Reimagining the Mahabharata: Vaishnavi Patel’s ‘Goddess of the River’ and the Power of Retelling

I don’t think I remember the first time I heard a story from the Mahabharata. But I remember the many times that I would ask for or read various aspects of these stories over and over again. My mother and grandmother would often regale me with Arjuna’s penance or Krishna mischievousness as bedtime stories throughout my childhood and my house was filled with young readers versions of these stories as well — Amar Chitra Katha, Karadi Tales, and numerous more. And while I might have forgotten some of the details, I have always remembered the parts of the story that stuck out the most. But, I remember knowing very little about the river goddess Ganga — that she flowed out of Shiva’s head to help the mortals that needed her, that she was a kind and watchful presence in the valley for the humans. Her story was sidelined, a part of a more important whole, not given her own due. 

These stories live on in our memory, our own retellings, our communal memories, and the way that we interpret the moral lessons. For this reason mythological retellings have continued to remain a really compelling genre of novels. With each reimagining, we allow ourselves to reckon with a different framing of the same story. And there is no more or less authentic version of the story because each retelling adds to the story, building that mythological landscape. It is a living part of culture. This is what makes it a myth rather than a static text. While it might seem impossible to find a new perspective on a nearly million word epic that has been retold for thousands of years, Vaishavi Patel compellingly centers the women of the Mahabharata by writing about the story through Ganga’s eyes. New life flows through this story, as she frames the tale through motherhood, cycles of life, and relationality as the currents shift the plot. 

When we discuss the great Hindu epics, the ‘origin’ or ‘canon’ is often attributed to two authors: Valmiki’s telling of The Ramayana and Vyasa’s rendition of the Mahabharata. Both these texts have been retroactively cannoned as points of origin or reference for these stories. However, these renditions are retellings of myth, as every telling of the stories have been before and after their construction. In the essay, “Three Hundred Ramayanas: Five Examples and Three Thoughts on Translation,” linguist, scholar, and poet, A. K. Ramanujan points to the ways that Valmiki’s Ramayana has been heralded as The story of the Ramayana, while other stories, tellings or retellings of it have been relegated to versions of this original. However, the story of the Ramayana predates Valmiki, and tellings of this story, while some can be considered superior in their writing or storytelling, are ever evolving for the audience that they greet. Ramanujan concludes the essay with by writing:

the story of the Ramayana predates Valmiki, and tellings of this story, while some can be considered superior in their writing or storytelling, are ever evolving for the audience that they greet.

 “A folk tale says that Hanuman wrote the original Ramayana on a mountain-top, after the great war, and scattered the manuscript, it was many times larger than what we have now. Valmiki is said to have captured only a fragment of it. In this sense, no text is original, yet no telling is a mere retelling — and the story has no closure, although it may be enclosed in a text. In India and Southeast Asia, no one ever reads the Ramayana or Mahabharata for the first time. The stories are there, ‘always already’”(Ramanujan 158). 

Vaishnavi Patel’s “The Goddess of the River,” exemplifies the beauty and power of retelling through the portrayal of Ganga in the beginning and unfolding of the Mahabharata. The story begins with Ganga’s imprisonment, sentenced to the river and living amongst mortal life. She is confined to the Earth, a plane on which she sees and recognizes human consumption and destruction. She grows in affinity for the Vasus, eight young gods, who she watches over and begins to see as her responsibility. When they commit a grievous error and anger Sage Vashishta by stealing his magical cow, they are cursed to live a mortal life cycle. Ganga sees their protection as her responsibility and  agrees to be their mother in their mortal life. She is therefore cursed to live in the mortal world as Jahnvi.

Traditionally, the story is a pretext to the Mahabharata providing a context for one of the instrumental characters, the last son of Ganga, Bhishma. But Patel retains Ganga’s perspective throughout the Mahabharata, even as she adds aspects of Bhishma’s point of view alongside her. Although she is immortal, and therefore should have no attachments in the mortal world, she often finds herself experiencing these real human emotions of jealousy, fear, and happiness. These instincts of motherhood are looked down upon from the immortal perspective as not something they should be above or beyond. Patel leans into this clash of perspectives between looking across generations and beyond anthropocentrism and the experience of mortal womanhood. 

Hindu religious practice is often uniquely categorized by this ability to understand individual perspectives on morality. It’s a reflection of the world rather than a prescriptive, meant to elicit questioning of what is righteous and moral with the answer being deeply personal. In imposing Abrahamic perspectives of a centralized religious canon onto Hinduism, we miss the core of what Hinduism actually is: an amalgamation of numerous different religions melted together. Valuing the multiplicity of stories over a single universal canon is integral to representing that religious diversity with care. Patel is able to add to that religious diversity through this retelling of Ganga’s story. She evolves her story, expanding on her agency and world view as a character that is based in various stories over generations, but also makes her a uniquely relatable character that represents the moral conundrums of modern womanhood. 

However in India today, we seem to be losing this idea that no one version of a story is more or less authentic than another. This can be attributed to the ways that religion is being weaponized for the purposes of building and attaining power. In fact, the A. K. Ramanujan essay that I quoted above became controversial in 2008 with right-wing Hindu groups including Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP) that succeeded in its appeal to ban it from syllabi at Delhi University. 

“Goddess of the River”reminds us that our sacred stories are strengthened, not threatened, by expanding who is represented within them. As we continue to see ourselves and contemplate our own moral dilemmas, we look to those in faith to provide us with strength and direction. Patel’s reimagining offers space for Ganga to grow beyond what has been offered to her previous imaginings, growing her image to the strength and power of the river that she wields. 

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Thrisha Mohan has a background in labor and political organizing across Seattle and Washington, D.C. Her expertise spans several critical areas, including reproductive rights at NAPAWF and labor issues with the Campaign Workers Guild and IUPAT. She holds a B.A. in Literature and Economics from American University where her thesis explored the influence of Amar Chitra Katha comics on the South Asian diaspora in the United States. She currently serves as the Operations and Events Manager at Hindus for Human Rights.