Irawati Karve was an Indian sociologist, anthropologist, educationist, and writer. Born on December 15, 1905, she was one of the students of G.S. Ghurye, the founder of sociology in India. Her interdisciplinary approach and writings on kinship, caste, and Indian society have left a lasting impact on the fields of sociology and anthropology in India.
One of her famous works is Yuganta: The End of an Epoch, where she critically analyses the characters in the Mahabharata. According to Karve’s analysis, the Mahabharata is not really a myth but an account of historical events that took place many thousands of years ago in India. In this context, the author provides the readers with in-depth insight into the political and social realities of that period of Indian history.
While Yuganta offers a feminist analysis that was progressive for its time, Karve fails to contextualise Draupadi or illustrate the complexity of her character without reproducing the same subtle, embedded misogyny that Karve herself claims to detest.
While Yuganta offers a feminist analysis that was progressive for its time, Karve fails to contextualise Draupadi or illustrate the complexity of her character without reproducing the same subtle, embedded misogyny that Karve herself claims to detest.
However, on the other hand, there are so many things Karve gets right. She deconstructs the logic that blames women for men’s violence. She debunks the myth of ‘Kritya’, the belief that a bloodthirsty woman is the cause of war in every yuga. She shifts the blame away from Renuka and Draupadi, who were labelled as the reasons for war in the Krita Yuga and Dwapar Yuga, respectively, rightly pointing out that it is the men who should be held responsible.
She points out that Renuka was treated as property and stolen as such. The war was about a cow and an enslaved person, not just a woman. Likewise, the seeds of hatred were sown in Dhritarashtra’s mind when Pandu became king before him. The hatred between the Pandavas and the Kauravas was present long before Draupadi’s arrival.
However, the same Karve throws Sita under the bus. She writes, ‘In Rama’s war against Ravana, it is true that Sita was the one and only cause.’ This is not true. It is Ravana who should be blamed for abducting Sita. She was merely a pawn in the game, as was later revealed when Rama subjected her to agnipariksha.
The lady pundit and the laughing woman
Karve also portrays the bond between Bhima and Draupadi with genuine tenderness. In their death scene, when Bhima drags himself back towards a fallen Draupadi, he asks her what he can do for her. A dying Draupadi replies, ‘In our next birth, be the eldest, Bhima. Under your shelter we can all live in safety and joy.’
Karve understands this bond. She understands that Bhima never blamed Draupadi. However, her subsequent shift in tone is so jarring that it is worth pointing out. Draupadi, who had been harassed and humiliated in the royal court, dragged by her hair and left clinging to a piece of cloth, stood up for herself and asked the elders uncomfortable questions. She asked whether a slave could stake his wife. Bhishma hung his head in shame. So did Drona and the others. Karve calls Draupadi’s response not only foolish but also terrible. She argues that Draupadi should have cried out for decency and pity instead of arguing like a ‘lady pundit’.
Karve also calls Draupadi’s laughter at Duryodhana in the Mayasabha a ‘grave mistake’ and one of the causes of her disrobing. To emphasise: a grown man makes a fool of himself in public. A young woman laughs. And Karve, a feminist scholar, says her laughter was a mistake.
Karve also calls Draupadi’s laughter at Duryodhana in the Mayasabha a ‘grave mistake’ and one of the causes of her disrobing. To emphasise: a grown man makes a fool of himself in public. A young woman laughs. And Karve, a feminist scholar, says her laughter was a mistake. Not Duryodhana’s envy. Not his decision to stake her. Her laugh.
Karve uses the term again, and this time it is even more telling. Yudhishthira, the same man who gambled Draupadi away, silences Draupadi whenever she speaks by calling her a ‘lady pundit’. Karve quotes this approvingly without questioning his hypocrisy. She writes, ‘Defeating Dharma in learning was impossible.’ Karve makes her cognitive dissonance painfully obvious here; it is as if she views Yudhishthira’s refusal to engage with his wife’s thoughts as a mark of wisdom rather than a reflection of his insecurity.
According to Karve, Draupadi’s ‘pretensions to wisdom’ were a result of her ‘inexcusable arrogance’. Rather than critiquing Draupadi, Karve is policing her by stating that a young woman should not speak in an assembly of men. This reveals Karve’s discomfort with Draupadi for her fierce, indomitable behaviour, and for her refusal to be silenced.
Rather than critiquing Draupadi, Karve is policing her by stating that a young woman should not speak in an assembly of men. This reveals Karve’s discomfort with Draupadi for her fierce, indomitable behaviour, and for her refusal to be silenced.
Karve’s policing of Draupadi is even more apparent in the episode of Kichaka. The latter had sexually harassed Draupadi and publicly abused her in the royal court. Bhima, the one Pandava who seems to want to avenge Draupadi, kills him. Draupadi wants to watch Kichaka’s funeral; she wants to see the proof of his death with her own eyes. Of this, Karve writes, ‘She should have remained unseen somewhere.’ She goes as far as to say that Draupadi was ‘not satisfied with her revenge’ — as if wanting revenge were somehow immoral for a woman.
Karve doesn’t say a word against Kichaka, nor against his brothers, who tried to burn Draupadi alive. Instead, Karve says only that Draupadi should have hidden herself away; a statement that reinforces years of patriarchy and oppression.
Caste and erasure
Karve does not discuss the nuance of caste despite it playing a dominant role in the epic. It is important to note that her feminism is limited to privileged, ‘upper’-caste women — Draupadi, Kunti, Gandhari. She, for instance, never mentions Hidimba, Bhima’s tribal wife, who was abandoned once she bore him their first child as a result of a diplomatic arrangement. While Hidimba was in love with Bhima, he didn’t return her feelings or really even care about her.
Karve’s analysis stops where caste begins. A feminist reading that recovers ‘upper’-caste voices by suppressing marginalised voices is not a true feminist reading.
Karve also never mentions the family of Nishada, who died in the Lakshagriha incident, thanks to the deceit of Kunti and the Pandavas. Karve’s analysis stops where caste begins. A feminist reading that recovers ‘upper’-caste voices by suppressing marginalised voices is not a true feminist reading.
While Karve wanted Draupadi to be strong, she did not want her to be strong enough to break free from patriarchal restraints. Karve wanted a performance of victimhood — of crying, of falling at the feet of men, and, most importantly, of not upsetting them with her questions. This is a classic victim-blaming tactic. A ‘feminist’ scholar is effectively saying that a woman who had been publicly harassed should have begged for mercy instead of standing up for herself.
However, having said all this, I want to acknowledge a different way of reading Karve. It is possible that Karve is not always endorsing the patriarchal constraints she describes. It is possible that she is simply pointing out that the world of the Mahabharata was not ready for a woman as strong as Draupadi. The ‘lady pundit’ insult may belong to Yudhishthira and the misogynists, not to Karve herself. She may be reporting rather than endorsing.
But here is the problem with this generous reading: Karve does not consistently signal when she is being ironic. The foreword to Yuganta, written by W. Norman Brown, with Karve’s approval, describes Draupadi as ‘arrogant, opinionated, selfish, untrustworthy, and an inveterate troublemaker’, as if this were Karve’s own conclusion. It places Karve herself within this interpretation. Karve writes in the introduction that ‘All such reflections are the author’s own.’ There is no framing that tells the reader: This is not me; this is the epic speaking. The line between what Karve condones and what she merely acknowledges is blurred.
After reading Yuganta, one is left with this: Karve is complex. She is not a simple misogynist. However, she is not a simple feminist either. She is an academic scholar caught between the restraints of her time and the ancient text of the epic.
After reading Yuganta, one is left with this: Karve is complex. She is not a simple misogynist. However, she is not a simple feminist either. She is an academic scholar caught between the restraints of her time and the ancient text of the epic. No indication of irony is apparent, not even in the introduction, where she could have explained that the narrator’s voice reflects the patriarchal society of the epic rather than her own.
One should read her as written, and by doing so, it becomes evident that she blames Draupadi more than she defends her. This contradiction is not the reader’s mistake; it is Karve’s failing. Naming this is an honest reading, not an attack. We owe it to Draupadi, as well as to ourselves, to read honestly, even when it is uncomfortable.
References
- Karve, Irawati. Yuganta: The End of an Epoch. Orient Longman, 1969.
- LearnSociology Team. “Irawati Karve | Indian Sociological Thinkers.” LearnSociology, 13 Jan. 2024, www.learnsociology.in/blog/irawati-karve-indian-sociological-thinkers.
About the author(s)
Parvathi Menon is a third-year English Literature student at O.P. Jindal Global University, Sonipat. Her writing explores the intersections of gender, caste, and literature, with a focus on feminist readings. She is passionate about amplifying marginalised voices through accessible writing.
