I grew up amidst stacks of various weather-beaten, rat-eaten copies of the great Indian Epic on the shelves reaching up to the ceiling of our rannaghar (dining room) at 41, Deblane. Those were the books dealing with the various chapters of the Mahabharata written by my late grandfather, Mahamahopadhyaya Haridas Siddhanta Vagish (titles he won during his lifetime from the Indian government for his herculean labour on the epic). His translatory work on The Mahabharata made him a household name in Bengal and won him great reverence and fame. If I remember it correctly the translation of the great Indian epic earned my  late grandpa the Padma Bibhusan  from the Indian government and the framed scroll of appreciation from India's former president, Dr.Rajendra Prasad, can be seen even today hanging  atop  the door of my uncle, Bhabesh Bhattacharyya's drawing room. I never bothered to read a single line of the books in my childhood being the black sheep of the family as I was then and still am.

I was most probably in class IX or X when Mr.Braja Kishore Mandal, the late charismatic   proprietor/publisher  of Biswa Bani Prakashani (Publishers), paid a visit to my ancestral home in Kolkata to purchase the publishing rights of the translatory  works from the surviving heirs to my late grandpa. Even nearly twenty years after grandfather's death, prominent Bengalis are said to have made a beeline for the first issue of the redesigned volumes! How I wish now that I had the sagacity to read through some of those copies of The Mahabharata even at that time!

Unfortunately, I was lost in my world of being pampered and protected from evil eyes by the elders of the family, while they were busy  fending for themselves during the hard times.  Some people, I reckon, never grow up and I belong to this category. Otherwise, I would have read the three books that my Mejda, Dhiresh Chandra Bhattacharyya authored just before his death. My late brother was a teacher by birth and unlike dadu (grandpa), he was a teacher first and a writer afterwards.  I did not exaggerate to one of my siblings, when I told her that had Mejda lived for a few more years, he would have found his place among the great writers of Bengal. My childhood friend Soumitra, a very ingenuous person himself, shared my view recently, almost two years after Mejda’s death, by remarking that there are three innovative minds undertaking great research work on The Mahabharata and my late brother happens to be one of them! His Nayak Judhisthir ( Judhirstir, the hero)  and Mahabharater Ekshoti Durlav Muhurto ( The 1oo Most Memorable Moments of  The Mahabharata), brought him instant fame and it is a huge loss to Bengali Literature that he was taken away when he had just started giving a serious thought to writing.

I do not write all this to boast about my heritage and ancestry. What I am trying to convey is, if one is fated to be thirsty for knowledge or whatever, one will be provided with ample opportunities to satiate the thirst and led near the water or wisdom- source, unless one prefers to have the mind shut.  In other words, if the devotee does not try to seek the deity out, the deity will do so. I was destined to realize last night what I should have many years ago!

The TV serial of the Mahabharata has been going on almost for the last one year or so. I did watch some Sunday episodes of the serial in my childhood, made by B.R.Chopra long time back. But the recent telecast of the Holy Book every night on Star TV somehow has eluded me till last night, when I was dining with my family members, who all were glued to the TV set sighing over the death scene of the selfless giver, Karna. I simply could not take my eyes off the screen as I heard my spouse say to herself that Karna was indeed a handsome young man!  By then he was lying on the battle field, being struck on the neck with an arrow by Arjun, the greatest archer of all times. Kunti, the biological mother of the great warrior, had rushed to the scene heartbroken, having seen her unproclaimed eldest son writhing in unimaginable agony. As she tried lifting her stricken son’s head on her lap, there was a smile hovering at the corners of his mouth befitting a hero like him.

One by one, the five Pandava brothers emerged on the field and looked askance at their mother. The mighty Bhim could be overheard asking his mother, Kunti, how she could hold in her lap someone, who was considered to be one of their greatest enemies?

Kunti, looking sad and shattered, disclosed the yet-hidden truth to them, despite Karna’s earnest urge to her not to do so. She told the Pandava brothers that Karna indeed was their eldest brother she gave up when she had given way to her youthful fancies and desires. That Karna had in fact, always kept true to his promise of letting the five brothers be, unharmed! Scenes of their encounters with the fallen hero then flashed across their minds. Judhisthir was so distraught that he went on to accuse his mother of committing a great sin by keeping the truth a secret for so long.

Arjun, in the meantime, felt extremely remorseful and apologized to his dying brother for all the insults and injuries he had inflicted on him. Karna gradually shifting towards immortality by then, was magnanimity personifies in forgiving them all. His greatness in forgiving others, taking all the blames upon himself and forsaking all earthly cravings for fame and glory, is a lesson unto all great values worth imitating and emulating. The irresistible smile on his face, in the face of utter pain and anguish, reveals his true character and makes the other greats surrounding him at that time, pale into insignificance in comparison. His death-scene truly uplifted the TV serial from mediocrity to something sublime, something divine!

It was at this precise moment of Karna’s death agony that I made a promise to myself that come what may, I will read my late brother’s books, God willing, and who knows I can even end up reading some of those superlative works of my late grandpa, in not so distant a future!