so
forth in terrible agony. This injustice infuriates him so much that he curses
Dharma and proclaims that he will remain in hell with the people he
loves and who, he is convinced, are the better people. For him wherever
they are is heaven. Immediately the darkness is dispelled, the stench is
replaced by a pure fragrance, and they find themselves in heaven with
the gods. (All these strange transformations seem to be a series of ordeals
or tests achieved through the gods’ powers of illusion—especially as
these episodes follow right after the test with the dog. Everything is
nevertheless subsequently explained and justified also in “realistic”
terms, namely, that every good man needs to spend a very short time in
hell to atone for his few sins before he can enter heaven, and vice versa.)
This, in any case, satisfies Yudhi‚†hira, and he is finally ready to give up
his predilection for protest along with his human body. He immerses
himself in the heavenly Gagå and finds himself next to Dharma and
among the heavenly forms of the main Mahåbhårata protagonists.
The Svargårohana Parvan is perhaps the strongest example of how the
attainment of a good afterlife is felt to be a required closure to a virtuous
life if a belief in divine benevolence is to be maintained. It is also the
perfect example of how the Mahåbhårata narrative creates in the reader
an expectation of closure and immediately subverts it. Heaven is elusive
in the Mahåbhårata. This may be a literary strategy intended to create
suspense, as well as to teach a lesson, namely, that as long as one is not
fully detached, one expects happy endings, but such endings are ultimately
also illusions. In contrast with many other characters, Yudhi‚†hira is not
at all eager to attain heaven, and this is an indication of his superior
moral fiber. In these episodes he becomes an example of one who acts
without any desire for the fruits of action.15
In Hiltebeitel’s (2001: 271–77) rich and sensitive reading of this last
22 / Tamar C. Reich
episode he observes that when Yudhi‚†hira has already given up his

body, the last person that he still sees with his human eyes is DraupadC.
He wants to ask her a question but does not get to ask it because Indra
interrupts him and explains that DraupadC is ÇrC. The moment is lost
forever, since Yudhi‚†hira’s human self dissolves and is gone. As
Hiltebeitel (2001: 277) observes, we will never get to know what the
question was. He quotes J.A.B. van Buitenen’s insightful view of the
epic as a series of riddles: “The epic is a series of precisely stated problems
imprecisely and therefore inconclusively resolved, with every resolution
raising a new problem, until the very end, when the question remains:
whose is heaven and whose is hell?” (1975: 29).
Hiltebeitel points out that what van Buitenen describes is really a series
of deferrals. If so, then perhaps closure is achieved when the reader is
told who reached heaven or hell? Hiltebeitel shows that the “never asked”
question subverts even this apparent sense of closure. It opens the possi-
bility of a resistant reading, according to which Yudhi‚†hira has been
tricked by the gods to give up his humanity, his ability to love as human
beings do and, most importantly, to question and to protest.
Attempts to Achieve Closure by Understanding

Closure also involves the resolution of the questions raised by the narrative.
In the last books the protagonists repeatedly ask why it all happened.
They want to find meaning in the suffering they have witnessed and
experienced, to understand the reasons behind the apparently arbitrary
events, and sometimes to justify the actions of K®‚~a (in other words, to
find a theodicy).
The questions are raised by various characters like K®‚~a’s father
Vasudeva and Arjuna. The answers are provided by figures that stand
both inside and outside the events narrated and thus, have a transcendent
status—Vaiça>påyana, K®‚~a, or Vyåsa. These dialogues constitute a
metatextual discourse about the meaning of the events. I divide the
answers into two main categories: (i) explanations involving inevitability,
and (ii) assertions of divine responsibility, that is, attribution of the events
to a divine plan. We shall see that the benevolence of the gods’ plan is
sometimes questioned.
(i) Explanations involving inevitability: Such explanations may be
roughly divided into two main categories (not necessarily exclusive): the
events are inevitable either because they are the result of curses and
predictions or because they are “impelled by Time.”
This type of explanation is predominant in the Mausala Parvan. The
parvan recounts the self-destruction of the V®‚~is, the departure of
Bålaråma and K®‚~a, the flooding of K®‚~a’s city Dvårakå by the ocean,
and the capture of many V®‚~i women by ÅbhHra tribal robbers. The
expressions “impelled by Time” (kåla-codita) and “the reversal/turning
of Time” (kåla-paryayam) are abundant in this parvan. The parvan
begins with terrible omens, and in the third adhyåya it is said that, “Time
himself was perpetually roaming throughout their homes. He was seen
peering into the V®‚~is’ houses, a bald-headed hideous man with a
gaping mouth and projected teeth, of black and yellowish complexion—
and then he disappeared” (16.3.1–2). The astrological conditions are
said to be adverse (16.3.17). Kali, namely “bad luck and misfortune
incarnate” (not the famous goddess), appears in the midst of the V®‚~is
(16.4.1).
Even if the events are propelled by the inversion of Time, they are also
in accordance with curses/predictions. The parvan begins with the curse
of three sages who visit Dvårakå. Some young V®‚~i rascals provoke
their anger by disguising Babhru’s son Såmba as a pregnant woman and
asking the sages what “she” will give birth to (meaning, a boy or a girl).
The sages reply that Såmba will give birth to an iron mace (or pestle)16
with which the V®‚~is will destroy each other. Only K®‚~a and Råma will
survive this massacre, they say, but Råma will subsequently leave his
body and enter the ocean and K®‚~a will be killed by Jarå while lying on
the ground (16.2.8–10). Indeed this is what happens.
The second curse is GåndhårH’s, narrated in the Str Parvan (11.25.36–
42). GåndhårH blames K®‚~a for the mass deaths that have taken place and
uses the merit that she has acquired through her devotion to her husband
to curse K®‚~a:
Because you ignored your kinsmen, the Kurus and the På~avas, when
they were killing each other, you [too] shall slay your kinsmen. Even
you, O Slayer of Madhu, when the thirty-sixth year is at hand, will
wander in the woods having slain your own kinsmen; having slain your
own family; having slain your sons. You shall arrive at your end by an
ignominious means. And your wives, their sons killed, their affines and
24 / Tamar C. Reich
kinsmen killed, will be running around just like these Bharata women
(11.25.36–42).
The third case is more like a warning or a prediction. In the Anuçåsana

Parvan (13.145), K®‚~a relates that on a previous occasion the sage
Durvåsas has indirectly predicted that he—that is, K®‚~a—would die by
a wound inflicted on the sole of his foot. The sage, a notoriously difficult
guest, was known for his habit of challenging people to host him and then
misbehaving terribly. When K®‚~a and RukminD hosted him, Durvåsas
made K®‚~a smear himself completely with milk-rice. Then he insulted
the couple, especially by degrading RukminD in the most outrageous
manner, but they did not lose their temper. Finally the sage was satisfied
and blessed them. He revealed that the milk-rice had made K®‚~a’s body
invulnerable, but warned that K®‚~a had forgotten to smear the soles of
his feet, so his soles would remain vulnerable.
In the first part of Mausala Parvan (up to K®‚~a’s death) every detail
of these curses/predictions comes to fruition, despite attempts to prevent
them from being realized. For example, the events occur in the thirty-
sixth year, as GåndhårD predicted.17 Såmba gives birth to a mace, as the
three sages predicted. K®‚~a is killed by an impure “ignominious” hunter
named Jarå, who shoots him in the sole of his foot. All these details
strengthen the sense of inevitability and doom that pervades the parvan.
It is noteworthy, however, that explanations involving “the reversal of
Time” and curses play a much smaller role in the three other parvans that
we are discussing.
(ii) Explanations that attribute the events to a divine plan: Another type
of explanation is sometimes offered to such a question: divine intent. In
the Mausala Parvan, when Arjuna expresses profound grief, Vyåsa tells
Arjuna that the carnage was not really caused by the curses: “K®‚~a was
capable of preventing it, yet he allowed it to happen. Govinda is able to
change this triple world, together with its animate and inanimate beings,
what then of the curse of these wise ones?” (16.9.26bc–27). Vyåsa is
saying here that ultimately it was K®‚~a, and not some curse, that deter-
mined what would happen and does not explain why K®‚~a refrained
from stopping the carnage. In another passage in the Mausala Parvan,
K®‚~a’s father Vasudeva expresses a similar idea. It is interesting that in
many manuscripts (some B, D, and T) there is an expansion at this point,
part of which states: “Surely the Lord of the Universe did not want to
make false the words of GåndhårH and the sages” (16.7.36*, after 16.7.9).
Here the two explanations are combined: GåndhårH cursed, and K®‚~a
chose to make her words come true. One begins to wonder about the logic
at work here. GåndhårH cursed K®‚~a because he could have prevented
the carnage of the war and chose not to do so; therefore K®‚~a, who was
able to prevent the Mausala carnage, refrained from preventing that
carnage as well, just to make the words of the good woman come true!
What a terrible irony.
However, the Mahåbhårata does not state unequivocally that this was
the case. On the contrary, K®‚~a himself told GåndhårH right after she had
cursed him that her curse would not be the cause of anything:
When he heard this horrible speech [of GåndhårH], the high-minded

Våsudeva said to queen GåndhårH with a faint smile:
Good woman, no one but I will be the destroyer of the V®‚~is. I know
this to be so. Woman, you are doing what has already been done!
The Yådavas cannot be killed by other men, or even by the gods or
dånavas. They will have to die at each other’s hands (11.25.43–45).
How to distinguish between causation, fate, and divine intention? There is

obviously no such clear distinction. The Bhagavad Gtå teaches that K®‚~a
is no other than Time itself. But is Time an impersonal force, or is there a
divine motivation to the horrible events of the Mahåbhårata? If so what
is it? Was there a possibility of things turning out otherwise, as we tend
to think when dice are thrown, or was it more like a rigged dice game?
There is nothing new, of course, in pointing out that the Mahåbhårata
assigns different types of causes, and causes on different levels, to the
same events. The point is that examining this particular strategy is crucial
to better understanding the nature of the closure—or lack thereof—in the
Mahåbhårata.
K®‚~a’s tricky side comes to the fore when the issue of intent is raised.
The Mausala Parvan describes his efforts to prevent the carnage. For
example, he instructs the V®‚~is to stop producing liquor and suggests that
they go on a pilgrimage to Prabhåsa, supposedly to avoid the ill omens
and to be purified by performing a ritual at a holy place. If he knows the
26 / Tamar C. Reich
outcome, is he sincere? Taking the question further back, did he really

try to prevent the impending battle when he served as a go-between in
the Udyoga Parvan? Could it be that GåndhårB was right when she blamed
K®‚~a for not preventing the battle of Kuruk‚etra even though he was
capable of doing so?
The idea that the events of the Mahåbhårata are part of a divine plan
takes us back to the first book, the Ådi Parvan. Two metamyths introduced
there suggest that a divine plan is indeed behind the battle of Kuruk‚etra
itself, and both myths are subtly referred to in the last parvans. The first
is the metamyth of the Descent of the Partial Incarnations (1.58–59, 61),
and the second is the metamyth of the Five Indras in the Cave and ÇrB
(1.189).
(a) The descent of the Partial Incarnations (1.58–59, 1.61): According
to the Ådi Parvan, the earth was over-populated and oppressed by demonic
kings, sons of Diti and Danu, and she approached Brahmå for help. He
instructed all heavenly beings to descend to earth “as parts (aça) of
themselves” in order to lighten her burden. The gods, gandharvas and
apsarases approached Nåråya~a in his heaven Vaiku~†ha, and he also
agreed to descend “as part of himself.” They all came down and slew all
dånavas, råk‚asas, gandharvas, and snakes and suffered no casualties.
All the protagonists of the Mahåbhårata are thus said to be partial incarna-
tions of heavenly and demonic beings (1.58–59, 61). According to the
Ådi Parvan, these events happened after Råma Jåmadagnya had killed all
the K‚atriyas twenty-one times over. The K‚atriya race was at the point
of extinction, but Bråhma~s sired new K‚atriyas on the surviving women
and produced new virtuous kings (1.58.4–24). All went well for a long
while, but in the course of time, after being repeatedly defeated by the
devas in heaven, the asuras decided to be born on earth as all manner of
creatures. Some became wicked, powerful, insolent kings who wanted to
become gods on earth. They oppressed Bråhma~s and all other creatures
and slaughtered all races of creation. The myth of the Partial Incarnations
should be understood at least to some extent in the context of the Råma
Jåmadagnya myth. The juxtaposition of the two myths suggests that the
destruction of the K‚atriya of which the Mahåbhårata is an account is
but one case of a repeated pattern involving the relationship between gods,
Bråhma~s, and rulers. The latter have a tendency to overstep the bounds
of their authority. Rulers who ignore Bråhma~ guidance are seen as
demonic, and when they do so, the gods and the Bråhma~s must violently
intervene. In the AAçåvatara~a myth, however, it is not Råma Jåmadagnya,
a Bråhma~, who will do the task—it will be the “partial incarnations of
the gods,” headed by Vi‚~u’s incarnation, K®‚~a.
James Fitzgerald (2006: 269–77) has argued that this cluster of themes
expresses the “deep political rage” of the Bråhma~s who were responsible
for the first redaction of the Mahåbhårata (to which he refers as the
“main” Mahåbhårata). If he is right, the Råma Jåmadagnya story is
central to the political theology of the Mahåbhårata, and in Hiltebeitel’s
terms one might say that Fitzgerald assigns the role of a metamyth to the
cluster of the Råma Jåmadagnya and the Partial Incarnations myth. If so,
then this myth is indeed of immense importance for clarifying how at
least the (first) redactors understood the epic that they created. The two
myths together are revealed as a “mystery to the gods” (58.3).
The Ådi Parvan gives a list, a “who is who” of the partial incarnations
(1.61). It is quite instructive. Here we find that not only the “positive”
gods and the heavenly beings associated with them, but also the “negative”
asuras were born on earth as part of the divine plan to descend as partial
incarnations. Some asuras were born as rak‚asas, some as royal seers. On
the other hand, some of the central characters on the Kaurava side were
born from gods—for example, Åçvatthåman is a portion of Çiva. It is not
the tidy picture that first the asuras—“the powers of evil,” so to speak—
had taken over the earth and that this then made it necessary for the
“powers of good” to descend in order to defeat them and restore the earth.
The role of the Partial Incarnations myth within the Mahåbhårata is
not at all straightforward. In the last parvans, this myth is indeed invoked
to assert that the epic battle and other brutal events like the massacre of
the mace were part of a divine plan, and that the plan was for the good of
the earth. The very expression “remove the burden of the earth” is used.
Vyåsa explains to Arjuna, at a moment of deep grief over K®‚~a’s death:
“He who used to go in front of your chariot because of his affection to
you is no other than the bearer of the Discus and the Mace, the four armed
Våsudeva, the ancient sage. He has removed the burden of the wide earth,
and having liberated the whole world, the wide-eyed K®‚~a took to his
highest state” (16.9.28–29).
Another concern of the last parvans, as we have already pointed out, is
to know what ends or regions (gati) each protagonist has attained. In the
28 / Tamar C. Reich
Åçramavåsika Parvan, before Vyåsa conjured those who died in the battle
from the different worlds that they inhabited after death, he explained to
GåndhårJ:
Faultless lady, that which the gods intend to bring about is no doubt
inevitable. They [those who died] were all portions of gods, gandharvas,
apsarases, piçåcas, and råk‚asas in disguise. This is why they have
descended to this vast earth (15.39.5–6ab).
A few verses later Vyåsa gives GåndhårJ a similar “who is who” account.
It is much less detailed than the Ådi Parvan account, but essentially
similar:
Your husband Dh®tarå‚†ra is the Gandharva king Dh®tarå‚†ra. På~u is

a member of the band of the Maruts. Vidura was a part of Dharma, and
so is this king, Yudhi‚†hira. Good-looking lady! Know that Duryodhana
was Kali and that Çakuni was Dvåpara. Know that Duªçåsana and the
rest were råk‚asas (15.39.8–10).
We have been told that the earth was already burdened with asuras dis-
guised as oppressive kings. Why then was it necessary according to 1.61
and 15.39.8–16 for more råk‚asas, piçåcas, and so on, to “descend as
parts of themselves”? A company of incarnated devas would have sufficed
to achieve the task of defeating a bunch of demonic kings!
The “who is who” question continues to be a concern in the last parvans.
In the penultimate chapter, after Yudhi‚†hira has abandoned his human
body, he beholds his brothers and DraupadJ in heaven, restored to their
former celestial glory. This seems like another happy ending, but things
are not left at that. In the very last adhyåya, discussed in great detail by
Christopher R. Austin (2009), Janamejaya asks what happened to protago-
nists such as BhJ‚ma, Dro~a, Dh®tarå‚†ra, and a whole list of other
warriors: “and the other kings of fiery form that you have praised, how
long did their stay in heaven extend? Tell me this too. Was their stay
eternal? When the karma of these bulls among men was consumed, to
what region did they go? This is what I would like to hear you explaining”
(18.5.4bc–5).
VaiçaEpåyana first points out very briefly that “everyone must go when
their karma come to an end” (18.5.7.ab) and proceeds to reveal the “secret
of the gods” (an expression by which the myths of Råma Jåmadagnya
and the Partial Incarnations are also introduced). This “secret” is the list
(18.7bc–24) of the heavenly beings that each protagonist entered or reached
(viveça, åpta). In verse 23 he states that those who helped Duryodhana
were said to become råk‚asas but qualifies this unpleasant end by stating
that “all of them eventually reached the best regions, but gradually
(kramaçaª)” (18.5.23). Austin points out that there are two conflicting
paradigms at work here—the karmic and the one based on the myth of
the Partial Incarnations. The seventeenth-century commentator and
redactor NGlaka~†ha Caturdhara emphasized the principle that mok‚a can
only be attained when karma is exhausted.18 Austin (2009: 509–619)
argues that the authors of the last adhyåya conceived of the ending, and
by extension, of the whole story of the Mahåbhårata, in terms of the
metamyth of the Partial Incarnations. I argue that two paradigms coexist
here within the same chapter. The cryptic statement that “everyone must
go when their karma comes to an end” (18.5.7ab), as well as the comment
in 5.23 that those who became råk‚asas had to be reborn a few more
times, points to NGlaka~†ha’s interpretation; the list of the beings that the
different protagonists entered points to the Partial Incarnations myth.
From the point of view of our investigation of ends and closures, I think
that our most important lesson here is that the text as we have it allows the
two paradigms to coexist. It is only the desire of the commentator and the
scholar to determine the correct ending, in other words to achieve closure.
A similar ambivalence arises because of another principle. A warrior
who dies facing the enemy in battle deserves to reach the heaven reserved
for warriors who died in battle. However, if protagonists were partial
incarnations, there is also the expectation that each should cross back to
where he or she came from. How is this going to be?
When, in the Putradarçana Upaparvan, the dead emerge out of the
Gagå, they are all “equally radiant, all clad in celestial garments and
carrying their emblems of war and the weapons that they used on the
battlefield. They are all devoid of enmity, sorrow, or fear.” When they
are dismissed, however, they go to different worlds, not equally attractive:
“Some went to the world of the gods, some to the abode of Brahmå, some
to Varu~a’s world, and some reached the abode of Kubera. Similarly,
some kings reached the world of the sun. Some, those who were råk‚asas,
30 / Tamar C. Reich
reached the region of the northern Kurus” (15.41.14–15). Here it seems

that each hero returns to his world of origin.
Another important case of an uneasy coexistence of different interpretive
frames may be found in the way the Partial Incarnation myth exists along-
side the avatåra paradigm. The avatåra paradigm is articulated in the
Bhagavad Gtå. According to this paradigm divine beings descend to
earth in order to rid the earth of demons and to restore dharma. This is
what happens, for example, when K®‚~a kills KaBsa. The other paradigm
harks back to Vedic themes, especially to agonistic concepts of sacrifice.
This pattern requires the revival of life through endlessly repeated ritual
contests between two sides. In heaven these sides are called the devas and
the asuras. It is the older agonistic paradigm that explains comparisons
in the Mahåbhårata of the battle of Kuruk‚etra to a sacrifice, and it is
this pattern that requires the descent of both demonic and divine beings
to earth. The latter pattern affirms more strongly the idea that even the
descent of the asuras who incarnated as evil kings was necessary and
part of a divine plan in the sense that the gods must by the nature of
things be constantly implicated in the ongoing and never ending rounds
of contests between the two sides.
One more example has been pointed out by Luis González-Reimann
(2002: 86–108). The Partial Incarnations myth conflicts with another
metaconcept found in the Mahåbhårata, namely, that the events of the
Mahåbhårata were part of a transition from the Dvåpara to the Kali Yuga.
The myth of the Partial Incarnations suggests that dharma would be
restored after the victory of the gods’ side, and this is what Vyåsa hints at
in the above quoted passage when he says that K®‚~a has removed the
burden of the wide earth and liberated the whole world (16.9. 29). If the
war was part of the transition from the Dvåpara to the Kali Yuga, then it
should, on the contrary, mark a deterioration of dharma.19
(b) The Five Indras in the Cave and ÇrF (1.189): The myth of the Five
Indras in the Cave and ÇrF is also narrated in the Ådi Parvan. The five
På~avas are about to jointly marry DraupadF. Naturally, DraupadF’s
father Drupada objects to this strange arrangement, so Vyåsa takes him
aside and tells him two stories in order to convince him that it would be
lawful to allow DraupadF to marry the five.
Below is a summary of the first story (1.189) based on Hiltebeitel’s
summary:
Formerly, the gods sat at a sattra at the Naimi‚a Forest. Yama, the god
of death, was one of the sattrins, and he was consecrated to perform the
office of çamit® (sacrificial killer, the priest who suffocates the victim).
Thus, for the duration of the sattra, he had to stop doing his usual work
of killing creatures. Creatures therefore increased without limit. A group
of gods grew anxious about the proliferation of humans and appealed
to Brahmå: “Mortals have become immortals. There isn’t any distinc-
tion.” Brahmå answered that while Yama was occupied with the sattra,
humans indeed would not die, but when he would finish, he would be
invigorated to kill even better than before. Indra, whose role at the sacri-
fice was to be an observer (sadasya), suddenly saw golden lotuses
floating down the Gagå. He traced them to the river’s source, where
he found out that they were the tears of the goddess Çr@, who was
weeping over the death of four “former Indras.” It is now revealed to
Drupada that the five På~avas and Draupad@ were in fact the five
Indras (the Indra who went up the river and the other four) and Çr@,
ordained by Çiva to become mortals and marry. Çiva explained that
only through action (karma) that will be unbearable (avi‚ahya) and
lethal to many others will they eventually be able to regain Indra’s
world by their own action (svakarma~å). The gods then approached
Vi‚~u, who confirmed Çiva’s arrangements and plucked two hairs from
his head, one white and one black, to ordain the births of Balaråma and
K®‚~a (2001: 119–20).
As Hiltebeitel so well puts it, according to this myth, “Yama will not be
alone in bringing death to the human world. The conclusion of the gods’
sattra will take place in the slaughter of Kuruk‚etra” (2001: 120).
We have already seen that the Partial Incarnations metamyth combines
two paradigms—the concept of an avatåra, or descent of a divine being
to earth in order to defeat demons and restore dharma, and the more
archaic, agonistic concept of sacrifice exemplified by the preclassic Vråtya
sattra. Agonistic sacrifices involve a never-ending contest over the goods
of life. Such a view of the universe excludes final victory, and therefore,
excludes full closure. The metamyth of the Five Indras in the Cave and
Çr@ invokes the idea of such a Vråtya sattra.
The question of sattras in the Mahåbhårata is complex. Many scholars
have pointed to sattra themes and explained them variously.20 While I
32 / Tamar C. Reich
cannot even begin to do the subject justice here, not to explain it at all will
also not do. Sattras in the normative classical ritual texts are simply Soma
sacrifices that extend over at least twelve days and have no yajamåna
(royal patron), but sattras in the earlier, preclassical period such as
described in middle Vedic texts and often referred to in stories about
rituals and ritualists had an agonistic structure. These archaic rituals
consisted of a competition for power between two groups. Central to the
understanding of the web of meanings invoked in the Mahåbhårata by
various references to such sattras is the fact that two of the first recitations
of the Mahåbhårata occur during sattras or sattra-like rituals (Minkowski
1989, 1991; Hiltebeitel 2001: 33–176).21 Çaunaka’s sattra seems to be a
classic sattra, in that the performers are all Bråhma~s who wish to attain
heaven. There does not seem to be a yajamåna there, either. Even though
it is “classical,” Çaunaka’s sattra occurs in the Naimi‚a Forest, a place
associated in Bråhma~a literature with sattrins and with the Vråtya cattle-
raids that took place between the Kurus and the Påñcålas of Kuruk‚etra.
Janamejaya’s snake sacrifice, on the other hand, is anomalous, neither a
“proper” preclassic sattra (if such a thing is possible) nor a classic one. It
is an abhicåra, black-magic rite of vengeance. Nevertheless, it reflects
the agonistic quality of a sattra. As J.C. Heesterman has shown (1962:
especially 29–37, 1985: 26–44, 1993: 1–44), in the preclassical agonistic
rituals the ending of a ritual contains the seeds of a new one. This pattern
continues the cycle of contest for the goods of life, the cycle of sacrifi-
cial violence. Such black-magic rituals are in fact also associated in the
Bråhma~a literature with persons that were active in Vråtya circles, such
as Båka Dålbhya and Keçin Dålbhya (Koskikallio 1999: 305–13).
In the middle Vedic period, the people who typically joined Vråtya
bands were “down and out” young men, either Bråhma~s or K‚atriyas,
often those who found themselves disinherited. In other words, they were
in a position similar to that of the På~avas. When the Mahåbhårata was
in the process of taking shape, Vråtya sattras were not part of Bråhma~
ritual practice. Why then did the authors of the Mahåbhårata invoke
sattras and Vråtya motifs? Stories about agonistic rituals were evidently
part of Bråhma~ lore, so Bråhma~ authors of the Mahåbhårata or other
narratives could have creatively drawn upon such narrative themes when
addressing conflicts. Agonistic patterns did not totally disappear from
classical Bråhma~ rituals; they persist especially in royal rituals such as
the açvamedha and the råjas¨ya. In other words, in politics agonistic

patterns—ritual and otherwise—have not been eliminated. Furthermore,
agonistic patterns persisted also in the political contests between the
dharmas that were vying for influence when the Mahåbhårata was
composed.
The myth of the Five Indras in the Cave and ÇrF, if it is right to take it
as a metamyth, interprets the battle of Kuruk‚etra as the conclusion, in
the form of a divine Vråtya-like cattle-raid, of a divine sattra (Hiltebeitel
2001: 119–20, 129–38). The five På~avas are in fact divine beings
“in trouble” (imprisoned), and they must participate in a bloody divine
agonistic ritual and do cruel things, apparently as a condition for reinte-
gration into divine “society.” What would be the implications of such an
interpretation?
In the struggle between the two sides in an agonistic ritual (as in any
real power struggle), underhand methods are often necessary. According
to the myth we are dealing with, the plan of the gods was to “lighten the
burden of the earth,” here in the plain sense of killing kings who wanted
to become god-like. The purpose was to maintain the distinction between
mortals and immortals. Humans who aspire to immortality are “asuras.”
Thus, humans are viewed as the ritual “others” of the gods. According to
this view, the divine-human game is a zero-sum game in which the gods
must be ruthless if they are to maintain the upper hand. The gods are
perhaps acting like a king guided by the Arthaçåstra, who must hold on
to power at all costs. Granted, in the overall Hindu view maintaining
difference and hierarchy is considered essential to the well-being of the
world. It is often said that a cruel king is better than no king. It is therefore
quite “right” of the gods to do what needs to be done in order to maintain
the uneven power relationship. Nevertheless, the gods seem to resort
to means that exceed the normal boundary of dharma—åpad-dharma,
perhaps?
VaiçaApåyana presents the Råma Jåmadagnya/AAçåvatara~a myth as
the “secret of the gods” (1.88.3), and Vyåsa insists on telling the story of
the Five Indras in the Cave and ÇrF to Drupada privately. Explanations of
the events of the Mahåbhårata in ritual terms tend to be accessible only
to some protagonists. Why this secrecy? Something is hinted, but not
fully revealed.
(iii) Questioning the Benevolence of K®‚~a: In the Mausala Parvan,
34 / Tamar C. Reich
Vyåsa tells Arjuna that K®‚~a must have approved of the carnage of the
war, since he could have prevented it and chose not to do so:
The wide-eyed (K®‚~a) has removed the burden of the wide-earth and
having liberated the whole world, he went to his own highest state.
Bull-like man of long arms! You too, with the help of BhBma and
the twins, did the great work of the gods. I think you have achieved
your task. I consider you completely successful, Kuru-bull! (16.9.29–
31ab).
The tragic events, according to Vyåsa in this passage, were divinely

ordained for the benefit of the worlds. He congratulates Arjuna for acting
as the instrument of benevolent divine will. But is this the consistent
Mahåbhårata position on the matter? On another occasion, in the Åçva-
medhika Parvan, K®‚~a tells the sage Uttaka22 something different
(14.52–53; my summary):
Soon after the Kuruk‚etra war was over, K®‚~a ran into Uttaka in the
middle of the desert. Uttaka expressed the hope that K®‚~a had made
peace between the Kurus and På~avas. K®‚~a replied that as Uttaka
very well knew, he had tried his best but was unable to, because the
På~avas and Kauravas were “fond of unlawfulness” (adharma-rucayo).
Of the På~ava side, he told the sage, only the five brothers had survived,
and the Kauravas were all dead.
Uttaka responded to this (news?) angrily: “Because you were able
to protect your dear relatives, the Kurus and the På~avas, and you did
not do so, I shall surely curse you!” (14.52.20). He even called K®‚~a
“mithyå-cara,” that is, “one who acts falsely” (14.52.22). K®‚~a now
invited Uttaka to listen to his adhyåtma (“self-praise”) before cursing
him, assuring Uttaka that he had his (Uttaka’s) best interest at heart.
He explained that should he attempt to curse K®‚~a, Uttaka would
simply lose all his hard-earned tapas. K®‚~a went on to discourse at
length on his own divine nature, and finally explained: “Whenever
unlawfulness grows, as yuga follows upon yuga, I enter a womb to make
a bridge for the law, desiring what is good for creatures” (14.53.15).
“Being a human, I begged them piteously, but they were full of delusion
and did not accept my good words” (14.53.19).
K®‚~a here repeats the Bhagavad Gtå’s famous doctrine of divine incarna-
tion for the good of dharma. It is curious, therefore, that he seems apolo-
getic and claims that he tried to prevent the war but was unable to do so
because he was born as a human. This claim is, however, consistent with
the narrative of the Udyoga Parvan where K®‚~a serves as a mediator
between the enemy sides but fails to prevent the battle.
The nagging question remains: did K®‚~a “really” (within the universe
of the text) try to prevent the war, or did he act deceitfully, as Uttaka
suspects? In the Åçvamedhika Parvan episode, the story continues, and
K®‚~a proceeds to play some very strange tricks on Uttaka. He insists
that Uttaka should choose a boon, and Uttaka asks to have water
whenever he thinks of K®‚~a. The boon is granted. Soon Uttaka becomes
thirsty and thinks of K®‚~a. The promised water does appear, but in the
form of the urine of an impure hunter—a Ca~åla! No wonder that the
pious Bråhma~ Uttaka refuses to drink it and censures K®‚~a. In the end,
everything is resolved. K®‚~a appears and reveals that he did not mean to
trick Uttaka. On the contrary, he actually intended to give Uttaka not
only water but the nectar of immortality (am®ta)! Unfortunately Indra
objected to the idea of granting immortality to a mortal and insisted on
delivering the am®ta himself. It was Indra who tricked Uttaka by taking
the form of the Ca~åla and delivering the am®ta in the form of urine.
He wanted to prevent Uttaka from drinking the am®ta and succeeded.
Uttaka missed not only the water but the opportunity to become an
immortal. As a consolation prize Uttaka is granted the boon that when-
ever he will be thirsty in the desert and think of K®‚~a, rain clouds will
appear (which is what he asked for to begin with).
This strange story is quite thought-provoking. Is K®‚~a “false”? After
all, he is known for his trickery. In the battle he manipulates situations to
help the På~avas win. When he signals to BhBma to strike Duryodhana
in the thigh he remarks that the gods too are known to be tricky. In days
of old, they used underhand methods to gain the upper hand over the
asuras (9.57.5).
K®‚~a’s double nature as one who both liberates and deludes is disclosed
by an alternative reading to a çloka just quoted above. This is Vyåsa
addressing Arjuna: “The wide-eyed (K®‚~a) has removed the burden of
the wide-earth, and having liberated the whole world he went to his own
highest state” (16.9.29). Some manuscripts, however, including some
36 / Tamar C. Reich
Kashmiri and Malayalam ones, have “mohayitvå” (having deluded) instead

of “mok‚ayitvå” (having liberated). Regardless of which reading is the
original, this shows that both readings were felt to make sense in the
context.
In most cases when protagonists want to know why events happened,
they are asking for a theodicy. Is K®‚~a benevolent towards us, towards
humans? Bimal Krishna Matilal (1991: 409–12) has argued that the Hindu
concept of God does not include omnipotence. In the Mausala Parvan,
however, Vyåsa insists that K®‚~a is powerful enough “to change the triple
world, how much more so to prevent a war!” The mass carnage should
be accepted, Vyåsa here implies, not because it was inevitable or good,
or because the gods are unable to prevent it, but because it was God’s
(that is, K®‚~a’s) will.23
The Mahåbhårata addresses the problem of theodicy in many forms
and on various levels. There is no consistent stand regarding the intentions
of K®‚~a or the gods. The events may be part of a divine plan to lighten
the burden of the earth or a divine Vråtya “cattle-raid” to maintain the
distinction between the immortals and the mortals.
On occasion, protagonists such as Yudhi‚†hira, GåndhårE and Uttaka
go beyond questioning, they protest or even curse the gods when divine
goodness seems elusive.24 Contradictory views on this extremely important
matter are put forth within the four last parvans, even within the same
chapter! The explanations seem over-determined, like the claim that “I
did not borrow a bowl, and moreover, the bowl was already cracked
when I borrowed it.” The text allows different, even conflicting ways of
interpreting the main epic story. Within the Mahåbhårata’s bhakti context,
some of these interpretations may even be said to be subversive. Whether
this is a deliberate strategy of an author or a group of authors or not, it
leaves the Mahåbhårata deeply unresolved.
Perhaps Ånandavardhana, one of the most influential writers on poetic
theory who lived in the second half of the ninth century, was right when
he wrote:
Likewise in the Mahåbhårata, which has the beauty of a kåvya while

being in the form of a çåstra, the great sage [Vyåsa] has demonstrated
that the creation of dispassion is the principal purport of his work, by
composing a conclusion that produces a despondent feeling in response
to the sorry end of the V®‚~is and the På~avas, and in doing so he has
suggested that what he intended as the principal subject of his poem is
the peaceful flavor [çåntarasa] and the human aim characterized by
liberation [mok‚a] (Dhvanyåloka, v®tti on 4.5; Tubb’s translation 1985:
144).
Ånandavardhana has mok‚a in mind and is thinking in terms of the poetic

theory of rasa and dhvani. He reads the Mahåbhårata within a religious
context in which mok‚a is the ultimate end and closure.25 Ånandavardhana
is not looking for closure—he is looking for that to which the text points,
to that which is outside the text; beyond resolutions.
PART TWO: SNAKES BITE THE TALE?
Let us sum up the result of our exploration so far. In the last four parvans,
virtually all the protagonists exit the earthly stage, and we find out who
reaches what world. The narrative even takes the reader right into the
world of the gods to see the ends of the main protagonists. There are
other dominant themes: the need and the attempt of the protagonists to
come to terms with their guilt and grief; reconciliation and forgiveness;
seeking peace of mind by such means as offering sacrifices, practicing
penance, and entering the final stages of life. All these concerns can
certainly be placed under the broader category of seeking closure and
often finding closure on the part of the protagonists. As readers, we noted
certain ambiguities: who reaches what world is not a hundred percent
clear. Was all this bloodshed for the good of the world?
Some doubts are unresolved in the last books. The most problematic
unresolved questions are: why did the apparently horrific and unjust
events of the Mahåbhårata happen at all? We also saw an undercurrent
of resistance to the dhårmic order and anger towards the gods, in particular
Dharma and K®‚~a. The protagonists raise questions that point to or
require a different level within the narrative, self-interpretation or reflex-
ivity. Some answers are supplied by figures that stand half inside, half
outside the main narrative, characters whose status is transcendent to the
narrative, such as Vaiça@påyana, Vyåsa or K®‚~a.
Understanding the reasons for events can only satisfy the desire for
closure when the understanding leads to a realization that the events were
38 / Tamar C. Reich
for good reason, made some sense, were just, and so on. In the last parvans,
however, the doubts are not resolved. The answers seem conflicting and
only raise further questions concerning the purpose of the events and
especially regarding the benevolence of the gods and K®‚~a.
Another Ending, this Time not in Heaven
There is, however, in the Mahåbhårta another narrative trajectory which

should be explored, because it, like the questions that are asked in the
last four parvans, functions within the text as self-commentary. This
trajectory does not take us to heaven—it continues on earth. On the story
level, this trajectory begins with the events narrated at the end of the text,
but on the narrative level, it is introduced in the beginning of the text.
(For our purpose, we put aside the first four parvans.) This is the story of
Parik‚it, Janamejaya, Janamejaya’s snake sacrifice and Åstika’s disruption
of that sacrifice, all the way to the end of the snake sacrifice. Thus, as
strange as it may seem, exploring the end of the Mahåbhårata will again
take us to its first book. We go to the frame story, and enter again into a
universe of violence. The Mahåbhårata’s account of the circumstances
of its own narration embeds one story of a destructive “sacrificial battle”
within another story of a destructive, vengeful black-magic sacrifice.
Parik‚it is the son of Abhimanyu and Uttarå and the grandson of Arjuna.
He is important in the Mahåbhårata because it is through Parik‚it, and
thus through Arjuna’s line of descent, that the Bharata royal lineage will
continue. He is also important in the structure of the narrative because
he appears both in the embedded narrative (the epic plot narrated by
VaiçaCpåyana to Janamejaya) and in the embedding narrative (narrated
by Sauti to Çaunaka). His figure connects the embedded and the embed-
ding narratives. Angelika Malinar (2005: 467–68) calls this type of con-
nection “dovetailing”26 and points out that this is another aspect of the
Mahåbhårata’s self-referentiality.
In the Ådi Parvan the focus is on the manner of Parik‚it’s death. There
are two accounts (1.36.8–1.40, 1.45-46), but I will ignore the differences
and summarize the story briefly, leaving out details that are irrelevant for
our purpose.27 King Parik‚it disrespects a sage who is meditating in the
forest by placing a dead snake on his head. The son of the sage, Ç®gin
by name, curses Parik‚it that he will die within seven days by the bite of
the snake Tak‚aka. Despite the king’s efforts to prevent it, Tak‚aka does
manage to kill Parik‚it and even prevents the sage Kaçyapa from reviving
the king. When Janamejaya finds out how his father died he seeks venge-
ance and conceives a plan to destroy the entire race of snakes by a black-
magic sacrifice. He conquers the city of Tak‚açilå and performs a black-
magic snake sacrifice there. He employs a “fierce” Bråhma~ to perform a
ritual that draws all the snakes in the world to one point and drops them
into a sacrificial fire.28 The Mahåbhårata was first recited to Janamejaya
by Vyåsa’s student VaiçaBpåyana during the intervals between the sessions
of this ritual, and the story of this sinister ritual is recounted by the bard
Ugraçravas (usually referred to simply as “the bard,” Sauti) to Çaunaka.
From the narratological point of view, Parik‚it’s story in the Ådi Parvan’s
inner frame serves to create the conditions leading to Janamejaya’s snake
sacrifice, which was the occasion for the recitation. After the death of
Parik‚it within the “outer” frame, and when the main narrative (VaiçaB-
påyana to Janamejaya) begins, Parik‚it remains out of sight (naturally,
since he was not yet born!). He reemerges much later, in the fourteenth
book, the Åçvamedhika Parvan, where he enters as a newly but still-born
babe. This misfortune happened because Åçvatthåman’s Brahma-weapon
had pierced all the fetuses in the wombs of the På~ava women. Luckily
for Parik‚it, for the Mahåbhårata and for its audiences, K®‚~a miracu-
lously revived him (14.66–69).
Before the five På~avas and DraupadH go on their final journey,
Yudhi‚†hira installs Parik‚it in Hastinåpuram (17.1.7). Parik‚it’s survival
and his consecration as king toward the end of the Mahåbhårata are
conditions for Janamejaya’s sacrifice, for the Janamejaya-VaiçaBpåyana
dialogue, and for the first narration of the Mahåbhårata. His survival
links the main narrative with the frame, in which it is embedded. It may
also be said to broadly link the end and the beginning of the narrative (if
we put aside upaparvans 1–4 of the Ådi Parvan). Malinar writes:
The self-referentiality implied in the technique of embedding in the

epic is not pushed so far that it links the later fate of Parik‚it to his
position as the only survivor of the Mahåbhårata war.…Thus, with
regard to the embedding frames, a clear separation of temporal levels
and of narrative units is maintained. Still, the epic story and the frame
story of its recitation are dovetailed.…Through this dovetailing, the
40 / Tamar C. Reich
post-history of the epic after the death of all main heroes and the
ancestors of Parik‚it becomes the pre-history of the narrative situation
in which this Mahåbhårata is recited. However, no direct link or linear
sequence between the epic story and the frame story of its recitation is
established. The story of the Bhåratas is not made to end with Janame-
jaya and Parik‚it’s fate; in the extant Mahåbhårata it is only a pre-
history of a narrative situation in which another story is related (2005:
479; emphasis added).
As I have already made clear, I disagree with the part of her statement
that I highlighted with italics in the above quote.
The Knot in the Heart Released
I do agree with Malinar up to a certain point. The story of Parik‚it’s

miraculous revival in the Åçvamedhika Parvan makes no references to
the circumstances of his death narrated in the Ådi Parvan, and Janame-
jaya and Vaiça=påyana do not touch on the circumstances of Parik‚it’s
death in their dialogues (nor for that matter, do they comment on the
circumstances of their dialogue in any other way). Thus the embedded
plot and the embedding frame are separated virtually throughout the
Mahåbhårata. Malinar does recognize, however, one episode in the
Åçramavåsika Parvan, which “results in a sudden blending of the plot
with its narration” (2005: 479n31). It occurs in the penultimate chapter of
the Putradarçana Upaparvan (15.43). In this episode, on which Hiltebeitel
(2001: 83–85) has commented in greater depth, the reader/audience is
transported from the Janamejaya-Vaiça=påyana frame to the Sauti-Çaunaka
frame.29 Janamejaya has just heard that Vyåsa brought forth from their
respective worlds all those who were slain in the battle, looking exactly
as they used to look when they were alive, and that they were so real that
the living could mingle and enjoy their company. After a somewhat tech-
nical explanation of how such a yogic feat was possible, the king inquires
whether Vyåsa will favor him by letting him see his father, too. Vyåsa
does favor him; in fact, he grants him more than he has asked for. Not
only does he have a vision of his father Parik‚it—he also sees his father’s
ministers; the ascetic on whose head Parik‚it had deposited the dead
snake, called Çamika; and the ascetic’s son Ç®gin who cursed his father.
King Janamejaya was overjoyed during the final bath of the sacrifice.
He bathed his father and then took his own bath. After he had bathed,
he said the following to the Bråhma~ Åstika of the Yayåvara clan, to
Jaratkåru’s son: “Åstika! I think this sacrifice is rich with all manner of
wonders, as today I have been able to see the dispeller of my grief, my
father!” Åstika said: “Best among the Kuru race! He in whose sacrifice
the vessel-full of austerities, the Island-born ancient sage [Vyåsa] is
present—that man has won both worlds. Joy of the På~avas! You
have heard a wondrous story. The snakes have turned into ashes and
followed in your father’s footsteps, and Tåk‚aka has somehow been
released thanks to your truthfulness, king! The sages have all been
honored, and you have seen the state of this great-soul [your father].
By listening to this story that destroys sins you have attained vast
merit. By seeing noble persons, the knot in your heart has been untied.
Those who carry the wings of the law, whose conduct and disposition
are good, seeing whom sin is abandoned—to them we ought to pay
homage!” The bard said: “Hearing this from [Åstika], King Janamejaya,
the best of the twice-born, worshipped the sage [Vyåsa], honoring him
again and again. That [king] knower of the law also asked the unfailing
sage Vaiça@påyana for the rest of the [Mahåbhårata] story, best
among forest-dwellers! (15.43.10–18).
Not only is there a “dip” into the Çaunaka-Sauti frame suddenly in Book
15, but enough characters from the Ådi Parvan narrative are called forward
to remind the reader of the Parik‚it story and of the circumstances of the
narration. However, as Hiltebeitel (2001: 83–85) remarks, there is a
“temporal incongruity” here; “different chronicities flow almost unnoticed
through a ‘rough join’.” In other words, if the Mahåbhårata was recited
strictly between sacrificial sessions, how could Janamejaya be taking his
final bath and then asking for the rest of the story?
In fact, this episode would have fit nicely in the last chapter of the
Mahåbhårata. With small adjustments I could have even “interpolated”
it myself right after 18.5.24, when Janamejaya had just finished listening
to the Mahåbhårta and is pleased by the answer to his very last question.
In 18.5 it is indeed stated that Åstika rejoiced over the snakes’ survival.
This is followed by Janamejaya’s distribution of the final gifts to the
priests and their dismissal. Right after this Janamejaya would have taken
42 / Tamar C. Reich
his final bath, so this is where he might have bathed his father. Åstika’s
praise of the Mahåbhårata even seems like the beginning of a phalaçruti.
All this has the characteristics of an ending. Why then was it placed in
Book 15 and not in the last book? I would not exclude the possibility that
this is an insertion.30 Still, could anyone—an author, an interpolator, a
redactor—have simply considered that the Mahåbhårata ends here? Not
likely.
A thematic link between the two levels of the narrative does exist. Both
are about moments of “untying of the knot in the heart.” When in the
Putradarçana Upaparvan the living meet their dead loved-ones, “their
doubts were removed.” When Kar~a, the great enemy of the På~avas
who is also their older brother, rises temporarily from the dead, the
På~avas embrace him, and the estranged brothers are reconciled. The
slip into the outer frame is a reflective statement affirming this sentiment,
suggesting that this is what the Mahåbhårata is about.
Breaking the Cycle of Violence
The Mahåbhårata presents a harsh vision of the cosmic order, and even
some of the most righteous protagonists defy this order. GåndhårI curses
K®‚~a; Uttaka intends to curse K®‚~a and is convinced to desist, then
ends up censuring him anyhow; Yudhi‚†hira curses Agni and Dharma; he
prefers to stay in hell with the better people than to stay in heaven with
the wicked. The Mahåbhårata returns again and again to doubts concern-
ing the truthfulness and benevolence of the gods.
The Ådi Parvan’s metamyths of the Partial Incarnations (1.58–59, 61)
and of the Five Indras in the Cave and ÇrI (1.189) invite the reader to
contemplate a deeper “secret” meaning. Only hints are given to this
“secret,” but it informs much of the Mahåbhårata’s narrative and poetics.
The terrible events of the battle are interpreted through an agonistic-
sacrificial imagination. It is a vision of a world run by gods (in heaven)
and Bråhma~s (on earth) whose supremacy must be maintained through
endless cycles of violence. In such an agonistic sacrificial world, violence
is inseparable from life, self-perpetuating, and life itself depends on it.
Just as Paraçuråma had to kill all K‚atriyas twenty-one times, the gods
had to descend and again annihilate all K‚atriyas and Janamejaya had to
conceive of the plan to annihilate the race of the snakes.
But the embedding narrative of Janamejaya’s sacrifice imagines a

breaking of the cycle. The attempt to destroy the whole race of snakes is
stopped by Åstika, a half-Bråhma~ half-snake, and this is even applauded
by the sages that are observing the ritual (sadasya). The horror of the
main narrative is mitigated by framing, encompassing, or containing the
stark vision of the main plot. A lighter, more forgiving mood prevails,
which Åstika calls “untying the knot of the heart.”
The interruption of a sacrifice is a recurring theme in the stories about
agonistic sacrifices found in Bråhma~a literature. Typically, an outsider
breaks in, sometimes violently, and challenges the ritual or the sacrificers.
In some stories, this kind of interruption seems essential to the completion
of the rite (Heesterman 1985: 85–86, 99). The motif appears in a number
of variations in the Mahåbhårata (Reich 1998: 275–89, 2001, 2005, 2010).
Christopher Z. Minkowski (2001) has shown the importance of the motif
in both the Råmåya~a and the Mahåbhårata and contrasted its use in terms
of narrative strategy.31 It is often said that the Mahåbhårata is the story
of a sacrifice gone terribly wrong, since the interruption of Yudhi‚†hira’s
royal consecration triggered the events that lead to the apocalyptic battle.
In contrast, the interruption of Janamejaya’s sacrifice by Åstika (with
which the epic begins) has the opposite effect—it calls forth the possibility
of the cessation, or at least the mitigation, of the kind of competitive and
vindictive worldview and social patterns that perpetuate violence.
The snake sacrifice is completed despite the interruption without sacri-
ficing all the snakes. Janamejaya takes his concluding bath and tenderly
washes his dead father; he exchanges words of joy with Åstika, distributes
the ritual gifts, dismisses the priests, and leaves the city of Tak‚açilå for
Hastinåpuram. The initial intention of this sacrifice was destruction, but
it is interrupted and its destructive intention mitigated, if not reversed.
More importantly, a knot in a human heart has been untied. According to
this “end,” this terrible story about a grand sacrifice of the gods in which
all the K‚atriyas have perished softens the heart and brings joy. How
different from the stark vision described above!
Conclusion
I have proposed that the Mahåbhårata story has two endings. One trajec-
tory is found in the main narrative of the last four parvans and leads to
44 / Tamar C. Reich
the death of all the protagonists and to an afterlife state or condition.

Themes that dominate in the last parvans are the desire to atone, a deep
anxiety about the worlds that the protagonists will reach in the afterlife,
and a desire to understand the events of the epic. The latter preoccupation
is the basis of a reflexive discourse of self-interpretation within the
Mahåbhårata itself. The answers to the above question vary. It is asserted
that the events were for the good of the world, but under closer scrutiny
one also finds hints of underlying myths according to which the protago-
nists were divine beings that descended to earth in order to carry out a
divine ritual of the agonistic type. Their task was to commit cruel deeds.
Was the purpose of this divine rite to destroy wicked kings and liberate
the earth, or was it to weaken humans so that they do not become too
much like the gods? It is not clear. The benevolence of the gods (or of
K®‚~a) is questioned. From this darker outlook emerges a vision of an
oppressive cosmic and social order based on endless cycles of violence
in which asuras with too much hubris, as well as humans that challenge
Bråhma~s and gods, must repeatedly be exterminated.
The other trajectory leaves the På~avas when they take off on their
way to heaven and instead follows the earthly future of the Kuru dynasty.
It tells about the fate of the survivor, Parik‚it, and the story of his son,
Janamejaya. In other words, it moves out from the main plot to its embed-
ding frame, the story of Janamejaya’s sacrifice. This sacrifice takes place,
of course, after the events of the main plot, even if it is narrated at the
beginning, since the main story was recited during the intervals of the
snake sacrifice. The snake sacrifice was also a violent and vengeful ritual,
and its purpose was to destroy the whole race of snakes. In this case,
however, the violent ritual is interrupted by Åstika, an outsider to the
main plot. It is Janamejaya, the addressee of the Mahåbhårata’s main
narrative, the very person who initiated the vengeful ritual, who rejoices
when his own rite is derailed. Åstika points out that by hearing the story
of the Mahåbhårata the knot of his heart has been released.
I do not at all contend that the story of the snake sacrifice takes over
the ending of the last four parvans and becomes the Mahåbhårata’s “real”
ending. Nevertheless, the very fact that it embeds the main narrative,
that the main narrative is formally subordinated to it, has the effect of
containing the multiplicity of interpretations found in the ending of the
last parvans and introducing a lighter, less conflicted and more optimistic
mood.
We have seen that the Mahåbhårata explores potential forms of closure,
but there is no single, straightforward and satisfactory closure to be found
within it. Perhaps the only way to contain the disturbing quality produced
by this lack of satisfactory resolution is to follow the approach represented
above by the interpretive strategies of the seventeenth-century commen-
tator NFlaka~†ha and the ninth-century philosopher Ånandavardhana. Both
read the whole Mahåbhårata through the lens of their nondualist (Advaita)
philosophy. From this point of view, the events of the narrative belong to
the realm of måyå. Ånandavardhana’s interpretation especially treats the
Mahåbhårata as a literary work that inspires the sentiment of peace or
detachment (çånti), thus pointing the reader toward mok‚a.
Notes
1. I have used The University of Chicago Press translation for the

volumes that are available. Translations from other parts of the Mahå-
bhårata are my own. Matters dealt with in this paper were addressed
partially and much more briefly in prior presentations: first, at a confer-
ence “Sensitive Readings, Far Reaching Implications” in honor of David
D. Shulman at the Israeli Academy of Arts and Sciences, Jerusalem,
December 2008; then in the Fifth Dubrovnik International Conference on
the Sanskrit Epics and Purå~as, in Dubrovnik, Croatia, August 3–6; finally,
at the 2010 Annual meeting of the American Academy of Religion, Atlanta,
Georgia, October 30–November 1.
2. It is also an important dimension of the Mahåbhårata’s meaning
(Austin 2009: 598–608, 619–24).
3. Sauti praises the Mahåbhårata and the fruits of hearing it (the phala-
çruti) in 30–54, but this is not part of the story. The circumstances of
Sauti’s narration are truly distinct from the main plot, so it is not so
surprising that apart from a single manuscript, G3 (18.5 Appendix 2.11–
21; Minkowski 1989: 405n15), there is no attempt to close the Sauti-
Çaunaka frame.
4. No Nepali manuscripts were used for any of the last books when the
critical edition by the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute was prepared.
Only a single Çårada manuscript was available for the Åçramavåsika
Parvan. Some of the manuscripts that were used cover the last four
46 / Tamar C. Reich
parvans only; some, the last five parvans only. The variations between
the manuscripts tend to be minor in the last four books, except in the
very last part of the last adhyåya of the Svargårohana Parvan, which is
the last chapter of the whole Mahåbhårata. It is the phalaçruti, the praise
of the Mahåbhårata and of the fruits of listening to it, and it naturally
attracts additions. Some manuscripts even contain an additional adhyåya
dealing with how the Mahåbhårata should be recited.
5. He offers the following arguments: (i) parvans 17 and 18 are insepa-
rable in terms of narrative. They have probably been separated in order
to produce a total of 18 parvans. (ii) parvan 16 anticipates the Harivaça
by its focus on K®‚~a and the Yådavas. (iii) In the final adhyåya of the
Mahåbhårata there is a repetition of several verses from the Ådi Parvan
(1.56, part of the Descent of the First Generations unit). Assuming, along
with van Buitenen (1973: xvi), that at some point the Ådivaçåvatara~a
Upaparvan (1.53–59) was the beginning of the Mahåbhårata, Brockington
sees this repetition as “an attempt to provide a balance to the opening of
the epic” (1998: 135–36). Following this logic, the final adhyåya must be
later than the Ådivaçåvatara~a part of the Ådi Parvan, which is also
considered relatively late.
6. For example, Hiltebeitel’s 1976 study of K®‚~a in the Mahåbhårata
does not treat the Mausala Parvan’s narrative of K®‚~a’s death (see
Tieken 2004: 6). Olivelle’s The Åçrama System (1993) draws most but
not all of its Mahåbhårata examples from the doctrinal Çånti Parvan, but
does not at all address the relevant passages and the general theme of
life-stages in parvans 15, 17, and 18.
7. Couture (2001) points to the use of this metaphor in the Mahåbhårata
and to its possible ramifications.
8. The classical four åçramas are most obviously understood as life-
stages for Bråhma~ males. Olivelle (1993: 190–96) describes debates
about what åçramas apply to which var~as. In an earlier period retirement
was the norm for kings. The legitimacy of sanyåsa for Ç¨dras, and of
both forest-life and sanyåsa for Vaiçyas, was questioned once the
classical system had been established. Since Ç¨dras have no sacrificial
fires, the very applicability of the concept of åçrama was seen as inappli-
cable to them. The forest-dweller’s åçrama has effectively disappeared
by the first few centuries of the common era.
9. See Collins (2010: 12–28) about the concept of nirvå~a as closure in
Buddhism.
10. Yudhi‚†hira’s kind treatment of Dh®tarå‚†ra and GåndhårI and his
reluctance to let them go is, of course, in character, but it is probably
emphasized even more to avoid the possible perception that the old king
was forced into retirement by ill-treatment (Olivelle 1993: 114–17).
11. Can a s¨ta be a vånaprastha or a sanyåsin in the Mahåbhårata?
When the party of Dh®tarå‚†ra first reaches the banks of the Gagå, it is
said that they spend their first night surrounded by “Bråhma~, K‚atriya,
Vaiçya, and Ç¨dra inhabitants of the kingdom.” According to an interest-
ing variation found in B and some D manuscripts, these were “Bråhma~,
K‚atriya, Vaiçya, and Ç¨dra forest-dwellers.” The expression could of
course be used here in a nontechnical sense—simply people who, like
Vidura, live and practice austerities in the forest.
12. It was considered kalivarjya, “forbidden in the Kali age,” at least
by the twelfth century (Olivelle 1993: 236). In parvan 17 we find no
transition through forest-dwelling to full renunciation.
13. Typically, there is a small difference between what the legal texts
prescribe and the epic narrative—in Manusm®ti the practice is prescribed
for male Bråhma~ renouncers, which the På~avas and DraupadI are not.
14. These adhyåyas have a separate phalaçruti (15.41.27–28). Is this
an indication of later interpolation? I prefer to put the question aside.
15. Hudson (2005: 235) has studied this chapter with a similar question
in mind—she asks whether the chapter provides a rationale for suffering—
and with somewhat similar conclusions: that the text builds up expecta-
tions only to allow the careful reader to see that such expectations are
wishful thinking. Hudson interprets this pattern as a strategy designed to
guide the careful reader to the tragic realization that heaven and hell are
illusions and that the only reality is suffering.
16. Von Simson (2007: 236–39) has shown that musala should be
translated both as “mace/iron rod” and “pestle.”
17. Fifteen years pass until Dh®tarå‚†ra retires to the forest, three more
years pass till the death by fire of Dh®tarå‚†ra, GåndhårI and KuntI, and
eighteen more before GåndhårI’s curse comes to fruition in the carnage
of the mace/pestle, making thirty-six years altogether. The På~avas
went forth right after K®‚~a’s death, so only the time spent by them as
pilgrims lies outside the time-span of thirty-six years determined by
GåndhårI’s curse.
48 / Tamar C. Reich
18. Minkowski (2002) points out that NIlaka~†ha reads the Mahåbhårata
through the lens of his Advaita nondualistic philosophical affiliation.
19. It is tempting to interpret the expression kåla-paryaya “the inversion/
turning of Time” frequently used in the Mausala Parvan as referring to
the advent of the Kali Yuga. The strange behavior of the V®‚~is, especially
their loss of all sense of decency as the thirty-sixth year arrived, is indeed
reminiscent of later descriptions of how people behave in the Kali Yuga.
The V®‚~is then committed evil deeds and felt no shame. They mani-
fested hatred toward Bråhma~s, ancestors, and gods. They treated their
teachers with contempt. Råma and Janårdana, however, did not act that
way. Wives deceived their husbands, and husbands deceived their wives
(16.3.8–9).
I don't think, however, that this interpretation is correct. Only the V®‚~is
and their wives are corrupted. The På~avas and K®‚~a’s father Vasudeva,
for example, are untouched by this “reversal of Time.” The irregular
behavior of the V®‚~is is probably part of the evil omens that appear
around the dwellings of the doomed V®‚~is: “Asses were born in cows
and elephants in mules, cats in bitches and rats in mongooses” (16.3.7).
20. For my discussion of the concept of agonistic sacrifice (with refer-
ences to the works of Harry Falk, Jan C. Heesterman, F.B.J. Kuiper,
Marcel Mauss, Christopher Z. Minkowski, Patteri Koskikallio, and
Michael Witzel), including a discussion of the Kurus-Påñcålas as Vråtyas
and Kuruk‚etra geographical location of the Vråtya cult, the role of
Yama, of dicing, of the Kali throw and of Dogs in it, as well as the
practice of ritual sex with a loose woman in a sabhå in the mahåvrata
rite, see Reich 1998: 258–67. On how such themes function in what I call
“contestatory discourse” in Mahåbhårata, see Reich 1998: 268–75.
Hiltebeitel (2001: 92–176) stands out as the most original interpreter of
the role of sattras in the epic. He argues that the circle of authors that in
his view composed the Mahåbhårata used sattra-imagery obliquely to
refer to their own creative activities. I am not fully convinced that the
Mahåbhårata was composed in a brief period, but Hiltebeitel has defi-
nitely shown how sattras play a reflective role. He has shown that the
Ådi Parvan story of the Five Indras is basic to the understanding of how
Vråtya themes figure in the Mahåbhårata (see also Austin 2008).
21. Minkowski (2001) offers a fascinating comparison of how the

motif of the interrupted sacrifice functions in the Råmåya~a in contrast
with how it functions in the Mahåbhårata, suggesting again that the
Mahåbhårata uses these tropes to invoke agonistic sacrificial themes.
22. In the Ådi Parvan the name is spelt “Utaka” rather than “Uttaka.”
I follow here the Åçvamedhika Parvan spelling.
23. Hiltebeitel has noted the contradiction in this particular case and
proposed a solution to it, namely, that in the Mausala Parvan, Vyåsa only
states that it was within K®‚~a’s power to prevent the Mausala carnage,
“leaving a loophole as to the other question, of whether the Kuruk‚etra
war could have been prevented” (2001: 89).
24. Hudson (2005) discusses the Svargårohanika Parvan in terms of
theodicy.
25. Again, compare Collins (2010: 12–28) about the concept of nirvå~a
as closure in Buddhism.
26. “Dovetailing occurs when within an outer embedding frame, char-
acters appear who are also in an inner embedded story and/or in another
subordinated narrative frame” (Malinar 2005: 468). In her analysis Malinar
generally follows the terminology and approach of Bal (1997).
27. Malinar (2005: 470–79) gives a very insightful comparison of those
two accounts.
28. This part is told only in the second account of the story of Parik‚it.
29. Hiltebeitel (2006: 229–49) has pointed out another important case
in which “all three frames” are “braided.”
30. The editor of the parvan, Belvalkar, sees the whole episode as an
interpolation (1959: 155), but Hiltebeitel (2001: 83n179) disagrees.
31. He studied the subject of interrupted sacrifices as narrative strategy
in both the Mahåbhårata and the Råmåya~a, concluded that in the Mahå-
bhårata sacrifice is understood in terms of contest and connected with
political strife and proposed that this may provide us with insight regarding
the poetics of the Mahåbhårata.
References Cited
Abbot, H. Porter. 2008 [2002]. The Cambridge Introduction to Narrative.

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Ånandavardhana. 1990. The Dhvanyåloka of Ånandavardhana with the
50 / Tamar C. Reich
Locana of Abhinavagupta (trans. Daniel H.H. Ingalls, Jeffrey Moussaieff

Masson, and M.V. Patwardhan; ed. Daniel H.H. Ingalls). Cambridge:
Harvard University Press.
Austin, Christopher R. 2008. “The Sårasvatta Yåtsattra in the Mahå-
bhårata 17 and 18.” International Journal of Hindu Studies 12, 3:
283–308.
Austin, Christopher R. 2009. “Janamejaya’s Last Question.” Journal of
Indian Philosophy 37, 6: 597–625.
Bal, Mieke. 1997 [1985]. Narratology: Introduction to the Theory of
Narrative. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.
Barthes, Roland. 1977 [1967]. “The Death of the Author.” In Ronald
Barthes, Image, Music, Text (trans. Stephen Heath), 142–48. New
York: Hill and Wang.
Belvalkar, Shripad Krishna, ed. 1959. The Åçramavåsikaparvan, being the
Fifteenth Book of the Mahåbhårata, the Great Epic of India. Volume
19 of V.S. Sukthankar, S.K. Belvalkar, and P.L. Vaidya, general eds.,
1933–66. Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute.
Bigger, Andreas. 2002. “The Normative Redaction of the Mahåbhårata:
Possibilities and Limitations of a Working Hypothesis.” In Mary
Brockington, ed., Stages and Transitions: Temporal and Historical
Frameworks in Epic and Purå~ic Literature, 17–33. Zagreb: Croatian
Academy of Sciences and Arts.
Brockington, John L. 1998. The Sanskrit Epics. Leiden: E.J. Brill.
Collins, Steven. 2010. Nirvana: Concept, Imagery, Narrative. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Couture, André. 2001. “From Vi‚~u’s Deeds to Vi‚~u’s Play, or Observa-
tions on the Word Avatåra as a Designation for the Manifestation of
Vi‚~u.” Journal of Indian Philosophy 29, 3: 313–26.
Derrida, Jacques. 1974 [1967]. Of Grammatology (trans. Gayatri Chakra-
vorty Spivak). Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press.
Foucault, Michel. 1984 [1969]. “What is an Author?” In Paul Rabinow,
ed., The Foucault Reader, 101–20. New York: Pantheon Books.
Fitzgerald, James L. 2002. “The Råma Jåmadagnya ‘Thread” of the
Mahåbhårata: A New Survey of Råma-Jåmadagnya in the Pune Text.”
In Mary Brockington, ed., Stages and Transitions: Temporal and His-
torical Frameworks in Epic and Purå~ic Literature, 89–132. Zagreb:
Croatian Academy of Sciences and Arts.
Fitzgerald, James L. 2006. “Negotiating the Shape of ‘Scripture’: New

Perspectives on the Development and Growth of the Mahåbhårata
between the Empires.” In Patrick Olivelle, ed., Between the Empires:
Society in India 300 B.C.E. to 400 C.E., 257–86. New York: Oxford
University Press.
González-Reimann, Luis. 2002. The Mahåbhårata and the Yugas: India’s
Great Epic Poem and the Hindu System of World Ages. New York:
Peter Lang.
Heesterman, J.C. 1962. “Vråtya and Sacrifice.” Indo-Iranian Journal 6,
1: 1–37.
Heesterman, J.C. 1985. The Inner Conflict of Tradition: Essays in Indian
Ritual, Kinship, and Society. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.
Heesterman, J.C. 1993. The Broken World of Sacrifice: An Essay in
Ancient Indian Ritual. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.
Hiltebeitel, Alf. 1976. The Ritual of Battle: Krishna in the Mahåbhårata.
Ithaca: Cornell University Press.
Hiltebeitel, Alf. 2001. Rethinking the Mahåbhårata: A Reader’s Guide to
the Education of Dharma King. Chicago: The University of Chicago
Press.
Hiltebeitel, Alf. 2006. “The Nåråya~iya and the Early Reading Com-
munities of the Mahåbhårata.” In Patrick Olivelle, ed., Between the
Empires: Society in India 300 B.C.E. to 400 C.E., 227–56. New York:
Oxford University Press.
Hudson, Emily T. 2005. “Heaven’s Riddles or the Hell Trick: Theodicy
and Narrative Strategies in the Mahåbhårata.” In T.S. Rukmani, ed.,
The Mahåbhårata: What is Not Here is Nowhere Else (Yannehåsi na
Tadkvacit), 225–38. New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers.
Hult, David F. 1984. “Preface.” In David F. Hult, ed., Concepts of Closure,
iii–vi. New Haven: Yale University Press.
Karmarkar, Raghunath Damodar, ed. 1960. The Åçvamedhikaparvan,
being the Fourteenth Book of the Mahåbhårata, the Great Epic of India.
Volume 18 of V.S. Sukthankar, S.K. Belvalkar, and P.L. Vaidya, general
eds., 1933–66. Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute.
Koskikallio, Petteri. 1999. “Baka Dålbhya: A Complex Character in Vedic
Ritual Texts, Epics and Purå~as.” Studia Orientalia 85: 301–87.
Malinar, Angelika. 2005. “How Purå~as Relate the Mahåbhårata: The
Case of King Parik‚it.” In Patteri Koskikallio, ed., Epics, Khilas, and
52 / Tamar C. Reich
Purå~as: Continuities and Ruptures, 465–94. Zagreb: Croatian Academy

of Sciences and Arts.
Matilal, Bimal Krishna. 1991. “K®‚~a: In Defence of a Devious Divinity.”
In Arvind Sharma, ed., Essays on the Mahåbhårata, 401–18. Leiden:
E.J. Brill.
Minkowski, Christopher Z. 1989. “Janamejaya’s Sattra and Ritual Struc-
ture.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 109, 3: 401–420.
Minkowski, Christopher Z. 1991. “Snakes, Sattras and the Mahåbhårata.”
In Arvind Sharma, ed., Studies in the Mahåbhårata, 384–400. Leiden:
E.J. Brill.
Minkowski, Christopher Z. 2001. “The Interrupted Sacrifice and the
Sanskrit Epics.” Journal of Indian Philosophy 29, 1–2: 169–86.
Minkowski, Christopher. 2002. “NKlaka~†ha Caturdhara’s Mantrakåç4-
kha~a.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 122, 2: 329–44.
Olivelle, Patrick. 1993. The Åçrama System: The History and Hermeneu-
tics of a Religious Institution. New York: Oxford University Press.
Reich, Tamar C. 1998. “A Battlefield of a Text: Inner Textual Interpre-
tation in the Sanskrit Mahåbhårata.” Ph.D. Dissertation in South Asian
Languages and Civilizations. Chicago: University of Chicago Library.
Reich, Tamar C. 2001. “Sacrificial Violence and Textual Battles: Inner
Textual Interpretation in the Sanskrit Mahåbhårata.” History of Relig-
ions 41, 2: 142–69.
Reich, Tamar C. 2005. “The Critic of Ritual as Ritual Reviler in the
Åçvamedhikaparvan.” In T.S. Rukmani, ed., The Mahåbhårata: What
is Not Here is Nowhere Else (Yannehåsi na Tadkvacit), 281–92. New
Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers.
Reich, Tamar C. 2010. “The Interruption of the Sacrifice and the Verbal
Contest: Three Different Epic Interpretations of a Pair of Vedic Motifs.”
In David Shulman, ed., Language, Ritual and Poetics in Ancient India
and Iran: Studies in Honor of Shaul Migron, 136-60. Jerusalem: The
Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities.
Sukthankar, V.S., S.K. Belvalkar, and P.L. Vaidya, general eds., and
others, eds. 1933–66. The Mahåbhårata for the First Time Critically
Edited. 19 volumes. Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute.
Sullivan, Bruce M. 2006. “The Ideology of Self-Willed Death in the Epic
Mahåbhårata.” Journal of Vai‚~ava Studies 14, 2: 61–79.
Tieken, Herman. 2004. “The Mahåbhårata after the Great Battle.” Wiener
Zeitschrift für die Kunde Südasiens 48: 5–46.

Tubb, Gary A. 1985. “Çåntarasa in the Mahåbhårata.” Journal of South
Asian Literature 20, 1: 141–68.
van Buitenen, J.A.B., trans. 1973. The Mahåbhårata. Volume 1: 1, The
Book of the Beginning. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
van Buitenen, J.A.B., trans. 1975. The Mahåbhårata. Volume 2: 2, The
Book of the Assembly Hall; 3, The Book of the Forest. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press.
von Simpson, Georg. 2007. “K®‚~a’s Son Såmba: Faked Gender and Other
Ambiguities on the Background of Lunar and Solar Myth.” In Simon
Brodbeck and Brian Black, eds., Gender and Narrative in the Mahå-
bhårata, 230–56. New York: Routledge.
Witzel, Michael. 2005. “The Vedas and the Epics: Some Comparative
Notes on Persons, Lineages, Geography, and Grammar.” In Patteri
Koskikallio, ed., Epics, Khilas, and Purå~as: Continuities and Ruptures,
21–80. Zagreb: Croatian Academy of Sciences and Arts.
At the moment TAMAR C. REICH works as an independent scholar.

<reicht@verizon.net>

Reich 2011

Uploaded by

Document Information

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Reich 2011

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Ends and Closures in the Mahåbhårata

This paper reads the Mahåbhårata in an attempt to clarify how—or

International Journal of Hindu Studies 15, 1: 9–53

suggestions of a more disturbing possibility. Both types of answers can

Ends and Closures

PART ONE: CLOSURE IN THE LAST FOUR PARVANS

Some Preliminary Comments on these Parvans

All Exit the Earthly Stage

priate “worlds” (gati). A dominant form of closure should therefore be

Movement Toward the Last Stages of Life

Antidotes to Feelings of Grief and Guilt

episode he observes that when Yudhi‚†hira has already given up his

Attempts to Achieve Closure by Understanding

The third case is more like a warning or a prediction. In the Anuçåsana

When he heard this horrible speech [of GåndhårH], the high-minded

How to distinguish between causation, fate, and divine intention? There is

outcome, is he sincere? Taking the question further back, did he really

Your husband Dh®tarå‚†ra is the Gandharva king Dh®tarå‚†ra. På~u is

reached the region of the northern Kurus” (15.41.14–15). Here it seems

the açvamedha and the råjas¨ya. In other words, in politics agonistic

The tragic events, according to Vyåsa in this passage, were divinely

Kashmiri and Malayalam ones, have “mohayitvå” (having deluded) instead

Likewise in the Mahåbhårata, which has the beauty of a kåvya while

Ånandavardhana has mok‚a in mind and is thinking in terms of the poetic

PART TWO: SNAKES BITE THE TALE?

Another Ending, this Time not in Heaven

There is, however, in the Mahåbhårta another narrative trajectory which

The self-referentiality implied in the technique of embedding in the

The Knot in the Heart Released

I do agree with Malinar up to a certain point. The story of Parik‚it’s

Breaking the Cycle of Violence

But the embedding narrative of Janamejaya’s sacrifice imagines a

the death of all the protagonists and to an afterlife state or condition.

1. I have used The University of Chicago Press translation for the

21. Minkowski (2001) offers a fascinating comparison of how the

Abbot, H. Porter. 2008 [2002]. The Cambridge Introduction to Narrative.

Locana of Abhinavagupta (trans. Daniel H.H. Ingalls, Jeffrey Moussaieff

Fitzgerald, James L. 2006. “Negotiating the Shape of ‘Scripture’: New

Purå~as: Continuities and Ruptures, 465–94. Zagreb: Croatian Academy

Zeitschrift für die Kunde Südasiens 48: 5–46.

At the moment TAMAR C. REICH works as an independent scholar.

You might also like