Koral Dasgupta’s Kunti is not the willful mother who apportioned a common wife to her five sons. She is the young, vibrant, beauteous and superbly intellectual woman who is wooed by the Gods. The book swings along the path of a celestial love triangle: Surya, Indra and Kunti. The offerings match every expectation of such an imperial romance—peevishness, jealousy, wile, guile, manoeuvrings and manipulations—melting the boundaries between the humans and the devas. That indeed is the joy of playing around with Indian mythological tales, for each woman in our orally transmitted narratives is surrounded by a mystique of silence and possibilities. These interstices Koral Dasgupta infuses with magnificent imagination and lyrical fluency. This book is a feast for the senses, the indriya, for it is through sight and touch, the fragrance of words and air that love-relations are created—and also broken.
The young Kunti, adopted by Raja Kuntibhoj, is discovered to have prodigious powers in grasping the intricacies of rajneeti (politics), rananeeti (rules of war) and arthaneeti (economics) (p. 12). Her amazing virtuosity captures the attention of Sage Durvasa whom most people fear.