A week ago a good friend of mine who is a Parsi but who knows my deep interest in Hindu scriptures, philosophy, history and religion, forwarded to me a very interesting essay written by one Mr.Raghu Ananthanarayan. The title of the article is “The Last year of exile of the Pandav Brothers – An elaboration”.
I read through the piece with great interest since it sought to make a very tantalising connection between the itihaasic characterisation of the Pancha Pandavas and Draupadi in the Mahabharata with the theory of human psychology and clinical methods of its practitioner Carl Jung.
The Mahabharata in one of its “Parvas” or chapters narrates the 12 years the Pandava family spent as exiles in the forests and one year as “agnyaatavaasis” that they had to spend incognito in the kingdom of Raja Virat, donning various disguises to elude detection and deportation back to another period of 12-year exile.
In other words , the Pandavas underwent in that period the acute angst and constant sense of insecurity that today we know “undocumented aliens”, “illegal immigrants” or “asylum seekers” all suffer from who have sneaked across the borders into a foreign country.
The Mahabharata in fact recounts the travails and severe psychological trauma that such aliens who are fugitives eluding the law undergo and how the Pandavas coped with the pain. They live in a shadowy world in perennial fear of being discovered out … and yet in acting out their respective roles in their chosen masquerades they behave as normal people going about normal business . They live out their assumed false identities to near perfection because they know their very survival depends upon how consummate is their role-play.
When the false identity each assumes becomes virtually their professed identity in day to day life , what happens then to their real past identities? How does it affect them psychologically? What transformations in their psyche — whether superficial or profound — begins to take place within them?
If such transformation is superficial , maybe then they might be able to snap out of it later and revert to their old selves — like a stage actor casting off his role once he leaves the theatre . But what happens if the psychological transformation is profound and lasting? Does it leave its mark behind upon the personality in some inexplicable kind of way ? And to what purpose ?
Those are some of the intriguing questions that may well arise in the discerning readers’ minds who reads the Mahabharata to understand it beyond what is its grand story line and plots and innumerable sub-plots. And those are precisely the questions that Raghu Ananthanarayanan attempts to address in his brief, insightful essay which I reproduce below .
After reading this essay , I found myself leaning back in my chair and mentally toying with my very own self-tantalising surmise about whether the “agnyaatavaasam” for the Pandavas in the Mahabharata also represents, albeit in some oblique or even obtuse way, the psychological underpinnings of the age old social institution of Varnaashrama Dharma … But then first you must read Raghu Ananthanarayan’s piece below before you go on to my own lateral insights right down at the end of the scrolled page.
BTW, I really knew nothing at all about the author until I googled him and came up with this brief profile https://www.hua.edu/people/raghu-anantha-narayanan/
Mr. Raghu Anantha Narayanan obtained his Postgraduate Degree in Bio-Medical Engineering from IIT, Chennai. He is a trained Yoga Expert, Teacher and Coach in the lineage of Shri. Tirumalai Krishnamacharya, often referred to as the father of modern Yoga. He had the benefit of being trained directly by Krishnamacharya as well as his son, Shri. T.K.V Desikachar.
The Core of Raghu’s approach to teaching Yoga, while based on the Krishnamacharya tradition, however, has incorporated many aspects of experiential learning and introspection that make it contemporary and accessible.
Raghu Anantha Narayanan has co-founded Sumedhas Academy for Human Context, The Barefoot Academy for Governance and FLAME TAO Knoware (Pvt. Ltd); He serves on the board of several companies. He is now engaged in mentoring a young group of “sacred activists” called Ritambhara, as well as the co-creation of a platform for Yoga Teachers from the Krishnamacharya Tradition called “Ananta Yoga”.
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In the yogic process of inner transformation is there a notion of the shadow that Carl Jung speaks about?”. Though this has been dealt with in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali and some Upanishads, it is not easy to comprehend them. So in a discussion of the Mahabharata when the Pandavas are banished from the kingdom, Duryodhan is jealous and conspires to bring them down. He invites Yudhistra to a game of dice but has secretly worked out how the dice will be loaded! In spite of being warned, Yudhistra gives in, becomes obsessively engaged and loses all his wealth and his rights. He watches helplessly as Draupadi is humiliated. The Pandavas have to accept a 13-year exile. They will live in the forests for 12 years and spend one year incognito ajñātavāsa. If they are discovered, they have to go back into another 13 years of exile! The Pandavas choose to become their shadow selves so that they will not reveal themselves, even inadvertently. This profound exploration of their disowned selves is necessary before they can reclaim the divine gifts they have been given during the 12 years of intense tapas. This deep cleansing is a prerequisite for engaging in a dharmic war.
A time of profound transformation
The Pandavas’ incognito period during their exile, described in the Mahabharata, can be interpreted both symbolically and psychologically as a time of intense inner transformation, humility, and adaptation by fully embracing their shadow selves. The term ajñātavāsa implies shadow. To be unrecognisable, even to themselves, each Prince becomes a servant whose identity is exactly the shadow compulsion that made them lose their kingdom, rights and honour in the first place. For example, Yudhishtra became the King’s companion who was required to gamble daily! The Pandavas, once princes and warriors of great renown, had to take on humble, low-status roles in the service of another king. But more importantly, each of them had to live through an identity that was their shadow self.
The incognito year was a period of immense psychological growth for each Pandava. They learned humility, adaptability, and patience by taking on identities far removed from their royal persona. This strategic withdrawal allowed them to confront vulnerability, dissolve their egos, and embrace their shadows. The intense tapas and self-discipline that this imposed on them enabled them to dissolve their ego and return to power, essential teaching that dhārmika strength comes from external power and inner mastery and growth. The incognito year represents a necessary step for spiritual and psychological maturity. Each Pandava had to take on a discipline to discover their true svabhāva (unique self).
This aligns with Carl Jung’s concept of “individuation,” the process of becoming whole by integrating the unconscious aspects of the self. The entire incognito period can be seen as a symbolic “dark night of the soul,” a term used by mystics like St. John of the Cross, referring to a period of intense hardship and introspection that ultimately leads to spiritual and psychological enlightenment.
Yudhishthira, the righteous and noble king, took on the role of a gambler, a stark contrast to his true nature. After being humiliated and losing everything in the game of dice earlier, this new role forced him to confront his disowned self head-on. As a gambler in King Virata’s court, he had to face the very cause of his downfall, thus symbolising his effort to embrace and learn from his past mistakes. Despite his prior humiliation, Yudhishthira adapted to the role of a gambler, showing incredible psychological flexibility. By taking on this position, he demonstrated the ability to embrace something that had once been his weakness, turning it into a lesson in introspection (svādhyāya). Yudhishthira’s role put him in a position of confronting the source of his deepest shame. Yudhishthira knew that the incognito year was a time for profound transformation. This transformation enabled him to wield power with wisdom not coloured by compulsions that arise from one’s disowned self. “One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.” — Carl Jung
Bhim, the strongest and most physically powerful of the Pandavas, took on the humble role of a cook in King Virata’s palace. He had to confront his shadow, namely lust and pleasure-seeking. Serving in the kitchen, Bhima had to adapt from being a fierce warrior to a position of service and care. This required resilience and a willingness to take on a nurturant role rather than being on the battlefield. This allowed him to face his impulsivity and uncontrolled appetite. By working in the kitchen, Bhima developed a different kind of strength rooted in discipline and self-control. His time as a cook symbolised inner growth, as he learned to anchor himself in compassion, preparing him for a dhārmika use of power.
Arjun, the greatest archer and warrior among the Pandavas, took on the unexpected role of Brihannala, a woman and dance teacher in King Virata’spalace. This role challenged Arjuna’s sense of masculine identity and a person who had many lovers to experience a woman’s identity. He learned to transcend rigid gender roles and his identity as a fierce warrior, teaching music and dance to the princess. As a woman, Arjuna had to confront the fragility of identity and gender norms. This role pushed him to explore his vulnerabilities and develop qualities he did not access as a warrior and a much sought-after man. Arjuna’s time as Brihannala allowed him to explore his softer side and anchor his identity on humanness. This embrace of the other side of his being would later serve him in battle, enabling him to own up to the terrible human cost of war and asking Shri Krishna to define what a dhārmika choice means.
Nakul, known for his beauty and skills in warfare, took on the role of a horse keeper. Nakula was secretly arrogant because of his looks. The identity he chose in ajñātavāsa symbolised his acceptance of humble service and the dissolution of pride to cleanse his shadow compulsions. Nakula seldom speaks; in the huge epic, he is always nondescript. Tending to horses placed Nakula in a new position, where he had to put aside his identity as his mother’s favourite and focus on the care and service of voiceless animals. This required a mental shift, making him confront the idea of powerlessness in a world where his former status and skills were of little use. His time with the horses highlighted his compulsion to remain in the background and let his elder brothers shoulder responsibility.
A question might now arise in our mind:
Sahadev, the youngest and known for his intelligence and foresight, took on the role of a cowherd who had to tend the cows in the forest. Like his brother Nakula, this role forced him to confront his compulsion to be a spectator. As a cowherd, Sahadeva had to adapt to being alone, confronting the dangers inherent in a forest. This required him to move beyond his scholarly identity, one where he could get lost in abstractions and engage in the physical labour of caring for animals, teaching him the value of being vigilant and aware of his immediate context. Sahadeva’s experience as a cowherd allowed him to focus on the here and now and the responsibility for the lives of the large herd of cows. His time in this role helped him to be anchored in his substantive embodied self and not indulge his propensity to be an intellectual.
Draupadi, the proud and noble queen, assumed the role of a maidservant and hairdresser for Queen Sudeshna. Draupadi had taken a vow not to tend her hair until she drenched it in Dusshasana’s blood. This role was the ultimate test of humility, as she had to hold back her rage and her proclivity to wield power. Draupadi’s role put her in a highly vulnerable position, especially when faced with threats from powerful men in the court. Her ability to maintain her dignity in the face of adversity and strategise her response to molestation by Queen Sudeshna’s brother demonstrated her psychological maturity and mastery over her emotions. Her patience and grace under pressure prepared her for dhārmika stances Yudhishtira took when Duryodhana tried to cheat him again and dispossess him and the Pandavas of their rightful heritage.
— End —
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One line in Raghu Ananthanaryanan’s essay particularly caught my attention:
“The Pandavas’ incognito period during their exile, described in the Mahabharata, can be interpreted both symbolically and psychologically as a time of intense inner transformation, humility, and adaptation by fully embracing their shadow selves. The term ajñātavāsa implies shadow“.
The whole idea and story of the “agnyaatavaasa” of the Pandavas strikes me actually as being an allegory for Hindu Vedantic thought that looks upon Man’s fundamental condition upon earth, and his sojourn through it, as a function of his Varna and Guna.
The line, in fact, immediately evokes in my mind Sri Krishna’s most profound and perhaps all-time most controversial pronouncement in the Bhagavath Gita :
चातुर्वर्ण्यं मया सृष्टं गुणकर्मविभागश: |
तस्य कर्तारमपि मां विद्ध्यकर्तारमव्ययम् || 13||
chātur-varṇyaṁ mayā sṛiṣhṭaṁ guṇa-karma-vibhāgaśhaḥ
tasya kartāram api māṁ viddhyakartāram avyayam
The Vedas classify people into four broad categories of occupations, not according to their birth, but according to their inborn natures called “svabhava” — the shudra, vaishya, kshatriya and brahmin. No matter what the other conditions of one’s birth maybe — familial, material or environmental— eventually whatever an individual will tend to come to choose to do with one’s life will almost certainly be coloured by one’s own inborn nature.
Every deed in life of an individual will thus bear or reflect the unmistakable imprint of one’s “svabhaava“. Such happens to be the behavioural paradigm of Man the above Gita Shloka recognises viz. In life, Varna determines Guna.
Can the reverse be true too? i.e. Can Guna determine Varna?
In the story of Pandava “agnyaatavaasa”, which lasts only for a period of one year, The Mahabharatha portrays a rather curious case of reversal of this Varna and Guna paradigm. The natural law gets upended, so to say … or, as Raghu Ananthanarayan puts it, it gets transcended in ways Carl Jungian theory describes human psychology. When such reversal happens, psychologically, it’s a time of intense inner transformation, humility, and adaptation…” because it’s the time when an individual suspends his “svabhava” and … instead, “fully embraces his or her shadow self”.
In the story of the “agnyaatavaasa”, the Mahabharatha shows us how the rule “your nature (varna) will shape and determine identity (guna)” can be reversed into the very opposite: “your identity will shape and determine your nature”.
The Pandavas brothers were all royal blue blood. Their nature was that of the “Kshatriya” category. Having fallen into ruinous, dire straits due to family feuding with their more powerful Kaurava kins, they become exiles in their own country. They become fugitives from the law of the land, and are on the run within their own kingdom. They are forced to go into hiding so they can escape being discovered at least for a year. And the only way they think they can elude being apprehended by the Kauravas is through impersonation — i.e. embracing their shadow selves.
In other words, they chose “agnyaatavaasa” — which essentially means masking out completely one’s innate nature and dissimulating the behavioural identity other than one’s own.
Thus, Yudhishthira adopted the guise of a learned Brahmin, calling himself Kanka and presenting himself as a minister well-versed in statecraft. In Raghu Ananthanarayana’s essay, Yudhishtara confabulates with his master the king, generally over a game of chess, dice and other gambling games.
Bhima became a cook, naming himself Ballava, and worked in the palace kitchen as master-chef of exceptional class.
Arjuna disguised himself as a eunuch skilled in fine performing arts, presenting himself as Brihannala, a proficient Gandharva dance-teacher, claiming he had learned the art of dance from the apsara-celestials themselves. Nakula presented himself as a horse-keeper named Damagranthi, while Sahadeva posed as a cowherd named Tantipala. Draupadi disguised herself as a chamber-maid named Sairandhri who attended upon the queen as her hair-dresser and makeup artiste.
All the above identities assumed by the Pandavas — i.e. as a brahmin, a cowherd, a horse-keeper, a chamber-maid — were “varnas” that typified anything but a “Kshatriya“. Raghu Ananthanarayan calls the “agnyaatavaasa” year as a “strategic withdrawal” of personality. It “represented a necessary step for spiritual and psychological maturity. Each Pandava had to take on a discipline to discover their true svabhāva (unique self)”.
We live in times in India today when Varnaashrama (known more popularly in its pejorative sense as “casteism“) as both an idea and social institution is the cause, direct and remote, for severe conflicts between communities, classes and ethnicities. Caste-identity, caste-pride, caste-entitlement, caste-reservation… and so on… all these threaten to tear apart the social fabric of the country everywhere. It is in these times that perhaps all Castes and all “Varnas” must perhaps take lessons from the chapter in the Mahabharatha recounting the tale of the Pandavas during their “agnyatavaasam“. Maybe every member of every caste in the country must perhaps practice “strategic withdrawal” in the Jungian sense. The Varna caste-leaders perhaps must learn to embrace “shadow selves” other than their very own natural-born “varna“. Every varna should perhaps take time out to do a little “tapas” of a sort … that which perhaps Mahatma Gandhi might well have called “experiments with truth” i.e. they all go willingly into self-imposed “agnyaatavaasa” for brief periods of time when, forgetting one’s own varna, a caste then embraces through imitation the “gunas” or the very best of behavioural traits of other ‘varnas‘!
Now, that indeed would be an extraordinary Jungian idea and a Gandhian experiment, to boot, and as exemplified by the Mahabharatha too!
As Raghu Ananthanarayan writes, maybe it is through self-imposed, platonic “agnyaatavaasa” that people of all castes in India today can temporarily suspend all caste-struggle, strife, animosity and prejudice. By embracing each other’s shadow selves, those who are hidebound to a certain varna can maybe then even “confront vulnerability …. and embrace their shadows”. And maybe it is through such intense tapas and self-discipline, that it would enable all varnas to “dissolve their egos” so that each may again return to power — as the Pandavas did — in the end, both rightfully and righteously, by abiding in the essential teaching that says that “dhārmika strength comes from …. inner mastery and growth” and never through mutual hatred, malice and bad blood.
Every Caste today in India must reflect deeply on the valuable lesson of “agnyaatavaasa” of the Pandava brothers i.e. of how and why they each courageously experimented with their own self-identities far removed from their royal persona.
Sudarshan Madabushi