Humanizing Arjuna: Anuja Chandramouli’s Contemporary Retelling

of a Mythic Hero

First Degree Programme in

B.A. English Language and Literature under CBCS Systmem

Year 2022-2025
Humanizing Arjuna: Anuja Chandramouli’s Contemporary Retelling

of a Mythic Hero

Dissertation submitted to the University of Kerala

in partial fulfilment of the Degree of Bachelor of Art

Name of Candidate Candidate Code

1 Swathy Suresh. 13022123063

2 Athulya. S.G. 13022123008

3 Abhijith M.J. 13022123030

4 Gokul Krishnan G. 13022123045

5 Girichandana C.U. 13022123042

Course Code: EN 1645

P.G Department of English

N.S.S. College, Pandalam

2022-2025
 Certificate

Certified that this dissertation entitled Humanizing Arjuna: Anuja Chandramouli’s

Contemporary Retelling of a Mythic Hero is a record of bona fide work carried out

by Swathy Suresh, Athulya. S.G., Abhijith M.J., Gokul Krishnan G., Girichandana

C.U.,at the department of English N.S.S. College Pandalam, and submitted to

University of Kerala, as a part of the final term project work for their Bachelor Degree

in English Language And Literature under CBCS System, and that no part of this

report has formed the basis for the award of any degree, diploma or other titles of any

University

Dr. J. Anjana

Head,P.G Department
 Declaration

We hereby declare that the dissertation titled Humanizing Arjuna: Anuja

Chandramouli’s Contemporary Retelling of a Mythic Hero is a record of research

work carried out by us at the Department of English and submitted to the University

of Kerala in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the award of the Degree of

Bachelor of Arts, First Degree Programme in English Language and Literature (CBCS

System)

Panadalam P.G Department of English

05 May 2025 N.S.S. College, Pandalam

 ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

We sincerely thank Dr. J Anjana, Head, P.G. Department of English, N.S.S College

Pandalam, for her kind and magnanimous support and permission for extensive use of

the facilities available in the Department for the timely completion of this work. We

express our sincere and heartfelt gratitude to our project supervisor Ms. Karthika B

Nair, Guest Faculty, P.G Department of English, N.S.S College Pandalam for the

valuable time, guidance, support, and motivation. We sincerely thank the other

teaching and non-teaching staff of our department for their valuable support. We take

this opportunity to express our heartfelt thanks to our parents, who were beside us

throughout this work and helped us complete this project successfully. We cannot

forget our friends who have helped us at various levels of this project and helped it

reach its present form. Lastly and most importantly, we are grateful to God Almighty

for blessing us with the wisdom, courage, and energy to complete this work

successfully.
 Contents

Preface

Chapter 1- Introduction

Chapter 2- Transfoeming a myth hero into faliable hero

Chapter 3-Conclusion
Bibliography

PREFACE

This dissertation examines Arjuna: The Saga of a Pandava Warrior by Anuja

Chandramouli as a contemporary reconstruction of Arjuna, one of the most iconic

figures from the Indian epic, the Mahabharata, as an imperfect hero. While traditional

narratives often depict Arjuna as an idealized hero known for his flawlessness,

Chandramouli presents a refreshingly human portrayal. Her Arjuna is complex and

fallible. He is a man who experiences doubt, wrestles with difficult choices, makes

mistakes, and grows through adversity.

In presenting Arjuna as a deeply relatable character, the dissertation examines

how Chandramouli transforms a legendary warrior into someone modern readers can

truly understand. Her version of Arjuna grapples with internal and external conflicts

such as the burden of living up to expectations, the complicated dynamics between

mentors and disciples, the true cost of war, and the universal quest for identity and

purpose that remain relevant today.

However, it is not the aim of this dissertation to compare Chandramouli’s

work with other interpretations of the Mahabharata. Instead, it focuses exclusively on

how she reimagines Arjuna’s character within the scope of her novel. By doing so, it

highlights how ancient stories can be retold to reflect contemporary realities and
emotional truths. In a time when society often demands perfection, Chandramouli’s

Arjuna offers the empowering message that real strength is found not in flawlessness,

but in resilience and the ability to learn from failure. Through this portrayal, an age-

old epic becomes newly relevant, offering insights that resonate deeply with the

challenges of modern life.

 Chapter one

Introduction

The Mahabharatha is an ancient Indian epic in which the main story revolves

around two branches of a family—the Pandavas and the Kauravas—and their battle of

Kurukshetra for the throne. This epic, traditionally written by the sage Vyasa, also

known as Krishna Dvaipayana, consists of over 100,000 verses, making it one of the

longest and most influential literary works.

The most remarkable thing about the Mahabharata is how it continues to

inspire new adaptations and retellings even after thousands of years. So many authors,

poets, and scholars have retold this epic, but among them, Anuja Chandramouli stands

out as a writer who brings mythology to life in a way that feels real and relatable to

modern readers. Her approach makes these ancient stories easy to understand even for

contemporary readers.

Anuja Chandramouli is a well-known Indian author who writes about

mythological and historical figures uniquely. She always focuses on their personal

struggles and emotional conflicts, which makes them seem more real and relatable.

Her other books are Kamadeva: The God of Desire (2014) and Shakti: The Divine

Feminine (2015). These works also revealed the vulnerabilities and doubts of

mythical heroes.

Her book Arjuna: The Saga of a Pandava Warrior was published in 2013. It is

a detailed retelling of Arjuna’s life, from his birth to his role in the Kurukshetra war

and beyond. Unlike traditional narratives that focus mainly on his heroism and

achievements, this book explores his journey, failures, and his constant battle with

destiny. The basic story of Mahabharata is kept intact, instead, she tells it in a way that

even modern readers can connect with traditional writing. By adding depth to her
characters, she makes them feel more real and less like old distant legends. She

provides a new perspective on Arjuna’s life by adding a humanized version that can

be related to everyone.

Among the many characters in the Mahabharata, Arjuna stands out as the third

Pandava, known for being an amazing archer and a good brother. His journey is full

of challenges and victories and is shaped by some moments where he really thinks

about what he is doing. Unlike some warriors who fight for fame, he fights because he

feels he has to fight; also, he used to often wonder if war is the right thing to do and

how it affects him.

His whole life is shaped by the people around him. His friendship with

Krishna plays a significant role throughout his life and war. Krishna is like a guide,

mentor, and friend to Arjuna, helping him through tough times. Arjuna demonstrates

deep respect and reverence for Krishna, as evidenced in the Bhagavad Gita, where he

seeks Krishna’s guidance during moments of moral and emotional conflict. Before the

climacteric war at Kurukshetra, Arjuna is hesitant and unsure, showing that he is not

just a warrior but a person struggling with his feelings and duties. Apart from his

spiritual connection with Krishna, other personal relationships also play a major role

in his journey. His love for Draupadi, his complex relationship with his brothers, and

his fierce loyalty to his mother Kunti also made an impact on his decisions. Unlike

many traditional heroes, Arjuna does not always make the right choices. He

experiences jealousy, self-doubt, and guilt. This is visible especially when he is faced

with the consequences of war. The main reason for this is that his victories on the

battlefield come at great personal cost, and his emotional struggles make him one of

the most relatable figures in the epic.

 Anuja Chandramouli’s book Arjuna: The Saga of a Pandava Warrior gives us

a new look at Arjuna’s life. Instead of simply focusing on his achievements, it

explores his inner world—his fears, insecurities, and personal struggles.

Chandramouli shows Arjuna not just as a hero but as a man who fights for his destiny.

She mainly focuses on his relationships, his sense of responsibility, and his journey

toward finding himself.

One of the most striking things about her portrayal is how she captures

Arjuna’s vulnerable moments. Whether it is his hesitation before the war, his struggles

with loss, or his constant search for meaning, Chandramouli brings out the emotional

depth of his character. This retelling does not make Arjuna seem less great; instead, it

makes him more relatable by showing that even the strongest warriors have their own

doubts and fears.

By exploring these vulnerabilities, Chandramouli makes Arjuna feel more

human and accessible to modern readers. His story becomes a reflection of universal

human experiences—struggling with duty, questioning one’s path, and seeking

guidance. This approach not only enhances Arjuna’s character but also highlights the

classic relevance of the Mahabharata’s themes. Through her storytelling,

Chandramouli constructs a bridge that closes the gap between ancient mythology and

contemporary human experience, making Arjuna’s journey feel both epic and

personal.

One of the biggest themes in the Mahabharata is the debate between destiny

and free will. The question is, are the characters controlled by fate, or can they change

their lives through their choices? This is especially important in Arjuna’s story. He is
often torn between accepting his destiny and making his own decisions. Krishna

reminds him of his duty, but Arjuna still has to choose whether to fight or walk away.

Anuja Chandramouli explores this theme in her book by showing that even though

fate plays a role, it is ultimately Arjuna’s choices that define him. This is distinct from

traditional retellings, which often portray characters as just following their fate or

accepting fate. By focusing on Arjuna’s struggles with decision-making,

Chandramouli shows how people can shape their destiny, even when gods are

involved. This approach makes Arjuna feel more real and relatable, as we all face

similar dilemmas in readers’ own lives, trying to balance what they think is meant to

be with what they want to do. In a way, Chandramouli’s retelling encourages readers

to think about how much control they have over their lives. It is not just about

whether all are destined for something; it is also about how they respond to the

situations. This theme is long-lasting and universal, making Arjuna’s journey feel both

epic and personal.

Anuja Chandramouli employs anthropomorphism effectively in her

storytelling, rendering mythological figures more relatable by giving them human-like

qualities. This simply allows readers to connect with divine characters on a personal

level. In her retelling of the Mahabharata, gods and goddesses are shown with

emotions and struggles similar to those of humans. For example, Krishna is portrayed

as a friend and mentor to Arjuna, displaying how divine interactions can be deeply

personal. This approach makes the epic feel more intimate, allowing readers to form a

deeper connection with legendary figures. By doing so, these ancient stories become

more innovative and reflective of our own experiences.

This dissertation explores how Arjuna’s character has changed from the

ancient original Mahabharata to Anuja Chandramouli’s version. By looking at how his

story has been retold and reinterpreted, we can see how mythology evolves.

Chandramouli’s Arjuna is more than just a retelling; it is about understanding who he

is, his destiny, and his emotions. She makes him feel more real and relatable by

focusing on his human side, which is an important factor today because mythology

often seems far away from our lives.

This dissertation also looks at the idea of destiny versus free will. While the

Mahabharata suggests that fate is strong, Chandramouli’s Arjuna shows that choices

matter. He is not just following his fate; he is continuously trying to figure out his

path. These themes showcase how mythology stays relevant and how authors like

Chandramouli make old stories feel new again. The central argument this dissertation

advances is that the character of Arjuna is not a flawless epic hero, but as a deeply

human figure whose struggles, doubts, and moral conflicts allow contemporary

readers to connect more personally with the ancient narrative, thereby demonstrating

that the enduring relevance of mythological figures lies in their humanization rather

than their perfection. This dissertation is divided into three main chapters: an

introduction, a core chapter, and a conclusion. The introduction outlines the purpose

of the study, introduces Anuja Chandramouli’s Arjuna: The Saga of a Pandava

Warrior, and establishes the research hypothesis. The core chapter titled

“Transforming a Mythic Hero into a Fallible Human” offers a focused analysis of

Arjuna’s characterization in the novel, exploring themes such as internal conflict,

mentorship through Krishna, the psychological burden of war, and the tension

between personal identity and societal expectations. It draws directly from the text to

demonstrate how Chandramouli constructs a more human and relatable Arjuna,

distinct from traditional depictions. The conclusion summarizes the findings, reflects

on the significance of reimagining mythological heroes through a modern lens, and

considers how such reinterpretations contribute to a deeper understanding of timeless

narratives in contemporary contexts.

 Chapter 2

Transforming a Mythic Hero into a Fallible Human

In traditional versions of the Mahabharata, Arjuna is often seen as a heroic

figure blessed by the gods. He is born to achieve greatness, rarely questioned, and

usually portrayed with a divine aura. However, Anuja Chandramouli’s Arjuna: The

Saga of a Pandava Warrior-Prince brings a refreshing change to this image. In her

retelling, Arjuna is no longer a perfect hero. Instead, he is a complicated person, filled

with emotion, pride, vulnerability, and doubt. Chandramouli reimagines him as real—

someone a modern reader can relate to.

Right from the beginning, Arjuna is introduced with high expectations. Drona

tells him, “I will make you the greatest warrior on earth. There will be none to equal

you” (Chandramouli 37). These words are powerful, but they also create pressure.

Arjuna is not just learning to fight; he is being told to be the best. This early promise

becomes a heavy burden as he tries to live up to it. Chandramouli does not present

this as a moment of triumph alone but as the start of Arjuna’s emotional journey.

What makes Chandramouli’s version different is how she adds warmth to

relationships. For example, Drona, often remembered as a strict teacher, is shown as a

caring figure. He once said,“Make sure that Arjuna never eats in the dark. A lamp

must always remain lighted for him when he takes his evening meal” (Chandramouli

38). This small sentence shows affection, not just discipline. It tells us that Arjuna was

loved and protected, which makes his emotional reactions more understandable. This

personal touch is part of what humanizes him.

As Arjuna grows, he starts to feel the weight of comparison and betrayal.

When he hears about Ekalavya, a boy who trained himself to be a great archer and

claimed Drona as his teacher, Arjuna reacts with deep emotion. The truth cuts deeper
– Ekalavya had no real teacher, only a clay statue of Drona that he worshipped daily,

“imagining Drona guiding him through the motions” (Chandramouli 42). While

Arjuna received personal training from the master himself, Ekalavya achieved

greatness through sheer devotion, practising alone in the forest with nothing but faith

in his imagined mentor. This revelation makes Arjuna’s outburst – “You promised to

make me the best archer in the world!... How could you betray me like this?”

(Chandramouli 43) – more tragic. His jealousy isn’t just about skill, but about

realizing privilege can’t guarantee superiority.

Chandramouli highlights the cruel irony: Ekalavya sees Drona as a divine

guide, while Arjuna, who had Drona’s teaching, sees only competition. The clay

statue becomes a powerful symbol – where the outcast finds inspiration, the prince

sees only threat. When Drona later demands Ekalavya’s thumb as guru dakshina, the

betrayal isn’t just to Ekalavya, but to the very idea of mentorship Arjuna cherishes.

This moment exposes Arjuna’s hidden fear: that without his royal status and

privileged training, he might never have excelled. His anger at Drona masks his

insecurity – if a “lowborn” archer could rival him through self-teaching, what does

that say about his worth?

The psychological complexity here reshapes the reader’s understanding of

both characters. Ekalavya’s quiet dedication contrasts with Arjuna’s explosive

emotions, showing how the same teacher-student relationship can inspire devotion in

one while breeding insecurity in another. Chandramouli suggests that true mastery

comes not from exclusive access to teachers but from one’s relationship to learning

itself. Arjuna’s journey toward self-worth must eventually confront this truth – that

real greatness isn’t given by gurus, but earned through confronting one’s limitations.
Another side of Arjuna is revealed when he meets Karna for the first time at the royal

tournament. Instead of respecting a new challenger, he shows arrogance. He says, “It

will give me great pleasure to destroy an upstart braggart such as you and consign you

to the doom you seem to be craving for” (Chandramouli 47). His tone is harsh and

proud. This is not the language of a humble warrior—it’s the reaction of a young man

who feels threatened. Chandramouli does not try to hide Arjuna’s ego. She uses it to

show how far he still has to grow.

These early parts of the book help set the stage for a more realistic and human

portrayal of Arjuna. Unlike the epic version, where his actions are mostly guided by

destiny, Chandramouli’s Arjuna is shaped by feelings. He feels hurt, acts with pride,

and makes mistakes. This emotional honesty is what makes him more believable.

By focusing on Arjuna’s doubts, emotions, and relationships, Chandramouli

redefines who he is. Her retelling moves away from the divine image and brings

readers closer to the human side of the hero. The character is still strong and talented,

but now he is also fragile and emotional. This balance between strength and

vulnerability is what gives Chandramouli’s Arjuna a unique identity. The readers

begin to see that Arjuna’s journey is not just about battles and victories. Rather, it is

about learning who he is, dealing with pressure, and understanding his own heart.

This emotional shift sets the foundation for what follows in the rest of the novel,

where his thoughts and decisions play a bigger role than fate.

Anuja Chandramouli explores Arjuna’s character in depth by focusing on how

he thinks, feels, and reacts in private moments. She does not rely on external events

alone to tell his story. Instead, she uses Arjuna’s inner voice and the reactions of those

around him to paint a full psychological picture. This style makes her writing feel
more like a novel than an epic and gives readers a chance to truly understand the man

behind the warrior.

Chandramouli uses quiet, emotional moments to bring out Arjuna’s

complexity. One such moment appears when Arjuna confronts his son, Babhruvahana.

Instead of a warm reunion, we see a painful conflict. Arjuna challenges his son with

the words, “No son of mine would walk away from a fight by embracing the

challenger and not the challenge. If my blood truly runs in your veins, greet me like a

warrior” (Chandramouli 89). This scene is intense, not because of action, but because

of the emotional weight. Arjuna is torn between his role as a father and as a warrior.

His pride and pain clash, making him act in a way that is hard to judge as purely right

or wrong.

This emotional tension appears again in the fall of Bhishma. After being

brought down in battle, Bhishma says, “It is Arjuna’s arrows which succeed in

piercing this tough skin of mine, not Shikandin’s. What an honour it is to die at the

hands of the greatest warrior this world has known” (Chandramouli 92). These words

offer Arjuna recognition, but they also carry a heavy emotional meaning.

Chandramouli does not celebrate this as a clear victory. Instead, she shows sadness

and respect in Bhishma’s words – the great warrior finds honour in being defeated by

his student, but this moment is still filled with grief.

The pain becomes even clearer when we see Arjuna face his other teacher,

Drona. Though they are enemies in war, Arjuna cannot bring himself to fight Drona

properly. “You are not my enemy but my teacher” (222), he says, showing how war

forces him to betray the very relationships that made him strong. Chandramouli

includes a small but powerful detail – Drona’s faint smile when he hears this. This

moment shows that despite being on opposite sides, their bond as teacher and student
remains. But the tragedy is that neither can escape their duty to fight, no matter how

much they respect each other.

The psychological weight grows heavier when the Seven Vasus curse Arjuna.

They say, “That arrogant Pandava’s actions are worthy of a weasel or a cunning fox…

Arjuna will go directly to hell” (Chandramouli 93). This is one of the harshest

judgments in the book. It shows that Arjuna’s actions, no matter how necessary, are

not always viewed as honourable.

These three moments – Bhishma’s death, the fight with Drona, and the curse –

show Arjuna’s growing understanding that war has no true winners. When Bhishma

falls, Arjuna loses a grandfatherly figure who always believed in him. When he fights

Drona, he must betray the man who trained him. And when the gods curse him, he

realizes that even necessary battles leave moral scars.

Chandramouli makes us see how war changes people. The same Arjuna who

once boasted about his skills now hesitates before shooting his teachers. The proud

warrior who wanted to be the best now carries the guilt of having defeated his

mentors. His greatest victories come with the deepest regrets – a lesson that applies

not just to ancient warriors but to anyone who has had to make difficult choices.

What makes this so powerful is how human it feels. We’ve all had moments

where doing the right thing still feels wrong, where we have had to go against people

we care about for larger reasons. Arjuna’s story reminds us that growth often comes

with pain and that becoming great at something might mean losing parts of yourself

along the way. The curse from the Vasus shows that no matter how justified our

actions seem to us, others may always see them differently.

 Through these scenes, Chandramouli asks important questions: Can we stay

true to ourselves in difficult times? How do we live with the consequences of our

choices? There are no easy answers, just as there are no clean victories in war. But by

showing Arjuna’s struggles so honestly, she makes this ancient story feel fresh and

meaningful for modern readers.

Even smaller scenes are used to show Arjuna’s flaws. When he casually

questions Lord Rama’s actions by saying, “Why did Lord Rama make the monkeys

haul stones… I myself would have done so and saved everyone a lot of trouble”

(Chandramouli 96), it reveals his pride. He is not being wise here—he is being

arrogant. Chandramouli includes this not to make fun of him, but to remind readers

that even great heroes can act with ego and ignorance.

Chandramouli’s strength as a writer lies in her ability to slow down the story

and give space for emotion. Her tone is not rushed or filled with high drama. Instead,

she allows feelings to surface naturally. Arjuna’s thoughts are not always spoken

aloud, but readers are invited to sense them through his behaviour and reactions. This

style helps build a strong emotional connection between the character and the reader.

What makes her approach powerful is that it avoids creating a one-sided hero.

Arjuna is not always right or always wrong. He is a mix of both, just like real people.

His emotions are not always noble. He feels anger, jealousy, and pride. But he also

shows love, pain, and self-doubt. Chandramouli gives him room to grow as a person,

not just as a warrior.

By using this psychological lens, Chandramouli gives us a version of Arjuna

that is more complete. He is still brave and skilled, but now he is also real and

relatable. His divine origin takes a backseat to his emotional journey. This shift is

important because it helps readers understand that greatness is not about being
flawless. It is about facing one’s fears, learning from mistakes, and choosing to keep

going.

Through her detailed and emotional storytelling, Chandramouli transforms

Arjuna from a mythic figure into a complex human being. Her writing focuses less on

grand destiny and more on personal experience, helping readers feel the pain, joy, and

confusion that define his path.

Arjuna’s journey, as told by Anuja Chandramouli in Arjuna: The Saga of a

Pandava Warrior-Prince, continues to grow deeper with every challenge he faces.

We’ve already seen how his emotional world shapes his identity, and how his inner

thoughts bring him to life as a complex, realistic figure. As the story progresses,

another major theme begins to arise: the question of whether Arjuna is a pawn of fate

or a man making his own choices. This tension between destiny and personal will

becomes one of the most powerful ideas in the novel.

From the very beginning of his life, Arjuna is surrounded by high

expectations. He is trained by Drona, favoured by the gods, and constantly told that

greatness is his destiny. Krishna and others often speak about him as if his role in

history is already written. For example, when Arjuna elopes with Subhadra, Krishna

calmly tells his brother, “You talk of defeating him in battle… Personally, I think that

is laughable since only Shiva is his equal in battle” (Chandramouli 103). The

confidence others have in Arjuna’s strength paints him as someone larger than life.

Yet, as readers, we see that Arjuna does not always feel this way about himself. He

often carries doubt, guilt, and hesitation—proof that he is trying to make sense of a

life that others expect him to simply follow.

One of the clearest signs of Arjuna’s need to choose his path comes during his

love for Subhadra. Krishna suggests that instead of relying on tradition or waiting for
fate, Arjuna should act on his feelings. “A valiant man should therefore take matters

into his own hands and abduct the object of his desire instead of putting his faith on a

woman’s whims” (Chandramouli 101). This advice marks a shift from fate to free

will. Arjuna follows it, not because he is told to, but because he wants to. He answers

with determination: “Tell me how I can make her mine. I will do whatever it takes”

(Chandramouli 101). This choice is emotional and personal—it shows a man acting

from his own heart, not fulfilling someone else’s plan.

Moments like this help readers understand that Arjuna is not just a hero living

out destiny. He is constantly faced with the choice to obey or to act on his own. In a

key scene later in the story, Krishna even teases him by asking if he made the right

choice in choosing friendship over power. “Are you absolutely sure that you made the

right choice, Arjuna?” (Chandramouli 169). Arjuna answers confidently, “Without a

doubt! With you on our side, there is no way we can lose” (Chandramouli 169). His

reply shows that he has faith not only in Krishna but in the path he chose. He isn’t a

blind follower of fate—he is someone who thinks, decides, and stands by his beliefs.

Still, fate is always present in the background. Before the Kurukshetra war

begins, Arjuna hesitates. He looks around and sees friends, family, and teachers

standing on the opposite side. He feels frozen, unsure of what to do. At that moment,

Krishna reveals his divine form only to Arjuna. “None had the good fortune to see the

Lord in his divine form, for Arjuna alone had been granted divine vision, being as he

was that rarest of individuals who had been singled out from the time of his birth to

carry out the will of the Blessed Lord” (Chandramouli 185). This line suggests

destiny, but Chandramouli doesn’t focus on divine glory. Instead, she turns our

attention to Arjuna’s emotional reaction and internal struggle.

Even when others around him speak of his greatness, Arjuna often looks inward. At

times, he feels deeply responsible for his choices. A line from an article reviewing

Chandramouli’s novel notes that “he could and should have controlled his actions and

striven for a higher standard of nobility” (“Goodreads”). This kind of reflection shows

that Arjuna is aware of the limits of fate. He knows he may not control what happens

around him, but he can control how he acts. That is where his real power lies—not in

weapons or blessings, but in moral thought.

Another article praises Chandramouli’s storytelling for keeping a respectful

distance from Arjuna while still revealing his layers. “It detaches itself from its

protagonist and analyses his persona as one would a character on the screen or in a

book” (Parthasarathy). This technique helps readers look at Arjuna more clearly, to

see that his greatness is not just about destiny but about his personal evolution. He is

not trapped in fate—he is shaped by experience, emotion, and thought.

Chandramouli also builds this theme through Arjuna’s relationships. His bond

with his brothers is not based on duty alone but on deep emotional loyalty. When

Indra offers him the chance to stay in heaven, Arjuna replies, “Heaven will be worse

than hell without any brothers at my side” (Chandramouli 121). This isn’t a decision

guided by divine law—it’s made from love and a desire to stay grounded. Similarly,

Draupadi’s trust in him before his heavenly journey is not based on prophecy, but

personal belief: “The path before you is difficult and filled with obstacles, but if

anyone can overcome them, it is you. We all have the utmost confidence in you”

(Chandramouli 119). These scenes are quiet but powerful—they show that Arjuna’s

life is shaped by real emotions, not just epic rules.

 These emotional moments are what make Arjuna’s story feel timeless. In

Chandramouli’s hands, the tale of a warrior becomes the story of a man who wants to

live with meaning. He is not trying to be remembered as a hero—he is trying to do

what feels right. His doubts, decisions, and desires make him feel real. Fate may offer

him a stage, but it is his actions that create the performance.

Chandramouli never removes fate from the story completely. Divine blessings

and epic moments still exist. Shiva’s words after blessing Arjuna confirm his strength:

“Your courage and fortitude are unmatched… you will be unconquerable in battle”

(Chandramouli 127). And yet, these divine acknowledgements follow moments of

struggle and effort. Arjuna earns them—not by birthright, but by what he has done.

Even the gods speak of him with respect, not just as a chosen one, but as someone

who has proved himself worthy.

Through all these layers, Chandramouli redefines what it means to be heroic.

Arjuna’s greatness does not lie in fulfilling a destiny written in the stars, but in

making difficult choices when nothing is clear. His strength comes from within—from

a mind that thinks, a heart that feels, and a soul that questions. In a world filled with

grand battles and divine interventions, it is this quiet battle within that gives his story

its deepest meaning.

As the story unfolds, the figures around Arjuna—Krishna, Draupadi, Indra,

and others—begin to appear not only as symbols of power or destiny but as

individuals full of emotions, flaws, and human instincts. This shift from divine

detachment to emotional depth marks one of the most important features of Anuja

Chandramouli’s retelling. In her version, even gods are not unreachable beings—they

speak gently and express jealousy, trust, uncertainty, and affection. These traits bring

the characters closer to the reader and allow the narrative to feel more grounded. The
line between mortal and divine becomes softer, revealing how even mythological

beings can be seen through a realistic lens.

One of the first characters who shows a deeply emotional reaction is Draupadi.

In traditional versions of the story, she is often portrayed as strong and composed,

quietly accepting her fate. But Chandramouli strips away that mythic stoicism,

revealing a woman who feels pain, jealousy, and love with raw honesty. When Arjuna

marries Subhadra, Draupadi doesn’t hide her hurt behind royal dignity. Instead, she

says, “I wish you every happiness with your new wife, while I myself shall make a

gracious exit, since my love for you has now become redundant” (Chandramouli 103).

There is no divine resignation here—just the sharp, human sting of rejection.

Chandramouli’s Draupadi doesn’t swallow her pain; she names it, making her feel

startlingly modern.

This same emotional honesty extends to even the story’s supposed villains.

Take Duryodhana—the archetypal arrogant prince. In a rare unguarded moment, when

Karna insists he’s “born to rule the three worlds,” Duryodhana snaps back, “Alas! I

am little more than a beggar” (Chandramouli 244). The irony is cutting. The man who

spends his life chasing power suddenly sees himself through Yudhishthira’s mercy—

not as a king, but as a charity case. Chandramouli could have left him as a one-

dimensional tyrant, but she doesn’t. In flashes like this, we glimpse his private shame,

the insecurity that fuels his cruelty. It’s a mirror to Arjuna’s self-doubt, proving even

rivals share the same fears.

Draupadi’s strength, meanwhile, isn’t in silence but in how she channels her

emotions. Later, when Arjuna prepares for his final journey, she doesn’t offer empty

praise or weepy farewells. Her support is practical, unwavering: “The path before you

is difficult and filled with obstacles, but if anyone can overcome them, it is you”
(Chandramouli 119). Notice what’s missing here? No mention of fate, gods, or destiny

—just faith in him. Chandramouli’s genius is in these quiet exchanges. Draupadi’s

words aren’t poetic; they’re the kind of thing a real partner would say before a hard

fight: “I see the danger, but I believe in you anyway”. (Chandramouli 119)

This emphasis on emotional realism significantly reshapes the tone and impact

of the epic. In Chandramouli’s retelling, characters such as Draupadi, Duryodhana,

and Arjuna are portrayed through their internal emotional landscapes—Draupadi's

jealousy, Duryodhana's shame, and Arjuna's need for reassurance. These are not

depicted as distant, mythic struggles, but as deeply human experiences. The narrative

foregrounds universal emotional themes such as insecurity, the dissonance between

external perception and internal identity, and the desire for validation in moments of

self-doubt. Rather than being incidental, these emotions are central to the characters’

development, making them more relatable and nuanced.

Draupadi’s response to Arjuna’s marriage and Duryodhana’s reaction to

perceived humiliation both stem from a shared sense of betrayal, yet their differing

reactions reveal distinct aspects of their personalities. Draupadi’s decision to make a

composed and dignified exit reflects a wounded pride tempered by self-restraint and

social awareness. In contrast, Duryodhana’s emotional outburst, which is marked by

his use of the term “beggar”, expresses deep-seated insecurity and self-loathing.

Neither reaction is framed as morally right or wrong; instead, both are presented as

natural human responses shaped by individual temperament and circumstance. This

nuanced portrayal contributes to the effectiveness of Chandramouli’s retelling, as the

characters are not treated as symbolic archetypes, but as complex individuals whose

emotions and decisions are grounded in recognizable human experience. And that is

the heart of Chandramouli’s approach. When Duryodhana crumbles, we are reminded

that bullies are often the most broken. When Draupadi tempers her pain with loyalty,

we see resilience that is relatable, not legendary. Even Arjuna caught between teachers

and battles, becomes a man torn by duty and love, not a flawless hero.

Yudhishthira, too, is portrayed with realistic emotional depth. When young

Abhimanyu prepares to enter the padmavyuha formation in battle, Yudhishthira warns

him gently: “Tread with caution, Abhimanyu, and make sure we are close behind. You

are the best among us and we cannot afford to lose you” (Chandramouli 199). In this

line, we do not hear a king issuing commands, but a worried brother who understands

what is at stake. He is not speaking from a place of authority but from love and fear.

Chandramouli uses such small moments to highlight the emotional ties that exist even

in the middle of a war.

Perhaps the strongest example of emotional realism comes from Arjuna

himself. After being offered a place in heaven by his divine father Indra, Arjuna

responds not with excitement, but with sadness: “Heaven will be worse than hell

without any brothers at my side” (Chandramouli 121). This line reflects how deeply

Chandramouli has rewritten her hero. He is not motivated by divine rewards but by

human love. He does not want comfort if it means loneliness. This powerful choice

shows that emotions, not destiny, guide his actions.

Even in relationships with gods, Arjuna shows dignity and self-control. In a

scene where the celestial nymph Urvashi invites him to her bed, Arjuna replies,

“Pururavas and Ayus are my revered ancestors. I respect you like my own mother”

(Chandramouli 138). This response is not dramatic or boastful. It is respectful,

thoughtful, and calm. Chandramouli presents Arjuna as someone who honors

relationships and sets boundaries with grace. This again brings the character closer to

the reader—he is not unreachable or perfect but thoughtful and kind.

 On the divine side, Krishna is the most powerful example of emotional

realism. Though he is often portrayed as the avatar of Vishnu, in Chandramouli’s

writing, Krishna is full of warmth, humor, and deep emotional involvement in the

lives of his friends. His backstory is told not in a distant, divine tone but as a tale of

effort and sacrifice. “It was a blessed era, and those who lived in those times were

fortunate, as Lord Vishnu had taken the form of an avatar and graced the earth as

Krishna. He was without doubt, the most redoubtable being in existence… he had

turned down the throne of Mathura and restored it to the aged Ugrasena”

(Chandramouli 167). This paragraph, filled with admiration, still focuses on Krishna’s

human decisions rather than divine powers. His choice to turn down a throne shows

humility and love for his people.

Chandramouli continues to show how Krishna is respected not because of fear

but because of loyalty and connection. Duryodhana, in contrast, fails to understand

Krishna’s true worth. He is described as “a blundering fool for not realizing that the

mightiest armies in all the three worlds would not be equal to even a tenth of Krishna”

(Chandramouli 169). But even here, the language is personal. Krishna is not just

feared—he is valued. Arjuna also proves this when Krishna asks if he regrets

choosing him instead of a powerful army. Arjuna responds, “Without a doubt! With

you on our side, there is no way we can lose… Will you consent to be my charioteer?

It has long been a fond hope of mine” (Chandramouli 169). The request is not just

practical—it is intimate. It shows trust, love, and belief in friendship over numbers.

Krishna’s emotional role reaches its height in the Kurukshetra war. When Arjuna

freezes at the start of the battle, Krishna does not command him. Instead, he speaks

softly, offering timeless wisdom: “Know that the soul to be immortal by which all this
[universe] is pervaded. No one can compass the destruction of that which is

imperishable” (Chandramouli 185). These words are not only philosophical—they are

calming, meant to guide Arjuna from fear to clarity. Krishna is a god, but here, he is

also a friend, a counsellor, and a companion.

Chandramouli’s narrative makes it clear that even divine moments are

experienced through emotion. When Shiva blesses Arjuna after their battle, he says,

“Your courage and fortitude are unmatched… you will be unconquerable in battle”

(Chandramouli 127). The moment is filled with respect, not just power. Arjuna is not

simply given strength—he earns it. The blessing is not mechanical; it is the result of

bravery and effort.

Even when divine figures speak of fate, Chandramouli grounds their words in

emotion. Indra, speaking to Lomasha, says, “Arjuna and Krishna were born to fight

the forces of darkness and restore light” (Chandramouli 127). While this line

acknowledges destiny, it also highlights the emotional task that lies ahead. The battle

is not just physical—it is a struggle to hold onto love, friendship, and hope in a dark

world.

Throughout the novel, Chandramouli writes these scenes with care, never

rushing past the emotions involved. She gives her characters time to feel and speak

from the heart. Her storytelling keeps mythic grandeur intact but brings it close

enough for the reader to feel connected. Characters may be divine, but they are never

distant. Their choices and reactions are shaped by emotion, not just prophecy.

This is perhaps what makes the retelling so unique. The characters are not flawless or

untouchable. They are strong, but they are also full of uncertainty, love, pride, anger,

and regret. The narrative voice, as one reviewer explains, stays objective: “It detaches
itself from its protagonist and analyses his persona as one would a character on the

screen or in a book” (Parthasarathy). This approach lets readers form their

understanding of each character, without being told how to feel. It makes even divine

figures seem human, encouraging empathy instead of blind admiration.

In the end, this humanized portrayal of gods and heroes brings the

Mahabharata into a new light. The emotions felt by the characters, especially Arjuna,

are the same emotions people face in everyday life. They feel love, fear, guilt, pride,

and pain. These feelings guide their actions far more than destiny ever could. Through

these emotional layers, Chandramouli builds a story that is not only faithful to the

epic’s scale but also personal and real.

Chapter three

Conclusion

For generations, Arjuna’s story was told one way– as that of the perfect

warrior, blessed by gods, never failing. Anuja Chandramouli changes this completely.

Her Arjuna is not flawless. He doubts. He fears. He mistakes. This simple shift makes

the ancient tale feel alive again.

From childhood, Arjuna has carried impossible expectations. His teacher

Drona does not just train him, he promises to make him the world’s greatest archer.

What should feel like honour becomes crushing pressure. The eed to be perfect

follows him like a shadow. When he encounters Ekalavya, a boy who mastered

archery alone through sheer determination, Arjuna does not admire his skill. Instead,

he feels threatened and scared that this outsider might expose his own shortcomings.
In this moment, the golden hero becomes startlingly human, revealing how even the

gifted can be crippled by self-doubt.

This version works because it lets Arjuna be imperfect. He brags to Karna

during their first meeting, showing childish arrogance. He freezes when facing his

beloved teacher in battle, torn between duty and love. He breaks the rules to marry

Subhadra, choosing passion over tradition. These are not the actions of some

untouchable legend but of a real person wrestling with impossible choices. Readers

see their own struggles reflected – moments when pride clouded judgment, or when

right and wrong seemed equally painful paths.

The people surrounding Arjuna shape him as much as his actions. Draupadi

refuses to hide her pain when he takes another wife, her sharp words cutting through

royal pretence. Drona, the mentor who shaped him, shows quiet pride even as they

face each other as enemies, a single smile speaking volumes about their bond. Even

Duryodhana, the story’s villain, has moments where his mask slips, revealing the

insecure man beneath the bluster. These relationships form a complex web of human

connections, where no one is purely good or evil, but all are beautifully, messily real.

The war portrayed in the story brings no clean victories. Each battle leaves

wounds that never fully heal. When Arjuna defeats the legendary Bhishma, the old

warrior’s praise feels hollow. Facing his teacher Drona breaks something between

them that cannot be repaired. The gods’ blessings begin to feel like curses.

Chandramouli strips away the glory of war to show its true face – not heroic

conquests, but painful choices that change people forever.

What makes this telling special is how it echoes our lives today. The fear of

not measuring up. The struggle between what we want and what’s expected of us. The

heavyweight of difficult decisions. These aren’t ancient problems – they’re part of

being human in any era. The story works because it shows these universal experiences

through Arjuna’s journey, making centuries-old wisdom feel immediate and relevant.

Modern readers find comfort in this imperfect Arjuna. In a world obsessed

with perfection, he shows that even legends have flaws. True strength isn’t about

never falling – it is about how you get back up. The quiet courage to admit mistakes

matters more than pretending to be flawless. This understanding of heroism feels truer

to life than the spotless warriors of old tales.

By the story’s end, something remarkable happens. Arjuna stops being a

distant legend and starts feeling like someone we might know. His journey becomes

less about divine weapons and epic battles, and more about the human experiences we

all share – love that wounds, dreams that fade, and the slow, hard work of becoming

better. Chandramouli’s skill lies in making this transformation feel natural, helping us

see our own reflections in Arjuna’s story.

The tale endures not because of magical elements, but because it reveals fundamental

truths about people. The need to be truly seen. The fear of disappointing those we

love. The challenge of doing right when all choices bring pain. These human struggles

do not change with time. That is why Arjuna’s story still speaks to us centuries later,

across cultures and generations.

Chandramouli offers readers a priceless gift – a hero who feels authentic. Her

Arjuna does not stand above us but beside us. His flaws do not diminish him; they

make him relatable. His struggles are not failures, but proof of his humanity. This

version reminds us that the most enduring stories are not about perfect people but

about the messy, beautiful reality of being human.

 In the end, this is why the retelling matters. It takes ancient wisdom and makes

it breathe again. Not through special effects or spectacle, but by revealing the heart

behind the legend. Arjuna’s journey becomes a mirror where readers see their own

lives reflected - the pressures we face, the mistakes we make, and the small, everyday

acts of courage that define us. That timeless connection is the real magic of this story,

and why it will continue to inspire for generations to come.

Works Cited

“Arjuna: The Saga of a Pandava Warrior-Prince.” Goodreads,

www.goodreads.com/book/show/18693317-arjuna.

Chandramouli, Anuja. Arjuna: The Saga of a Pandava Warrior-Prince. Leadstart

Publishing, 2013.

Parthasarathy, Anusha. “An Objective Analysis of the Mahabharata through the Life

of Its Most Famous Pandava.” The Hindu, 3 Aug. 2013,

www.thehindu.com/features/friday-review/arjuna-the-saga-of-a-pandava-

warriorprince-book-review/article4986105.ece.