Review: Mahavir: Conqueror of the Self by Arvind Bhandari
A book that provides insights into the difficult choices Vardhamaan Mahavir had to make as a man, son, husband, father, prince, and as a seeker of liberation from karmic entanglements
What I like most about festivals is the opportunity to pause and contemplate the cycle of seasons, the phases of the moon, and other rhythms that permeate our lives on earth. The energetic shifts they bring about activate my curiosity about what lies beyond the daily grind. I am not a fan of large gatherings and lavish purchases, so quiet celebrations work best for me.
Last Diwali, I came across a book titled Mahavir: Conqueror of the Self (2020) written by Arvind Bhandari. It was serendipitous because my Marwari Jain family has raised me to celebrate this festival as the day when Vardhamaan Mahavir, the 24th Jain Tirthankara, attained moksha. I have known of him as an advocate of non-violence, and that quality appeals to me, but I have not made any special effort to learn about his life story.
Bhandari’s book moved me primarily because of the writing style. It is a blend of fact and fiction. The author has shown that he can work with a lofty subject without being overwhelmed by it. He is loyal to his task as a writer, which is to hold the attention and the interest of the reader. This is a substantial achievement because, as a practising Jain, it might have been difficult not to worry about how people might respond to the creative liberties he has taken.
Why did Vardhamaan the prince become Mahavir the ascetic? What made him reject the kingdom that was his inheritance? Where did he get the idea that wandering naked and doing penance would help him get away from the entrapments of his ego? Was he being obstinate in his spiritual pursuits at the cost of his responsibilities to his family and community? Who was mentoring him during this time? These are some of the questions that the author explores.
In the author’s note, Bhandari writes, “Mahavir, the sixth century BCE philosopher, brings a rich perspective to life that has tremendous potential to help us understand ourselves. Without any divine intervention, purely by the internal light of his dry but accurate understanding of life... Mahavir transcended the limitations of his senses... Understanding his perspective, developed in searing conditions of self-examination, will benefit everyone beyond the four million Jains who follow him today.”
The book made an impact on me because the narrative voice belongs to Priyadarshini, the daughter of the man who renounced everything for self-realisation. This creative decision is an excellent one because it makes the story relatable. The reader is not expected to revere Vardhamaan Mahavir. The man is introduced through the perspective of a young girl who feels angry and betrayed that her father chose to abandon her when she needed him.
Bhandari is a gifted storyteller. He manages to weave in philosophical concepts without losing his grip on the emotional thread of the plot. The character of Priyadarshini has been constructed with depth and compassion. Without the effort that has gone into developing her inner journey, this book would have ended up becoming just another biography of a religious figure. The tension between faith and questioning keep the drama alive until the very end of the book.
In the note, Bhandari writes, “Unfortunately, the understanding of Jainism, unlike Buddhism, which seems to have acquired a secular appeal, is rather superficial, almost piquant. ‘They don’t eat onion and garlic’, ‘they punish themselves needlessly, often roaming naked’, ‘they deny life altogether’: these are some interpretations of Jainism today, as practices of this religion have masked its philosophical underpinnings from people.”
I think that Jains must take responsibility for these perceptions as they are obsessed with outer observances rather than the inner work that Mahavir, and the 23 Tirthankaras before him, point towards. My own disenchantment with Jainism had to do with the fact that I was constantly told what was bad and wrong. Reading Bhandari’s book gave me a chance to learn about the principles of Jainism on my own terms. I am now able to connect with Mahavir in a way that I have never done before. He seems friendly, not distant and patronising.
The author clarifies at the very outset that Priyadarshini’s reflections are “purely fictitious.” While this might bother theologians or Jains who believe that Mahavir’s story must remain unsullied by creative tampering, I think the book must be appreciated for its intention and execution. It provides insights into the difficult choices he had to make as a man, son, husband, father, prince, and as a seeker of liberation from karmic entanglements.
His struggles become apparent to Priyadarshini, and to the reader, thanks to his wife Yashoda who occupies a significant place in this book. Yashoda’s character is a complex one to write, and Bhandari certainly does justice to her convictions and dilemmas, her strengths and vulnerabilities. Yashoda misses her husband but holds no rancour in her heart. She respects the decisions he has made, especially because he sought her consent at every point. He did not wake up one fine day and announce that he was leaving.
Yashoda tells Priyadarshini, “Many a time our perspective is blinkered by where we stand... Just moving a bit to the right or left, above or below, makes us appreciate the validity of another’s views. Your father called this ‘anekantavada’, the principle of multiple perspectives that casts doubt on any single view.” She is a wise woman and a spiritual teacher in her own right -- not simply an abandoned wife -- and her daughter acknowledges this as the book unfolds.
When does Priyadarshini realise that she has judged her father too harshly? At what point does she begin to see him as more than her father? Does she ever get to tell him how she has longed for his affection? You will have to read the book to find out. The reading experience was a meaningful ride for me, especially because Priyadarshini is on a literal pilgrimage as well as an internal voyage. I enjoyed travelling with her.
Chintan Girish Modi is a writer, educator and researcher who tweets @chintan_connect.