The Palace of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni was the one book I recommended to everyone when I first started reading it at the age of 23.

I come from a household where, as children, we fell asleep to the stories of Ramayan, Mahabharat, Ganesh ji and Hanuman ji, every night. Folklore and mythology are a very integral part of my younger memories. But as I got older, I started questioning these stories, the actions of the characters and whether the endings were justified.

I was mesmerized with how believable and relatable the characters seemed for the first time when I read The Palace of Illusions. Draupadi – a mere mortal, tied down with patriarchy, royalty, fates and prophesies; a woman who’s agony, loneliness and anger, suddenly made sense with this book. Was she really the woman that caused the Battle of Kurukshetra, as our elders always told us? Or was she just a victim of all these men fighting or cowering under the guise of ego or propriety? At 23, I was so impressed with Chitra Banerjee for simplifying the tale of Mahabharat, through the eyes of Draupadi, for humanizing her, so we can see her as not some all-knowing Demi Goddess who should have known better; but as a woman in an alien land, in a controversial marriage, overburdened with expectations, and no authority of her own.

15 years later, I read The Forest of Enchantment by the same author – Ramayan through the eyes of Sita. I thought, “I know the author’s style- simplicity of words, hidden micro-tales, humanizing the characters, empathy for their errors. But why am I not impressed?”

At 38 years of age, The Forest of Enchantment read like a young adult book, missing the grandiose of the era and the extravagance of the characters. Not that I have turned too religious in the past years, or that I wanted the book to be more opulent. But somehow, everything just felt too small, too dry…

But it wasn’t the writer, it was the language! Here’s a line from the book – ‘“ I want you to catch this deer for me,” I said to Ram. “I’ve got to have it.” ’ Anyone who knows the story, knows what this incident is foreboding. But the oversimplification of such dramatic events was such so hard to read.

It might be my exposure and learning over the years, but I realized how unromantic the modern English language has become. As I read the lines in The Enchantment, my mind kept translating it to Hindi, and I realized that English is unable to do justice to this legend. The author was surely building a contemporary tale and succeeded in doing so. I enjoyed reading a different perspective for the women who have always been villanized in the story, showing you how these folktales will forever stay relevant and mirror the society. Yet, I keep wondering what if we could read it as the same majestic poetry in Hindi as it was once intended, with the same grandiose and magnanimity…

As an English literature student, literary criticism was a big part of our coursework. But also, our study mostly included classic literature – Shakespeare, Milton, Pope, Bronte. Their language was very different from the modern writers. In the final year, I chose ‘Indian English Literature’, where I read Salman Rushdie, Anita Desai, Raja Rao, Kamala Das. Even though English was not their first language, yet I never felt as if the author is not able to evoke emotion in the reader. Yes, modern English is a very dry language, yet it can work with present-day stories. But for the grand tales of the ancient Indian era, I believe, a non-Indian language will always fall short.

All in all, at 23 the author did trap me in the Illusions, but at 38, the Enchantments were lost.