The Palace of Illusions

“At the best of times, a story is a slippery thing.”

Exploring the theme of narrative, the narrator makes a statement about the nature of stories. Stories are not always linear and stable. Instead, the same story can take on many forms. They are mutable and cannot always be trusted.  

“Dhri, too, sometimes wondered if I wasn’t learning the wrong things, ideas that would only confuse me as I took up a woman’s life with its prescribed, restrictive laws.” 

The novel’s world is full of prescribed gender roles. Women are not supposed to become educated the way men are. Here, even Panchaali’s brother, who is her ally, questions whether Panchaali should expand her intellect through education. Thus, the author shows that these gender norms are pervasive. 

“These were the lessons I most envied him, the lessons that conferred power. They were the ones I needed to know if I were to change history.” 

Power and revenge are prevalent themes in the story. Panchaali speaks to this when she describes Dhri’s lessons about righteous and unrighteous warfare. Even as a young woman, she recognizes that this world revolves around power and revenge, and she desires to educate herself about these things so that she can have a place among the men who deal with these things.  

“What if the prophecy at my birth was wrong? Or: what if prophecies only became true if you did something about them?” 

Fate is a central theme of the novel. From the time of her birth, Panchaali is assigned a certain destiny. Here, she questions the nature of fate and wonders how free will impacts it. She begins to self-actualize by questioning where she fits into the grand scheme of things. 

“Remember that, little sister: wait for a man to avenge your honor, and you’ll wait forever.” 

Sikhandi delivers this piece of advice to Panchaali when narrating his story. Instead of waiting for a man to save him (when he was a woman), he had to become a man and defend his own honor. Here, Sikhandi’s transformation is an extreme example of overthrowing the gender power structure in the novel. 

“There’s only a handful of warriors in the world today strong enough to lift it up, and fewer still that can string it.” 

Here, Krishna describes Kindhara, a magical bow that Drupad received from the gods. It is one of many magical objects that endow the people of this world with special powers. In this case, the man who wields Kindhara will win Panchaali’s hand in marriage because must be god-like to successfully use it. 

“She taught me to close myself off from the sorrow of others that I might survive. I understood she was preparing me for the different situations that would appear in my life.” 

Here, a sorceress gives Panchaali valuable life lessons. She is a spiritual guide who helps Panchaali process experiences so that she can fulfill her destiny. In this instance, the sorceress preemptively helps Panchaali cope with the sorrows that await her. 

“Can our actions change our destiny? Or are they like sand piled against the breakage in a dam, merely delaying the inevitable?” 

Here, Panchaali steps forward to intervene in the fight between Dhri and Karna, but she questions whether her actions can truly affect the course of events. The answer seems to be no because Dhri is fated to die in a fire during the Great War. 

“The man said he had no need for palaces. He asked that I shed my finery, inappropriate for a poor brahmin’s wife.” 

When Panchaali marries Arjun, he has been reduced to poverty. Her status as a princess does not matter—she leaves her life of luxury in order to follow her husband. This scenario demonstrates the gender conventions of the novel’s world, in which a woman must immediately adopt the situation of her husband with no thought of her individual identity. 

“Dhai Ma had stories where gods came to earth, disguised, to marry virtuous princesses, but I doubted that I was sufficiently virtuous for that.” 

These lines reveal the close relationship between humans and divine beings. Many unions between these two entities result in progeny. Here, Panchaali also touches on a traditional female trait of virtue. She herself does not identify with this trope and, thus, distances herself from the confines of her gender. 

“She allowed herself to smile as she welcomed me with a bouquet of gracious words. But I felt the thorns underneath.” 

Panchaali describes her first encounter with Kunti, her mother-in-law. They have a fraught relationship throughout the novel. Their relationship is characterized by passive aggression. Here, the metaphor of the roses indicates the negative emotions that are emanating from Kunti and being directed at her new daughter-in-law. 

“Palaces have always fascinated me, even a gloom-filled structure like my father’s that was a fitting carapace for his vengeful obsession. For isn’t that what our homes are ultimately, our fantasies made corporeal, our secret selves exposed?”

Divakaruni devotes a good portion of the narrative to setting descriptions, and they are an essential element of the novel. Panchaali is very aware of the spaces that she occupies, and she does not feel completely supported in the palace where she was born or the palace in Hastinapur. It is not until she lives in the Palace of Illusions that she feels at peace. In this way, the spaces that the characters occupy act as extensions of their inner feelings. 

“He would give me a boon to balance the one that had landed me with five spouses. Each time I went to a new brother, I’d be a virgin again.” 

This is a clause of Panchaali’s marriage promise to her five husbands. Her use of the word “boon” is ironic—she feels that yet another decision has been made for her. She must marry these five men because of choices that were made by her father and Kunti. The “boon” is a small consolation for the removal of her agency.  

“Your childhood hunger is one that never leaves you.” 

Panchaali makes this statement about her husbands and their grandfather Bheeshma. Since the old king loved them during their childhood, they have always remained loyal to him. They developed a deep hunger and need for love that was fulfilled by few, and this hunger still torments them in the form of an emotional wound. 

“Marriage to me had protected them from the murderous wrath of Duryodhan. I’d played a crucial role in bringing them to their destiny.” 

Once Panchaali marries the Pandavas, a superficial reconciliation between them and Duryhodhan occurs. Dhritarashtra agrees to give the Pandavas half of the kingdom, which fulfills their destiny. Thus, Panchaali is a catalyst that helps them receive what is rightfully theirs.

“It struck me like an iron fist, the realization that if Krishna wasn’t in my life, nothing mattered.” 

Here, Panchaali thinks that Krishna is dead. This situation makes her realize just how important Krishna is to her. Though she does not know yet that he is always with her as a divine guide, she starts to intuit it. This helps her to forge a stronger connection to the divine world and, eventually, Krishna.

“The palace was fully as magical as Maya had claimed, and like all magical dwellings, it sensed its inhabitants’ thoughts.”

The Palace of Illusions is a place that Panchaali loves, and it is one of the only places where she feels like her true self. It is not a normal building; it has the power to interact with the people inside of it. Maya advises the Pandavas not to let any visitors enter it since it is so sensitive and magical. When the Pandavas do not follow this advice, ruin falls upon them. 

“The petal of this afternoon opened like a red sigh.” 

The text of The Palace of Illusions is full of vivid, metaphorical language. Here, Panchaali uses simile to liken time to both a petal and a sigh. Through this metaphor, she draws a connection between time and elements of nature, a frequent trope in the novel. She also likens it to a sigh, suggesting something languid.  

“But I was caught in the coils of my own serpent, and no less blind that Dhritarashtra.” 

Panchaali speaks these lines during her exile. She uses figurative language to talk about her need for revenge. Metaphorically, it constricts her. She is also metaphorically blind; she cannot see the entire situation because she is so limited by her desire for vengeance. 

“In the evening light, the water looked like blood.” 

On the eve of the Great War, Panchaali notices that the water takes on a red hue, like blood. This illustrates the close tie between the characters and nature. Here, the river takes on the violent nature of its surrounding, foreshadowing all of the bloodshed that will occur the next day. 

“Why should I grieve any more at it than if I were watching a play.” (Chapter 32, Page 253) 

Vyasa comments on the Great War as it unfolds. He is not emotional as he experiences it because he has already foreseen its outcome. These lines speak to the nature of fate. All of the action of the story is preordained, so a sage would not experience any surprise or heartache during events he has already seen. Vyasa is an impartial onlooker because he understands how the universe functions. 

“I realized then that the sight allowed me to penetrate the masks of men and look into their core, and I was at once elated and terrified.” 

Panchaali receives the gift of sight during the war. Not only does she witness the events from afar, she is also able to gain insight into the warriors’ thoughts. In this way, she taps into a significant kind of knowledge, knowledge that is usually inaccessible to her. Thus, she gains more power through her knowledge. 

“Even when I was a child, I’d realized that they had to be understood and preserved for the future, so that we didn’t make the same mistakes over and over.” 

Panchaali makes this comment about the nature of narrative. Story is crucial in this world because it offers insight into oneself and others. On top of that, narrative is a great teacher. It can set an example that demonstrates the mistakes people should avoid. In this community, however, people make the same mistakes over and over again, ignoring the lessons they learned from stories.