Devdutt
Pattanaik's commendable body of work on the contemporary relevance of Indian
mythology is a formidable one which has made the vast universe of Vedas,
Upanishads, Puranas, and Itihasas more accessible to those seeking to explore
the fathomless depths without being overwhelmed. He has written over 50 books
and is a prolific columnist and orator, in addition to being a corporate
culture consultant. His latest book - Escape the Bakasura Trap: Let
Contentment Fuel Your Growth purports to take a closer look at the
consumerist culture we are currently entrapped in weighing it against
contentment which is more conducive to enabling personal growth and liberation
from the relentless hunger, fear and insecurity that drives most of us. Drawing
on Bhima's slaying of the perpetually hungry demon, Bakasura, Pattanaik seeks
to reveal to the reader the path first revealed by Hanuman to his half -
brother in order to escape the coils of entanglement to illusory pleasure which
accrues karmic debt ensuring that the soul is caught in the endless cycle of
birth and rebirth, perpetually thwarted from achieving salvation.
The aim of
the book is a lofty one but one can't help but agree with Pattanaik's
detractors who have accused him of oversimplifying complex philosophy embodied
by the epics, stripping it of nuance and providing readers with a superficial
narrative, lacking in depth, rich complexity and profound insights. He urges
the reader to 'Approach this book with curiosity not combat' clearly
anticipating criticism along these lines and making a perfunctory and
ineffective effort to deflect it. Perusing the book makes for a disconcerting
experience, as Pattanaik hastily sketches out his purpose and proceeds to
string together a whole lot of corporate buzzwords with scant regard for
anything close to coherence. His thoughts and ideas bordering on the
idiosyncratic are haphazardly cobbled together, which begs the question as to
whether his editorial team was asleep at the wheel or outsourced the job to AI,
resulting in an output that is riddled with glitches and gaffes.
Sample
this: 'All humans need food, clothing, and shelter. But only Muslims need
mosques and the Japanese need sushi. And all of us have that one hunger that is
unique to us, and for which we seek no companion.' One is forced to stop
and ponder on the senselessness of such heedless statements carelessly designed
to provoke. Does Pattanaik mean to assert that Hindus, Christians and followers
of other religions don't need temples, churches, and places of worship? Outside
the polarizing world of social media don't tourists feel the need to visit
churches, Buddhist stupas, synagogues and temples for assorted purposes ranging
from religious awe, interest in historical monuments to arresting Instagram
backdrops? Doesn't sushi count as food which not only the Japanese but people
from every part of the globe consume with varying levels of relish? Where
exactly is he going with this and the numerous other non sequiturs that went
into the making of this book?
There is a
sprinkling of stories and characters from Puranic lore but there is very little
meat on the bare bones of this book. It appears to be mostly a tiresome
exercise in generating content for the conveyor belt of corporate consumerism
while claiming to be all about escaping it. The irony seems to be lost on the
author who ought to have known better than to make this attempt to commodify
myth and cater to crass commercialism. As he himself puts it, 'We use stories
to increase the value of goods and services of the same measure. We call it
branding.' The Corporate Gods will be pleased.
This book review was originally published in TNIE Magazine

1 comment:
Uncharitable reading of the "Muslims need mosques" line. The reviewer treats this as a literal, universal claim rather than as rhetorical shorthand for "different people have different specific needs beyond the basics." Pulling one line out and interrogating it for logical gaps, when it is clearly meant as illustrative rather than exhaustive, is a common bad faith move in reviews that have already decided the verdict.
Speculating that "his editorial team was asleep at the wheel or outsourced the job to AI" is not a critique of the content, it is a snide aside meant to discredit the author rather than engage with the argument. That is closer to an insult than analysis.
The Corporate Gods will be pleased" as a closing line. This is a rhetorical flourish, not a substantive point. Ending on sarcasm rather than a summary of the actual argument signals the review was written to land a punch, not to leave the reader with a fair picture.
Selective framing of the author's credibility. The opening paragraph praises his body of work generously, then pivots hard, which sets up a "he used to be good, now look at this" narrative arc. That is a storytelling device, not neutral evaluation.
Loaded language throughout: "heedless," "senselessness," "tiresome exercise," "commodify myth," "crass commercialism."
The review is written with an edge ("Corporate Gods will be pleased," the AI jab) that goes beyond dispassionate assessment into something closer to mockery. It uses rhetorical tactics (uncharitable literalism on the mosque/sushi line, ad hominem aside about editing) rather than sticking purely to textual analysis.
This is opinion writing dressed as review, which is fine as a genre, but it should be read as such rather than as dispassionate assessment.
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