AUTHOR'S PREFACE
IT is not an exaggeration to say
that the persons and incidents portrayed in the great literature of a people
influence national character no less potently than the actual heroes and events
enshrined in its history. It may be claimed that the former play an even more
important part in the formation of ideals, which give to character its impulse
of growth.
In the moving history of our
land, from time immemorial great minds have been formed and nourished and
touched to heroic deeds by the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. In most Indian
homes, children formerly learnt these immortal stories as they learnt their
mother tongue at the mother's knee. And the sweetness and sorrows of Sita and
Draupadi, the heroic fortitude of Rama and Arjuna and the loving fidelity of
Lakshmana and Hanuman became the stuff of their young philosophy of life.
The growing complexity of life
has changed the simple pattern of early home life. Still, there are few in our
land who do not know the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. Though the stories come
to them so embroidered with the garish fancies of the Kalakshepam (devotional
meeting where an expert scholar and singer tells a story to his audience) and
the cinema as to retain but little of the dignity and approach to truth of
Vyasa or Valmiki. Vyasa's Mahabharata
is one of our noblest heritages. And it is my cherished belief that to hear it
faithfully told is to love it and come under its elevating influence. It
strengthens the soul and drives home, as nothing else does, the vanity of
ambition and the evil and futility of anger and hatred.
The realities of life are
idealised by genius and given the form that makes drama, poetry or great prose.
Since literature is closely related to life, so long as the human family is
divided into nations, literature cannot escape the effects of such division.
But the highest literature
transcends regionalism and through it, when we are properly attuned, we realise
the essential oneness of the human family. The Mahabharata is of this class. It
belongs to the world and not only to India. To the people of India, indeed,
this epic has been an unfailing and perennial source of spiritual strength.
Learnt at the mother's knee with reverence and love, it has inspired great men
to heroic deeds as well as enabled the humble to face their trials with
fortitude and faith.
The Mahabharata was composed many
thousand years ago. But generations of gifted reciters have added to Vyasa's
original a great mass of material. All the floating literature that was thought
to be worth preserving, historical, geographical, legendary political,
theological and philosophical, of nearly thirty centuries, found a place in it.
In those days, when there was no
printing, interpolation in a recognised classic seemed to correspond to
inclusion in the national library.
Divested of these accretions, the Mahabharata is a noble poem possessing
in a supreme degree the characteristics of a true epic, great and fateful
movement, heroic characters and stately diction.
The characters in the epic move
with the vitality of real life. It is difficult to find anywhere such vivid
portraiture on so ample a canvas. Bhishma, the perfect knight; the venerable
Drona; the vain but chivalrous Karna; Duryodhana, whose perverse pride is
redeemed by great courage in adversity; the high souled Pandavas with godlike
strength as well as power of suffering; Draupadi, most unfortunate of queens;
Kunti, the worthy mother of heroes; Gandhari, the devoted wife and sad mother
of the wicked sons of Dhritarashtra, these are some of the immortal figures on
that crowded, but never confused, canvas.
Then there is great Krishna
himself, most energetic of men, whose divinity scintillates through a cloud of
very human characteristics. His high purposefulness pervades the whole epic.
One can read even a translation and feel the over whelming power of the
incomparable vastness and sublimity of the poem.
The Mahabharata discloses a rich
civilisation and a highly evolved society, which though of an older world,
strangely resembles the India of our own time, with the same values and ideals.
India was divided into a number of independent kingdoms.
Occasionally, one king, more
distinguished or ambitious than the rest, would assume the title of emperor,
securing the acquiescence of other royalties, and signalised it by a great
sacrificial feast. The adherence was generally voluntary. The assumption of
imperial title conferred no overlordship. The emperor was only first among his
peers.
The art of war was highly
developed and military prowess and skill were held in high esteem. We read in
the Mahabharata of standardised phalanxes and of various tactical movements.
There was an accepted code of honorable warfare, deviations from which met with
reproof among Kshatriyas. The advent of the Kali age is marked by many breaches
of these conventions in the Kurukshetra battle, on account of the bitterness of
conflict, frustration and bereavements. Some of the most impressive passages in
the epic center round these breaches of dharma.
The population lived in cities
and villages. The cities were the headquarters of kings and their household and
staff. There were beautiful palaces and gardens and the lives led were cultured
and luxurious. There was trade in the cities, but the mass of the people were
agriculturists.
Besides this urban and rural
life, there was a very highly cultured life in the seclusion of forest
recesses, centerd round ascetic teachers. These ashramas kept alive the bright
fires of learning and spiritual thought. Young men of noble birth eagerly
sought education at these ashramas. World-weary aged went there for peace.
These centers of culture were cherished by the rulers of the land and not the proudest
of them would dare to treat the members of the hermitages otherwise than with
respect and consideration.
Women were highly honored and
entered largely in the lives of their husbands and sons. The caste system
prevailed, but intercaste marriages were not unknown. Some of the greatest
warriors in the Mahabharata were brahmanas.
The Mahabharata has moulded the character and civilisation of one of the
most numerous of the world's people.
How did it fulfil, how is it
still continuing to fulfil, this function? By its gospel of dharma, which like
a golden thread runs through all the complex movements in the epic. By its
lesson that hatred breeds hatred, that covetousness and violence lead
inevitably to ruin, that the only real conquest is in the battle against one's
lower nature.
1. Ganapati, the Scribe
BHAGAVAN VYASA, the celebrated
compiler of the Vedas, was the son of the great sage Parasara. It was he who
gave to the world the divine epic of the Mahabharata.
Having conceived the Mahabharata
he thought of the means of giving the sacred story to the world. He meditated
on Brahma, the Creator, who manifested himself before him. Vyasa saluted him
with bowed head and folded hands and prayed:
"Lord, I have conceived an
excellent work, but cannot think of one who can take it down to my
dictation."
Brahma extolled Vyasa and said:
"O sage, invoke Ganapati and beg him to be your amanuensis." Having
said these words he disappeared. The sage Vyasa meditated on Ganapati who
appeared before him. Vyasa received him with due respect and sought his aid.
"Lord Ganapati, I shall
dictate the story of the Mahabharata and I pray you to be graciously pleased to
write it down."
Ganapati replied: "Very
well. I shall do as you wish. But my pen must not stop while I am writing. So you
must dictate without pause or hesitation. I can only write on this
condition?"
Vyasa agreed, guarding himself,
however, with a counter stipulation: "Be it so, but you must first grasp
the meaning of what I dictate before you write it down."
Ganapati smiled and agreed to the
condition. Then the sage began to sing the story of the Mahabharata. He would
occasionally compose some complex stanzas which would make Ganapati pause a
while to get at the meaning and Vyasa would avail himself of this interval to compose
many stanzas in his mind. Thus the Mahabharata came to be written by Ganapati
to the dictation of Vyasa.
It was before the days of
printing, when the memory of the learned was the sole repository of books.
Vyasa first taught the great epic to his son, the sage Suka. Later, he
expounded it to many other disciples. Were it not so, the book might have been
lost to future generations.
Tradition has it that Narada told
the story of the Mahabharata to the devas while Suka taught it to the
Gandharvas, the Rakshasas and the Yakshas. It is well known that the virtuous
and learned Vaisampayana, one of the chief disciples of Vyasa, revealed the
epic for the benefit of humanity.
Janamejaya, the son of the great
King Parikshit, conducted a great sacrifice in the course of which Vaisampayana
narrated the story at the request of the former. Afterwards, this story, as
told by Vaisampayana, was recited by Suta in the forest of Naimisa to an
assembly of sages under the lead of the Rishi Saunaka.
Suta addressed the assembly:
"I had the good fortune to hear the story of the Mahabharata composed by
Vyasa to teach humanity dharma and the other ends of life. I should like to
narrate it to you." At these words the ascetics eagerly gathered round
him.
Suta continued: "I heard the
main story of the Mahabharata and the episodic tales contained therein told by
Vaisampayana at the sacrifice conducted by King Janamejaya. Afterwards, I made
an extensive pilgrimage to various sacred places and also visited the
battlefield where the great battle described in the epic was fought. I have now
come here to meet you all." He then proceeded to tell the whole story of
the Mahabharata in the grand assembly.
After the death of the great King
Santanu, Chitrangada became King of Hastinapura and he was succeeded by
Vichitravirya. The latter had two sons, Dhritarashtra and Pandu. The elder of
the two being born blind, Pandu, the younger brother, ascended the throne. In
the course of his reign, Pandu committed a certain offence and had to resort to
the forest with his two wives where he spent many years in penance.
During their stay in the forest,
the two wives of Pandu, Kunti and Madri gave birth to five sons who became well
known as the five Pandavas. Pandu passed away while they were still living in
the forest. The sages brought up the five Pandavas during their early years.
When Yudhishthira, the eldest,
attained the age of sixteen the rishis led them all back to Hastinapura and
entrusted them to the old grandsire Bhishma. In a short time the Pandavas
gained mastery over the Vedas and the Vedanta as well as over the various arts,
especially pertaining to the Kshatriyas. The Kauravas, the sons of the blind
Dhritarashtra, became jealous of the Pandavas and tried to injure them in
various ways.
Finally Bhishma, the head of the
family, intervened to bring about mutual understanding and peace between them.
Accordingly the Pandavas and the Kauravas began to rule separately from their
respective capitals, Indraprastha and Hastinapura.
Some time later, there was a game
of dice between the Kauravas and the Pandavas according to the then prevailing
Kshatriya code of honor. Sakuni, who played on behalf of the Kauravas, defeated
Yudhishthira. As a result, the Pandavas had to be in exile for a period of
thirteen years. They left the kingdom and went to the forest with their devoted
wife Draupadi.
According to the conditions of
the game, the Pandavas spent twelve years in the forest and the thirteenth year
incognito.
When they returned and demanded
of Duryodhana their paternal heritage, the latter, who had in the meanwhile
usurped their kingdom, refused to return it. War followed as a consequence.
The Pandavas defeated Duryodhana
and regained their patrimony. The Pandavas ruled the kingdom for thirty-six
years. Afterwards, they transferred the crown to their grandson, Parikshit, and
repaired to the forest with Draupadi, all clad humbly in barks of trees.
This is the substance of the
story of the Mahabharata. In this ancient and wonderful epic of our land there
are many illustrative tales and sublime teachings, besides the narrative of the
fortunes of the Pandavas.
The Mahabharata is in fact a
veritable ocean containing countless pearls and gems. It is, with the Ramayana,
a living fountain of the ethics and culture of our Motherland.
2. Devavrata
"You must certainly become
my wife, whoever you may be." Thus said the great King Santanu to the
goddess Ganga who stood before him in human form, intoxicating his senses with
her superhuman loveliness.
The king earnestly offered for
her love his kingdom, his wealth, his all, his very life.
Ganga replied: "O king, I
shall become your wife. But on certain conditions that neither you nor anyone
else should ever ask me who I am, or whence I come. You must also not stand in
the way of whatever I do, good or bad, nor must you ever be wroth with me on
any account whatsoever. You must not say anything displeasing to me. If you act
otherwise, I shall leave you then and there. Do you agree?"
The infatuated king vowed his
assent, and she became his wife and lived with him.
The heart of the king was
captivated by her modesty and grace and the steady love she bore him. King
Santanu and Ganga lived a life of perfect happiness, oblivious of the passage
of time.
She gave birth to many children;
each newborn babe she took to the Ganges and cast into the river, and then
returned to the king with a smiling face.
Santanu was filled with horror
and anguish at such fiendish conduct, but suffered it all in silence, mindful
of the promise be had made. Often he wondered who she was, wherefrom she had
come and why she acted like a murderous witch. Still bound by his word, and his
all-mastering love for her, he uttered no word of blame or remonstrance.
Thus she killed seven children.
When the eighth child was born and she was about to throw it into the Ganges,
Santanu could not bear it any longer.
He cried: "Stop, stop, why
are you bent on this horrid and unnatural murder of your own innocent
babes?" With this outburst the king restrained her.
"O great king," she
replied, "you have forgotten your promise, for your heart is set on your
child, and you do not need me any more. I go. I shall not kill this child, but
listen to my story before you judge me. I, who am constrained to play this
hateful role by the curse of Vasishtha, am the goddess Ganga, adored of gods
and men. Vasishtha cursed the eight Vasus to be born in the world of men, and
moved by their supplications said, I was to be their mother. I bore them to
you, and well is it for you that it was so. For you will go to higher regions
for this service you have done to the eight Vasus. I shall bring up this last
child of yours for some time and then return it to you as my gift."
After saying these words the
goddess disappeared with the child. It was this child who later became famous
as Bhishma. This was how the Vasus came to incur Vasishtha's curse. They went
for a holiday with their wives to a mountain tract where stood the hermitage of
Vasishtha: One of them saw Vasishtha's cow, Nandini, grazing there.
Its divinely beautiful form
attracted him and he pointed it out to the ladies. They were all loud in praise
of the graceful animal, and one of them
requested her husband to secure it for her.
He replied: "What need have
we, the devas, for the milk of cows? This cow belongs to the sage Vasishtha who
is the master of the whole place. Man will certainly become immortal by
drinking its milk. But this is no gain to us, who are already immortal. Is it
worth our while incurring Vasishtha's wrath merely to satisfy a whim?"
But she was not thus to be put
off. "I have a dear companion in the mortal world. It is for her sake that
I make this request. Before Vasishtha returns we shall have escaped with the
cow. You must certainly do this for my sake, for it is my dearest wish."
Finally her husband yielded. All the Vasus joined together and took the cow and
its calf away with them.
When Vasishtha returned to his
ashrama, he missed the cow and the calf, because they were indispensable for
his daily rituals.
Very soon he came to know by his
yogic insight all that had taken place. Anger seized him and he uttered a curse
against the Vasus. The sage, whose sole wealth was his austerity, willed that
they should be born into the world of men. When the Vasus came to know of the
curse, repentant too late, they threw themselves on the sage's mercy and
implored forgiveness.
Vasishtha said: "The curse
must needs take its course. Prabhasa, the Vasu who seized the cow, will live
long in the world in all glory, but the others will be freed from the curse as
soon as born. My words cannot prove ineffective, but I shall soften the curse
to this extent."
Afterwards, Vasishtha set his
mind again on his austerities, the effect of which had been slightly impaired
by his anger. Sages who perform austerities acquire the power to curse, but
every exercise of this power reduces their store of merit.
The Vasus felt relieved and
approached the goddess Ganga and begged of her: "We pray you to become our
mother. For our sake we beseech you to descend to the earth and marry a worthy
man. Throw us into the water as soon as we are born and liberate us from the
curse." The goddess granted their prayer, came to the earth and became the
wife of Santanu.
When the goddess Ganga left Santanu and disappeared with
the eighth child, the king gave up all sensual pleasures and ruled the kingdom
in a spirit of asceticism. One day he was wandering along the banks of the
Ganges when he saw a boy endowed with the beauty and form of Devendra, the king
of the gods.
The child was amusing himself by
casting a dam of arrows across the Ganges in flood, playing with the mighty
river as a child with an indulgent mother. To the king who stood transfixed
with amazement at the sight, the goddess Ganga revealed herself and presented
the child as his own son.
She said: "O king, this is
that eighth child I bore you. I have brought him up till now. His name is Devavrata. He has mastered the art
of arms and equals Parasurama in prowess. He has learnt the Vedas and the
Vedanta from Vasishtha, and is well versed in the arts and sciences known to
Sukra. Take back with you this child who is a great archer and hero as well as
a master in statecraft."
Then she blessed the boy, handed
him to his father, the king, and disappeared.
3. Bhishma's Vow
WITH joy the king received to his
heart and his kingdom the resplendent and youthful prince Devavrata and crowned
him as the Yuvaraja, the heir apparent.
Four years went by. One day as
the king was wandering on the banks of the Yamuna, the air was suddenly filled
with a fragrance so divinely sweet that the king sought for its cause, and he
traced it to a maiden so lovely that she seemed a goddess. A sage had conferred
on her the boon that a divine perfume should emanate from her, and this was now
pervading the whole forest.
From the moment the goddess Ganga
left him, the king had kept his senses under control, but the sight of this
divinely beautiful maiden burst the bonds of restraint and filled him with an
overmastering desire. He asked her to be his wife.
The maiden said: "I am a
fisherwoman, the daughter of the chief of the fishermen. May it please you to
ask him and get his consent." Her voice was sweet as her form.
The father was an astute man.
He said: "O king, there is
no doubt that this maiden, like every other, has to be married to someone and
you are indeed worthy of her. Still you have to make a promise to me before you
can have her."
Santanu replied: "If it is a
just promise I shall make it."
The chief of the fisherfolk said:
"The child born of this maiden should be the king after you."
Though almost mad with passion,
the king could not make this promise, as it meant setting aside the godlike
Devavrata, the son of Ganga, who was entitled to the crown.
It was a price that could not be
thought of without shame. He therefore returned to his capital, Hastinapura,
sick with baffled desire. He did not reveal the matter to anyone and languished
in silence.
One day Devavrata asked his
father: "My father, you have all that your heart could wish. Why then are
you so unhappy? How is it that you are like one pining away with a secret
sorrow?"
The king replied: "Dear son,
what you say is true. I am indeed tortured with mental pain and anxiety. You
are my only son and you are always preoccupied with military ambitions. Life in
the world is uncertain and wars are incessant. If anything untoward befalls you
our family will become extinct. Of course, you are equal to a hundred sons.
Still, those who are well read in the scriptures say that in this transitory
world having but one son is the same as having no son at all. It is, not proper
that the perpetuation of our family should depends on a single life, and above
all things I desire the perpetuation of our family. This is the cause of my
anguish." The father prevaricated, being ashamed to reveal the whole story
to his son.
Thewise Devavrata realised that
there must be a secret cause for the mental condition of his father, and
questioning the king's charioteer came to know of his meeting with the
fishermaiden on the banks of the Yamuna. He went to the chief of the fishermen
and besought his daughter's hand on his father's behalf.
The fisherman was respectful, but
firm: "My daughter is indeed fit to be the king's spouse. Then should not
her son become king? But you have been crowned as the heir apparent and will
naturally succeed your father. It is this that stands in the way."
Devavrata replied: "I give
you my word that the son born of this maiden shall be king. And I renounce in
his favor my right as heir apparent," and he took a vow to that effect.
The chief of the fishermen said:
"O best of the Bharata race, you have done what no one else born of royal
blood has you have done till now. You are indeed a hero. You can yourself
conduct my daughter to the king, your father. Still, hear with patience these
words of mine which I say as the father of the girl.
"I have no doubt you will
keep your word, but how can I hope that the children born of you will renounce
their birthright? Your sons will naturally be mighty heroes like you, and will
be hard to resist if they seek to seize the kingdom by force. This is the doubt
that torments me."
When he heard this knotty
question posed by the girl's father, Devavrata, who was bent on fulfilling the
king's desire, made his supreme renunciation. He vowed with upraised arm to the
father of the maiden: "I shall never marry and I dedicate myself to a life
of unbroken chastity."
And as he uttered these words of
renunciation the gods showered flowers on his head, and cries of "Bhishma,"
"Bhishma" resounded in the air. "Bhishma" means one who
undertakes a terrible vow and fulfils it. That name became the celebrated
epithet of Devavrata from that time. Then the son of Ganga led the maiden
Satyavati to his father.
Two sons were born of Satyavati
to Santanu, Chitrangada and Vichitravirya, who ascended the throne one after
the other. Vichitravirya had two sons, Dhritarashtra and Pandu, born
respectively of his two queens, Ambika and Ambalika.
The sons of Dhritarashtra, a
hundred in number, were known as the Kauravas. Pandu had five sons who became
famous as the Pandavas. Bhishma lived long, honored by all as the grandsire
until the end of the famous battle of Kurukshetra.
The Family Tree
Santanu
(by
Ganga) (by Satyavati)
Bhishma Chitrangada&Vichitravirya
(by Ambika) (by Ambalika)
Dhtitarashtra Pandu
↓ ↓
The
Kauravas The Pandavas
4. Amba And Bhishma
CHITRANGADA, the son of
Satyavati, was killed in battle with a Gandharva. As he died childless, his
brother, Vichitravirya, was the rightful heir and was duly crowned king. And as
he was a minor, Bhishma governed the kingdom in his name till be came of age.
When Vichitravirya reached
adolescence Bhishma cast about for a bride for him. And as he heard that the
daughters of the king of Kasi were to choose theirhusbands according to the
ancient Kshatriya practice he went there to secure them for his brother.
The rulers of Kosla, Vanga,
Pundra, Kalinga and other princes and potentates had also repaired to Kasi for
the swayamvara, attired in their best. The princesses were so far-famed for
beauty and accomplishments that there was fierce competition to win them.
Bhishma was famous among the
Kshatriyas as a mighty man-at-arms. At first everyone thought that the
redoubtable hero had come merely to witness the festivities of the swayamvara. But
when they found that he was also a suitor, the young princes felt themselves
let down and were full of chagrin. They did not know that he had really come
for the sake of his brother, Vichitravirya.
The princes began to cast
affronts at Bhishma: "This most excellent and wise descendant of the
Bharata race forgets that he is too old and forgets also his vow of celibacy.
What has this old man to do with this swayamvara? Fie on him!" The
princesses who were to choose their husbands barely glanced at the old man and
looked away.
Bhishma's wrath flamed up. He
challenged the assembled princes to a trial of their manhood and defeated them
all. And taking the three princesses in his chariot he set out for Hastinapura.
But before he had gone far,
Salva, the king of the Saubala country who was attached to Amba, intercepted
and opposed him. For that princess had mentally chosen Salva as her husband.
After a bitter fight Salva was worsted, and no wonder, as Bhishma was a
peerless bowman. But at the request of the princesses Bhishma spared his life.
Arriving in Hastinapura with the
princesses, Bhishma made preparations for their marriage to Vichitravirya. When
all were assembled for the marriage, Amba smiled mockingly at Bhishma and
addressed him as follows: "O son of Ganga, you are aware of what is
enjoined in the scriptures. I have mentally chosen Salva, the king of Saubala,
as my husband. You have brought me here by force. Knowing this, do what you,
learned in the scriptures, should do."
Bhishma admitted the force of her
objection and sent her to Salva with proper escort. The marriage of Ambika and
Ambalika, the two younger sisters, with Vichitravirya was duly solemnised.
Amba went rejoicing to Salva and
told him what had happened: "I have mentally chosen you as my husband from
the very start. Bhishma has sent me to you. Marry me according to the
sastras."
Salva replied: "Bhishma
defeated me in sight of all, and carried you away. I have been disgraced. So, I
cannot receive you now as my wife. Return to him and do as he commands."
With these words Salva sent her back to Bhishma.
She returned to Hastinapura and
told Bhishma of what had taken place. The grandsire tried to induce
Vichitravirya to marry her. But Vichitravirya roundly refused to marry a maiden
whose heart had already been given to another.
Amba then turned to Bhishma and
she sought him to marry her himself as there was no other recourse. It was
impossible for Bhishma to break his vow, sorry as he was for Amba. And after
some vain attempts to make Vichitravirya change his mind, he told her there was
no way left to her but to go again to Salva and seek to persuade him.
This at first she was too proud
to do, and for long years she abode in Hastinapura. Finally, in sheer
desperation, she went to Salva and found him adamant in refusal.
The lotus-eyed Amba spent six
bitter years in sorrow and baffled hope. And her heart was seared with
suffering and all the sweetness in her turned to gall and fierce hatred towards
Bhishma as the cause of her blighted life.
She sought in vain for a champion
among the princes to fight and kill Bhishma and thus avenge her wrongs but even
the foremost warriors were afraid of Bhishma and paid no heed to her appeal.
At last, she resorted to hard
austerities to get the grace of Lord Subrahmanya. He graciously appeared before
her and gave her a garland of ever-fresh lotuses, saying that the wearer of
that garland would become the enemy of Bhishma.
Amba took the garland and again
be sought every Kshatriya to accept the garland gift of the six-faced Lord and
to champion her cause. But no one had the hardihood to antagonise Bhishma.
Finally, she went to King Drupada
who also refused to grant her prayer. She then hung the garland at Drupada's
palace gate and went away to the forest. Some ascetics whom she met there and
to whom she told her sorrowful tale advised her to go to Parasurama as a
suppliant. She followed their advice.
On hearing her sad story,
Parasurama was moved with compassion and said: "Dear child, what do you
want? I can ask Salva to marry you if you wish it."
Amba said: "No, I do not
wish it. I no longer desire marriage or home or happiness. There is now but one
thing in life for me, revenge on Bhishma. The only boon I seek is the death of
Bhishma."
Parasurama moved as much by her
anguish as by his abiding hatred of the Kshatriya race, espoused her cause and
fought with Bhishma. It was a long and equal combat between the two greatest
men-at-arms of the age. But in the end Parasurama had to acknowledge defeat. He
told Amba: "I have done all that I could and I have failed. Throw yourself
on the mercy of Bhishma. That is the only course left to you."
Consumed with grief and rage, and
kept alive only by the passion for revenge, Amba went to the Himalayas and
practised rigorous austerities to get the grace of Siva, now that all human aid
had failed her. Siva appeared before her and granted her a boon, that in her
next birth she would slay Bhishma.
Amba was impatient for that
rebirth which would give her heart's desire. She made a pyre and plunged into
the fire pouring out the flame in her heart into the scarcely hotter blaze of
the pyre.
By the grace of Lord Siva, Amba
was born as the daughter of King Drupada. A few years after her birth, she saw
the garland of never-fading flowers that still hung at the palace gate and had
remained there untouched by anyone through fear. She put it round her neck. Her
father Drupada was in consternation at her temerity which he feared would draw
on his head the wrath of Bhishma.
He sent his daughter in exile out
of the capital to the forest. She practised austerities in the forest and in
time was transformed into a male and became known as the warrior Sikhandin.
With Sikhandin as his charioteer,
Arjuna attacked Bhishma on the battlefield of Kurukshetra. Bhishma knew that
Sikhandin was born as female, and true to his code of chivalry he would not
fight him under any circumstance.
So it was that Arjuna could fight
screened by Sikhandin and conquer Bhishma, especially because Bhishma knew that
his long and weary probation on earth was finished and consented to be
vanquished.
As the arrows struck Bhishma in
his last fight, he singled out those which had pierced him deepest and said:
"This is Arjuna's arrow and not Sikhandin's." So fell this great
warrior.
5. Devayani And Kacha
IN ancient times, there was a
bitter struggle between the devas or gods and the asuras or demons for the
lordship of the three worlds. Both belligerents had illustrious preceptors.
Brihaspati who was pre-eminent in the knowledge of the Vedas was the guiding
spirit of the devas, while the asuras relied on Sukracharya's profound wisdom.
The asuras had the formidable
advantage that Sukracharya alone possessed the secret of Sanjivini which could
recall the dead to life. Thus the asuras who had fallen in the battle were
brought back to life, time and again, and continued their fight with the devas.
The devas were thus at a great disadvantage in their long drawn-out war with
their natural foes.
They went to Kacha, the son of
Brihaspati, and besought his aid. They begged him to win his way into the good
graces of Sukracharya and persuade him to take him as a pupil. Once admitted to
intimacy and confidence, he was to acquire, by fair means or foul, the secret
of Sanjivini and remove the great handicap under which the devas suffered.
Kacha acceded to their request
and set out to meet Sukracharya who lived in the capital city of Vrishaparva,
the king of the asuras. Kacha went to the house of Sukra, and after due
salutation, addressed him thus: "I am Kacha, the grandson of the sage
Angiras and the son of Brihaspati. I am a brahmacharin seeking knowledge under
your tutelage."
It was the law that the wise
teacher should not refuse a worthy pupil who sought knowledge of him. So Sukra
acceded and said: "Kacha, you belong to a good family. I accept you as my
pupil, the more willingly, that by doing so I shall also be showing my respect
for Brihaspati."
Kacha spent many years under
Sukracharya, rendering to perfection the prescribed duties in the household of
his master. Sukracharya had a lovelydaughter, Devayani, of whom he was
extremely fond. Kacha devoted himself to pleasing and serving her with song and
dance and pastime and succeeded in winning her affection, without detriment
however to the vows of brahmacharya.
When the asuras came to know of
this, they became anxious as they suspected that Kacha's object was somehow to
wheedle out of Sukracharya the secret of Sanjivini. They naturally sought to
prevent such a calamity.
One day, as Kacha was engaged in
grazing the cattle of his master the asuras seized him, tore him to pieces and
cast his flesh to the dogs. When the cattle returned without Kacha, Devayani
was filled with anxiety, and ran to her father with loud lamentations:
"The sun has set," she wailed, "and your nightly fire sacrifice
has been performed; still Kacha has not returned home. The cattle have come
back by themselves. I fear some mishap has befallen Kacha. I cannot live
without him."
The fond father employed the art
of Sanjivini and invoked the dead youth to appear. At once Kacha came back to
life and greeted the master with smiles. Asked by Devayani the reason for his
delay, he told her that as he was grazing the cattle the asuras came suddenly
on him and slew him. How he came back to life he knew not, but come back to
life he did, and there he was.
On another occasion Kacha went to
the forest to pluck flowers for Devayani, and again the asuras seized and
killed him, and pounding his body to a paste, mixed it up in sea-water. As he
did not return even after a long time Devayani went as before to her father who
brought Kacha back to life by his Sanjivini, and heard from him all that had
taken place.
For the third time again, the
Asuras killed Kacha and very cleverly as they thought, burnt his body, mixed
the ashes in wine and served it to Sukracharya who drank it, suspecting
nothing. Once more the cows returned home without their keeper, and once again
Devayani approached her father with her distressful appeal for Kacha.
Sukracharya tried in vain to
console his daughter. "Though I have again and again brought back Kacha to
life," said he, "the asuras seem bent upon killing him. Well, death
is the common lot, and it is not proper for a wise soul like you to sorrow at
it. Your life is all before you to enjoy, with youth and beauty and the
goodwill of the world."
Devayani deeply loved Kacha, and
since the world began, wise words have never cured the ache of bereavement. She
said: "Kacha, the grandson of Angiras and the son of Brihaspati, was a
blameless boy, who was devoted and tireless in our service. I loved him dearly,
and now that he has been killed, life to me has become bleak and insupportable.
I shall therefore follow in his path." And Devayani began to fast.
Sukracharya, heart-stricken by his daughter's sorrow, became very angry with
the asuras, and felt that the heinous sin of killing a brahmana would weigh
heavily on their fortunes.
He employed the Sanjivini art and
called upon Kacha to appear. By the power of the Sanjivini Kacha dispersed as
he was in the wine which was inside Sukracharya's body at the time, regained
life, but prevented by the peculiarity of his location from coming out, he
could only answer to his name from where he was.
Sukracharya exclaimed in angry
amazement: "O brahmacharin, how did you get into me? Is this also the work
of the asuras? This is really too bad and makes me feel like killing the asuras
immediately and joining the devas. But tell me the whole story."
Kacha narrated it all, in spite
of the inconvenience imposed by his position.
Vaisampayana continued: "The
high-souled and austere Sukracharya of immeasurable greatness, became angry at
the deceit practised on him in his wine, and proclaimed for the benefit of
humanity: 'Virtue will desert the man who through lack of wisdom drinks wine.
He will be an object of scorn to all, This is my message to humanity, which
should be regarded as an imperative scriptural injunction.' Then he turned to
his daughter Devayani and said: Dear daughter, here is a problem for you. For
Kacha to live, he must rend my stomach and come out of it, and that means death
to me. His life can only be bought by my death."
Devayani began to weep and said:
"Alas! It is death to me either way. For if either of you perish, I shall
not survive." Sukracharya sought a way out of the difficulty. The real
explanation of it all flashed on him.
He said to Kacha: "O son of Brihaspati, I now see
with what object you came and verily you have secured it! I must bring you out
to life for the sake of Devayani, but equally for her sake I must not die
either. The only way is to initiate you in the art of Sanjivini so that you can
bring me back to life after I shall have died when a way is torn out through my
entrails for you. You should employ the knowledge I am going to impart to you
and revive me, so that Devayani need not grieve for either of us."
Accordingly Sukracharya imparted
the art of Sanjivini to Kacha. Immediately Kacha came forth from Sukracharya's
body, emerging like the full moon from a cloud, while the great preceptor fell
down mangled and dead.
But Kacha at once brought
Sukracharya back to life by means of his newly acquired Sanjivini. Kacha bowed
down to Sukracharya and said: "The teacher who imparts wisdom to the
ignorant is a father. Besides, as I have issued from your body you are my
mother too."
Kacha remained for many more
years under the tutelage of Sukracharya. When the period of his vow ended, he
took leave of his master to return to the world of the gods.
As he was about to depart
Devayani humbly addressed him thus: "O, grandchild of Angiras, you have
won my heart by your blameless life, your great attainments and nobility of
birth. I have loved you long and tenderly, even while you were faithfully
following your vows of a brahmacharin. You should now reciprocate my love and
make me happy by marrying me. Brihaspati as well as yourself are fully worthy
of being honored by me. "
In those days, it was no uncommon
thing for wise and learned brahmana ladies to speak out their mind with honorable
frankness. But Kacha said:
"O faultless one, you are my
master's daughter and ever worthy of my respect. I got back my life by being
born out of your father's body. Hence I am your brother. It is not proper for
you, my sister, to ask me to wed you."
Devayani sought in vain to
persuade him. "You are the son of Brihaspati," said she, "and
not of my father. If I have been the cause of your coming back to life, it was
because I loved you as indeed I have always loved you as my husband. It is not
fit that you should give up one like me sinless and devoted to you."
Kacha replied: "Do not seek
to persuade me to unrighteousness. You are enchanting more so now than ever,
flushed as you are with anger. But I am your brother. Pray bid me adieu. Serve
unto perfection, ever and always, my master Sukracharya."
With these words Kacha gently disengaged himself and
proceeded to the abode of Indra, the king of gods. Sukracharya consoled his
daughter.
6.
The Marriage Of Devayani
ONE warm afternoon, pleasantly tired with sporting in the
woods Devayani and the daughters of Vrishaparva, king of the asuras, went to
bathe in the cool waters of a sylvan pool, depositing their garlands on the
bank before they entered its waters.
A strong breeze blew their clothes together into a huddled
heap and when they came to take them up again, some mistakes naturally
occurred. It so happened that princess Sarmishtha, the daughter of the king,
clad herself in Devayani's clothes. The latter was vexed and exclaimed half in
jest at the impropriety of the daughter of a disciple wearing the clothes of
the master's daughter.
These words were spoken half in jest, but the princess
Sarmishtha became very angry and said arrogantly: "Do you not know that
your father humbly bows in reverence to my royal father every day? Are you not
the daughter of a beggar who lives on my father's bounty? You forget I am of
the royal race which proudly gives, while you come of a race which begs and
receives, and you dare to speak thus to me."
Sarmishtha went on, getting angrier and angrier as she
spoke till, working herself up into a fit of anger, she finally slapped
Devayani on the cheek and pushed her into a dry well. The asura maidens thought
that Devayani had lost her life and returned to the palace.
Devayani had not been killed by the fall into the well but
was in a sad plight because she could not climb up the steep sides. Emperor
Yayati of the Bharata race who was hunting in the forest by a happy chance came
to this spot in search of water to slake his thirst. When he glanced into the
well, he saw something bright, and looking closer, he was surprised to find a
beautiful maiden lying in the well.
He asked: "Who are you, O beautiful maiden with
bright earrings and ruddy nails? Who is your father? What is your ancestry? How
did you fall into the well?" She
replied: "I am the daughter of Sukracharya. He does not know that I have
fallen into the well. Lift me up" and she held forth her hands. Yayati
seized her hand and helped her out of the well.
Devayani did not wish to return to the capital of the king
of the asuras. She did not feel it safe to go there, as she pondered again and
again on Sarmishtha's conduct. She told Yayati: "You have held a maiden by
her right hand, and you must marry her. I feel that you are in every way worthy
to be my husband."
Yayati replied: "Loving soul, I am a kshatriya and
you are a brahmana maiden. How can I marry you? How can the daughter of
Sukracharya, who is worthy to be the preceptor of the whole world, submit to be
the wife of a kshatriya like myself? Revered lady, return home." Having
said these words Yayati went back to his capital.
A kshatriya maiden could marry a brahmana, according to
the ancient tradition, but it was considered wrong for a brahmana maiden to
marry a kshatriya. The important thing was to keep the racial status of women
unlowered. Hence anuloma or the practice of marrying men of higher castes was
legitimate and the reverse practice, known as pratiloma, i.e. marrying men of a
lower caste, was prohibited by the sastras.
Devayani had no mind to return home. She remained sunk in
sorrow in the shade of a tree in forest. Sukracharya loved Devayani more than
his life. After waiting long in vain for the return of his daughter who had
gone to play with her companions, he sent a woman in search of her.
The messenger after a weary search came on her at last
near the tree where she was sitting in dejection, her eyes red with anger and
grief. And she asked her what had happened.
Devayani said: "Friend, go at once and tell my father
that I will not set my foot in the capital of Vrishaparva" and she sent
her back to Sukracharya.
Extremely grieved at the sad plight of his daughter
Sukracharya hurried to her.
Caressing her, he said: "It is by their own actions,
good or bad, that men are happy or miserable. The virtues or vices of others
will not affect us in the least." With these words of wisdom, he tried to
console her.
She replied in sorrow and anger: "Father, leave alone
my merits and faults, which are after all my own concern. But tell me this, was
Sarmishtha, the daughter of Vrishaparva, right when she told me you were but a
minstrel singing the praises of kings? She called me the daughter of a
mendicant living on the doles won by flattery. Not content with this arrogant contumely,
she slapped me and threw me into a pit which was nearby. I cannot stay in any
place within her father's territory." And Devayani began to weep.
Sukracharya drew himself up proudly: "Devayani,"
he said with dignity, "you are not the daughter of a court minstrel. Your
father does not live on the wages of flattery. You are the daughter of one who
is reverenced by all the world. Indra, the king of the gods, knows this, and
Vrishaparva is not ignorant of his debt to me. But no worthy man extols his own
merits, and I shall say no more about myself. Arise, you are a peerless gem
among women, bringing prosperity to your family. Be patient. Let us go
home."
In this context Bhagavan Vyasa advises humanity in general
in the following words of counsel addressed by Sukracharya to his daughter:
"He conquers the world, who patiently puts up with
the abuse of his neighbors. He who, controls his anger, as a horseman breaks an
unruly horse, is indeed a charioteer and not he who merely holds the reins, but
lets the horse go whither it would. He who sheds his anger just as a snake its
slough, is a real hero. He who is not moved despite the greatest torments
inflicted by others, will realise his aim. He who never gets angry is superior
to the ritualist who faith fully performs for a hundred years the sacrifices
ordained by scripture. Servants, friends, brothers, wife, children, virtue and
truth abandon the man who gives way to anger. The wise will not take to heart
the words of boys and girls."
Devayani humbly told her father: "I am indeed a
little girl, but, I hope, not too young to benefit by the great truth taught by
you. Yet, it is not proper to live with persons who have no sense of decency or
decorum. The wise will not keep company with those who speak ill of their
family. However rich they may be, the ill-mannered are really the veritable
chandalas outside the pale of caste. The virtuous should not mix with them. My
mind is ablaze with the anger roused by the taunts of Vrishaparva's daughter.
The wounds inflicted by weapons may close in time; scalds may heal gradually;
but wounds inflicted by words remain painful as long as one lives."
Sukracharya went to Vrishaparva and fixing his eyes on him
gravely said:
"O king, though one's sins may not bring immediate
punishment they are sure, sooner or later, to destroy the very germ of
prosperity. Kacha, the son of Brihaspati, was a brahmacharin who had conquered
his senses and never committed any sin. He served me with fidelity and never
strayed from the path of virtue. Your attendants tried to kill him. I bore it.
My daughter, who holds her honor high, had to hear dishonoring words uttered by
your daughter. Besides, she was pushed into a well by your daughter. She cannot
any more stay in your kingdom. Without her I cannot live here either. So, I am
going out of your kingdom."
At these words the king of the asuras was sorely troubled
and said: "I am ignorant of the charges laid at my door. If you abandon
me, I shall enter fire and die."
Sukracharya replied: "I care more for the happiness
of my daughter than for the fate of you and your asuras, for she is the one
thing I have and dearer to me than life itself. If you can appease her, it is
well and good. Otherwise I go."
Vrishaparva and his retinue went to the tree under which
Devayani stood and they threw themselves at her feet in supplication.
Devayani was stubborn and said: "Sarmishtha who told
me that I was the daughter of a beggar, should become my handmaiden and attend
on me in the house into which my father gives me in marriage."
Vrishaparva consented and asked his attendants to fetch
his daughter Sarmishtha.
Sarmishtha admitted her fault and bowed in submission. She
said: "Let it be as my companion Devayani desires. My father shall not
lose his preceptor for a fault committed by me. I will be her attendant,"
Devayani was pacified and returned to her house with her father.
On another occasion also Devayani came across Yayati. She
repeated her request that he should take her as his wife since he had clasped
her right hand. Yayati again repeated his objection that he, a kshatriya, could
not lawfully marry a brahmana.
Finally they both went to Sukracharya and got his assent
to their marriage. This is an instance of the pratiloma marriage which was
resorted to on exceptional occasions. The sastras, no doubt, prescribe what is
right and forbid what is wrong but a marriage once effected cannot be made
invalid.
Yayati and Devayani spent many days in happiness.
Sarmishtha remained with her as an attendant. One day Sarmishtha met Yayati in
secret and earnestly prayed to betaken also as his wife. He yielded to her
prayer and married her without the knowledge of Devayani.
But Devayani came to know of it and was naturally very
angry, She complained to her father and Sukracharya in his rage cursed Yayati
with premature old age.
Yayati, thus suddenly stricken with age in the very prime
of his manhood, begged so humbly for forgiveness that Sukracharya, who had not
forgotten Devayani's rescue from the well, at last relented.
He said: "O king, you have lost the glory which is
youth. The curse cannot be recalled, but if you can persuade anyone to exchange
his youth for your age the exchange will take effect." Thus he blessed
Yayati and bade him farewell.
7.
Yayati
EMPEROR Yayati was one of the ancestors of the Pandavas.
He had never known defeat. He followed the dictates of the sastras, adored the
gods and venerated his ancestors with intense devotion. He became famous as a
ruler devoted to the welfare of his subjects.
But as has already been told, he became prematurely old by
the curse of Sukracharya for having wronged his wife Devayani. In the words of
the poet of the Mahabharata:
"Yayati attained that old age which destroys beauty
and brings on miseries." It is needless to describe the misery of youth
suddenly blighted into age, where the horrors of loss are accentuated by pangs
of recollection.
Yayati, who found himself suddenly an old man, was still
haunted by the desire for sensual enjoyment. He had five beautiful sons, all
virtuous and accomplished. Yayati called them and appealed piteously to their
affection:
"The curse of your grandfather Sukracharya has made
me unexpectedly and prematurely old. I have not had my fill of the joys of
life. For, not knowing what was in store for me I lived a life of restraint,
denying myself even lawful pleasures. One of you ought to bear the burden of my
old age and give his youth in return. He who agrees to this and bestows his
youth on me will be the ruler of my kingdom. I desire to enjoy life in the full
vigor of youth."
He first asked his eldest son. That son replied: "O
great king, women and servants will mock at me if I were to take upon myself
your old age. I cannot do go. Ask of my younger brothers who are dearer to you
than myself."
When the second son was approached, he gently refused with
the words: "Father, you ask me to take up old age that destroys not only
strength and beauty but also as I see wisdom. I am not strong enough to do
so."
The third son replied: "An old man cannot ride a horse
or an elephant. His speech will falter. What can I do in such a helpless
plight? I cannot agree."
The king was angry and disappointed that his three sons
had declined to do as he wished, but he hoped for better from his fourth son,
to whom he said: "You should take up my old age. If you exchange your
youth with me, I shall give it back to you after some time and take back the
old age with which I have been cursed."
The fourth son begged to be forgiven as this was a thing
he could by no means consent to. An old man had to seek the help of others even
to keep his body clean, a most pitiful plight. No, much as he loved his father
he could not do it.
Yayati was struck with sorrow at the refusal of the four
sons. Still, hoping against hope, he supplicated his last son who had never yet
opposed his wishes: "You must save me. I am afflicted with this old age
with its wrinkles, debility and grey hairs as a result of the curse of
Sukracharya. It is too hard a trial! If you will take upon yourself these infirmities,
I shall enjoy life for just a while more and then give you back your youth and
resume my old age and all its sorrows. Pray, do not refuse as your elder
brothers have done."
Puru, the youngest son, moved by filial love, said:
"Father, I gladly give you my youth and relieve you of the sorrows of old
age and cares of state. Be happy."
Hearing these words Yayati embraced him. As soon as he
touched his son, Yayati became a youth. Puru, who accepted the old age of his
father, ruled the kingdom and acquired great renown. Yayati enjoyed life for
long, and not satisfied, went later to the garden of Kubera and spent many
years with an Apsara maiden.
After long years spent in vain efforts to quench desire by
indulgence, the truth dawned on him.
Returning to Puru, he said: "Dear son, sensual desire
is never quenched by indulgence any more than fire is by pouring ghee in it. I
had heard and read this, but till now I had not realised it. No object of
desire, corn, gold, cattle or women, nothing can ever satisfy the desire of
man, We can reach peace only by a mental poise beyond likes and dislikes. Such
is the state of Brahman. Take back your youth and rule the kingdom wisely and
well."
With these words Yayati took his old age. Puru, who
regained his youth, was made king by Yayati who retired to the forest. He spent
his time there in austerities and, in due course, attained heaven.
8.
Vidura
THE sage Mandavya who had acquired strength of mind and
knowledge of the scriptures, spent his days in penance and the practice of truth.
He lived in a hermitage in the forests on the outskirts of
the city. One day while he was immersed in silent contemplation under the shade
of a tree outside his hut of leaves, a band of robbers fled through the woods
with officers of the king in hot pursuit.
The fugitives entered the ashrama thinking that it would
be a convenient place to hide themselves in. They placed their booty in a
corner and hid themselves. The soldiers of the king came to the ashrama
tracking their footsteps.
The commander of the soldiers asked Mandavya, who was rapt
in deep meditation in a tone of peremptory command: "Did you see the
robbers pass by? Where did they go? Reply at once so that we may give chase and
capture them."
The sage, who was absorbed in yoga, remained silent. The
commander repeated the question insolently.
But the sage did not hear anything. In the meantime some of the
attendants entered the ashrama and discovered the stolen goods lying there.
They reported this to their commander. All of them went in
and found the stolen goods and the robbers who were in hiding.
The commander thought: "Now I know the reason why the
brahmana pretended to be a silent sage. He is indeed the chief of these
robbers. He has inspired this robbery." Then he ordered his soldiers to
guard the place, went to the king and told him that the sage Mandavya had been
caught with the stolen goods.
The king was very angry at the audacity of the chief of
the robbers who had put on the garb of a brahmana sage, the better to deceive
the world. Without pausing to verify the facts, he ordered the wicked criminal,
as he thought him, to be impaled.
The commander returned to the hermitage, impaled Mandavya
on a spear and handed over the stolen things to the king.
The virtuous sage, though impaled on the spear, did not
die. Since he was in yoga when he was impaled he remained alive by the power of
yoga. Sages who lived in other parts of the forest came to his hermitage and
asked Mandavya how he came to be in that terrible pass.
Mandavya replied: "Whom shall I blame? The servants
of the king, who protect the world, have inflicted this punishment."
The king was surprised and frightened when he heard that
the impaled sage was still alive and that he was surrounded by the other sages
of the forest. He hastened to the forest with his attendants and at once
ordered the sage to be taken down from the spear. Then he prostrated at his
feet and prayed humbly to be forgiven for the offence unwittingly committed.
Mandavya was not angry with the king. He went straight to
Dharma, the divine dispenser of justice, who was seated on his throne, and
asked him: "What crime have I committed to deserve this torture?"
Lord Dharma, who knew the great power of the sage, replied
in all humility: "O sage, you have tortured birds and bees. Are you not
aware that all deeds, good or bad, however small, inevitably produce their
results, good or evil?"
Mandavya was surprised at this reply of Lord Dharma and
asked: "When did I commit this offence?"
Lord Dharma replied: "When you were a child."
Mandavya then pronounced a curse on Dharma: "This
punishment you have decreed is far in excess of the deserts of a mistake
committed by a child in ignorance. Be born, therefore, as a mortal in the
world."
Lord Dharma who was thus cursed by the sage Mandavya
incarnated as Vidura and was born of the servant-maid of Ambalika, the wife of
Vichitravirya.
This story is intended to show that Vidura was the
incarnation of Dharma. The great men of the world regarded Vidura as a mahatma
who was unparalleled in his knowledge of dharma, sastras and statesmanship and
was totally devoid of attachment and anger. Bhishma appointed him, while he was
still in his teens, as the chief counsellor of king Dhritarashtra.
Vyasa has it that no one in the three worlds could equal
Vidura in virtue and knowledge. When Dhritarashtra gave his, permission for the
game of dice, Vidura fell at his feet and protested solemnly: "O king and
lord, I cannot approve of this action. Strife will set in among your sons as a
result. Pray, do not allow this."
Dhritarashtra also tried in manly ways to dissuade his
wicked son. He said to him: "Do not proceed with this game. Vidura does
not approve of it, the wise Vidura of lofty intellect who is ever intent on our
welfare. He says the game is bound to result in a fierceness of hate which will
consume us and our kingdom."
But Duryodhana did not heed this advice. Carried away by
his doting fondness for his son, Dhritarashtra surrendered his better judgment
and sent to Yudhishthira the fateful invitation to the game.
9.
Kunti Devi
SURA, the grandfather of Sri Krishna, was a worthy scion
of the Yadava race. His daughter Pritha was noted for her beauty and virtues.
Since his cousin Kuntibhoja was childless, Sura gave his daughter Pritha in
adoption to him. From that time she was known by the name of Kunti after her
adoptive father.
When Kunti was a little girl, the sage Durvasa stayed for
a time as a guest in her father's house and she served the sage for a year with
all care, patience and devotion. He was so pleased with her that he gave her a
divine mantra. He said:
"If you call upon any god repeating this mantra, he
will manifest himself to you and bless you with a son equal to him in
glory." He granted her this boon because he foresaw by his yogic power the
misfortune that was in store for her future husband.
The impatient curiosity of youth made Kunti test then and
there the efficacy of the mantra by repeating it and invoking the Sun whom she
saw shining in the heavens. At once the sky grew dark with clouds, and under
cover of them the Sun god approached the beautiful princess Kunti and stood
gazing at her with ardent soul scorching admiration. Kunti, overpowered by the
glorious vision of her divine visitor, asked: "O god, who art thou?"
The Sun replied: "Dear maiden, I am the Sun. I have
been drawn to you by the spell of the son-giving mantra that you have
uttered."
Kunti was aghast and said: "I am an unwedded girl
dependent on my father. I am not fit for motherhood and do not desire it. I merely
wished to test the power of the boon granted by the sage Durvasa. Go back and
forgive this childish folly of mine." But the Sun god could not thus
return because the power of the mantra held him. She for her part was mortally
afraid of being blamed by the world. The Sun god however reassured her:
"No blame shall attach to you. After bearing my son,
you will regain virginity.''
Kunti conceived by the grace of the Sun, the giver of
light and life to all the world. Divine births take place immediately without
the nine months weary course of mortal gestation.
She gave birth to Karna who was born with divine armor and
earrings and was bright and beautiful like the Sun. In time, he became one of
the world's greatest heroes. After the birth of the child, Kunti once again
became a virgin as a result of the boon granted by the Sun.
She wondered what she should do with the child. To hide
her fault she placed the child in a sealed box and set it afloat in a river. A
childless charioteer happened to see the floating case, and taking it, was
surprised and delighted to see within it a gorgeously beautiful child.
He handed it over to his wife who lavished a mother's love
on it. Thus Karna, the son of the Sun god, came to be brought up as a
charioteer's child. When the time came for giving Kunti in marriage, Kuntibhoja
invited all the neighboring princes and held a swayamvara for her to choose her
husband.
Many eager suitors flocked to the swayamvara as the
princess was widely famed for her great beauty and virtue. Kunti placed the
garland on the neck of King Pandu, the bright representative of the Bharata
race, whose personality eclipsed the lustre of all the other princes assembled
there. The marriage was duly solemnised and she accompanied her husband to his
capital Hastinapur.
On the advice of Bhishma and in accordance with the
prevailing custom, Pandu took a second wife Madri, the sister of the king of
Madra. In the old days the kings took two or three wives for making sure of
progeny and not for mere sensual desire.
10.
Death Of Pandu
ONE day King Pandu was out hunting. A sage and his wife
were also sporting in the forest in the guise of deer. Pandu shot the male with
an arrow, in ignorance of the fact that it was a sage in disguise. Stricken to
death the rishi thus cursed Pandu: "Sinner, you will meet with death the
moment you taste the pleasures of the bed."
Pandu was heartbroken at this curse and retreated to the
forest with his wives after entrusting his kingdom to Bhishma and Vidura and
lived there a life of perfect abstinence.
Seeing that Pandu was desirous of offspring, which the
rishi’s curse had denied him, Kunti confided to him the story of the mantra she
had received from Durvasa. He urged Kunti and Madri to use the mantra and thus
it was that the five Pandavas were born of the gods to Kunti and Madri.
They were born and brought up in the forest among
ascetics. King Pandu lived for many years in the forest with his wives and
children. It was springtime. And one day Pandu and Madri forgot their sorrows
in the rapture of sympathy with the throbbing life around them, the happy
flowers, creepers, birds and other creatures of the forest.
In spite of Madri’s earnest and repeated protests Pandu’s
resolution broke down under the exhilarating influence of the season, and at
once the curse of the sage took effect and Pandu fell, dead.
Madri could not contain her sorrow. Since she felt that
she was responsible for the death of the king. She burnt herself on the pyre of
her husband entreating Kunti to remain and be a mother to her doubly orphaned
children.
The sages of the forest took the bereaved and
grief-stricken Kunti and the Pandavas to Hastinapura and entrusted them to
Bhishma.
Yudhishthira was but sixteen years old at that time. When
the sages came to Hastinapura and reported the death of Pandu in the forest,
the whole kingdom was plunged in sorrow. Vidura, Bhishma, Vyasa, Dhritarashtra
and others performed the funeral rites.
All the people in the kingdom lamented as at a personal
loss. Vyasa said to Satyavati, the grandmother: "The past has gone by
pleasantly, but the future has many sorrows in store. The world has passed its
youth like a happy dream and it is now entering on disillusionment, sin, sorrow
and suffering. Time is inexorable. You need not wait to see the miseries and
misfortunes that will befall this race. It will be good for you to leave the
city and spend the rest of your days in a hermitage in the forest."
Satyavati agreed and went to the forest with Ambika and Ambalika. These three
aged queens passed through holy asceticism to the higher regions of bliss and
spared themselves the sorrows of their children.
11.
Bhima
THE five sons of Pandu and the hundred sons of
Dhritarashtra grew up in mirth and merriment at Hastinapura. Bhima excelled
them all in physical prowess. He used to bully Duryodhana and the other
Kauravas by dragging them by the hair and beating them.
A great swimmer, he would dive, into pools, with one or
more of them clasped helpless in his arms, and remain under water till they
were almost drowned. Whenever they climbed up on a tree he would stand on the
ground and kick at the tree and shake them down like ripe fruits.
The bodies of the sons of Dhritarashtra would be ever sore
with bruises as a result of Bhima's practical jokes. Small wonder that the sons
of Dhritarashtra nursed a deep hatred for Bhima from their very infancy.
As the princes grew up. Kripacharya taught them archery
and the practice of arms and other things that princes should learn.
Duryodhana's jealousy towards Bhima warped his mind and made him commit many
improper acts.
Duryodhana was very much worried. His father being blind,
the kingdom was ruled by Pandu. After his death Yudhishthira, the
heir-apparent, would in course of time become king. Duryodhana thought that as
his blind father was quite helpless he must, to prevent Yudhishthira's
accession to the throne, contrive a way of killing Bhima.
He made arrangements to carry out his resolve since he
thought that the powers of the Pandavas would decline with the death of Bhima.
Duryodhana and his brothers planned to throw Bhima into
the Ganges, imprison Arjuna and Yudhishthira, and then seize the kingdom and
rule it. So Duryodhana went with his brothers and the Pandavas for a swim in
the Ganges.
After the sports they slept in their tents being
exhausted. Bhima had exerted himself more than the others and as his food had
been poisoned, he felt drowsy and lay down on the bank of the river. Duryodhana
bound him with wild creepers and threw him into the river.
The evil Duryodhana had already caused sharp spikes to be
planted on the spot. This was done purposely so that Bhima might in falling be
impaled on the spikes, and lose his life. Fortunately there was no spike in the
place where Bhima fell. Poisonous water-snakes bit his body.
The poisonous food he had taken was counteracted by the
snake poison and Bhima came to no harm, and presently, the river washed him to
a bank.
Duryodhana thought that Bhima must have died as he had
been thrown in the river infested with poisonous snakes and planted with
spikes. So he returned to the city with the rest of the party in great joy.
When Yudhishthira inquired about the whereabouts of Bhima,
Duryodhana informed him that he had preceded them to the city.
Yudhishthira believed Duryodhana and as soon as he
returned home, asked his mother whether Bhima had returned home.
His anxious question brought forth the reply that Bhima
had not yet returned, which made Yudhishthira suspect some foul play against
his brother. And he went again with his brothers to the forest and searched
everywhere. But Bhima could not be found. They went back in great sorrow.
Sometime later Bhima awoke and trudged wearily back home.
Kunti and Yudhishthira welcomed him and embraced him in great joy. By the
poison that had entered his system Bhima became stronger than before.
Kunti sent for Vidura and told him in secret:
"Duryodhana is wicked and cruel. He seeks to kill
Bhima since he wants to rule the kingdom. I am worried."
Vidura replied: "What you say is true, but keep your
thoughts to yourself. For if the wicked Duryodhana is accused or blamed, his
anger and hatred will only increase. Your sons are blessed with long life. You
need have no fear on that account."
Yudhishthira also warned Bhima and said: "Be silent
over the matter. Hereafter, we have to be careful and help one another and
protect ourselves."
Duryodhana was surprised to see Bhima come back alive. His
jealousy and hatred increased. He heaved a deep sigh and pined away in sorrow.
12.
Karna
THE Pandavas and the Kauravas learnt the practice of arms
first from Kripacharya and later from
Drona. A day was fixed for a test and exhibition of their proficiency in the
use of arms in the presence of the royal family and as the public had also been
invited to witness the performance of their beloved princes. There was a large
and enthusiastic crowd.
Arjuna displayed superhuman skill with his weapons and the
vast assemblage was lost in wonder and admiration. Duryodhana's brow was dark
with envy and hate.
At the close of the day, there came suddenly from the
entrance of the arena a sound, loud and compelling like thunder the sound made
by the slapping of mighty arms in challenge. All eyes turned in that direction.
They saw enter through the crowd, which made way in awed silence, a godlike
youth from whom light and power seemed to emanate. He looked proudly round him,
cast a negligent salute to Drona and Kripa, and strode up to Arjuna. The
brothers, all unaware, by the bitter irony of fate, of their common blood, faced
one another; for it was Karna.
Karna addressed Arjuna in a voice deep as rumbling
thunder: "Arjuna, I shall show greater skill than you have
displayed."
With Drona's leave, Karna the lover of battle, then and
there duplicated all of Arjuna's feats with careless ease. Great was
Duryodhana's exultation. He threw his arms round Karna and said: "Welcome,
O thou with mighty arms, whom good fortune has sent to us. I and this kingdom
of the Kurus are at your command."
Said Karna: "I, Karna, am grateful, O king. Only two
things I seek, your love and single combat with Partha."
Duryodhana clasped Karna again to his bosom and said:
"My prosperity is all thine to enjoy."
As love flooded Duryodhana's heart, even so did blazing
wrath fill Arjuna, who felt affronted. And glaring fiercely at Karna who stood,
stately as a mountain peak, receiving the greetings of the Kaurava brothers, he
said: "O Karna, slain by me thou shalt presently go to the hell appointed
for those who intrude uninvited and prate unbidden."
Karna laughed in scorn: "This arena is open to all, O
Arjuna, and not to you alone. Might is the sanction of sovereignty and the law
is based on it. But what is the use of mere talk which is the weapon of the
weak? Shoot arrows instead of words."
Thus challenged, Arjuna, with Drona's permission, hastily
embraced his brothers and stood ready for combat. While Karna, taking leave of
the Kuru brothers, confronted him weapon in hand.
And, as though the divine parents of the heroes sought to
encourage their offspring and witness this fateful battle, Indra, the lord of
the thunderclouds, and Bhaskara of the in finite rays, simultaneously appeared
in the heavens.
When she saw Karna, Kunti knew him as her first born and
fainted away. Vidura instructed the maidservant to attend upon her and she
revived. She stood stupefied with anguish not knowing what to do.
As they were about to join in battle, Kripa, well-versed
in the rules of single combat, stepped between them and addressed Karna:
"This prince, who is ready to fight with thee, is the
son of Pritha and Pandu and a scion of the Kuru race. Reveal O mighty armed thy
parentage and the race rendered illustrious by thy birth. It is only after
knowing thy lineage that Partha can fight with thee, for high-born princes
cannot engage in single combat with unknown adventurers."
When he heard these words, Karna bent down his head like a
lotus under the weight of rainwater.
Duryodhana stood up and said: "If the combat cannot
take place merely because Karna is not a prince, why, that is easily remedied.
I crown Karna as the king of Anga." He then obtained the assent of Bhishma
and Dhritarashtra, performed all the necessary rites and invested Karna with
the sovereignty of the kingdom of Anga giving him the crown, jewels and other
royal insignia.
At that moment, as the combat between the youthful heroes
seemed about to commence, the old charioteer Adhiratha, who was the
foster-father of Karna, entered the assembly, staff in hand and quaking with
fear.
No sooner did he see him, that Karna, the newly crowned
king of Anga, bowed his head and did humble obeisance in all filial reverence.
The old man called him son, embraced him with his thin and trembling arms, and
wept with joy wetting with tears of love his head already moistened by the water
of the coronation.
At this sight, Bhima roared with laughter and said:
"O he is after all only the son of a charioteer! Take up the driving whip
then as befits thy parentage. Thou art not worthy of death at the hands of
Arjuna. Nor shouldst thou reign in Anga as a king."
At this outrageous speech, Karna's lips trembled with
anguish and he speechlessly looked up at the setting sun with a deep sigh.
But Duryodhana broke in indignantly:
"It is unworthy of you, O Vrikodara, to speak thus.
Valor is the hallmark of a kshatriya. Nor is there much sense in tracing great
heroes and mighty rivers to their sources. I could give you hundreds of
instances of great men of humble birth and I know awkward questions might be
asked of your own origin. Look at this warrior, his godlike form and bearing,
his armor and earrings, and his skill with weapons. Surely there is some
mystery about him. For how could a tiger be born of an antelope? Unworthy of
being king of Anga, didst thou say? I verily hold him worthy to rule the whole
world."
In generous wrath, Duryodhana took Karna in his chariot
and drove away.
The sun set and the crowd dispersed in tumult. There were
groups loud in talk under the light of the lamps, some glorifying Arjuna,
others Karna, and others again Duryodhana according to their predilection.
Indra foresaw that a supreme contest was inevitable
between his son Arjuna and Karna. And he put on the garb of a brahmana and came
to Karna, who was reputed for his charity and begged of him his earrings and
armor. The Sun god had already warned Karna in a dream that Indra would try to
deceive him in this manner.
Still, Karna could not bring himself to refuse any gift
that was asked of him. Hence he cut off the earrings and armor with which he
was born and gave them to the brahmana.
Indra, the king of gods, was filled with surprise and joy.
After accepting the gift, he praised Karna as having done what no one else
would do, and, shamed into generosity, bade Karna ask for any boon he wanted.
Karna replied: "I desire to get your weapon, the
Sakti, which has the power to kill enemies." Indra granted the boon, but
with a fateful proviso. He said: "You can use this weapon against but one
enemy, and it will kill him whosoever he may be. But this killing done, this
weapon will no longer be available to you but will return to me." With
these words Indra disappeared.
Karna went to Parasurama and became his disciple by
representing to him that he was a brahmana. He learnt of Parasurama the mantra
for using the master weapon known as Brahmastra.
One day Parasurama was reclining with the head on Karna's
lap when a stinging worm burrowed into Karna's thigh. Blood began to flow and
the pain was terrible. But Karna bore it without tremor lest he should disturb
the master's sleep. Parasurama awoke and saw the blood that had poured from the
wound.
He said: "Dear pupil, you are not a brahmana. A
kshatriya alone can remain unmoved under all bodily torments. Tell me the
truth."
Karna confessed that he had told a lie in presenting
himself as a brahmana and that he was in fact the son of a charioteer.
Parasurama in his anger pronounced this curse on him:
"Since you deceived your guru, the Brahmastra you have learnt shall fail
you at the fated moment. You will be unable to recall the invocatory mantra
when your hour comes."
It was because of this curse that at the crisis of his
last fight with Arjuna, Karna was not able to recall the Brahmastra spell,
though he had remembered it till then. Karna was the faithful friend of
Duryodhana and remained loyally with the Kauravas until the end.
After the fall of Bhishma and Drona, Karna became the
leader of the Kaurava army and fought brilliantly for two days. In the end, the
wheel of his chariot stuck in the ground and be was not able to lift it free
and drive the chariot along. While he was in this predicament, Arjuna killed
him. Kunti was sunk in sorrow, all the more poignant because she had, at that
time, to conceal it.
13.
Drona
DRONA, the son of a brahmana named Bharadwaja, after
completing his study of the Vedas and the Vedangas, devoted himself to the art
of archery and became a great master.
Drupada, the son of the king of Panchala, who was a friend
of Bharadwaja, was a fellow-student of Drona in the hermitage and there grew up
between them the generous intimacy of youth.
Drupada, in his boyish enthusiasm, used often to tell
Drona that he would give him half his kingdom when he ascended the throne.
After completing his studies, Drona married the sister of Kripa, and a son
Aswatthama was born to them.
Drona was passionately attached to his wife and son, and,
for their sake, desired to acquire wealth, a thing that he had never cared for
before. Learning that Parasurama was distributing his riches among the
brahmanas, he first went to him. But he was too late as Parasurama had already
given away all his wealth and was about to retire to the forest.
But, anxious to do something for Drona, Parasurama offered
to teach him the use of weapons, of which he was supreme master.
Drona joyfully agreed, and great archer as he already was,
he became unrivalled master of the military art, worthy of eager welcome as
preceptor in any princely house in that warlike age.
Meanwhile, Drupada had ascended the throne of Panchala on
the death of his father. Remembering their early intimacy and Drupada's
expressions of readiness to serve him, even to the extent of sharing his
kingdom, Drona went to him in the confident hope of being treated generously.
But he found the king very different from the student.
When he introduced himself as an old friend, Drupada, far from being glad to
see him, felt it an intolerable presumption.
Drunk with power and wealth, Drupada said: "O
brahmana, how dare you address me familiarly as your friend? What friendship
can there be between a throned king and a wandering beggar? What a fool must
you be to presume on some long past acquaintance to claim friend ship with a
king who rules a kingdom? How can a pauper be the friend of a wealthy man, or
an ignorant boor of a learned scholar, or a coward of a hero? Friendship can
exist only between equals. A vagrant beggar cannot be the friend of a
sovereign." Drona was turned out of the palace with scorn in his ears and
a blazing wrath in his heart.
He made a mental vow to punish the arrogant king for this
insult and his repudiation of the sacred claims of early friendship. His next
move in search of employment was to go to Hastinapura, where he spent a few
days, in retirement, in the house of his brother-in-law Kripacharya.
One day, the princes were playing with a ball outside the
precincts of the city, and in the course of the game, the ball as well as
Yudhishthira's ring fell into a well. The princes had gathered round the well
and saw the ring shining from the bottom through the clear water. But could see
no way of getting it out. They did not however, notice that a brahmana of dark
complexion stood nearby watching them with a smile.
"Princes," he surprised them by saying,
"you are the descendants of the heroic Bharata race. Why cannot you take
out the ball as anyone skilled in arms should know how to do? Shall I do it for
you?"
Yudhishthira laughed and said in fun: "O brahmana, if
you take out the ball, we will see that you have a good meal in the house of
Kripacharya." Then Drona the brahmana stranger, took a blade of grass and
sent it forth into the well after reciting certain words of power for
propelling it as an arrow.
The blade of grass straightway sped and stuck into the
ball. Afterwards he sent a number of similar blades in succession which clinging
together formed a chain, wherewith Drona took out the ball.
The princes were lost in amazement and delight and begged
of him to get the ring also. Drona borrowed a bow, fixed an arrow on the string
and sent it right into the ring. The arrow rebounding brought up the ring and
the brahmana handed it to the prince with a smile.
Seeing these feats, the princes were astonished and said:
"We salute you, O brahmana. Who are you? Is there anything we can do for
you?" and they bowed to him.
He said: "O princes, go to Bhishma and learn from him
who I am."
From the description given by the princes, Bhishma knew
that the brahmana was none other than the famous master Drona. He decided that
Drona was the fittest person to impart further instruction to the Pandavas and
the Kauravas. So, Bhishma received him with special honor and employed him to
instruct the princes in the use of arms.
As soon as the Kauravas and the Pandavas had acquired
mastery in the science of arms, Drona sent Karna and Duryodhana to seize Drupada
and bring him alive, in discharge of the duty they owed to him as their master.
They went as ordered by him, but could not accomplish
their task. Then the master sent forth Arjuna on the same errand. He defeated
Drupada in battle and brought him and his minister captives to Drona.
Then Drona smilingly addressed Drupada: "Great king,
do not fear for your life. In our boyhood we were companions but you were
pleased to forget it and dishonor me. You told me that a king alone could be
friend to a king. Now I am a king, having conquered your kingdom. Still I seek
to regain my friendship with you, and so I give you half of your kingdom that
has become mine by conquest. Your creed is that friendship is possible only
between equals. And we shall now be equals, each owning a half of your
kingdom."
Drona thought this sufficient revenge for the insult he
had suffered, set Drupada at liberty and treated him with honor. Drupada's
pride was thus humbled but, since hate is never extinguished by retaliation,
and few things are harder to bear than the pangs of wounded vanity, hatred of
Drona and a wish to be revenged on him became the ruling passion of Drupada's
life.
The king performed tapas, underwent fasts and conducted
sacrifices in order to win the gratified gods to bless him with a son who
should slay Drona and a daughter who should wed Arjuna.
His efforts were crowned with success with the birth of
Dhrishtadyumna who commanded the Pandava army at Kurukshetra and, helped by a
strange combination of circumstances, slew the otherwise unconquerable Drona,
and birth of Draupadi, the consort of the Pandavas.
14.
The Wax Palace
THE jealousy of Duryodhana began to grow at the sight of
the physical strength of Bhima and the dexterity of Arjuna. Karna and Sakuni
became Duryodhana's evil counsellors in planning wily stratagems.
As for poor Dhritarashtra, he was a wise man no doubt and
he also loved his brother's sons, but he was weak of will and dotingly attached
to his own children. For his children's sake the worse became the better
reason, and he would sometimes even knowingly follow the wrong path.
Duryodhana sought in various ways to kill the Pandavas. It
was by means of the secret help rendered by Vidura who wanted to save the
family from a great sin, that the Pandavas escaped with their lives.
One unforgivable offence of the Pandavas in the eyes of
Duryodhana was that the people of the city used to praise them openly and
declare in season and out of season that Yudhishthira alone was fit to be the
king.
They would flock together and argue:
"Dhritarashtra could never be king for he was born
blind. It is not proper that he should now hold the kingdom in his hands.
Bhishma cannot be king either, because he is devoted to truth and to his vow
that he would not be a king. Hence Yudhishthira alone should be crowned as
king. He alone can rule the Kuru race and the kingdom with justice." Thus
people talked everywhere. These words were poison to Duryodhana's ears, and
made him writhe and burn with jealousy.
He went to Dhritarashtra and complained bitterly of the
public talk: "Father, the citizens babble irrelevant nonsense. They have
no respect even for such venerable persons as Bhishma and yourself. They say
that Yudhishthira should be immediately crowned king. This would bring disaster
on us. You were set aside because of your blindness, and your brother became
the king. If Yudhishthira is to succeed his father, where do we come? What
chance has our progeny? After Yudhishthira his son, and his son's son, and then
his son will be the kings. We will sink into poor relations dependent on them
even for our food. To live in hell would be better than that!"
At these words, Dhritarashtra began to ponder and said:
"Son, what you say is true. Still Yudhishthira will not stray from the path
of virtue. He loves all. He has truly inherited all the excellent virtues of
his deceased father. People praise him and will support him, and all the
ministers of the State and commanders of armies, to whom Pandu had endeared
himself by his nobility of character, will surely espouse his cause. As for the
people, they idolise the Pandavas. We cannot oppose them with any chance of
success. If we do injustice, the citizens will rise in insurrection and either
kill us or expel us. We shall only cover ourselves with ignominy."
Duryodhana replied: "Your fears are baseless. Bhishma
will at worst be neutral, while Ashwatthama is devoted to me, which means that
his father Drona and uncle Kripa will also be on our side. Vidura cannot openly
oppose us, if for no other reason, because he has not the strength. Send the
Pandavas immediately to Varanavata. I tell you the solemn truth that my cup of
suffering is full and I can bear no more. It pierces my heart and renders me
sleepless and makes my life a torment. After sending the Pandavas to Varanavata
we shall try to strengthen our party."
Later, some politicians were prevailed upon to join
Duryodhana's party and advise the king in the matter. Kanika, the minister of
Sakuni, was their leader. "O king," he said, "guard yourselves
against the sons of Pandu, for their goodness and influence are a menace to you
and yours. The Pandavas are the sons of your brother, but the nearer the kin,
the closer and deadlier the danger. They are very strong."
Sakuni's minister continued: "Be not wroth with me if
I say a king should be mighty in action as in name, for nobody will believe in
strength which is never displayed. State affairs should be kept secret and the
earliest indication to the public, of a wise plan, should be its execution.
Also, evils must be eradicated promptly for a thorn which has been allowed to
remain in the body may cause a festering wound. Powerful enemies should be
destroyed and even a weak foe should not be neglected since a mere spark, if
over looked, may cause a forest fire. A strong enemy should be destroyed by
means of stratagem and it would be folly to show mercy to him. O king, guard
yourself against the sons of Pandu. They are very powerful."
Duryodhana told Dhritarashtra of his success in securing
adherents: "I have bought the goodwill of the king's attendants with gifts
of wealth and honor. I have won over his ministers to our cause. If you will
adroitly prevail upon the Pandavas to go to Varanavata, the city and the whole
kingdom will take our side. They will not have a friend left here. Once the
kingdom has become ours, there will be no power for harm left in them, and it
may even be possible to let them come back."
When many began to say what he himself wished to believe,
Dhritarashtra's mind was shaken and he yielded to his sons' counsels. It only
remained to give effect to the plot.
The ministers began to praise the beauty of Varanavata in
the hearing of the Pandavas and made mention of the fact that a great festival
in honor of Siva would be conducted there with all pomp and splendor.
The unsuspecting Pandavas were easily persuaded,
especially when Dhritarashtra also told them in tones of great affection that
they should certainly go and witness the festivities, not only because they
were worth seeing but because the people of the place were eager to welcome
them.
The Pandavas took leave of Bhishma and other elders and
went to Varanavata. Duryodhana was elated. He plotted with Karna and Sakuni to
kill Kunti and her sons at Varanavata. They sent for Purochana, a minister, and
gave him secret instructions which he bound himself to carry out faithfully.
Before the Pandavas proceeded to Varanavata, Purochana,
true to his instructions, hastened to the spot well in advance and had a
beautiful palace built for their reception. Combustible materials like jute,
lac, ghee, oil, and fat were used in the construction of the palace. The
materials for the plastering of the walls were also inflammable. He skilfully
filled up various parts of the building with dry things that could catch fire
easily, and had inviting seats and bedsteads disposed at the most combustible
places.
Every convenience was furnished for the Pandavas to dwell
in the city without fear, until the palace was built. When the Pandavas had
settled down in the wax house, the idea was to set fire to it at night when
they were sound asleep.
The ostentatious love and solicitude with which the
Pandavas had been received and treated would obviate all suspicion and the fire
would be taken as a sad case of pure accident. No one would dream of blaming
the Kauravas.
15.
The Escape Of The Pandavas
AFTER taking reverential leave of the elders and embracing
their comrades, the Pandavas proceeded to Varanavata. The citizens accompanied
them a part of their way and returned unwillingly to the city. Vidura pointedly
warned Yudhishthira in words intelligible only to the prince:
"He alone will escape from danger who forestalls the
intentions of an astute enemy. There are weapons sharper than those made of
steel. And the wise man who would escape destruction must know the means to
guard against them. The conflagration that devastates a forest cannot hurt a
rat which shelters itself in a hole or a porcupine which burrows in the earth.
The wise man knows his bearings by looking at the stars."
Though they had started on their journey in sunshine of
joy, they now proceeded in a dark cloud of sorrow and anxiety.
The people of Varanavata were very happy to learn of the
coming of the Pandavas to their city and welcomed them. After a brief stay in
other houses while the palace specially meant for them was being got ready,
they moved into it under Purochana's guidance.
It was named "Sivam" which means prosperity, and
that was the name which, in ghastly irony, was given to the deathtrap.
Yudhishthira diligently examined the whole place bearing in mind Vidura's
warning and verified that the building was without a shadow of doubt
constructed with combustible material.
Yudhishthira told Bhima: "Though we know very well
that the palace is a trap of death, we should not make Purochana suspect that
we know his plot. We should get away at the right moment but escape would be
difficult if we gave room for any suspicion."
So they stayed in that house to all appearance free from
care. Meanwhile, Vidura had sent an expert miner who met them in secret and
said: "My password is the veiled warning Vidura gave you. I have been sent
to help you for your protection."
This was meant to indicate to Yudhishthira and to him
alone, Duryodhana's hideous plot and the means of escape from danger.
Yudhishthira answered that he had grasped Vidura's meaning, and later he
communicated it to Kuntidevi.
Henceforward the miner worked for many days in secret,
unknown to Purochana, and completed a subterranean egress from the wax house
right under and across the walls and the moat, which ran round the precincts.
Purochana had his quarters at the gateway of the palace.
The Pandavas kept armed vigil during night, but by day they used to go out
hunting in the forest, to all appearance bent on pleasure but really to make
themselves familiar with the forest paths.
As has already been said, they carefully kept to
themselves their knowledge of the wicked plot against their lives. On his side
Purochana, anxious to lull all suspicion and make the murderous fire seem an
accident, waited fully a year before putting the plot into effect.
At last Purochana felt he had waited long enough. And the
watchful Yudhishthira, knowing that the fated moment had arrived, called his
brothers together and told them that now or never was the time for them to
escape.
Kuntidevi arranged a sumptuous feast for the attendants
that day. Her idea was to lull them to well-fed sleep at night.
At midnight, Bhima set fire to the palace in several places.
Kuntidevi and the Pandava brothers hurried out through the subterranean
passage, groping their way out in the darkness. Presently, there was a roaring
fire all over the palace and a fast swelling crowd of frightened citizens all
around in loud and helpless lamentation.
Some bustled aimlessly in futile efforts to put out the
conflagration and all joined in the cry: "Alas! Alas! This surely is
Duryodhana's work, and he is killing the sinless Pandavas!"
The palace was reduced to ashes. Purochana's residence was
enveloped in flames before he could escape and he fell an unpitied victim to
his own wicked plot.
The people of Varanavata, sent the following message to
Hastinapura: "The palace which was the abode of the Pandavas has burnt
down and no one in it escaped alive."
Vyasa has beautifully described the then mental state of
Dhritarashtra: "Just as the water of a deep pool is cool at the bottom and
warm on the surface, so the heart of Dhritarashtra was at once warm with joy
and chilled with sorrow."
Dhritarashtra and his sons cast off their royal garments
in token of mourning for the Pandavas whom they believed consumed in the fire.
They dressed themselves in single garments as became sorrowful kinsmen and went
to the river and performed the propitiatory funeral rites.
No outward show of heart broken bereavement was omitted.
It was noticed by some that Vidura was not so overcome by sorrow as the others
and this was set down to his philosophical bent of mind. But the real reason
was that he knew that the Pandavas had escaped to safety.
When he looked sad, he was in fact following with his
mind's eye the weary wanderings of the Pandavas. Seeing that Bhishma was sunk
in sorrow, Vidura secretly comforted him by revealing to him the story of their
successful escape.
Bhima saw that his mother and brothers were exhausted by
their nightly vigils as well as by fear and anxiety. He therefore carried his
mother on his shoulders and took Nakula and Sahadeva on his hips, supporting
Yudhishthira and Arjuna with his two hands.
Thus heavily laden, he strode effortlessly like a lordly
elephant forcing his way through the forest and pushing aside the shrubs and
trees that obstructed his path.
When they reached the Ganges, there was a boat ready for
them in charge of a boatman who knew their secret. They crossed the river in
the darkness, and entering a mighty forest they went on at night in darkness
that wrapped them like a shroud and in a silence broken hideously by the
frightful noises of wild animals.
At last, quite fordone by toil, they sat down unable to
bear the pangs of thirst and overcome by the drowsiness of sheer fatigue.
Kuntidevi said: "I do not care even if the sons of Dhritarashtra are here
to seize me, but I must stretch my legs." She forthwith laid herself down and
was sunk in sleep.
Bhima forced his way about the tangled forest in search of
water in the darkness. And finding a pool, he wetted his upper garment, made
cups of lotus leaves and brought water to his mother and brothers who were
perishing with thirst.
Then, while the others slept in merciful forgetfulness of
their woes, Bhima alone sat awake absorbed in deep thought. "Do not the
plants and the creepers of the forest mutually help each other and live in
peace?" he reflected; "why should the wicked Dhritarashtra and
Duryodhana try to injure us in these ways?" Sinless himself, Bhima could
not understand the springs of sinfulness in others and was lost in grief.
The Pandavas marched on, suffering many hardships and
overcoming many dangers. Part of the way, they would carry their mother to make
better speed. Sometimes, tired beyond even heroic endurance, they would pause
and rest. Sometimes, full of life and the glorious strength of youth, they
would race with each other.
They met Bhagavan Vyasa on the way. All of them bowed
before him and received encouragement and wise counsel from him.
When Kunti told him of the sorrows that had befallen them,
Vyasa consoled her with these words: "No virtuous man is strong enough to
live in virtue at all times, nor is any sinner bad enough to exist in one
welter of sin. Life is a tangled web and there is no one in the world who has
not done both good and evil. Each and everyone has to bear the consequence of
his actions. Do not give way to sorrow."
Then they put on the garb of brahmanas, as advised by
Vyasa, went to the city of Ekachakra and stayed there in a brahmana's house,
waiting for better days.
16.
The Slaying Of Bakasura
IN the city of Ekachakra, the Pandavas stayed in the guise
of brahmanas, begging their food in the brahmana streets and bringing what they
got to their mother, who would wait anxiously till their return. If they did
not come back in time, she would be worried, fearing that some evil might have
befallen them.
Kunti would divide the food they brought in two equal
portions. One half would go to Bhima. The other half would be shared by the
other brothers and the mother. Bhima, being born of the Wind god had great
strength and a mighty appetite.
Vrikodara, one of the names of Bhima, means wolf-bellied,
and a wolf, you know, looks always famished. And however much it might eat, its
hunger is never quite satisfied.
Bhima's insatiable hunger and the scanty food he used to
get at Ekachakra went ill together. And he daily grew thin, which caused much
distress to his mother and brothers. Sometime later, Bhima became acquainted
with a potter for whom he helped and fetched clay. The potter, in return,
presented him with a big earthen pot that became an object of merriment to the
street urchins.
One day, when the other brothers had gone to beg for alms,
Bhimasena stayed behind with his mother, and they heard loud lamentations from
the house of their brahmana landlord. Some great calamity surely had befallen
the poor family and Kunti went inside to learn what it was.
The brahmana and his wife could hardly speak for weeping,
but, at last the brahmana said to his wife: "O unfortunate and foolish
woman, though time and again I wished we should leave this city for good, you
would not agree. You persisted in saying that you were born and bred here and
here you would stay where your parents and relations had lived and died. How
can I think of losing you who have been to me at once my life's mate, loving
mother, the wife who bore my children, nay, my all in all? I cannot send you to
death while I keep myself alive. This little girl has been given to us by God
as a trust to be handed over in time to a worthy man. It is unrighteous to
sacrifice her who is a gift of God to perpetuate the race. It is equally
impossible to allow this other, our son, to be killed. How can we live after
consigning to death our only solace in life and our hope for the here after? If
he is lost, who would pour libations for us and our ancestors? Alas! You did
not pay heed to my words, and this is the deadly fruit of your perversity. If I
give up my life, this girl and boy will surely die soon for want of a
protector. What shall I do? It is best that all of us perish together" and
the brahmana burst forth sobbing.
The wife replied: "I have been a good wife to you,
and done my duty by bearing you a daughter and a son. You are able, and I am
not, to bring up and protect your children. Just as cast out offal is pounced
upon and seized by rapacious birds, a poor widowed woman is an easy prey to
wicked and dishonest people. Dogs fight for a cloth wet with ghee, and in
pulling it hither and thither in unclean greed, tear it into foul rags. It
would be best if I am handed over to the Rakshasa. Blessed indeed is the woman
who passes to the other world, while her husband is alive. This, as you know,
is what the scriptures say. Bid me farewell. Take care of my children. I have
been happy with you. I have performed many meritorious actions. By my faithful
devotion to you, I am sure of heaven. Death has no terror for one who has been
a good wife. After I am gone, take another wife. Gladden me with a brave smile,
give me your blessing, and send me to the Rakshasa."
Hearing these words of his wife, the brahmana tenderly
embraced her and, utterly overcome by her love and courage, he wept like a
child. When he could find his voice, he replied: "O beloved and noble one,
what words are these? Can I bear to live without you? The first duty of a
married man is to protect his wife. I should indeed be a pitiful sinner if I
lived after giving you up to the Rakshasa, sacrificing both love and
duty."
The daughter who was hearing this piteous conversation,
now interposed with sobs: "Listen to me, child though I be, and then do
what is proper. It is me alone that you can spare to the Rakshasa. By
sacrificing one soul, that is, myself, you can save the others. Let me be the
little boat to take you across this river of calamity. In like manner, a woman
without a guardian becomes the sport of wicked people who drag her hither and
thither. It is impossible for me to protect two fatherless orphans and they
will perish miserably like fish in a waterless pond. If both of you pass away,
both I and this little baby brother of mine will soon perish unprotected in
this hard world. If this family of ours can be saved from destruction by my
single death, what a good death mine would be! Even if you consider my welfare
alone, you should send me to the Rakshasa."
At these brave words of the poor child, the parents
tenderly embraced her and wept. Seeing them all in tears the boy, hardly more
than a baby, started up with glowing eyes, lisping: "Father, do not weep.
Mother, do not weep. Sister, do not weep," and he went to each and sat on
their lap by turns.
Then he rose up took a stick of firewood and brandishing
it about, said in his sweet childish treble: "I shall kill the Rakshasa
with this stick." The child's action and speech made them smile in the
midst of their tears, but only added to their great sorrow.
Feeling this was the moment for intervention, Kuntidevi
entered and inquired for the cause of their sorrow and whether there was
anything she could do to help them.
The brahmana said: "Mother, this is a sorrow far
beyond your aid. There is a cave near the city, where lives a cruel and
terribly strong Rakshasa named Bakasura. He forcibly seized this city and
kingdom thirteen years ago. Since then he has held us in cruel thraldom. The
kshatriya ruler of this country has fled to the city of Vetrakiya and is unable
to protect us. This Rakshasa formerly used to issue from his cave whenever he
liked and, mad with hunger, indiscriminately kill and eat men, women and
children in this city. The citizens prayed to the Rakshasa to come to some sort
of stipulation in place of this promiscuous slaughter. They prayed: 'Do not
kill us wantonly at your whim and pleasure. Once a week we shall bring you
sufficient meat, rice, curds and intoxicating liquors and many other
delicacies. We will deliver these to you in a carriage drawn by two bullocks
driven by a human being taken from each house in turn. You can make a repast of
the rice, along with the bullocks and the man, but refrain from this mad orgy
of slaughter.' The Rakshasa agreed to the proposal. From that day, this strong
Rakshasa has been protecting this kingdom from foreign raids and wild beasts.
This arrangement has been in force for many years. No hero has been found to
free this country from this pest, for the Rakshasa has invariably defeated and
killed all the brave men who tried. Mother, our legitimate sovereign is unable
to protect us. The citizens of a country, whose king is weak, should not marry
and beget children. A worthy family life, with culture and domestic happiness,
is possible only under the rule of a good, strong king. Wife, wealth and other things
are not safe, if there be no proper king ruling over us. And having long
suffered with the sight of others' sorrow, our own turn has come now to send a
person as prey to the Rakshasa. I have not the means to purchase a substitute.
None of us can bear to live after sending one of us to a cruel death, and so I
shall go with my whole family to him. Let the wicked glutton gorge himself with
all of us. I have pained you with these things, but you wished to know. Only
God can help us, but we have lost all hope even of that."
The political truths contained in this story of Ekachakra
are noteworthy and suggestive. Kunti talked the matter over with Bhimasena and
returned to the brahmana. She said: "Good man, do not despair. God is
great. I have five sons. One of them will take the food to the Rakshasa."
The brahmana jumped up in amazed surprise, but then shook
his head sadly and would not hear of the substituted sacrifice. Kunti said:
"O brahmana, do not be afraid. My son is endowed with superhuman powers
derived from mantras and will certainly kill this Rakshasa, as I have myself
seen him kill many other such Rakshasas. But keep this a secret, for, if you
reveal it, his power will come to naught."
Kunti's fear was that, if the story got noised abroad,
Duryodhana's men would see the hand of the Pandavas, and find out their where
abouts. Bhima was filled with unbounded joy and enthusiasm at the arrangement
made by Kunti.
The other brothers returned to the house with alms.
Dharmaputra saw the face of Bhimasena radiant with joy to which it had long
been a stranger and inferred that he was resolved on some hazardous adventure
and questioned Kunti who told him everything.
Yudhishthira said: "What is this? Is not this rash
and thoughtless? Relying on Bhima's strength we sleep without care or fear. It
is not through Bhima's strength and daring that we hope to regain the kingdom
that has been seized by our deceitful enemies? Was it not through the prowess
of Bhima that we escaped from the wax palace? And you are risking the life of
Bhima who is our present protection and future hope. I fear your many trials
have clouded your judgment!"
Kuntidevi replied: "Dear sons, we have lived happily
for many years in the house of this brahmana. Duty, nay, man's highest virtue,
is to repay the benefit he has enjoyed by doing good in his turn. I know the
heroism of Bhima and have no fears. Remember who carried us from Varanavata and
who killed the demon Hidimba. It is our duty to be of service to this brahmana
family."
After a fierce battle, the Rakshasa Bakasura was slain by
Bhima who pretended to bring him a cartload of food.
17.
Draupadi's Swayamvaram
WHILE the Pandavas were living in disguise as brahmanas at
Ekachakrapura, news of the swayamvara of Draupadi, the daughter of Drupada, King
of Panchala, reached them. Many brahmanas of Ekachakrapura planned to go to
Panchala in the hope of receiving the customary gifts and to see the
festivities and pageant of a royal wedding. Kunti, with her motherly instinct,
read her sons' desire to go to Panchala and win Draupadi. So she told
Yudhishthira: "We have been in this city so long that it is time to think
of going somewhere else. We have seen these hills and dales till we are tired
of them. The alms doled out to us are diminishing and it is not good to outstay
your entertainment. Let us therefore go to Drupada's kingdom which is reputed
to be fair and prosperous." Kunti was second to none in worldly wisdom and
sagacity and could gracefully divine her sons' thoughts and spare them the awkwardness
of expressing them.
The brahmanas went in groups to witness the swayamvara and
the Pandavas mingled with them in the guise of brahmanas. After a long march
the party reached the beautiful city of Drupada and billeted themselves in the
house of a potter as obscure brahmanas of no note.
Though Drupada and Drona were outwardly at peace, the
former never could forget or forgive the humiliation he had suffered at the
latter's hands. Drupada's one wish was to give his daughter in marriage to
Arjuna.
Drona loved Arjuna so dearly that he could hardly look
upon his pupil's father-in-law as his deadly foe. And if there were a war,
Drupada would be all the stronger for being Arjuna's father-in-law. When he
heard the news of the destruction of the Pandavas at Varanavata, he was plunged
in sorrow but was relieved by a later rumour that they had escaped.
The marriage hall was beautifully decorated and built
amidst a finely laid out group of new guest-houses designed to accommodate the
swayamvara suitors and guests. Attractive sights and sports had been arranged
for public entertainment and there were glorious festivities for fourteen days
continuously.
A mighty steel bow was placed in the marriage hall. The
candidate for the princess' hand was required to string the bow and with it
shoot a steel arrow through the central aperture of a revolving disk at a
target placed on high.
This required almost superhuman strength and skill, and
Drupada proclaimed that the hero who would win his daughter should perform this
feat. Many valiant princes had gathered there from all parts of Bharatavarsha.
The sons of Dhritarashtra were there as well as Karna, Krishna, Sisupala,
Jarasandha, and Salya.
Besides the competitors there was a huge concourse of
spectators and visitors. The noise that issued therefrom resembled the uproar
of the ocean and over it all arose the auspicious sound of festal music from
hundreds of instruments.
Dhrishtadyumna on horseback rode in front of his sister
Draupadi seated on an elephant. Fresh from her auspicious bridal bath, and clad
in flowing silk Draupadi dismounted and entered the swayamvara hall, seeming to
fill it with the sweetness of her presence and perfect beauty.
Garland in hand, and coyly glancing at the valiant
princes, who for their part looked at her in speechless admiration, she
ascended the dais. The brahmanas repeated the usual mantras and offered
oblations in the fire. After the peace invocation had been chanted and the
flourish of music had stopped, Dhrishtadyumna took Draupadi by the hand and led
her to the center of the hall.
Then he proclaimed in loud, clear tones: "Hear ye, O
princes seated in state in this assembly, here is the bow. There is the target
and here are the arrows. He who sends five arrows in succession through the
hole of the wheel and unerringly hits the target, if he also be of good family
and presence, shall win my sister." Then he narrated to Draupadi the name,
ancestry and description of the several suitors assembled there.
Many noted princes rose one after another and tried in
vain to string the bow. It was too heavy and stiff for them, and they returned
to their places abashed and ashamed.
Sisupala, Jarasandha, Salya, and Duryodhana were among
these unsuccessful aspirants. When Karna came forward, all the assemblage
expected that he would be successful but he failed by just a hair's breadth and
the string slid back flashing and the mighty bow jumped out of his hands like a
thing of life.
There was great clamor and angry talk, some even saying
that it was an impossible test put up to shame the kings. Then all noises were
hushed, for there arose from among the group of brahmanas a youth who advanced
towards the bow.
It was Arjuna who had come disguised as a brahmana. When
he stood up; wild clamor burst forth again from the crowd. The brahmanas themselves were divided in
opinion. Some being highly delighted that there should be among them a lad of
mettle enough to compete, while others more envious or worldly wise, said what
impudence it was for this brahmacharin to enter the lists when heroes like
Karna, Salya, and others had met with failure.
But there were others again who spoke differently as they
noted the noble and shapely proportions of the youth. They said: "We feel
from his appearance that he is going to win. He looks sure of himself and he
certainly knows what he is about. The brahmana may be physically weaker, but is
it all a matter of brute strength? What about the power of austerities? Why
should he not try?" And they blessed him.
Arjuna approached the place where the bow lay and asked
Dhrishtadyumna: "Can a brahmana try to bend the bow?"
Dhrishtadyumna answered: "O best of brahmanas, my
sister will become the life-mate of any one of good family and presence, who
bends the bow and shoots the target. My words stand and there will be no going
back on them."
Then Arjuna meditated on Narayana, the Supreme God, and
took the bow in his hand and strung it with ease. He placed an arrow on the
string and looked around him with a smile, while the crowd was lost in spellbound
silence.
Then without pause or hesitation he shot five arrows in
succession through the revolving mechanism right into the target so that it
fell down. The crowd was in tumult and there was a blare of musical
instruments.
The brahmanas who were seated in the assembly in large
numbers sent forth shouts of joy, waving aloft their deer-skins in exultation
as though the whole community had won Draupadi. The uproar that followed was
indescribable.
Draupadi shone with a fresh beauty. Her face glowed with
happiness which streamed out of her eyes as she looked on Arjuna. She
approached him and placed the garland on his neck. Yudhishthira, Nakula, and
Sahadeva returned in haste to the potter's house to convey the glad news
immediately to their mother.
Bhima alone remained in the assembly fearing that some
danger might befall Arjuna from the kshatriyas. As anticipated by Bhima, the
princes were loud in wrath. They said: "The practice of swayamvara, the
choosing of a bridegroom, is not prevalent among the brahmanas. If this maiden
does not care to marry a prince, she should remain a virgin and burn herself on
the pyre. How can a brahmana marry her? We should oppose this marriage and
prevent it so as to protect righteousness and save the practice of swayamvara
from the peril which threatens it." A free fight seemed imminent.
Bhima plucked a tree by the roots, and stripping it of
foliage, stood armed with this formidable bludgeon, by the side of Arjuna ready
for any event. Draupadi said nothing but stood holding on to the skirts of the
deer-skin in which Arjuna was clad.
Krishna, Balarama and others sought to appease those who
had created the confusion. Arjuna proceeded to the house of the potter
accompanied by Draupadi.
As Bhima and Arjuna were taking Draupadi to their
temporary abode, Dhrishtadyumna followed them at a distance, and, unseen by
them, closely observed everything that took place there. He was amazed and
delighted at what he saw, and returning, he secretly told King Drupada:
"Father, I think they are the Pandavas. Draupadi accompanied them, holding
to the skirts of the deer-skin of that youth and she was not at all abashed. I
also followed and I saw all five and a venerable and august lady who, I have no
doubt, is Kunti herself."
Invited by Drupada Kunti and the Pandavas went to the
palace. Dharmaputra confided to the king that they were the Pandavas. He also
informed him of their decision to marry Draupadi in common.
Drupada rejoiced at knowing that they were the Pandavas,
which set at rest all anxiety regarding the enmity of Drona. But he was
surprised and disgusted when he heard that they would jointly marry Draupadi.
Drupada opposed this and said: "How unrighteous! How
did this idea get into your head, this immoral idea that goes against the traditional
usage?"
Yudhishthira answered: "O king, kindly excuse us. In
a time of great peril we vowed that we would share all things in common and we
cannot break that pledge. Our mother has commanded us so." Finally Drupada
yielded and the marriage was celebrated.
18.
Indraprastha
WHEN news of the incidents that took place during the
swayamvara at Panchala reached Hastinapura, Vidura was happy. He immediately
went to Dhritarashtra and said: "O King, our family has become stronger
because the daughter of Drupada has become our daughter-in-law. Our stars are
good."
Dhritarashtra thought in his blind fondness for his son
that it was Duryodhana, who had also gone to take part in the swayamvara, that
had won Draupadi. Under this mistaken impression he replied: "It is
indeed, as you say, a good time for us. Go at once and bring Draupadi. Let us
give Panchali a joyous welcome."
Vidura hastened to correct the mistake. He said: "The
blessed Pandavas are alive and it is Arjuna who has won the daughter of
Drupada. The five Pandavas have married her jointly according to the rites
enjoined by the sastras. With their mother Kuntidevi they are happy and well
under the care of Drupada."
At these words of Vidura, Dhritarashtra felt frustrated
but concealed his disappointment. He said to Vidura with apparent joy: "O
Vidura, I am delighted at your words. Are the dear Pandavas really alive? We
have been mourning them as dead! The news you have now brought is balm to my
heart. So the daughter of Drupada has become our daughter-in-law. Well, well,
very good."
Duryodhana's jealousy and hatred redoubled when he found
that the Pandavas had somehow escaped from the wax palace and after spending a
year incognito had now become even more powerful on account of the alliance
with the mighty king of Panchala. Duryodhana and his brother Duhsasana went to
their uncle Sakuni and said in sorrow: "Uncle, we are undone. We have been
let down by relying on Purochana. Our enemies, the Pandavas, are cleverer than
ourselves, and fortune also seems to favor them. Dhrishtadyumna and Sikhandin
have become their allies. What can we do?"
Karna and Duryodhana went to the blind Dhritarashtra.
Duryodhana said: "You told Vidura that better days were ahead of us. Is it
good time for us that our natural enemies, the Pandavas, have so waxed in
strength that they will certainly destroy us? We could not carry out our plot
against them and the fact that they know about it is an added danger. It has
now come to this, either we must destroy them here and now or we shall
ourselves perish. Favor us with your counsel in this matter."
Dhritarashtra replied: "Dear son, what you say is
true. We should not, however, let Vidura know our mind. That was why I spoke to
him in that manner. Let me now hear your suggestions as to what we should
do."
Duryodhana said: "I feel so distracted that no plan
occurs to me. Perhaps, we may take advantage of the fact that these Pandavas
are not born of one and the same mother and create enmity between the sons of
Madri and those of Kunti. We can also try to bribe Drupada into joining our
side. That he has given away his daughter in marriage to the Pandavas will not
stand in the way of our making him an ally. There is nothing that cannot be
accomplished by the power of wealth."
Karna smiled and said: "This is but futile
talk."
Duryodhana continued: "We should somehow make sure
that the Pandavas do not come here and demand of us the kingdom that is now in
our possession. We may commission a few brahmanas to spread convenient rumours
in Drupada's city and severally tell the Pandavas that they would meet with
great danger if they were to go to Hastinapura. Then the Pandavas would fear to
come here and we shall be safe, from them."
Karna replied: "This too is idle talk. You cannot
frighten them that way."
Duryodhana continued: "Can we not create discord
among the Pandavas by means of Draupadi? Her polyandrous marriage is very
convenient for us. We shall arouse doubts and jealousies in their minds through
the efforts of experts in the science of erotics. We shall certainly succeed.
We can get a beautiful woman to beguile some of the sons of Kunti and thus make
Draupadi turn against them. If Draupadi begins to suspect any of them, we can
invite him to Hastinapura and use him so that our plan prospers."
Karna laughed this also to scorn. He said: "None of
your proposals is any good. You cannot conquer the Pandavas by stratagem. When
they were here and were like immature birds with undeveloped wings, we found we
could not deceive them, and you think we can deceive them now, when they have
acquired experience and are moreover under the protection of Drupada. They have
seen through your designs. Stratagems will not do hereafter. You cannot sow
dissensions among them. You cannot bribe the wise and honorable Drupada. He
will not give up the Pandavas on any account. Draupadi also can never be turned
against them. Therefore, there is only one way left for us, and that is to
attack them before they grow stronger and other friends join them. We should
make a surprise attack on the Pandavas and Drupada before Krishna joins them
with his Yadava army. We should take the heroic way out of our difficulty, as
befits kshatriyas. Trickery will prove useless." Thus spoke Karna.
Dhritarashtra could not make up his mind. The king, therefore, sent for Bhishma
and Drona and consulted them.
Bhishma was very happy when he heard that the Pandavas
were alive and well as guests of King Drupada of Panchala, whose daughter they
had married. Consulted on the steps to be taken, Bhishma, wise with the ripe
knowledge of right and wrong, replied:
"The proper course will be to welcome them back and
give them half the kingdom. The citizens of the state also desire such a
settlement. This is the only way to maintain the dignity of our family. There
is much loose talk not creditable to you about the fire incident at the wax
house. All blame, even all suspicion, will be set at rest if you invite the
Pandavas and hand over half kingdom to them. This is my advice."
Drona also gave the same counsel and suggested sending a
proper messenger to bring about an amicable settlement and establish peace.
Karna flew into a rage at this suggestion. He was very
much devoted to Duryodhana and could not at all bear the idea of giving a
portion of the kingdom to the Pandavas. He told Dhritarashtra:
"I am surprised that Drona, who has received wealth
and honors at your hands, has made such a suggestion. A king should examine
critically the advice of his ministers before accepting or rejecting it."
At these words of Karna, Drona, his old eyes full of
anger, said: "O wicked man, you are advising the king to go on the wrong
path. If Dhritarashtra does not do what Bhishma and myself have advised, the
Kauravas will certainly meet with destruction in the near future."
Then Dhritarashtra sought the advice of Vidura who
replied:
"The counsel given by Bhishma, the head of our race,
and Drona, the master, is wise and just and should not be disregarded. The
Pandavas are also your children like Duryodhana and his brothers. You should
realise that those who advise you to injure the Pandavas are really bent upon
the destruction of the race. Drupada and his sons as well as Krishna and the
Yadavas are staunch allies of the Pandavas. It is impossible to defeat them in
battle. Karna's advice is foolish and wrong. It is reported abroad that we
tried to kill the Pandavas in the wax house, and we should first of all try to
clear ourselves of the blame. The citizens and the whole country are delighted
to know that the Pandavas are alive and they desire to see them once again. Do
not listen to the words of Duryodhana. Karna and Sakuni are but raw youths,
ignorant of statesmanship and incompetent to advise. Follow Bhishma's
advice."
In the end Dhritarashtra determined to establish peace by
giving half the kingdom to the sons of Pandu. He sent Vidura to the kingdom of
Panchala to fetch the Pandavas and Draupadi.
Vidura went to the city of King Drupada in a speedy
vehicle taking along with him many kinds of jewels and other valuable presents.
Vidura rendered due honor to King Drupada and requested
him on behalf of Dhritarashtra to send the Pandavas with Panchali to
Hastinapura.
Drupada mistrusted Dhritarashtra, but he merely said:
"The Pandavas may do as they like."
Vidura went to Kuntidevi and prostrated himself before
her. She said: "Son of Vichitravirya, you saved my sons. They are,
therefore, your children. I trust you. I shall do as you advise." She was
also suspicious of Dhritarashtra's intentions.
Vidura thus assured her: "Your children will never
meet with destruction. They will inherit the kingdom and acquire great renown.
Come, let us go." At last Drupada also gave his assent and Vidura returned
to Hastinapura with the Pandavas, Kunti, and Draupadi.
In jubilant welcome of the beloved princes who were
returning home after long years of exile and travail, the streets of
Hastinapura had been sprinkled with water and decorated with flowers. As had
been already decided, half the kingdom was made over to the Pandavas and
Yudhishthira was duly crowned king.
Dhritarashtra blessed the newly crowned Yudhishthira and
bade him farewell with these words: "My brother Pandu made this kingdom
prosperous. May you prove a worthy heir to his renown! King Pandu delighted in
abiding by my advice. Love me in the same manner. My sons are wicked and proud.
I have made this settlement so that there may be no strife or hatred between
you. Go to Khandavaprastha and make it your capital. Our ancestors Pururavas,
Nahusha, and Yayati ruled the kingdom from there. That was our ancient capital.
Re-establish that and be famous."
In this manner Dhritarashtra spoke affectionately to Yudhishthira.
The Pandavas renovated that ruined city, built palaces and
forts, and renamed it Indraprastha. It grew in wealth and beauty and became the
admiration of the world.
The Pandavas ruled there happily for thirty-six years with
their mother and Draupadi, never straying from the path of dharma.
19.
The Saranga Birds
IN the stories
narrated in the Puranas, birds and beasts speak like men, and sometimes they
give sound advice and even teach spiritual wisdom. But the natural qualities of
those creatures are adroitly made to peep through this human veil.
One of the characteristic beauties of the Puranic
literature is this happy fusion of nature and imagination. In a delightful
passage in the Ramayana, Hanuman, who is described as very wise and learned, is
made to frolic with apish joy, when he imagined that the beautiful damsel he
saw at Ravana's inner courtyard was Sita.
It is usual to entertain children with stories in which
birds and beasts are made to speak. But the stories of the Puranas are meant
for elderly people, and in them usually some background is given in explanation
of animals having the gift of human speech.
The usual expedient employed is a previous birth when
those creatures were human beings. For instance, a deer was a rishi in a
previous birth, or a fox a king. The subsequent degradation being due to a
curse.
In such cases the deer will act as a deer and yet speak as
a rishi, and in the fox the clever nature is shot through with the
characteristics of a wise and experienced king. The stories are thereby made
interesting vehicles of the great truths they sometimes convey.
Khandavaprastha, that forest full of uneven places and
thorns and prickles and cumbered with the crumbling vestiges of a long dead
city, was indeed a frightful place when it came into the possession of the
Pandavas.
Birds and beasts had made it their abode, and it was
infested with thieves and wicked men. Krishna and Arjuna resolved to set fire
to the forest and construct a new city in its place.
A saranga bird was living there with its four fledgelings.
The male bird was pleasantly roaming about in the forest with another female
bird neglecting wife and children. The mother bird looked after its young ones.
As the forest was set on fire as commanded by Krishna and
Arjuna and the fire spread in all directions, doing its destructive work, the
worried mother bird began to lament:
'The fire is coming nearer and nearer burning everything,
and soon it will be here and destroy us. All forest creatures are in despair
and the air is full of the agonising crash of falling trees. Poor wingless
babies! You will become a prey to the fire. What shall I do? Your father has deserted
us, and I am not strong enough to fly away carrying you with me."
To the mother who was wailing thus, the children said:
"Mother, do not torment yourself on our account.
Leave us to our fate. If we die here, we shall attain a good birth in some future
life. If you give up your life for our sake, our family will become extinct.
Fly to a place of safety, take another mate and be happy. You will soon have
other children and be able to forget us. Mother, reflect and do what is best
for our race."
Despite this earnest entreaty, the mother had no mind to
leave her children. She said: "I shall remain here and perish in the
flames with you."
This is the background of the story of the birds. A rishi
named Mandapala long lived faithful to his vow of perfect brahmacharya but when
he sought entry to the higher regions, the gatekeeper said: "There is no
place here for a childless man" and turned him back. He was then born as a
saranga bird and lived with a female companion named Jarita. She laid four
eggs. Then he left Jarita and wandered in the woods with another female
companion, Lapita.
The four eggs of Jarita hatched in time and they were the
four birds mentioned above. As they were the children of a rishi they could
cheer and encourage their mother in the way they did.
The mother bird told her children: "There is a
rat-hole by the side of this tree. I shall put you there. You can get into the
hole and escape the fire. I shall close the mouth of the hole with earth and
the fire will not touch you. When the fire dies down I shall let you out."
The children would not agree. They said: "The rat in
the hole will devour us. It is better to perish in the flames than to die
ignobly by being eaten up by rats."
The mother bird tried to relieve the fears of the children
and said: "I saw an eagle devour the rat. There is now no danger for you
inside the hole."
But the children said: "There are sure to be other
rats in the hole. Our danger is not ended by the killing of one rat by the
eagle. Kindly save your life by flying before the fire reaches us and this tree
catches fire. We cannot get into the rat-hole. Why should you sacrifice your
life for our sake? How have we merited it, who have done nothing for you? We
have only brought you unhappiness since we came into the world. Take another
mate and live happily."
The fire which destroyed the whole forest, mercifully left
the baby birds unscathed. When the fire had subsided, the mother bird came back
and saw with wonder that her children were safe and chirping merrily. She embraced
them and was intensely happy.
While the fire was raging, the male bird, anxious for the
safety of his young ones, had expressed his fears to his new love-bird Lapita.
She had petulantly upbraided him. Hearing his repeated laments "Is it
so?" she said: "I know your mind, I know that you desire to go back
to Jarita, having had enough of me. Why falsely bring in the fire and the
children? You have yourself told me that the children of Jarita would never
perish in fire since the Fire god has given you that boon. You may as well tell
the truth and go away, if you like, to your beloved Jarita. I shall only be
another of the many trusting females betrayed by unworthy males and cast out
wandering in the forest. You may go."
The bird Mandapala said: "Your assumption is untrue.
I took birth as a bird for obtaining children and I am naturally anxious about
them.
I shall just go and see them and then come back to you
" Having thus consoled his new mate, be went to the tree where Jarita was
seated.
Jarita paid no attention to her consort but remained
absorbed in joy at finding her children alive.
Then she turned to her husband and asked in an indifferent
tone why he had come. He replied with affection:
"Are my children happy? Who is the eldest among
them?"
Then Jarita cut in icily: "Do you greatly care? Go
back to her for whom you abandoned me. Be happy with her."
Mandapala philosophised: "A woman will not care for
her husband after she has become a mother. Such is the way of the world. Even
the blameless Vasishtha was thus ignored by Arundhati."
20.
Jarasandha
THE Pandavas ruled Indraprastha in all glory. Those who
surrounded Yudhishthira urged him to perform the Rajasuya sacrifice and assume
the title of Emperor. It is evident that imperialism had an irresistible
glamour even in those days.
Yudhishthira sought Sri Krishna's advice in this matter.
When Krishna learnt that Dharmaputra desired to see him, he set out in a
chariot harnessed with swift horses and reached Indraprastha.
Yudhishthira said: "'My people urge me to perform
Rajasuya, but as you know, only he who can secure the respect and allegiance of
all kings, can perform that sacrifice and win the status of emperor. Advise me,
you are not among those whose affection makes them blind and partial. Nor are
you one of those who advise to please and whose counsel is pleasant rather than
true or wholesome."
Krishna replied: "Quite so and that is why you cannot
be emperor while the mighty Jarasandha of Magadha is alive and unconquered. He
has conquered many kings and holds them in subjection. All the kshatriyas,
including the redoubtable Sisupala himself, are afraid of his prowess and are
submissive to him. Have you not heard of the wicked Kamsa, the son of Ugrasena?
After he had become the son-in-law and ally of Jarasandha my people and I
attacked Jarasandha. After three years of continuous fighting we had to
acknowledge defeat and we left Mathura and moved to Dwaraka in the west, and
built a new city where we are living in peace and plenty. Even if Duryodhana,
Karna and others do not object to your assuming the title of emperor,
Jarasandha will certainly oppose it. And the only way to overcome his
opposition is to defeat and kill him. You can then not only perform the
Rajasuya but also rescue and win the adherence of the kings who languish in his
prisons."
At these words of Krishna, Yudhishthira said: "I
agree. I am but one of the many kings who rule their kingdoms with fairness and
justice and lead happy unambitious lives. It is mere vanity and vainglory to
desire to become an emperor. Why should not a king rest satisfied with his own
kingdom? So, I shall give up this desire to be an emperor. And really, the
title has no temptations for me. It is my brothers who wish it. When you
yourself are afraid of Jarasandha what can we hope to do?"
Bhima did not at all like this spirit of cowardly
contentment.
Bhima said: "Ambition is the noblest virtue of a
king. What is the good of being strong if one does not know his own strength? I
cannot reconcile myself to live a life of idle ease and contentment. He who
casts off indolence and properly employs political means, can conquer even
those stronger than himself. Strength reinforced by stratagem will surely do
much. What, indeed, cannot be accomplished by a combination of my physical
strength, Krishna's wisdom and Arjuna's dexterity? We can conquer Jarasandha's
might, if we three join and set about it without doubts or fears."
Krishna interposed: "Jarasandha should certainly be
slain and fully deserves it. He has unjustly cast eighty-six princes in prison.
He has planned to immolate a hundred kings and is waiting to lay hold of
fourteen more. If Bhima and Arjuna agree, I shall accompany them and together
we will slay that king by stratagem and set free the imprisoned princes. I like
this suggestion."
Yudhishthira was not pleased with this advice. He said:
"This may really mean sacrificing Bhima and Arjuna who are to me as my two
eyes, merely to gratify a vain desire to be an emperor. I do not like to send
them on this dangerous errand. It seems to me far better to give up the idea
altogether."
Arjuna said: "What is the use to us of an existence
without heroic deeds, born as we are of an illustrious line? A Kshatriya though
endowed with all other good qualities, will not become famous if he does not
exert himself. Enthusiasm is the mother of success. We can seize fortune if we
do our duties energetically. Even a powerful man may fail if, through
lassitude, he does not employ the means he has. Failure is due, in the vast
majority of cases, to ignorance of one's own strength. We know we are strong,
and we are not afraid of using our strength to the utmost. Why should
Yudhishthira suppose that we are incapable of this? When we have become old, it
will be time to assume the ochre robe, resort to the forest and pass the rest
of our days in penance and austerities. Now, we should lead strenuous lives and
do heroic deeds worthy of the traditions of our race."
Krishna was delighted to hear these words and said:
"What else can Arjuna, born of Kunti in the Bharata race, advise? Death
comes to all, the hero as well as the sluggard. But the noblest duty of a
kshatriya is to be true to his race and faith, and overcoming his foes in
righteous battle, to win glory."
Finally Yudhishthira assented to the unanimous opinion
that their duty lay in slaying Jarasandha.
This conversation has a curiously modern ring about it and
shows that powerful men in ancient days used very much the same specious
reasoning as now.
21.
The Slaying OF Jarasandha
BRIHADRATHA, the commander of three regiments, reigned in
the kingdom of Magadha and attained celebrity as a great hero. He married the
twin daughters of the raja of Kasi and vowed to them that he would not show any
partiality to either.
Brihadratha was not blessed with a child for a long time.
When he became old, he handed over his kingdom to his ministers, went to the
forest with his two wives and engaged himself in austerities.
He went to Sage Kausika of the Gautama family, with a
sorrowful longing for children in his heart. And when the sage was moved with
pity and asked him what he wanted, he answered:
"I am childless and have come to the forest giving up
my kingdom. Give me children."
The sage was filled with compassion and, even as he was
thinking how to help the king, a mango fruit fell into his lap. He took it and
gave it to the king with this blessing: "Take it. Your wish will be
fulfilled."
The king cut the fruit into two halves and gave one to
each wife. He did so to keep his vow not to show partiality to either. Some
time after they had partaken of the fruit, the wives became pregnant.
The delivery took place in due course. But instead of
bringing the expected joy, it plunged them into greater grief than before. For
they each gave birth to but a half of a child. Each half was a monstrous birth
which seemed a revolting lump.
They were indeed two equal and complementary portions of
one baby, consisting of one eye, one leg, half a face, one ear and so on.
Seized with grief, they commanded their attendants to tie the gruesome pieces
in a cloth and cast them away.
The attendants did as they were instructed and threw the
cloth bundle on a heap of refuse in the street. A cannibal Rakshasi chanced
upon that place. She was elated at seeing the two pieces of flesh and, as she
gathered them up both at once, accidently the halves came together the right
way. And they at once adhered together and changed into a whole living child,
perfect in every detail.
The surprised Rakshasi did not wish to kill the child. She
took on the guise of a beautiful woman and, going to the king, presented the
child to him saying: "This is your child."
The king was immensely delighted and handed it over to his
two wives. This child became known as Jarasandha. He grew up in to a man of immense
physical strength. But his body had one weakness namely, that being made up by
the fusion of two separate parts, it could be split again into two, if
sufficient force were used.
This interesting story embodies the important truth that
two sundered parts joined together will still remain weak, with a tendency to
split. When the conquest and slaying of Jarasandha had been resolved upon, Sri
Krishna said: "Hamsa, Hidimbaka, Kamsa, and other allies of Jarasandha are
no more. Now that he is isolated, this is the right time to kill him. It is useless to fight with armies. He must
be provoked to a single combat and slain."
According to the code of honor of those days, a kshatriya
had to accept the challenge to a duel whether with or without weapons.
The latter sort was a fight to the death with weighted
gauntlets or a wrestling to the death in catch-as-catch-can style. This was the
kshatriya tradition to which Krishna and the Pandavas had recourse for slaying
Jarasandha.
They disguised themselves as men who had taken religious
vows, clad in robes of bark-fibre and carrying the holy darbha grass in their
hands. Thus they entered the kingdom of Magadha and arrived at the capital of
Jarasandha.
Jarasandha was disturbed by portents of ill omen. To ward
off the threatened danger, he had propitiatory rites performed by the priests
and himself took to fasts and penance.
Krishna, Bhima, and Arjuna entered the palace unarmed.
Jarasandha received them with respect as their noble bearing seemed to indicate
an illustrious origin. Bhima and Arjuna made no reply to his words of welcome
because they wished to avoid having to tell lies.
Krishna spoke on their behalf: "These two are
observing a vow of silence for the present as at part of their austerities.
They can speak only after midnight." Jarasandha entertained them in the
hall of sacrifice and returned to the palace.
It was the practice of Jarasandha to meet noble guests who
had taken vows and talk to them at their leisure and convenience, and so he
called at midnight to see them.
Their conduct made Jarasandha suspicious, and he also
observed that they had on their hands the scars made by the bowstring and had
besides the proud bearing of kshatriyas.
When Jarasandha demanded the truth of them they said
frankly: "We are your foes and seek instant combat. You can choose one of
us at will to fight with you."
After acquainting himself as to who they were, Jarasandha
said: "Krishna, you are a cowherd and Arjuna is a mere boy. Bhima is
famous for his physical strength. So, I wish to fight with him." Since
Bhima was unarmed, Jarasandha chivalrously agreed to fight him without weapons.
Bhima and Jarasandha were so equally matched in strength
that they fought with each other continuously for thirteen days without taking
rest or refreshments, while Krishna and Arjuna looked on in alternating hope
and anxiety.
On the fourteenth day, Jarasandha showed signs of
exhaustion, and Krishna prompted Bhima that the time had come to make an end of
him.
At once Bhima lifted him and whirling him round and round
a hundred times, dashed him to the earth and seizing his legs tore his body
asunder into two halves.
And Bhima roared in exultation. The two halves at once
joined and Jarasandha, thus made whole, leapt up into vigorous life and again
attacked Bhima.
Bhima aghast at the sight, was at a loss what to do, when
he saw Krishna pick up a straw, tear it into two, and cast the bits in opposite
directions.
Bhima took the hint, and when once again he tore
Jarasandha asunder he threw the two portions in opposite directions, so that
they could not come together and join. Thus did Jarasandha meet his end.
The captive princes were released and Jarasandha's son was
crowned King of Magadha. And Krishna, Bhima and Arjuna returned to
Indraprastha.
With Jarasandha gone, the way was now clear for the
Rajasuya which the Pandavas performed with great pomp and splendor.
Yudhishthira assumed the title of emperor.
The celebrations were marred by only one incident. Towards
the close of the festive celebrations, at the time of paying the first honor,
Sisupala behaved disrespectfully in the assembly of princes and provoked a
fight with Krishna in which he was slain. This story is told in the next
chapter.
22.
The First Honor
THE practice of staging a walkout from an assembly in
protest against something is nothing new. We learn from the Mahabharata that
walkout was resorted to even in ancient times.
The India of those days consisted of a number of
independent states. Though there was one dharma and one culture throughout the
land, the autonomy of each state was scrupulosly respected.
Occasionally, some strong and ambitious monarch would seek
the assent of his fellow kings to his overlordship, which would sometimes be
given without question.
After receiving this assent he would perform a grand
Rajasuya sacrifice, which all the acquiescing kings would attend in token of
acknowledgement of his supremacy.
In accordance with this custom, the Pandavas invited the
other kings after the slaying of Jarasandha and performed the Rajasuya.
The time came for doing the honors of the occasion. The
custom was to render first honor to the guest who was considered most worthy of
taking precedence over all others.
The question arose as to who should be honored first. The
grandsire was emphatically of the opinion that Sri Krishna, the king of
Dwaraka, should be honored first, which was also Yudhishthira's own opinion.
Yudhishthira followed the advice and under his
instructions Sahadeva offered to Sri Krishna the honors enjoined by tradition.
Sisupala, the king of Chedi, who hated Krishna as wickedness alone can hate
goodness, could not tolerate it.
He laughed aloud in derision and said: "How
ridiculous and unjust, but I am not surprised. The man who sought advice was
born in illegitimacy. (This was an insulting allusion to the sons of Kunti) The
man who gave advice was born of one who ever declines from high to low. (This
is in reference to the fact that Bhishma was born of Ganga, the river naturally
flowing from higher to lower levels.) And he who did the honors was also born
illegitimately. And what shall I say of the man honored! He is a fool by birth
and a cowherd by breeding. Dumb indeed must be the members of this assembly if
they have not a word to say to this! This is no place for worthy men."
Some of the assembled princes applauded Sisupala.
Encouraged by their applause he addressed Yudhishthira:
"When there are so many kings gathered here, it is a
shame that you paid the first honor to Krishna. Not to render respect where it
is rightly due and to render it where it is not merited are both equally grave
offences. It is a pity that, for all your imperial pretensions you are ignorant
of this."
Getting more and more angry as he spoke, he continued:
"Ignoring the many kings and heroes who are here at your own invitation
and in malicious despise of them, you have paid royal honors to a cowherd boor,
a mere nobody. Vasudeva, the father of Krishna, was but a servant of Ugrasena.
He is not even of royal blood. Is this the place and the occasion to show your
vulgar partiality for Krishna, the son of Devaki? Is this worthy of the
children of Pandu? O sons of Pandu, you are raw, untaught youths, altogether
ignorant of the way to conduct a royal assembly. This dotard Bhishma guided you
foolishly and thus made fools of you. Krishna, why, Krishna is no ruler at all!
O Yudhishthira, why did you dare to do this wretch first honor in this
illustrious assemblage of kings? He has not even the merit of age and if you
admire grey hair, is not his father alive? You could not have honored him as
your preceptor surely, for your preceptor is Drona who is here in this
assembly. Is it as an expert in performing sacrifices that you have honored
him? It cannot be, for Vyasa, the great master, is present. It would have been
better even if you had paid the first honor to Bhishma, for dotard as he be, he
has still the merit of being the oldest man of your house. Your family teacher,
Kripacharya, is also present in this assembly. How could you then pay the first
honor to this cowherd? Ashwatthama, the hero who is expert in all sastras, is
here. How did you choose Krishna, forgetting him? Among the princes assembled
here, there is Duryodhana. And there is also Karna, the disciple of Parasurama.
Leaving him aside, out of childish partiality, you chose Krishna for the first
honor Krishna who is neither royal, nor heroic, nor learned, nor holy, nor even
hoary, who is nothing but a low cowherd! Thus you have dishonored us all, whom
you have invited here. O kings, it is not out of fear that we assented to
Yudhishthira's assuming the title of emperor. We personally do not much care
whether he is friend or foe. But, having heard much prate of his righteousness,
we wanted to see him uphold the flag of dharma. He has now wantonly dishonored
us, after all that talk of virtue and dharma. What virtue or dharma was there
in his giving priority of honor to this villain Krishna who killed Jarasandha
in an unjust manner? You should
henceforth call Yudhishthira an unrighteous person. O Krishna, what impudence
on your part to accept the undeserved honor which these misguided Pandavas did
you! Did you forget yourself? Or did you forget decent tradition? Or was it
just a case of a dog snatching at a remnant of food which nobody cared to claim
or guard? Do you not really see that this farce is a ghastly mockery and
disgrace to yourself? It is like the mockery of showing beautiful things to a
blind man or offering a maiden in marriage to a eunuch. Likewise, these kingly
honors are really an affront to you. It is now evident that the would-be
emperor Yudhishthira, the senile Bhishma, and this fellow Krishna are all made
of the same stuff."
After Sisupala had spoken these harsh words, he rose from
his seat and walked out calling upon the other kings to join him in resenting
the insult. Many of them followed him.
Yudhishthira ran after them and tried to appease them with
sweet words of peace but in vain, for they were too angry to be appeased.
Sisupala's aggressive vanity waxed to fighting pitch, and
there ensued a terrible fight between Krishna and Sisupala, in which the latter
was slain by his discus.
The Rajasuya was duly celebrated and Yudhishthira
recognised emperor.
23.
Sakuni Comes In
AT the close of the Rajasuya, the princes, priests and elders,
who had gathered for the purpose, took leave and returned to their places.
Vyasa also came to say farewell. Dharmaputra rose and received him with due
respect and sat by his side.
The sage said: "O son of Kunti, you have got the
title of emperor which you eminently deserve. May the illustrious Kuru race
gain even greater glory through you. Give me leave to return to my
hermitage."
Yudhishthira touched the feet of his progenitor and guru
and said: "O master, you alone can remove my apprehensions. Wise men have
predicted from portents the happenings of catastrophic events. Has this
prediction been fulfilled by the death of Sisupala or is more to ensue?"
Bhagavan Vyasa replied: "Dear child, much sorrow and
suffering is in store for thirteen years to come. The portents indicate the
destruction of the Kshatriya race and are not exhausted with the death of
Sisupala. It is far from it. Hundreds
of kings will perish, and the old order of things will pass away. This catastrophe
will spring out of the enmity between you and your brothers on the one side and
your cousins, the Dhritarashtras, on the other. It will culminate in a war
resulting in practical annihilation of the Kshatriya race. No one can go
against destiny. Be firm and steadfast in righteousness. Be vigilant and rule
the kingdom, farewell." And Vyasa blessed Yudhishthira. Vyasa's words
filled Yudhishthira with grief and with a great repugnance for worldly ambition
and life itself.
He informed his brothers of the prediction of unavoidable
racial disaster. Life seemed to him a bitter and weary business and his destiny
particularly cruel and unbearable.
Arjuna said: "You are a king and it is not right for
you to be agitated. Let us meet destiny with an undaunted front and do our
duty."
Yudhishthira replied: "Brothers, may God protect us
and give us wisdom. For my part, I take this vow never to speak harshly to my
brothers or to my kinsmen for the next thirteen years. I shall avoid all
pretext for conflict. I shall never give way to anger, which is the root cause
of enmity. It shall be my duty to give no occasion for anger or pretext for
hostility. Thus shall we profit by Bhagavan Vyasa's warning." His brothers
expressed cordial assent.
The first event of the series which culminated in the
devastating slaughter on the blood-sodden field of Kurukshetra and the event
which was the evil root of all, was the gambling match into which Yudhishthira
was inveigled by Sakuni, who was Duryodhana's evil genius.
Why did the wise and good Yudhishthira suffer himself to be
persuaded to this step which he must have known to hold evil possibilities?
The main cause was his fixed resolve to be on amicable
terms with his cousins by not opposing their wishes. And a friendly invitation
to dice could not be summarily turned down, since the etiquette of those days
made it a point of honor to accept a game of equal hazard.
Out of his very anxiety to foster goodwill, he laid open
the field for the poisonous seed of hatred and death. Here is an illustration
of the futility of human plans, however well meant or wise, without divine aid.
Our best wisdom is vain against fate, and if destiny is kind, our very follies
turn to our advantage.
While Dharmaputra was care-worn with solicitude to avoid a
quarrel at all costs, Duryodhana was burning with jealousy at the thought of
the prosperity of the Pandavas that he had witnessed in their capital during
the Rajasuya sacrifice.
Duryodhana saw unprecedented wealth, attractive and sight
eluding crystal doors and many pieces of exquisite artistry in the court-hall
of Yudhishthira, all suggestive of great prosperity.
He also saw how glad the kings of many countries were to
become the allies of the Pandavas. This gave him unbearable grief. He was so
absorbed in sorrow at the prosperity of the Pandavas that he did not at first
hear Sakuni who was by his side, speaking to him.
Sakuni asked: "Why are you sighing? Why are you
tormented with sorrow?"
Duryodhana replied: "Yudhishthira, surrounded by his
brothers, is like Indra, the king of gods. Before the very eyes of the
assembled kings Sisupala was slain and not one of them had the courage to come
forward to avenge him. Like the vaisyas who live by trade, they bartered their
honor and jewels and riches for Yudhishthira's goodwill. How can I avoid giving
way to grief after seeing all this? What is the good of living?"
Sakuni said: "O Duryodhana, the Pandavas are your
brothers. It is not right on your part to be jealous of their prosperity. They
are but enjoying their legitimate inheritance. By their good fortune they have
prospered and flourished without doing any injury to others. Why should you be
jealous? How can their strength and happiness diminish your greatness? Your
brothers and relations stand by you and obey you. Drona, Ashwatthama and Karna
are on your side. Why do you grieve when Bhishma, Kripa, Jayadratha, Somadatta
and myself are your supporters? You can conquer even the whole world. Do not
give way to grief."
At these words, Duryodhana said: "O Sakuni, it is
true that I have so many to support me. Why should we not wage war and drive
the Pandavas out of Indraprastha?"
But Sakuni said: "No. That will not be easy, but I
know a way to drive Yudhishthira out of Indraprastha without a fight or the
shedding of blood."
The eyes of Duryodhana lighted up, but it seemed too good
to be true. He asked incredulously: "Uncle, is it possible to overcome the
Pandavas without sacrificing any life? What is your plan?"
Sakuni replied: "Yudhishthira is fond of the game of
dice and being unskillful is altogether ignorant of its tricks and the
opportunity it offers to cleverer people. If we invite him to a game, he would
accept, following the tradition of the kshatriyas. I know the tricks of the
game and I shall play on your behalf. Yudhishthira will be helpless as a child
against me. I shall win his kingdom and wealth for you without shedding a drop
of blood."
24.
The Invitation
DURYODHANA and Sakuni went to Dhritarashtra. Sakuni opened
the conversation. He said: "O king, Duryodhana is wan with grief and
anxiety. You are paying no attention to his unbearable sorrow. Why this
unconcern?"
Dhritarashtra who doted on his son embraced Duryodhana and
said: "I do not see why you should be disconsolate. What is here that you
already do not enjoy? The whole world is at your feet. When you are surrounded
by all kinds of pleasures like the very gods, why should you pine in sorrow?
You have learnt the Vedas, archery, and other sciences from the best of
masters. As my first born, you have inherited the throne. What is left you to wish
for? Tell me."
Duryodhana replied: "Father, like anybody else, rich
or poor, I eat and cover my nakedness, but I find life unbearable. What is the
use of leading such a life?"
And then he revealed in detail the envy and hatred that
were eating into his vitals and depriving life of its savour. He referred to
the prosperity he had seen in the capital of the Pandavas that to him was
bitterer than loss of his all would have been.
He burst out: "Contentment with one's lot is not
characteristic of a kshatriya. Fear and pity lower the dignity of kings. My
wealth and pleasures do not give me any satisfaction since I have witnessed the
greater prosperity of Yudhishthira. O king, the Pandavas have grown, while we
have shrunk."
Dhritarashtra said: "Beloved child, you are the
eldest son of my royal spouse and me and heir to the glory and greatness of our
renowned race. Do not cherish any hatred towards the Pandavas. Sorrow and death
will be the sole result of hatred of kith and kin, especially when they are
blameless. Tell me, why do you hate the guileless Yudhishthira? Is not his
prosperity ours too? Our friends are his friends. He has not the least jealousy
or hatred towards us. You are equal to him in heroism and ancestry. Why should
you be jealous of your brother? No. You should not be jealous." Thus said
the old king who, though overfond of his son, did not occasionally hesitate to
say what he felt to be just.
Duryodhana did not at all like the advice of his father,
and his reply was not very respectful.
He replied: "The man without common sense, but
immersed in learning, is like a wooden ladle immersed in savoury food which it
neither tastes nor benefits from. You have much learning of statecraft but have
no state wisdom at all, as your advice to me clearly shows. The way of the
world is one thing and the administration of a state is quite another. Thus has
Brihaspati said: 'Forbearance and contentment, though the duties of ordinary
men, are not virtues in kings.' The kshatriya's duty is a constant seeking of victory."
Duryodhana spoke thus quoting maxims of politics and
citing examples and making the worse appear the better reason.
Then Sakuni intervened and set forth in detail his
infallible plan of inviting Yudhishthira to play the game of dice, defeating him
utterly and divesting him of his all without recourse to arms.
The wicked Sakuni wound up with saying: "It is enough
if you merely send for the son of Kunti to play the game of dice. Leave the
rest to me."
Duryodhana added: "Sakuni will win for me the riches
of the Pandavas without a fight, if you would only agree to invite
Yudhishthira."
Dhritarashtra said: "Your suggestion does not seem
proper. Let us ask Vidura about it. He will advise us rightly."
But Duryodhana would not hear of consulting Vidura. He
said to his father: "Vidura will only give us the platitudes of ordinary
morality, which will not help us to our object. The policy of kings must be
very different from the goody maxims of textbooks, and is sterner stuff of
which the test is success. Moreover, Vidura does not like me and is partial to
the Pandavas. You know this as well as I do."
Dhritarashtra said: "The Pandavas are strong. I do
not think it wise to antagonize them. The game of dice will only lead to
enmity. The passions resulting from the game will know no bounds. We should not
do it."
But Duryodhana was importunate: "Wise statesmanship
lies in casting off all fear and protecting oneself by one's own efforts.
Should we not force the issue while yet we are more powerful than they are? That
will be real foresight. A lost opportunity may never come again, and it is not
as though we invented the game of dice to injure the Pandavas. It is an ancient
pastime which kshatriyas have always indulged in, and if it will now serve us
to win our cause without bloodshed, where is the harm?"
Dhritarashtra replied: "Dear son, I have grown old.
Do as you like. But the line that you are taking does not appeal to me. I am
sure you will repent later. This is the work of destiny."
In the end, out-argued and through sheer fatigue and
hopelessness of dissuading his son, Dhritarashtra assented, and ordered the
servants to prepare a hall of games. Yet he could not forbear consulting Vidura
in secret about the matter.
Vidura said: "O king, this will undoubtedly bring
about the ruin of our race by raising up unquenchable hate."
Dhritarashtra, who could not oppose the demand of his son,
said: "If fortune favors us I have no fear regarding this game. If on the
contrary, fortune goes against us, how could we help it? For, destiny is
all-powerful. Go and invite Yudhishthira on my behalf to come and play
dice." Thus commanded, Vidura went to Yudhishthira with an invitation.
The weak-witted Dhritarashtra, over-persuaded, yielded to
the desire of his son through his attachment to him in spite of the fact that
he knew this was the way that destiny was working itself out.
25.
The Wager
AT THE sight of Vidura, Yudhishthira anxiously inquired:
"Why are you so cheerless? Is it well with all our relations in
Hastinapura? Are the king and the princes well?"
Vidura acquainted him with his mission: "Everyone in
Hastinapura is well. How fares it with you all? I have come to invite you on
behalf of King Dhritarashtra to come and see the newly erected hall of games. A
beautiful hall has been erected there even like yours. The king would like you
to come with your brothers, see everything, have a game of dice and return to
your capital."
Yudhishthira seemed to ask counsel of Vidura:
"Wagering games create quarrels among kshatriyas. A wise man will avoid
them if he can. We are ever abiding by your advice. What would you have us
do?"
Vidura replied: "Everyone is aware that the playing
of dice is the root of many evils. I did my best to oppose this idea. Still the
king has commanded me to invite you and I have come. You may do as you
like."
Despite this warning, Yudhishthira went to Hastinapura
with his brothers and retinue. It may be asked why the wise Yudhishthira
responded to the invitation.
Three reasons may be given. Men rush consciously on their
ruin impelled by lust, gambling and drink. Yudhishthira was fond of gambling.
The kshatriya tradition made it a matter of etiquette and honor not to refuse
an invitation to a game of dice.
There is a third reason too. True to the vow he took at the
time Vyasa had warned him of the quarrels that would arise leading to
destruction of the race. Yudhishthira would not give any occasion for
displeasure or complaint by refusing the invitation of Dhritarashtra.
These causes conspired with his natural inclination to
make Yudhishthira accept the invitation and go to Hastinapura. The Pandavas and
their retinue stopped in the magnificent palace reserved for them.
Yudhishthira rested on the day of arrival, and after the
daily routine of duties, went to the hall of games the next morning.
After the exchange of customary greetings, Sakuni
announced to Yudhishthira that the cloth for playing the game had been spread
and invited him to it.
Yudhishthira at first said: "O king, gambling is bad.
It is not through heroism or merit that one succeeds in a game of chance.
Asita, Devala and other wise rishis who were well-versed in worldly affairs
have declared that gambling should be avoided since it offers scope for deceit.
They have also said that conquest in battle is the proper path for the
kshatriyas. You are not unaware of it."
But a part of himself, weakened by addiction to gambling,
was at war with his judgment and in his heart of hearts Yudhishthira desired to
play.
In his discussion with Sakuni, we see this inner
conflict. The keen-witted Sakuni
spotted this weakness at once and said: "What is wrong with the game?
What, in fact, is a battle? What is even a discussion between Vedic scholars?
The learned man wins victory over the ignorant. The better man wins in every
case. It is just a test of strength or skill, that is all, and there is nothing
wrong in it. As for the result, in every field of activity, the expert defeats
the beginner, and that is what happens in a game of dice also. But if you are
afraid, you need not play. But do not come out with this worn excuse of right
and wrong."
Yudhishthira replied: "Well, who is to play with
me?"
Duryodhana said: "Mine is the responsibility for
finding the stakes in the form of wealth and gems to play the game. My uncle
Sakuni will actually cast the dice in my stead."
Yudhishthira had thought himself secure of defeating
Duryodhana in play but Sakuni was a different matter, for Sakuni was a
recognised expert. So he hesitated and said: "It is not, I think,
customary for one man to play on behalf of another."
Sakuni retorted tauntingly: "I see that you are
forging another excuse."
Yudhishthira flushed and, casting caution to the winds,
replied: "Well, I shall play."
The hall was fully crowded. Drona, Kripa, Bhishma, Vidura,
and Dhritarashtra were seated there. They knew that the game would end
viciously and sat unhappily witnessing what they could not prevent.
The assembled princes watched the game with great interest
and enthusiasm. At first they wagered jewels and later gold, silver and then
chariots and horses. Yudhishthira lost continually.
When he lost all these, Yudhishthira staked his servants
and lost them also. He pledged his elephants and armies and lost them too. The
dice thrown by Sakuni seemed at every time to obey his will.
Cows, sheep, cities, villages and citizens and all other
possessions were lost by Yudhishthira. Still, drugged with misfortune, he would
not stop.
He lost the ornaments of his brothers and himself as well
as the very clothes they wore. Still bad luck dogged him, or rather the
trickery of Sakuni was too much for him.
Sakuni asked: "Is there anything else that you can
offer as wager?"
Yudhishthira said: "Here is the beautiful
sky-complexioned Nakula. He is one of my riches. I place him as a wager."
Sakuni replied: "Is it so? We shall be glad to win
your beloved prince." With these words Sakuni cast the dice and the result
was what he had foretold.
The assembly trembled.
Yudhishthira said: "Here is my brother Sahadeva. He
is famous for his infinite knowledge in all the arts. It is wrong to bet him,
still I do so. Let us play."
Sakuni cast the dice with the words: "Here, I have
played and I have won."Yudhishthira lost Sahadeva too.
The wicked Sakuni was afraid that Yudhishthira might stop
there. So be lashed Yudhishthira with these words: "To you, Bhima and
Arjuna, being your full brothers, are no doubt dearer than the sons of Madri.
You will not offer them, I know."
Yudhishthira, now thoroughly reckless and stung to the
quick by the sneering imputation that he held his step-brothers cheap, replied:
"Fool, do you seek to divide us? How can you, living an evil life,
understand the righteous life we lead?"
He continued: "I offer as wager the ever-victorious
Arjuna who successfully voyages across oceans of battle. Let us play."
Sakuni answered: "I cast the dice" and he
played. Yudhishthira lost Arjuna also.
The stubborn madness of unbroken misfortune carried
Yudhishthira further and deeper. With tears in his eyes, he said: "O king,
Bhima, my brother, is our leader in battle. He strikes terror into the heart of
demons and is equal to Indra; he can never suffer the least dishonor and he is
peerless throughout the world in physical strength. I offer him as a bet"
and he played again and lost Bhima too.
The wicked Sakuni asked: "Is there any thing else you
can offer?"
Dharmaputra replied: "Yes. Here is myself. If you
win, I shall be your slave."
"Look. I win." Thus saying, Sakuni cast the dice
and won. After that Sakuni stood up in the assembly and shouted the names of
each of the five Pandavas and loudly proclaimed that they had all become his
lawful slaves.
The assembly looked on in stunned silence. Sakuni alone
turned toYudhishthira and said: "There is one jewel still in your
possession by staking which you can yet free yourself. Can you not continue the
game cffering your wife Draupadi as wager?"
Yudhishthira despairingly said: "I pledge her,"
and he trembled unwittingly.
There was audible distress and agitation in that part of
the assembly where the elders sat. Soon great shouts of 'Fie! Fie!' arose from
all sides. The more emotional wept. Others perspired, and felt the end of the
world was come.
Duryodhana, his brothers and Karna shouted with
exultation. In that group Yuyutsu alone bent his head in shame and sorrow and
heaved a deep sigh. Sakuni cast the dice and shouted again: "I have
won."
At once Duryodhana turned to Vidura and said: "Go and
fetch Draupadi, the beloved wife of the Pandavas. She must hence forward sweep
and clean our house. Let her come without delay."
Vidura exclaimed: "Are you mad that you rush to
certain destruction? You are hanging by a slender thread over a bottomless
abyss! Drunk with success, you do not see it, but it will engulf you!"
Having thus reprimanded Duryodhana, Vidura turned to the
assembly and said: "Yudhishthira had no right to stake Panchali as by then
he had himself already lost his freedom and lost all rights. I see that the
ruin of the Kauravas is imminent, and that, regardless of the advice of their
friends and well-wishers, the sons of Dhritarashtra are on the path to
hell."
Duryodhana was angry at these words of Vidura and told
Prathikami, his charioteer: "Vidura is jealous of us and he is afraid of
the Pandavas. But you are different. Go forth and bring Draupadi
immediately."
26.
Draupadi's Grief
PRATHIKAMI went to Draupadi as ordered by his master. He
said to her: "O revered princess, Yudhishthira fell under the spell of the
game of dice and has wagered and lost even you. Now you belong to Duryodhana. I
have come by Duryodhana's command to take you to serve in his household as maid
servant, which will hereafter be your office."
Draupadi, the spouse of the emperor who had performed
Rajasuya, was dumbfounded, at this strange message. She asked:
"Prathikami, what do you say? Which prince would pledge his wife? Had he
nothing else to pawn?"
Prathikami answered: "It is because he had already
lost all other possessions and had nothing else left that he played offering
you as a stake."
Then he told her the whole story of how Yudhishthira had
lost all his wealth and had finally betted her, after having first forfeited
his brothers and himself.
Though the news was such as to break the heart and kill
the soul, still, Draupadi soon regained her fortitude and, with anger blazing
from her eyes, said: "O charioteer, return. Ask of him who played the game
whether in it he first lost himself, or his wife. Ask this question in the open
assembly. Bring me his answer and then you can take me." Prathikami went
to the assembly and, turning to Yudhishthira, asked of him the question put by
Draupadi.
Yudhishthira remained speechless.
Then Duryodhana bade Prathikami bring Panchali herself
there to question her husband. Prathikami went again to Draupadi and humbly
said: "Princess, the mean-minded Duryodhana desires you to go to the
assembly and ask your question yourself."
Draupadi answered: "No. Return to the assembly and
put the question and demand an answer."
Prathikami did so.
Enraged, Duryodhana turned to his brother Duhsasana and
said: "This man is a fool and is afraid of Bhima. Go and fetch Draupadi
even if you have to drag her here."
Thus commanded, the wicked Duhsasana at once sped with joy
on his errand. He proceeded to the place where Draupadi was, shouting:
"Come, why do you delay? You are now ours. Be not shy, beautiful lady.
Make yourself agreeable to us, now that you have been won by us. Come to the
assembly" and in his impatience, he bade as though to take her thither by
force.
Panchali rose trembling, heart-stricken with sorrow and
started to fly for refuge to the inner apartments of Dhritarashtra's queen.
Duhsasana darted after her, caught her by the hair and dragged her to the
assembly.
It is with a shudder of repugnance that we relate how the
sons of Dhritarashtra stooped to commit this vilest of deeds.
As soon as she came to the assembly, Draupadi controlled
her anguish and appealed to the elders gathered there:
"How could you consent to my being staked by the king
who was himself trapped into the game and cheated by wicked persons, expert in
the art? Since he was no longer a free man, how could he stake anything at
all?"
Then, stretching out her arms and raising her flowing eyes
in agonised supplication she cried in a voice broken with sobs:
"If you have loved and revered the mothers who bore
you and gave you suck, if the honor of wife or sister or daughter has been dear
to you, if you believe in God and dharma, forsake me not in this horror more
cruel than death"'
At this heart-broken cry, as of a poor fawn stricken to
death, the elders hung their heads in grief and shame. Bhima could hold himself
no longer. His swelling heart found relief in a roar of wrath that shook the
very walls, and turning to Yudhishthira he said bitterly:
"Even abandoned professional gamblers would not stake
the harlots who live with them, and you, worse than they, have left the
daughter of Drupada to the mercy of these ruffians. I cannot bear this
injustice. You are the cause of this great crime. Brother Sahadeva, bring fire.
I am going to set fire to those hands of his which cast the dice."
Arjuna however remonstrated gently with Bhima: "You
have never before spoken thus. The plot devised by our enemies is entangling us
also in its meshes and inciting us to wicked action. We should not succumb and
play their game. Beware."
With a superhuman effort, Bhima controlled his anger.
Vikarna, the son of Dhritarashtra, could not bear the
sight of the agony of Panchali. He rose up and said: "O Kshatriya heroes,
why are you silent? I am a mere youth, I know, but your silence compels me to
speak. Listen. Yudhishthira was enticed to this game by a deeply plotted
invitation and he pledged this lady when he had no right to do so, because she
does not belong to Yudhishthira alone. For that reason alone the wager is
illegal. Besides, Yudhishthira had already lost his freedom, and being no
longer a free man, how could he have a right to offer her as a stake? And there
is this further objection. It was Sakuni who suggested her as a pledge, which
is against the rules of the game, under which neither player may demand a
specific bet. If we consider all these points, we must admit that Panchali has
not been legally won by us. This is my opinion."
When the young Vikarna spoke thus courageously, the wisdom
given by God to the members of the assembly suddenly illumined their minds.
There were great shouts of applause. They shouted: "Dharma has been saved.
Dharma has been saved."
At that moment Karna rose up and said:
"O Vikarna, forgetting that there are elders in this
assembly, you lay down the law though you are but a stripling. By your
ignorance and rashness you are injuring the very family which gave you birth,
just as the flame generated by the arani destroys its source, the stick. It is
an ill bird that fouls its own nest. At the very beginning, when Yudhishthira
was a free man, he forfeited all he possessed and that, of course, included
Draupadi. Hence, Draupadi had already come into Sakuni's possession. There is
nothing more to be said in the matter. Even the clothes they have on are now
Sakuni's property. O Duhsasana, seize the garments of the Pandavas and the
robes of Draupadi and hand them over to Sakuni."
As soon as they heard the cruel words of Karna, the
Pandavas, feeling that they had to stand the test of dharma to the bitter end,
flung off their upper garments to show that they were ready to follow the path
of honor and right at any cost.
Seeing this, Duhsasana went to Draupadi and made ready to
seize her clothes by force. All earthly aid had failed, and in the anguish of
utter helplessness, she implored divine mercy and succour:
"O Lord of the World," she wailed, "God
whom I adore and trust, abandon me not in this dire plight. You are my sole
refuge. Protect me." And she fainted away.
Then, as the wicked Duhsasana started his shameful work of
pulling at Panchali's robes and good men shuddered and averted their eyes, even
then, in the mercy of God a miracle occurred.
In vain Duhsasana toiled to strip off her garments, for as
he pulled off each, ever fresh garments were seen to clothe her body, and soon
a great heap of resplendent clothes was piled up before the assembly till
Duhsasana desisted and sat down in sheer fatigue.
The assembly trembled at this marvel and good men praised
God and wept. Bhima with quivering lips, loudly uttered this terrible oath:
"May I never go to the blest abode of my ancestors if I do not rend the
breast and drink the heart's blood of this sinful Duhsasana, this shame of the
Bharata race."
Suddenly, the howling of jackals could be heard. Donkeys
and carnivorous birds began to send forth weird dissonant cries from all sides,
portending calamities to come.
Dhritarashtra who realised that this incident would be the
cause of the destruction of his race, for once acted with wisdom and courage.
He called Draupadi to his side and attempted to soothe her with words of
gentleness and affection.
Then he turned to Yudhishthira and said: "You are so
blameless that you can have no enemies. Forgive in your magnanimity the evil
done by Duryodhana and dismiss all memory of it from your mind. Take back your
kingdom and riches and everything else and be free and prosperous. Return to
Indraprastha." And the Pandavas left that accursed hall, bewildered and
stunned, and seeing a miracle in this sudden release from calamity. But it was
too good to endure.
After Yudhishthira and his brothers had departed, there
was a long and angry discussion in the palace of the Kauravas. Incited by
Duhsasana, Sakuni and others, Duryodhana upbraided his father with having
frustrated their well-laid plans on the very threshold of success.
He quoted Brihaspati's aphorism that no device could be
considered wrong which had as its object the destruction of formidable enemies.
He spoke in detail on the prowess of the Pandavas and
expressed his conviction that the only hope of overcoming the Pandavas lay in
guile and taking advantage of their pride and sense of honor.
No self-respecting kshatriya could decline an invitation
to a game of dice. Duryodhana secured his doting father's reluctant and ominous
approval to a plan to entice Yudhishthira once again to a game of dice.
A messenger was accordingly dispatched after Yudhisthira
who had taken his departure for Indraprastha. He came up with Yudhishthira
before the latter had reached his destination and invited him on behalf of king
Dhritarashtra to come back.
On hearing this invitation, Yudhishthira said: "Good
and evil come from destiny and cannot be avoided. If we must play again we
must, that is all. A challenge to dice cannot in honor be refused. I must
accept it." Truly, as Sri Vyasa says: "There never was and never can
be an antelope of gold! Yet, Rama went in vain pursuit of what seemed one.
Surely, when calamities are imminent, the judgment is first destroyed."
Dharmaputra returned to Hastinapura and set again for a
game with Sakuni, though everyone in the assembly tried to dissuade him.
He seemed a mere pawn moved by Kali to relieve the burden
of the world.
The stake played for was that the defeated party should go
with his brothers into exile to the forest and remain there for twelve years
and spend the thirteenth year incognito. If they were recognised in the
thirteenth year, they should go again into exile for twelve years.
Needless to say, Yudhishthira met with defeat on this
occasion also, and the Pandavas took the vows of those who are to go to the
forest.
All the members of the assembly bent down their heads in
shame.
27.
Dhritarashtra's Anxiety
WHEN the Pandavas set out for the forest, there arose a
great clamor of lamentation from people who thronged the streets and climbed
the roofs and towers and trees to see them go.
The princes, who, of yore, rode in jewelled chariots or on
lordly elephants to strains of auspicious music, now walked away from their birthright
on weary feet, accompanied by weeping crowds. On all sides cries arose of:
"Fie and Alas! Does not God see this from His heaven?"
The blind Dhritarashtra sent for Vidura and asked him to
describe the departure of the Pandavas into exile. Vidura replied:
"Yudhishthira, the son of Kunti, went with his face covered with a cloth.
Bhima went behind with his eyes lowered on his arms. Arjuna proceeded
scattering sand on his path. Nakula and Sahadeva besmeared their bodies with
dust and closely followed Yudhishthira. Draupadi accompanied Dharmaputra, her
dishevelled hair covering her face and her eyes streaming with tears. Dhaumya,
the priest, went along with them singing the Sama hymns, addressed to Yama, the
Lord of Death."
When he heard these words, Dhritarashtra was filled with
ever-greater fear and anxiety than before. He asked: "What do the citizens
say?"
Vidura answered: "O great king, I shall tell you in
their own words what the citizens of all castes and creeds say: 'Our leaders
have left us. Fie on the elders of the Kuru race who have suffered such things
to happen! The covetous Dhritarashtra and his sons have driven away the sons of
Pandu to the forest.' While the citizens blame us thus, the heavens are vexed
with cloudless lightning, and the distressed earth quakes, and there are other
evil portents."
While Dhritarashtra and Vidura were conversing thus, the
sage Narada suddenly appeared before them. Narada declared: "Fourteen
years from this day the Kauravas will become extinct as the result of the crime
committed by Duryodhana" and vanished from sight.
Duryodhana and his companions were filled with fear and
approached Drona with a prayer never to abandon them, whatever happened.
Drona answered gravely: "I believe with the wise that
the Pandavas are of divine birth and unconquerable. Yet my duty is to fight for
the sons of Dhritarashtra who rely on me and whose salt I eat. I shall strive
for them, heart and soul. But destiny is all-powerful. The Pandavas will surely
return from exile, burning with anger. I should know what anger is, for I
dethroned and dishonored Drupada on account of my anger towards him. Implacably
revengeful, he has performed a sacrifice so that he might be blessed with a son
who would kill me. It is said Dhrishtadyumna is that son. As destiny would have
it, he is the brother-in-law and fast friend of the Pandavas. And things are
moving as foreordained. Your actions tend in the same direction and your days
are numbered. Lose no time in doing good while you may; perform great sacrifice,
enjoy sinless pleasures, give alms to the needy. Nemesis will overtake you in
the fourteenth year. Duryodhana, make peace withYudhishthira this is my counsel
to you. But, of course, you will do what you like."
Duryodhana was not at all pleased with these words of
Drona.
Sanjaya asked Dhritarashtra: "O king, why are you
worried?"
The blind king replied: "How can I know peace after
having injured the Pandavas?"
Sanjaya said: "What you say is quite true. The victim
of adverse fate will first become perverted, utterly losing his sense of right
and wrong. Time, the all destroyer, does not take a club and break the head of
a man but by destroying his judgment, makes him act madly to his own ruin. Your
sons have grossly insulted Panchali and put themselves on the path of
destruction."
Dhritarashtra said: "I did not follow the wise path
of dharma and statesmanship but suffered myself to be misled by my foolish son
and, as you say, we are fast hastening towards the abyss."
Vidura used to advise Dhritarashtra earnestly. He would
often tell him: "Your son has committed a great wrong. Dharmaputra has
been cheated. Was it not your duty to turn your children to the path of virtue
and pull them away from vice? You should order even now that the Pandavas get
back the kingdom granted to them by you. Recall Yudhishthira from the forest
and make peace with him. You should even restrain Duryodhana by force if he
will not listen to reason."
At first Dhritarashtra would listen in sad silence when
Vidura spoke thus, for he knew Vidura to be a wiser man than himself who wished
him well. But gradually his patience wore thin with repeated homilies.
One day, Dhritarashtra could stand it no longer. "O
Vidura," he burst out, "you are always speaking for the Pandavas and
against my sons. You do not seek our good. Duryodhana was born of my loins. How
can I give him up? What is the use of advising such an unnatural course? I have
lost my faith in you and do not need you anymore. You are free to go to the
Pandavas if you like." Then, turning his back on Vidura, he retired to the
inner apartments.
Vidura sorrowfully felt that the destruction of the Kuru
race was certain and, taking Dhritarashtra at his word, drove in a chariot with
fleet horses to the forest where the Pandavas lived.
Dhritarashtra was filled with anxious remorse. He
reflected thin himself: "What have I done? I have only strengthened
Duryodhana, while driving the wise Vidura to the Pandavas."
But later he called for Sanjaya and asked him to bear a
repentant message to Vidura imploring him to forgive the thoughtless words of
an unhappy father and to return.
Sanjaya hurried to the hermitage where the Pandavas were
staying and found them clad in deer-skin and surrounded by sages.
He also saw Vidura there and conveyed Dhritarashtra's
message adding that the blind king
would die broken-hearted if he did not return.
The soft-hearted Vidura, who was dharma incarnate, was
greatly moved and returned to Hastinapura.
Dhritarashtra embraced Vidura and the difference between
them was washed away in tears of mutual affection.
One day, the sage Maitreya came to the court of
Dhritarashtra and was welcomed with great respect.
Dhritarashtra craved his blessing and asked him:
"Revered sir, you have certainly met my beloved children, the Pandavas, in
Kurujangala. Are they well? Will mutual affection abide in our family without
any diminution?"
Maitreya said: "I accidentally met Yudhishthira in
the Kamyaka forest. The sages of the place had come to see him. I learnt of the
events that took place in Hastinapura, and I marvelled that such things should
have been permitted while Bhishma and yourself were alive."
Later, Maitreya saw Duryodhana who was also in the
court and advised him, for his own
good, not to injure but to make peace with the Pandavas who were not only
mighty themselves but related to Krishna and Drupada.
The obstinate and foolish Duryodhana merely laughed,
slapping his thighs in derision and, tearing the ground with his feet and
without granting an answer, turned away.
Maitreya grew angry and looking at Duryodhana said:
"Are you so arrogant and do you slap your thighs in derision of one who
wishes you well? Your thighs will be broken by a Bhima's mace and you will die
on the battlefield." At this Dhritarashtra jumped up, fell at the feet of
the sage and begged forgiveness.
Maitreya said: "My curse will not work if your son
makes peace with the Pandavas. Otherwise it will have effect," and strode
indignantly out of the assembly.
28.
Krishna's Vow
As SOON as the news of the slaying of Sisupala by Krishna
reached his friend Salva, he became very angry and besieged Dwaraka with a
mighty force.
Krishna having not yet returned to Dwaraka, old Ugrasena
was in charge of the defence of the city. The sieges described in the
Mahabharata seem very much like those in wars of the present day.
Dwaraka was a strongly garrisoned fortress built on an
island and well provided with means of defence. Ample barracks had been
provided and there was an abundant supply of food and weapons and the garrison
included many illustrious warriors.
Ugrasena imposed a stringent ban upon drinking and
amusements generally for the period of the siege. All the bridges were
demolished and ships were forbidd enentry into ports in the realm.
Iron spikes were planted in the moats around the fortress
and the city walls kept in good repair.
All entrances to the city were guarded with barbed wire
and permits and passwords strictly controlled ingress and egress. Thus no
arrangements were neglected that could further strengthen the city which nature
had already made impregnable.
The pay of the soldiers was increased. Volunteers for
service were rigidly tested before being accepted as soldiers.
The siege was so rigorously pushed that the garrison
suffered great privations. Krishna, when he returned, was struck to the heart
at the sufferings of his beloved city and he compelled Salva immediately to
raise the siege, by attacking and defeating him.
It was only afterwards that Krishna learnt for the first
time of the events at Hastinapura, the game of dice and the exile of the
Pandavas. At once be set out for the forest where the Pandavas were living.
Along with Krishna went many, including men of the Bhoja
and Vrishni tribes, Dhrishtaketu, the king of the Chedi country, and the Kekayas
who were all devoted to the Pandavas.
They were filled with righteous indignation when they
heard of Duryodhana's perfidy and cried out that surely the earth would drink
the blood of such wicked people.
Draupadi approached Sri Krishna and, in a voice drowned in
tears and broken with sobs, told the story of her wrongs. She said: "I was
dragged to the assembly when I had but a single garment on my body. The sons of
Dhritarashtra insulted me most outrageously and gloated over my agony. They thought
that I had become their slave and accosted me and treated me as one. Even
Bhishma and Dhritarashtra forgot my birth and breeding and my relationship to
them. O Janardhana, even my husbands did not protect me from the jeers and the
ribald insults of those foul ruffians. Bhima's bodily strength and Arjuna's
Gandiva bow were alike of no avail. Under such supreme provocation even
weaklings would have found strength and courage to strike the vile insulter
dead. The Pandavas are renowned heroes and yet Duryodhana lives! I, the
daughter-in-law of the emperor Pandu, was dragged by my hair. I, the wife of
five heroes, was dishonored. O Madhusudana, even you had deserted me." She
stood trembling, utterly unable to continue, for the grief convulsed her.
Krishna was deeply moved and he consoled the weeping
Draupadi. He said: "Those who tormented you will be stricken to death in
the bloody quagmire of a lost battle. Wipe your eyes. I solemnly promise that
your grievous wrongs shall be amply avenged. I shall help the Pandavas in every
way. You will become an empress. The heavens may fall, the Himalayas may split
in twain, the earth may crumble or the boundless sea may dry up, but, I tell
you verily, my words shall stand. I swear this," and Krishna took a solemn
vow before Draupadi.
This vow, it will be seen, was in perfect accord with the
purpose of the Lord's avatars, as declared in scriptures:
"For protecting the righteous, for destroying the
wicked and for firmly upholding the law, I am born on earth age after
age."
Dhrishtadyumna also consoled his sister and told her how
nemesis would overtake the Kauravas.
He said: "I will kill Drona, Sikhandin will cause
Bhishma's fall. Bhima will take the lives of the wicked Duryodhana and his
brothers. Arjuna will slay Karna, the charioteer's son."
Sri Krishna said: "When this calamity befell you, I
was in Dwaraka. Had I been in Hastinapur, I would never have allowed this
fraudulent game of dice to take place. Uninvited, I would have gone there and
stirred up Drona, Kripa and the other elders to a sense of duty. I would, at
all costs, have prevented this destructive play of dice. When Sakuni was
cheating you, I was fighting King Salva who had besieged my city. It was only
after I had defeated him that I came to know of the game of dice and the
subsequent sordid story. It grieves me that I am not able to remove your
sorrows immediately but you know, some water must be lost before a broken dam
is restored."
Then Krishna took leave and returned to Dwaraka with
Subhadra, the wife of Arjuna, and their child, Abhimanyu.
Dhrishtadyumna went back to Panchala taking with him the
sons of Draupadi.
29. Pasupata
IN the beginning of their stay in the forest, Bhima and
Draupadi used, on occasions, to argue with Yudhishthira.
They would plead that only righteous anger befitted a
kshatriya and that patience and forbearance under slights and insults were not
worthy of him.
They would quote weighty authorities and argue vehemently
in support of their contention. Yudhishthira would firmly reply that they
should abide by the promise they had made and that forbearance was the highest
virtue of all.
Bhima was burning with impatience to attack and kill
Duryodhana immediately and win back the kingdom. He thought it unworthy of
warriors to continue to dwell tamely in the forest.
Bhima said to Yudhishthira: "You speak like those who
repeat Vedic mantras and are satisfied with the sound of the words though
ignorant of their meaning. Your
intellect has become confused. You are born as a kshatriya and yet you do not
think or behave like one. You have become a brahmana by temperament. You know,
the scriptures enjoin on a kshatriya sternness and enterprise. We should not
let the wicked sons of Dhritarashtra have their way. Vain is the birth of a
kshatriya who does not conquer his deceitful enemies. This is my opinion, and
to me, if we go to hell by killing a deceitful foe, such hell is heaven. Your
forbearance burns us worse than fire. It scorches Arjuna and myself day and
night, making us sleepless. Those miscreants have seized our kingdom by fraud
and are enjoying it, while you lie torpid like a gorged python. You say that we
should abide by our promise. How can the world-renowned Arjuna live incognito?
Can the Himalayas be hidden under a handful of grass? How can the lion-hearted
Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva live in hiding? Can the famous Draupadi walk about
unrecognized by others? Even if we do these impossible things, the son of
Dhritarashtra will find out through his spies. Hence, this promise of ours is
impossible of performance and has been put on us merely to thrust us out again
for another thirteen years. The sastras too support me when I say that a
filched promise is no promise. A handful of grass thrown to a tired bull ought
to be enough as expiation for breaking such a promise. You should resolve to
kill our enemies immediately. There is no higher duty for a kshatriya."
Bhima was never tired of pressing his view. Draupadi also
would refer to the dishonor she had suffered at the hands of Duryodhana, Karna
and Duhsasana and would quote authorities from the scriptures that would give
Yudhishthira anxiety to think.
He would sometimes answer with common maxims of politics
and refer to the relative strength of the parties. He would say: "Our enemy has such adherents as Bhurisravas,
Bhishma, Drona, Karna and Aswatthama. Duryodhana and his brothers are expert in
warfare. Many feudatory princes, as well as mighty monarchs, are now on their
side. Bhishma and Drona, indeed, have no respect for Duryodhana's character, but
will not give him up and are prepared to sacrifice their lives on his side in
the battlefield. Karna is a brave and skilful fighter, well versed in the use
of all the weapons. The course of war is unpredictable and success is
uncertain. There is no use in being hasty." Thus Yudhishthira managed with
difficulty to restrain the impatience of the younger Pandavas.
Later, as advised by Vyasa, Arjuna went to the Himalayas
to practise austerities for the purpose of getting new weapons from the devas.
Arjuna took leave of his brothers and went to Panchali to bid her farewell.
She said: "O Dhananjaya, may you prosper in your
mission. May God give you all that Kuntidevi hoped and wished for when you were
born. The happiness, life, honor and prosperity of us all depend on you. Return
after acquiring new weapons." Thus Panchali sent him forth with auspicious
words.
It is noteworthy that though the voice was Draupadi the
wife's, yet the benediction was Kunti the mother's for the words were:
"May God give all that Kuntidevi wished and hoped for when you were
born."
Arjuna passed through dense forests and reached the
mountain of Indrakila, where he met an old brahmana. The ascetic smiled and
spoke affectionately to Arjuna:
"Child, you are clad in armor and carry weapons. Who
are you? Weapons are of no use here. What do you seek in this garb of a
kshatriya in this abode of ascetics and saints who have conquered anger and
passion?" That was Indra, the king of gods, who came to have the pleasure
of meeting his son.
Arjuna bowed to his father and said: "I seek arms.
Bless me with weapons." Indra replied: "O Dhananjaya, what is the use
of weapons? Ask for pleasures or seek to go to higher worlds for
enjoyment."
Arjuna answered: "O king of gods, I do not seek
pleasures of higher worlds. I have come here after leaving Panchali and my
brothers in the forest. I seek but weapons."
The thousand-eyed said: "If you be blessed by the
vision of god Siva, the three-eyed god, and obtain his grace, you will receive
divine weapons. Do penance unto Siva."
Thus saying Indra disappeared. Then, Arjuna went to the
Himalayas and did penance to obtain the grace of Siva.
Siva under the guise of a hunter and accompanied by his
divine spouse Umadevi, entered the forest in pursuit of game.
The chase grew fast and furious, and presently a wild boar
started charging Arjuna, who shot an arrow into it with his Gandiva bow at the
same moment that the hunter Siva transfixed it with a shaft from his Pinaka
bow.
Arjuna shouted in loud voice: "Who are you? Why are
you ranging in this forest with your wife? How dare you shoot at the game I had
aimed at?"
The hunter replied as though in contempt: "This
forest, full of game, belongs to us, who live in it. You do not look tough
enough to be a forester. Your limbs and bearing bespeak a soft luxurious life.
It is rather for me to ask what you are doing here." He also added that it
was his shaft that had killed the boar, and that if Arjuna thought differently
be was welcome to fight about it.
Nothing could please Arjuna better. He jumped up and
showered snake-like arrows at Siva. To his amazement, they seemed to have no
effect on the hunter and fell back hurtless like storm-driven rain from a
mountain peak.
When he had no more arrows, he started to strike Siva with
his bow. But the hunter seemed not to heed it and wrenched with ease the bow
out of Arjuna's hand and burst into laughter.
Arjuna, who had been disarmed with humiliating ease by one
who seemed an ordinary hunter of the forest, was struck with amazement, almost
amounting to doubt. But undaunted, he drew his sword and continued the combat.
The sword was split into pieces on the hunter's adamantine
frame. There was now nothing to do but to grapple with the formidable unknown.
But here again he was outmatched.
The hunter caught him in an iron clasp so close that
Arjuna was quite helpless. Worsted and
overmastered, Arjuna humbly sought divine aid and meditated on Siva. As he did
so, a light broke on his troubled mind, and at once he knew who the hunter
really was.
He fell at the feet of the Lord and, in a broken voice of
repentance and adoration he prayed for forgiveness. "I forgive you,"
said Siva smilingly and gave him back his Gandiva bow, as well as the other
weapons, of which he had been deprived. He also bestowed on Arjuna the
marvellous Pasupata weapon.
Arjuna's body, battered in the unequal combat, was made
whole and perfect by the divine touch of the three-eyed god and became a
hundred fold stronger and more brilliant than before.
"Go to heaven and render dutiful respect to your
father Indra," said Siva and vanished from view like the setting sun.
Arjuna was overcome with joy and exclaimed: "Have I
really seen the Lord face to face and have I been blessed with his divine
touch? What more do I need?"
At that moment, Matali, the charioteer of Indra, came
there with his chariot and took Arjuna to the kingdom of the gods.
30.
Affliction is Nothing New
BALARAMA and Krishna came with their retinue to the abode
of the Pandavas in the forest. Deeply distressed by what he saw, Balarama said
to Krishna:
"O Krishna, it would seem that virtue and wickedness
bear contrary fruit in this life. For see, the wicked Duryodhana is ruling his
kingdom clad in silk and gold, while the virtuous Yudhishthira lives in the
forest wearing the bark of trees. Seeing such unmerited prosperity and
undeserved privation, men have lost their faith in God. The praise of virtue in
the sastras seems mere mummery when we see the actual results of good and evil
in this world. How will Dhritarashtra justify his conduct and defend himself
when he is face to face with the god of death? Even the mountains and the earth
weep at the sight of the blameless Pandavas dwelling in the forests with the
blessed Draupadi, born from the sacrificial fire."
Satyaki, who was seated near, said: "O Balarama, this
is no time for lamenting. Should we wait till Yudhishthira asks us to do our
duty for the Pandavas? While you and Krishna and all other relations are
living, why should the Pandavas waste their precious years in the forest? Let
us collect our forces and attack Duryodhana. With the army of the Vrishnis, we
are surely strong enough to destroy the Kauravas. Why, where is the need to
foil Karna's vaunted archery and cut off his head. Let us kill Duryodhana and
his adherents in the battlefield and hand over the kingdom to Abhimanyu if the
Pandavas wish to keep their word and stay in the forest. This is good for them
and befits us as men of valor."
Vasudeva, who was listening carefully to this speech, said:
"What you say is true. But the Pandavas would not like to receive from the
hands of others what they have not won by their own efforts. Draupadi for one,
born of a heroic race as she is, would not hear of it. Yudhishthira will never
give up the path of righteousness for love or fear. When the stipulated period
of exile is over the kings of Panchala, Kekaya and Chedi and ourselves will
unite our forces to help the Pandavas to conquer their enemies."
Yudhishthira was delighted at these words of Krishna.
"Sri Krishna knows my mind," said he. "Truth is greater than
power or prosperity and has to be guarded at all costs and not the kingdom.
When he wants us to fight, he shall find us ready. The heroes of the Vrishni
race may now return with the certainty that we shall meet again when the time
is ripe." With these words Yudhishthira gave them leave to return.
Arjuna was still away in the Himalayas and Bhima's anxiety
and impatience became well nigh insupportable. He said to Yudhishthira:
"You know that our life depends on Arjuna. He has
been away very long, and we have had no tidings of him. If he should be lost to
us, then neither the king of Panchala, nor Satyaki nor even Sri Krishna can
save us, and I for one cannot survive that loss. All this we owe to that mad
game of dice, our sorrows and sufferings, as well as the growing strength of
our foes. To be dwelling in the forest is not the duty enjoined on a kshatriya.
We should immediately recall Arjuna and wage war with the sons of
Dhritarashtra, with the help of Sri Krishna. I shall be satisfied only when the
wicked Sakuni, Karna and Duryodhana are slain. After this clear duty is done,
you may, if you like, return to the forest and live a life of asceticism. It is
not a sin to kill by stratagem an enemy who has resorted to stratagem. I have
heard that the Atharva Veda has incantations, which can compress time and
reduce its span. If we could, by such means, squeeze thirteen years into
thirteen days, we would be perfectly justified in doing so, and you will permit
me on the fourteenth day to kill Duryodhana."
Hearing these words of Bhima, Dharmaputra affectionately
embraced him and sought to restrain his impetuosity. "Beloved brother, as
soon as the period of thirteen years is over, Arjuna, the hero, with the
Gandiva bow, and yourself will fight and kill Duryodhana. Be patient till then.
Duryodhana and his followers, who are sunk in sin, cannot escape. Be assured of
it." While the sorrow-stricken brothers were thus engaged in debate, the
great sage Brihadaswa came to the hermitage of the Pandavas and was received
with the customary honors.
After a while, Yudhishthira said to him: "Revered
sage, our deceitful enemies, drew us into this game of dice and cheated us of
our kingdom and riches, and drove my heroic brothers, as well as Panchali and
myself, to the forest. Arjuna, who left us a long time ago to get divine
weapons, has not returned as yet and we miss him sorely. Will he return with
divine arms? And when will he be back? Surely never was there in this world a
man who suffered so much sorrow as myself."
The great sage replied: "Do not let your mind dwell
on sorrow. Arjuna will return with divine weapons and you will conquer your
enemies in the fitness of time. You say that there is no one in this world that
is as unfortunate as you. Now, that is not true, though everyone, tried by
adversity, is inclined to claim pre-eminence in sorrow, because things felt are
more than things heard or seen. Have you heard of king Nala of Nishadha? He
suffered more sorrows than yourself even in the forest. He was deceived by
Pushkara at a game of dice. He lost his wealth and kingdom and had to go in
exile to the forest. Less fortunate than you, he had not with him his brothers
or brahmanas. The influence of Kali, the spirit of the dark age, deprived him
of his discrimination and good sense. And not knowing what he was doing, he
deserted his wife who had accompanied him, and wandered about in the forest,
solitary and almost mad. Now, compare your state with his. You have the company
of your heroic brothers and devoted wife and are supported by a few learned
brahmanas in your adversity. Your mind is sound and steady. Self-pity is
natural, but you are really not so badly off."
The sage then narrated the life of Nala which constitutes
twenty-eight chapters of the great epic. The sage concluded with these words:
"O Pandava, Nala was tried by sorrows more agonising
than yours, yet he triumphed over them all and his life ended happily. You have
the alleviations of unclouded intellect and the society of your nearest and
dearest. You spend much of your time in exalted contemplation of dharma and in
holy converse with brahmanas who are learned in the Vedas and Vedantas. Bear
your trials and tribulations with fortitude, for they are the lot of man and
not peculiar to you."
Thus did the sage Brihadaswa console Yudhishthira.
31.
Agastya
THE brahmanas, who had been with Yudhishthira in
Indraprastha, had followed him to the forest. It was difficult to maintain such
a large establishment.
Some time after Arjuna had gone on his quest of Pasupata,
a brahmana sage named Lomasa came to the abode of the Pandavas.
He advised Yudhishthira to minimize his retinue before
going on pilgrimage as it would be difficult to move freely from place to place
with a large following.
Yudhishthira, who had long felt that difficulty, announced
to his followers that such of them, as were unaccustomed to hardship and to
hard and scanty fare and those who had followed merely in token of loyalty,
might return to Dhritarashtra or, if they preferred it, go to Drupada, the King
of Panchala.
Later, with a greatly reduced retinue, the Pandavas
started on a pilgrimage to holy places, acquainting themselves with the stories
and traditions relating to each. The story of Agastya was one such.
Agastya, it is said, once saw some ancestral spirits
dangling head down and asked them who they were and how they had come to be in
that unpleasant plight.
They replied: "Dear child, we are your ancestors. If
you discharge not your debt to us by marrying and begetting progeny, there will
be no one after you to offer us oblations. We have, therefore, resorted to this
austerity, in order to persuade you to save us from this peril."
When Agastya heard this, he decided to marry.
The king of the country of Vidarbha was childless and, so,
careworn. He repaired to Agastya to get his blessing. In granting him the boon,
Agastya announced that the king would be the father of a beautiful girl, who,
he stipulated should be given in marriage to him.
Soon the queen gave birth to a girl who was named
Lopamudra. She grew with years into a maiden of such rare beauty and charm that
she became celebrated in the kshatriya world. But no prince dared to woo her
for fear of Agastya.
Later, the sage Agastya came to Vidarbha and demanded the
hand of the king's daughter. The king was reluctant to give the delicately
nurtured princess in marriage to a sage leading the primitive life of a
forester but he also feared the anger of the sage if he said nay, and was plunged
in sorrow.
Lopamudra, greatly concerned, discovered the cause of her
parent's unhappiness and expressed her readiness, nay her desire, to marry the
sage.
The king was relieved, and the marriage of Agastya and
Lopamudra was celebrated in due course. When the princess set out to accompany
the sage, he bade her give up her costly garments and valuable jewels.
Unquestioningly Lopamudra distributed her priceless jewels
and garments amongst her companions and attendants, and covering herself in
deerskin and garments of bark, she joyfully accompanied the sage.
During the time Lopamudra and Agastya spent in tapas and
meditation at Gangadwara, a strong and abiding love sprang up between them. For
conjugal life, Lopamudra's modesty shrank from the lack of privacy in a forest
hermitage. And one day, with blushing and humbleness she expressed her mind to
her husband.
She said: "My desire is that I may have the royal
bedding, the beautiful robes and the valuable jewels I had when I was in my
father's place and that you too may have splendid garments and ornaments. And
then we shall enjoy life to our heart's content."
Agastya smilingly replied: "I have neither the wealth
nor the facilities to provide what you want. Are we not beggars living in the
forest?"
But Lopamudra knew her lord's yogic power, and said:
"Lord, you are all-powerful by the strength of your austerities. You can
get the wealth of the whole world in a moment if you but will."
Agastya said that no doubt that was so, but, if he spent
his austerities in gaining things of such little moment as riches, they would
soon dwindle to nothing.
She replied: "I do not wish that. What I desire is
that you should earn in the ordinary way sufficient wealth for us to live in
ease and comfort."
Agastya consented and set out as an ordinary brahmana to
beg of various kings. Agastya went to a king who was reputed to be very
wealthy. The sage told the king: "I have come in quest of wealth. Give me
what I seek, without causing any loss or injury to others."
The king presented a true picture of the income and
expenditure of the State and told him he was free to take what he deemed fit.
The sage found from the accounts that there was no balance left.
The expenditure of a State turns out always to be at least
equal to its income. This seems to have been the case in ancient times also.
Seeing this, Agastya said: "To accept any gift from
this king, will be a hardship to the citizens. So, I shall seek
elsewhere," and the sage was about to leave. The king said that he would
also accompany him and both of them went to another State where also they found
the same state of affairs.
Vyasa thus lays down and illustrates the maxim that a king
should not tax his subjects more than necessary for rightful public expenditure
and that if one accepts as gift anything from the public revenues, one adds to
the burden of the subjects to that extent.
Agastya thought he had better go to the wicked asura
Ilvala and try his luck. Ilvala and his
brother Vatapi cherished an implacable hatred towards brahmanas. They had
curious plan for killing them. Ilvala would, with effective hospitality, invite
a brahmana to a feast.
By the power of his magic he would transform his brother
Vatapi into a goat and he would kill this pseudo-goat for food and serve its meat
to the guest. In those days, the brahmanas used to eat meat. The feast over,
Ilvala would invoke his brother Vatapi to come out, for he had the art of
bringing back to life those whom he had killed.
And Vatapi, who as food had entered the vitals of the
unlucky brahmana, would spring up sound and whole and rend his way out with
fiendish laughter, of course killing the guest in doing so.
In this manner, many brahmanas had died. Ilvala was very
happy when he learnt that Agastya was in the neighborhood, since he felt that
here was a good brahmana delivered into his hands.
So, he welcomed him and prepared the usual feast. The sage
ate heartily of Vatapi transformed into a goat, and it only remained for Ilvala
to call out Vatapi for the rending scene. And, as usual, Ilvala repeated the
magic formula and shouted: "Vatapi come out!"
Agastya smiled and, gently rubbing his stomach, said:
"O Vatapi, be digested in my stomach for the peace and good of the
world." Ilvala shouted again and again in frantic fear: "O Vatapi,
come forth."
There was no response and the sage explained the reason.
Vatapi had been digested. The trick had been tried once too often.
The asura bowed to Agastya and surrendered to him the
riches he sought. Thus was the sage able to satisfy Lopamudra's desire. Agastya
asked her what she would prefer whether ten ordinarily good sons or one
super-good son with the strength of ten.
Lopamudra replied she would like to have one exceptionally
virtuous and learned son. The story goes that she was blessed with such a
gifted son.
Once the Vindhyas became jealous of the Meru Mountain and
tried to grow in stature, obstructing the sun, the moon and the planets. Unable
to prevent this danger, the gods sought aid from Agastya. The sage went to the
Vindhya Mountain and said:
"Best of mountains, stop you’re growing till I cross
you on my way to the south and return north again. After my return, you can
grow, as you like. Wait till then." Since the Vindhya Mountain respected
Agastya, it bowed to his request.
Agastya did not return north at all, but settled in the
south and so the Vindhyas remain arrested in growth to this day. Such is the
story as narrated in the Mahabharata.
32.
Rishyasringa
IT is an error to think that it is easy for a person to
lead a life of chastity if he is brought up in complete ignorance of sensual
pleasures. Virtue guarded only by ignorance is very insecure as illustrated by
the following story. It is told in the Ramayana also, but not in the same
detail.
Vibhandaka who was resplendent like Brahma, the Creator,
lived with his son Rishyasringa in a forest. The latter had not come across any
mortal, man or woman, except his father.
The country of Anga was once afflicted with a dire famine.
Crops had withered for want of rain and men perished for lack of food. All
living things were in distress. Romapada, the king of the country, approached
the brahmanas to advise him of some means of saving the kingdom from famine.
The brahmanas replied: "Best of kings, there is a
young sage called Rishyasringa who lives a life of perfect chastity. Invite him
to our kingdom. He has won the power, by his austerities, of bringing rain and
plenty wherever he goes."
The king discussed with his courtiers the means by which
Rishyasringa could be brought from the hermitage of the sage Vibhandaka. In
accordance with their advice, he called together the most charming courtesans
of the city and entrusted them with the mission of bringing Rishyasringa to
Anga.
The damsels were in a quandary. On the one hand, they feared
to disobey the king. On the other, they also feared the sage's wrath. Finally,
they made up their minds to go, relying on Providence to help them, in
achieving the good work of rescuing the stricken land from famine.
They were suitably equipped for their enterprise before
being sent to the hermitage. The leader
of this band of courtesans made a beautiful garden of a big boat, with
artificial trees and creepers, with an imitation ashrama in the center.
She had the boat moored in the river near Vibhandaka's
hermitage, and the courtesans visited the hermitage with quaking hearts.
Luckily for them, the sage was not at home. Feeling that this was the opportune
moment, one of the beautiful damsels went to the sage's son.
She thus addressed Rishyasringa: "Great sage, are you
well? Have you sufficient roots and fruits? Are the penances of the rishis of
the forest proceeding satisfactorily? Is your father's glory constantly
growing? Is your own study of the Vedas progressing?" This was how rishis
used to accost one another in those days.
The youthful anchorite had never before seen such a
beautiful human form or heard such a sweet voice.
The instinctive yearning for society, especially of the
opposite sex, though he had never seen a woman before, began to work on his
mind from the moment he beheld that graceful form.
He thought that she was a young sage like himself, and
felt a strange irrepressible joy surging up in his soul. He answered, fixing
eyes on his interlocutor:
"You seem to be a bright brahmacharin. Who are you? I
bow to you. Where is your hermitage? What are the austerities you are
practising?" and he rendered her the customary offerings.
She said to him: "At a distance of three yojanas from
here is my ashrama. I have brought fruits for you. I am not fit to receive your
prostration, but I shall return your greetings and salutation in the way
customary with us." She embraced him warmly, fed him with the sweets she
had brought, decorated him with perfumed garlands, and served him with drinks.
She embraced him again, saying that that was their way of
salutation to honored guests. He thought it a very agreeable way.
Shortly after, fearing the return of the sage Vibhandaka,
the courtesan took her leave of Rishyasringa saying it was time for her to
perform the agnihotra sacrifice and gently slipped out of the hermitage.
When Vibhandaka returned to the hermitage, he was shocked
to see the place so untidy with sweet meats scattered all over, for the
hermitage had not been cleansed. The shrubs and creepers looked draggled and
untidy.
His son's face had not its usual lustre but seemed clouded
and disturbed as by a storm of passion. The usual simple duties of the
hermitage had been neglected.
Vibhandaka was troubled and asked his son: "Dear boy,
why have you not yet gathered the sacred firewood? Who has broken these nice
plants and shrubs? Has the cow been milked? Has anyone been here to serve you?
Who gave you this strange garland? Why do you appear worried?"
The simple and ingenuous Rishyasringa replied: "A
brahmacharin of wonderful form was here. I cannot describe his brightness and
beauty or the sweetness of his voice. My inner being has been filled with
indescribable happiness and affection by listening to his voice and looking at
his eyes. When he embraced me, which it seems is his customary greeting, I
experienced a joy which I have never felt before, no, not even when eating the
sweetest fruits," and then he described to his father the form, beauty and
the doings of his fair visitor.
Rishyasringa added wistfully: "My body seems to burn
with desire for the company of that brahmacharin and I should like to go and
find him and bring him here somehow. How can I give you any idea about his
devotion and brightness? My heart pants to see him."
When Rishyasringa had thus brokenly expressed yearnings
and disturbances to which he had hitherto been a stranger, Vibhandaka knew what
had occurred. He said: "Child, this was no brahmacharin that you saw, but
a malignant demon who sought, as demons do, to beguile us and hinder our
penances and austerities. They take recourse to many kinds of tricks and
stratagems for the purpose. Do not let them come near you."
After that Vibhandaka searched in vain for three days in
the forest to find out the wretches who had done this injury, and returned
baffled it his purpose.
On another occasion, when Vibhandaka had gone out of the
hermitage to bring roots and fruits, the courtesan again came softly to the
place where Rishyasringa was seated. As soon as he saw her at a distance,
Rishyasringa jumped up and ran to greet her gushingly, as pent up water surges
out of a reservoir that has sprung a leak.
Even without waiting for prompting this time, Rishyasringa
went near her and after the customary salutation said: "O shining brahmacharin, before my
father returns let us go to your hermitage."
This was just what she had hoped and worked for. And
together they entered the boat, which had been made to look like a hermitage.
As soon as the young sage had entered, the boat was freed from its moorings and
floated easily down with its welcome freight to the kingdom of Anga.
As might be expected, the young sage had a pleasant and
interesting journey and when he reached Anga, he certainly knew more about the
world and its ways than he had done in the forest.
The coming of Rishyasringa delighted Romapada infinitely
and he took his welcome guest to the luxuriously provided inner apartments
specially prepared for him.
As foretold by the brahmanas, rain began to pour the
instant Rishyasringa set his foot in the country. The rivers and the lakes were
full and the people rejoiced. Romapada gave his daughter Shanta in marriage to
Rishyasringa.
Though all ended as he had planned, the king was uneasy in
his mind, for he was afraid that Vibhandaka might come in search of his son and
pronounce a curse on him.
So, he sought to mollify Vibhandaka by lining the route he
would take with cattle and kind and by instructing the cowherds in charge to
say that they were Rishyasringa's servants and had come to welcome and honor
their master's father and place themselves at his service.
Not finding his son anywhere in the hermitage, the enraged
Vibhandaka thought that this might be the work of the king of Anga.
He crossed intervening rivers and villages and marched to
the capital of the king as if to burn him in his anger. But as at each stage of
the journey he saw magnificent cattle which belonged to his son and was
respectfully welcomed by his son's servants, his angry mood passed gradually as
he approached the capital.
When he came to the capital, he was received with great
honor and taken to the king's palace where he saw his son sitting in state like
the king of the gods in heaven. He saw by his side his wife, the princess
Shanta, whose great beauty soothed and pleased him.
Vibhandaka blessed the king. He laid this injunction on
his son: "Do all that will please this king. After the birth of a son,
come and join me in the forest." Rishyasringa did as his father bade him.
Lomasa concluded the story with these words addressed to
Yudhishthira: "Like Damayanti and Nala, Sita and Rama, Arundhati and
Vasishtha, Lopamudra and Agastya, and Draupadi and yourself, Shanta and
Rishyasringa repaired to the forest in the fullness of time and spent their
lives in mutual love and the worship of God. This is the hermitage where
Rishyasringa. lived. Bathe in these waters and be purified." The Pandavas
bathed there and performed their devotions.
33.
Fruitless Penance
IN the course of their wanderings, the Pandavas reached
the hermitage of Raibhya on the banks of the Ganga.
Lomasa told them the story of the place: "This is the
ghat where Bharata, the son of Dasaratha, bathed. These waters cleansed Indra
of the sin of killing Vritra unfairly. Here also Sanatkumara became one with
God. Aditi, the mother of the gods, offered oblations on this mountain and
prayed to be blessed with a son. O Yudhishthira, ascend this holy mountain and
the misfortunes, which have cast a cloud on your life, will vanish. Anger and
passion will be washed off if you bathe in the running waters of this
river."
Then Lomasa expatiated in greater detail on the sanctity
of the place.
He began the story thus: "Yavakrida, the son of a
sage, met with destruction in this very place."
He continued: "There lived in their hermitages two
eminent brahmanas, named Bharadwaja and Raibhya, who were dear friends. Raibhya
and his two sons, Paravasu and Arvavasu, learnt the Vedas and became famed
scholars. Bharadwaja devoted himself wholly to the worship of God. He had a son
named Yavakrida who saw with jealousy and hatred that the brahmanas did not
respect his ascetic father as they did the learned Raibhya. Yavakrida practised
hard penance to gain the grace of Indra. He tortured his body with austerities
and thus awakened the compassion of Indra, who appeared and asked him why he so
mortified his flesh."
Yavakrida replied: "I wish to be more learned in the
Vedas than any has ever been before. I wish to be a great scholar. I am
performing these austerities to realise that desire. It takes a long time and
involves much hardship to learn the Vedas from a teacher. I am practising
austerities to acquire that knowledge directly. Bless me."
Indra smiled and said: "O brahmana, you are on the
wrong path. Return home, seek a proper preceptor and learn the Vedas from him.
Austerity is not the way to learning. The path is study and study alone."
With these words Indra vanished. But the son of Bharadwaja would not give up.
He pursued his course of austerities with even greater
rigor, to the horror and the distress of the gods. Indra again manifested
himself before Yavakrida and warned him again:
"You have taken the wrong path to acquire knowledge.
You can acquire knowledge only by study. Your father learnt the Vedas by
patient study and so can you. Go and study the Vedas. Desist from this vain
mortification of the body."
Yavakrida did not heed even this second warning of Indra
and announced defiantly that if his prayer were not granted, he would cut off
his limbs one by one and offer them as oblations to the fire. No, he would
never give up.
He continued his penance. One morning, during his
austerities, when he went to bathe in the Ganga, be saw a gaunt old brahmana on
the bank, laboriously throwing handfuls of sand into the water.
Yavakrida asked: "Old man, what are you doing?"
The old man replied: "I am going to build a dam across this river. When,
with handful after handful, I have built a dam of sand here, people can cross
the river with ease. See how very difficult it is at present to cross it. Useful
work, isn't it?"
Yavakrida laughed and said: "What a fool you must be
to think you can build a dam across this mighty river with your silly handfuls
of sand! Arise and take to some more useful work."
The old man said: "Is my project more foolish than
yours of mastering the Vedas not by study but by austerities?" Yavakrida
now knew that the old man was Indra. More humble this time, Yavakrida earnestly
begged Indra to grant him learning as a personal boon.
Indra blessed, and comforted Yavakrida with the following
words:
"Well, I grant you the boon you seek. Go and study
the Vedas; you will become learned."
34.
Yavakrida's End
YAVAKRIDA studied the Vedas and became learned. He grew
vain with the thought that he had acquired the knowledge of the Vedas through
the boon of Indra and not through human tutelage.
Bharadwaja did not like this and feared that his son might
ruin himself by slighting Raibhya. He thought it necessary to warm him.
"The gods," he said, "grant boons to foolish people who
persistently practise penances, as intoxicants are sold to fools for money.
They lead to loss of self-control, and this leads to the warping of the mind
and utter destruction." He illustrated his advice by the ancient tale,
which is given below.
In olden times there was a celebrated sage named Baladhi.
He had a son whose untimely death plunged him into grief. So, be practised
rigorous penance to get a son who would never meet with death.
The gods told the sage that this could never be, for the
human race was necessarily mortal, and there need must be a limit to human
life. They asked him to name his own limit.
The sage replied: "In that case grant that the life
of my son may persist as long as that mountain lasts." The boon was
granted to him and he was duly blessed with a son named Medhavi.
Medhavi grew conceited at the thought that he was safe
from death forever, since he would live as long as the mountain existed, and he
behaved with arrogance towards all.
One day, this vain man showed disrespect to a great sage
named Dhanushaksha. At once that sage cursed that he might be turned to ashes,
but the curse took no effect on Medhavi who remained in perfect health.
Seeing this, the high-souled sage was puzzled and then
remembered the gift Medhavi had been endowed with at birth. Dhanushaksha took the form of a wild buffalo
and by the power of his penances butted at the mountain and broke it to pieces
and Medhavi fell down dead.
Bharadwaja concluded the story with this solemn warning to
his son: "Learn wisdom from this old story. Be not ruined by vanity.
Cultivate self-restraint. Do not transgress the limits of good conduct and do
not be disrespectful to the great Raibhya."
It was springtime. The trees and creepers were beautiful
with flowers and the whole forest was gorgeous with color and sweet with the
song of birds.
The very earth seemed to be under the spell of the god of
love. Paravasu's wife was strolling alone in the garden near the hermitage of
Raibhya. She appeared more than human, in the sweet union in her of beauty,
courage and purity.
At that time Yavakrida came there and was so overwhelmed
by her loveliness that he completely lost his sense and self-control and became
as a ravening beast with lust.
He accosted her and taking brutal advantage of her fear and
shame and bewilderment, he dragged her to a lonely pot and violated her person.
Raibhya returned to his hermitage. He saw his daughter
in-law weeping, broken-hearted and inconsolable and learning of the shameful
outrage perpetrated on her, he was seized with implacable anger. He plucked a
hair from his bead and offered it to the fire reciting a mantra.
At once, a maiden, as beautiful as his daughter-in-law,
emerged from the sacrificial fire.
The sage plucked another hair from his knotted lock and
offered it as oblation. A terrible ghost rose from the fire. The sage commanded
them to kill Yavakrida. Both of them bowed to the order.
While Yavakrida was performing the morning rites, the
female spirit went near him and with smiles and allurements put him off his
guard and as she ran away with his water-jug, the male ghost rushed on him with
uplifted spear.
Yavakrida stood up in fear. Knowing that his mantras would
be of no avail until he cleansed himself with water, he looked for his
water-jug. When he found it missing, he rushed to a pond for water but the pond
was dry. He went to nearby stream, which also dried up at his approach.
There was no water for him anywhere. The terrible fiend
pursued him everywhere and Yavakrida fled for his life, with the demon hot on
his heels. His sin had consumed the power of his vigils and fasts. At last, he
sought refuge in the sacrificial hall of his father.
The half-blind man who was guarding the hermitage stopped
him as be could not recognise Yavakrida as, distorted with mortal fear, he
sought to force his way in. Meanwhile, the fiend overtook him and killed him
with his spear.
When Bharadvaja returned to his hermitage, he came upon
his son's corpse and concluded that disrespect to Raibhya must have led to this
cruel fate.
"Alas! My child, you died of your pride and vanity.
Was it not a great mistake that you tried to learn the Vedas in a way not
resorted to by any brahmana? Why did you behave so as to be cursed thus? May
Raibhya, who caused the death of my only son, be himself killed by one of his
sons!" Thus, carried away by rage and grief the sage cursed Raibhya.
Regaining control soon, he exclaimed in anguish:
"Alas! They alone are blessed who have no sons. I have not only lost my
only son, but in the madness of my grief I have also cursed my friend and
companion. What is the use of continuing my life?" He cremated his son's
body and died by throwing himself on the funeral pyre.
35.
Mere Learning Is Not Enough
KING Brihadyumna, a disciple of the sage Raibhya, performed
a great sacrifice at which he requested his teacher to let his two sons
Paravasu and Arvavasu officiate. With the permission of their father, both of
them went joyfully to the capital of the king.
While arrangements were being made for the sacrifice, Paravasu
desired one day to go and see his wife and, walking alone all night, he reached
his hermitage before dawn. Near the hermitage, he saw in the twilight, what
seemed to him a beast of prey crouching for a spring and, hurling his weapon at
it, killed it.
But to his horror and grief, he discovered that he had
killed his own father clad in skins, mistaking him for a wild denizen of the
forest. He realised that the fatal mistake was the effect of the curse of
Bharadwaja.
When he had hastily performed the funeral rites of his
father, he went to Arvavasu and told him the doleful tale. He said: "But
this mishap should not interfere with the sacrifice of the king. Please do the
rites on my behalf in expiation of the sin I have unwittingly committed. There
is, mercifully, atonement for sins committed in ignorance. If you can be my
substitute here for undergoing the expiation I shall be able to go and assist
in conducting the king's sacrifice. I can officiate unaided, which is a thing
you cannot do as yet."
The virtuous brother agreed and said: "You may attend
to the king's sacrifice. I shall do penance to free you from the terrible taint
of having killed a father and a brahmana."
The virtuous Arvavasu, accordingly, took upon himself the
expiatory rites on behalf of his brother. That done, he came to the court of
the king to join his brother and assist in the sacrifice.
The sin of Paravasu was not washed off, since expiation
cannot be by proxy. It tainted his mind with wicked designs.
Becoming jealous of the radiance on his brother's face,
Paravasu decided to dishonor him by casting on him an unjustice as a person and
accordingly, when Arvavasu entered the hall, Paravasu loudly exclaimed so that
the king might hear:
"This man has committed the sin of killing a brahmana
and how can he enter this holy sacrificial place?"
Arvavasu indignantly denied the accusation but none heeded
him, and he was ignominiously expelled from that hall of sacrifice by the
orders of the king.
Arvavasu repeatedly protested his innocence. "It is
my brother who has committed the sin and even then it was through a mistake. I
have saved him by performing expiatory rites."
This made matters worse for him for nobody believed that
the expiation he had undergone was not for his own crime and everyone thought
that he was adding false accusation against a blameless brother, to his other
sins.
The virtuous Arvavasu who, besides being falsely accused
of a monstrous crime, was also slandered as a liar, retreated to the forest in
despair of finding justice in the world and betook himself to rigorous
austerities.
The gods were gracious and asked him: "O virtuous
soul, what is the boon you seek?" High thinking and deep meditation had in
the meantime cleansed his heart of all anger at his brother's conduct; and so,
he only prayed that his father might be restored to life and that his brother
might be freed from wickedness and the sins that he had committed.
The gods granted his prayer.
Lomasa narrated this story to Yudhishthira at a place near
Raibhya's hermitage and said: "O Pandavas, bathe here and wash off your
passions in this holy river."
Arvavasu and Paravasu were both sons of a great scholar.
Both of them learnt at his feet and became eminent scholars themselves.
But learning is one thing and virtue is quite another. It
is true that one should know the difference between good and evil, if one is to
seek good and shun evil. But this knowledge should soak into every thought and
influence every act in one's life.
Then indeed knowledge becomes virtue. The knowledge that
is merely so much undigested information crammed into the mind, cannot instill
virtue.
It is just an outward show like our clothes and is no real
part of us.
36.
Ashtavakra
WHILE the Pandavas were wandering among holy places in the
forest, they came one day to the hermitage of the personages immortalized in
the Upanishads. Lomasa told Yudhishthira the story of that place.
Udalaka, a great sage and teacher of Vedanta, had a
disciple named Kagola, who was virtuous and devoted but had no great learning.
So, the other disciples used to laugh and mock at him.
Uddalaka, however, attached no great weight to his
disciple's lack of erudition but really appreciated his virtues, devotion and
good conduct and gave his daughter Sujata in marriage to him.
The couple was blessed with a son. A child generally
inherits the characteristics of both the parents. But fortunately the grandson
of Uddalaka took after his grandfather rather than his father and knew the
Vedas even while he was in his mother's womb.
When Kagola made mistakes, as he often did in reciting the
Vedas, the child in the womb would twist his body with pain, and so it came to
pass that he had eight crooked bends in his body when he was born.
These crooked bends earned him the name of Ashtavakra,
which means "Eight crooked bends." Kagola, one ill-fated day,
provoked a polemical contest with Vandi, the court scholar of Mithila, and,
having been defeated, was made to drown himself.
Meanwhile Ashtavakra grew up to be a towering scholar even
in his boyhood, and at the age of twelve he had already completed his study of
the Vedas and the Vedanta.
One day, Ashtavakra learnt that Janaka, the king of
Mithila was performing a great sacrifice in the course of which the assembled
scholars would, as usual, debate on the sastras.
Ashtavakra set out for Mithila, accompanied by his uncle
Svetaketu. On their way to the place of sacrifice at Mithila, they came across
the king and his retinue.
The attendants of the king marched in front shouting:
"Move away. Make way for the King." Ashtavakra instead of moving out
of the way said to the retainers:
"O royal attendants, even the king, if he is
righteous, has to move and make way for the blind, the deformed, the fair sex,
persons bearing loads and brahmanas learned in the Vedas. This is the rule
enjoined by the scriptures."
The king, surprised at these wise words of the brahmana
boy, accepted the justness of the rebuke and made way, observing to his
attendants: "What this brahmana stripling says is true. Fire is fire
whether it is tiny or big and it has the power to burn."
Ashtavakra and Svetaketu entered the sacrificial hall. The
gatekeeper stopped them and said: "Boys cannot go in. Only old men learned
in the Vedas may go into the sacrificial hall."
Ashtavakra replied: "We are not mere boys. We have
observed the necessary vows and have learnt the Vedas. Those who have mastered
the truths of the Vedanta will not judge another on mere considerations of age
or appearance."
The gatekeeper said: "Stop. Have done with your idle
brag. How can you, a mere boy, have learnt and realised the Vedanta?"
The boy said: "You mean I am not big like an
over-grown gourd with no substance in it? Size is no indication of knowledge or
worth, nor is age. A very tall old man may be a tall old fool. Let me
pass."
The gatekeeper said: "You are certainly not old, nor
tall, though you talk like all the hoary sages. Get out."
Ashtavakra replied: "Gatekeeper, Grey hairs do not
prove the ripeness of the soul. The really mature man is the one who has learnt
the Vedas and the Vedangas, mastered their gist and realised their essence. I
am here to meet the court pandit Vandi. Inform King Janaka of my desire."
At that moment the king himself came there and easily
recognized Ashtavakra, the precociously wise boy he had met before.
The king asked: "Do you know that my court pandit
Vandi has overthrown in argument many great scholars in the past and caused
them to be cast into the ocean? Does that not deter you from this dangerous
adventure?"
Ashtavakra replied: "Your eminent scholar has not
hitherto encountered men like me who are proficient in the Vedas on Vedanta. He
has become arrogant and vain with easy victories over good men who were not
real scholars. I have come here to repay the debt due on account of my father,
who was defeated by this man and made to drown himself, as I have heard from my
mother. I have no doubt I shall vanquish Vandi, whom you will see crumple up
like a broken-wheeled cart. Please summon him."
Ashtavakra met Vandi. They took up a debatable thesis and
started an argument, each employing his utmost learning and wits to confound
the other. And in the end the assembly unanimously declared the victory of
Ashtavakra and the defeat of Vandi.
The court pandit of Mithila bowed his head and paid the
forfeit by drowning himself in the ocean and going to the abode of Varuna.Then
the spirit of Kagola, the father of Ashtavakra, gained peace and joy in the
glory of his son.
The author of the epic instructs us through these words
put in Kagola's mouth: "A son need not be like his father. A father who is
physically weak may have a very strong son and an ignorant father may have a
scholarly son. It is wrong to acesess the greatness of a man on his physical
appearance or age. External appearances are deceptive." Which shows that the unlearned Kagola was
not devoid of common sense.
37.
Bhima And Hanuman
DRAUPADI used to complain frequently: "This Kamyaka
forest is not beautiful without Arjuna. I find no joy in life in the absence of
Arjuna."
The other Pandavas shared Draupadi's wretchedness at
separation from Arjuna, who had gone to the Himalayas in quest of divine
weapons.
Bhimasena told Draupadi: "Blessed lady, I myself feel
the same about Arjuna and what you say makes me thrill with love and sympathy.
Bereft of Arjuna, this beautiful forest seems desolate. My mind can know no
peace without seeing Arjuna. Sahadeva, how do you feel?"
Sahadeva said: "This hermitage seems to be empty
without Arjuna. We shall try whether a change of scene will help us to bear the
pain of separation better."
Yudhishthira addressing his priest Dhaumya said: "I
have sent my younger brother Arjuna to win divine weapons. That dauntless and
dexterous hero has not yet returned. We have sent him to the Himalayas to get
from Indra, the king of gods, weapons with which we could conquer Bhishma,
Drona, Kripa and Aswatthama, since it is certain that these heroes will fight
on the side of the sons of Dhritarashtra. Karna knows the secret of divine
weapons, and his supreme wish is to fight with Arjuna. I have sent Arjuna to
gain Indra's grace and get weapons from him as the Kaurava heroes can be
defeated by no other means. Having sent him on a very difficult errand, we
cannot live here happily, for we miss him in all our accustomed haunts. I wish
to go elsewhere, for that may enable us to bear the separation better. Can you
suggest where we could go?"
Dhaumya described many forests and holy places. The
Pandavas went the round of those places to relieve themselves to some extent
from the pangs of separation.
They spent many years in this pilgrimage and in listening
to the traditions, which sanctified each shrine. Draupadi would often feel
exhausted by having to traverse mountains and forests. Bhima, sometimes helped
by his son Ghalotkacha, would serve and encourage them and make their labors
easy.
In the course of their wanderings through the Himalayan
regions they came to a terrible forest where the path was rugged and steep.
Yudhishthira was worried and told Bhima that the way would
greatly distress Draupadi but that he himself would go on accompanied by Nakula
and the sage Lomasa.
He suggested that Bhima and Sahadeva should stay behind at
Gangadwara with Draupadi. Bhima would not agree. He said that the pain of
separation from Arjuna ought to have taught his brother how much he would
suffer if he were parted from Sahadeva, Draupadi and Bhima.
Besides, Bhima could not leave Yudhishthira alone in this
forest infested with Rakshasas, demons and wild animals. The way was hard, but
he could easily carry Draupadi across the most difficult parts of it. He could
carry Nakula and Sahadeva also.
When Bhima said these words, Yudhishthira embraced him and
blessed him and wished him an increase of physical strength. Draupadi smiled
and said, addressing Yudhishthira: "No one need carry me. I can walk. Do
not be anxious about me."
They reached Kulinda, the kingdom of Subahu, on the
Himalayas. They accepted the honors rendered to them by that king and rested
there awhile. Later on, they went to the charming forest of Narayanasrama and
halted there.
One day, a breeze that blew from the northeast wafted a
beautiful flower near Draupadi. Draupadi took it in her hands and was so
charmed with its fragrance and beauty that she showed it rapturously to Bhima.
"Come and see this flower. What a sweet fragrance!
How charming! I shall hand this over to Yudhishthira. Bring some flowers of
this kind. We should grow this plant in our Kamyaka forest." Draupadi ran
to give the flower to Yudhishthira.
Anxious to please his beloved Draupadi, Bhima went in
quest of that plant. He went alone in the direction from which the fragrance
seemed to be borne by the breeze, without wasting a thought on the wild beasts
that crossed his path.
He presently came to a garden of plantain trees at the
foot of a mountain, and there he saw a huge monkey shining like blazing fire,
which lay right across his path blocking it.
He tried to frighten the animal out of his way by shouting
at it. It only half opened its eyes lazily and drawled: "I am indisposed
and so I am lying here. Why lid you wake me? You are a wise human being and I
am mere animal. It is proper that the rational man should show mercy to animals
as interior creatures. I am afraid you are ignorant of right and wrong. Who are
you? Whither are you bound? It is not possible to go further along this
mountain path which is the path of the gods. Men cannot cross this limit. Eat
what you like of the fruits of this place and if you are wise, go back in
peace."
Bhima, unused to being taken so lightly, grew angry and
shouted: "Who are you, yourself, you monkey, that indulges in such tall
talk? I am a kshatriya hero, a descendant of the Kuru race and a son of Kunti.
Know that I am the son of the Wind god. Now move away from the path or stop me
at your peril."
Hearing these words the monkey merely smiled and said:
"I am, as you say, a monkey, but you will come to destruction if you try
to force a way."
Bhima said: "I do not want your advice and it is no
concern of yours if I go to destruction. Get up and move out of the way or I
will make you."
The monkey replied: "I have no strength to stand up,
being but a very old monkey. If you have to go at any cost, jump over me."
Bhima said: "Nothing could be easier but the
scriptures forbid it. Otherwise I should jump over you and the mountain in one
bound, like Hanuman crossing the ocean."
The monkey remarked as though in surprise: "O best of
men, who is that Hanuman who crossed the ocean? If you know his story,
enlighten me."
Bhima roared and said: "Have you not heard of
Hanuman, my elder brother, who crossed the ocean, a hundred yojanas in breadth,
to seek and find Sita, the wife of Rama? I am equal to him in strength and
heroism. Well, that is enough talk, now get up and make way and do not provoke
me to do you some harm."
The monkey answered: "O mighty hero, be patient. Be
gentle as you are strong, and have mercy on the old and weak. I have no
strength to rise up as I am decrepit with age. Since you have scruples in
jumping over me, kindly move aside my tail and make a path for yourself."
Proud of his immense strength, Bhima thought to pull the
monkey out of the way by its tail. But, to his amazement he could not move it
in the least, though he exerted all his strength.
He set his jaws and strained every muscle till the very
sinews cracked and he was covered with perspiration. But, still, could not move
that tail the least, a little bit up or down or sideways. In shame, he bent
down his head, and then asked in a chastened mood:
"Who are you? Forgive me and reveal to me whether you
are a Siddha, god or Gandharva." Bhima like most strong men, was all
respect when he saw one stronger than himself, and spoke like a pupil
addressing his master.
Hanuman replied: "O mighty-armed Pandava, know that I
am your brother, even that Hanuman, the son of the Wind god, whom you mentioned
a little while ago. If you go on this path, which is the road to the
spirit-world where the Yakshas and the Rakshasas abide, you will meet with
danger and that is why I stop you. No man can go beyond this and live. But here
is the stream with its depths where you can find the Saugandhika plant you came
to seek."
Bhima was transported with delight: "I count myself
the most fortunate of men in that I have been blessed to meet my brother. I
wish to see the form in which you crossed the ocean," and he prostrated
before Hanuman.
Hanuman smiled and began to increase the size of his body
and stood forth firmly to the world like a mountain seeming to fill the landscape.
Bhima was thrilled at actually seeing that divine form of
this elder brother, the mere description of which had till then filled him with
wonder. He covered his eyes, unable to bear the dazzling light radiating from
that figure.
Hanuman said: "Bhima, in the presence of my enemies,
my body can grow still more." And Hanuman contracted his body, resuming
his former size. He tenderly embraced Bhimasena.
Bhagavan Vyasa says that Bhima felt completely refreshed
and became much stronger than before by the embrace of Hanuman.
Hanuman said: "O hero, go to your abode. Think of me
whenever you are in need. I felt the same delight when I embraced you that I
had in times of yore when I was fortunate enough to touch the divine body of
Sri Rama. Ask any boon that you like."
Bhima said: "Blessed are the Pandavas for I have had
the good fortune to see you. Inspired with your strength we are sure to conquer
our enemies."
Hanuman gave this parting blessing to his brother:
"While you roar like a lion in the battlefield, my
voice shall join yours and strike terror into the hearts of your enemies. I
shall be present on the flag of the chariot of your brother Arjuna. You will be
victorious."
Hanuman pointed out to Bhima the stream nearby, where grew
the Saugandhika flowers he had come to seek.
This put Bhima at once in mind of Draupadi who was waiting
for his return, and he collected the flowers and returned to her without delay.
38.
I am No Crane
ONCE the sage Markandeya came to see the Pandavas.
Yudhishthira happened to talk of the virtues of the fair sex and said:
"What greater wonder is there in this world than the
patience and the chastity of woman? She gives birth to a child after cherishing
it in her womb as dearer than life itself. She brings it into the world inpain
and anxiety and thence forward her one thought is for its health and happiness.
Large hearted and forgiving, a woman forgives and continues to love even a
wicked husband who neglects and hates and subjects her to all sorts of
miseries. How strange!"
Hearing this Markandeya told him a sacred story.
There was once a brahmana, named Kausika who observed his
vow of brahmacharya. with great steadfastness and devotion.
One day, he sat under a tree reciting the Vedas. A crane,
perched on the top of the tree, defiled his head with its droppings. He looked
up at it, and his angry look killed the bird and it fell down dead.
The brahmana was pained when he saw the dead bird lying on
the ground.
How frightful it would be if wishes fulfilled themselves,
if each hasty or angry wish took effect at once! How much there would be to
regret or repent afterwards! It is lucky for us that wishes depend onoutward
circumstances for accomplishment, since that saves us from much sin and sorrow.
Kausika sorrowed that the evil thought that passed in his
mind in a moment of anger had killed an innocent bird. Some time later, he went
as usual to beg alms.
He stood before the door of a house to receive his dole.
The housewife was cleansing utensils at that time. Kausika waited in the hope
that she would attend to him after her work was over.
In the meantime the master of the house returned, tired
and hungry, and the wife had to attend to his wants, wash and dry his feet and
serve him with food.
In this preoccupation she seemed to have forgotten the
mendicant waiting outside. After her husband had been cared for and fed, she
came out with alms to the mendicant.
She said: "I am sorry to have kept you waiting long.
Pardon me."
Kausika, burning with anger, said: "Lady, you have
made me wait for such a long time. This indifference is not fair."
The woman told the brahmana: "Best of brahmanas,
kindly do forgive me. I was serving my husband and hence the delay."
The brahmana remarked: "It is right and proper to
attend on the husband, but the brahmana also should not be disregarded. You
seem an arrogant woman."
She said: "Be not angry with me and remember that I
kept you waiting only because I was dutifully serving my husband. I am no crane
to be killed by a violent thought and your rage can do no harm to the woman who
devotes herself to the service of her husband."
The brahmana was taken aback. He wondered how the woman
knew of the crane incident.
She continued: "O great one, you do not know the
secret of duty, and you are also not aware that anger is the greatest enemy
that dwells in man. Forgive the delay in attending to you. Go to Mithila and be
instructed in the secret of good life by Dharmavyadha living in that
city."
The brahmana was amazed. He said: "I deserve your
just admonition and it will do me good. May all good attend you." With
these words he went to Mithila.
Kausika reached Mithila and looked for Dharmavyadha's
residence, which he thought would be some lonely hermitage far from the noise
and bustle of common life.
He walked along magnificent roads between beautiful houses
and gardens in that great city and finally reached a butcher's shop, in which
was a man selling meat. His amazement was great when he learnt that this man
was Dharmavyadha.
The brahmana was shocked beyond measure and stood at a
distance in disgust. The butcher suddenly rose from his seat, came to the
brahmana and inquired: "Revered sir, are you well? Did that chaste
brahmana lady send you to me?"
The brahmana was stupefied.
"Revered sir, I know why you have come. Let us go
home," said the butcher and he took the brahmana to his house where he saw
a happy family and was greatly struck by the devotion with which the butcher
served his parents.
Kausika took his lessons from that butcher on dharma,
man's calling and duty. Afterwards, the brahmana returned to his house and
began to tend his parents, a duty, which he had rather neglected before.
The moral of this striking story of Dharmavyadha so
skillfully woven by Vedavyasa into the Mahabharata, is the same as the teaching
of the Gita. Man reaches perfection by the honest pursuit of whatever calling
falls to his lot in life, and that this is really worship of God who created
and pervades all. (Bhagavad Gita, XVIII, 45-46)
The occupation may be one he is born to in society or it
may have been forced on him by circumstances or be may have taken it up by
choice. But what really matters is the spirit of sincerity and faithfulness
with which be does his life's work.
Vedavyasa emphasizes this great truth by making a
scholarly brahmana, who did not know it, learn it from a butcher, who lived it
in his humble and despised life.
39.
The Wicked Are Never Satisfied
MANY brahmanas visited the Pandavas during their exile.
And one such, returning to Hastinapura, went to see Dhritarashtra, who received
him with due honor.
The brahmana told him how the Pandavas, born princes,
were, by unkind destiny, at the mercy of the wind and the sun and suffered
great privations.
Dhritarashtra was probably sorry to hear this. But what
troubled him most were the consequences to his own sons. Could Yudhishthira
continue to hold the justly wrathful Bhima in check?
Dhritarashtra feared that the anger of the Pandavas, long
pent up, might one day break its bounds and overflow in a devastating flood.
The king anxiously pondered thus: "Arjuna and Bhima
will certainly try to punish us. Sakuni, Karna, Duryodhana and the
short-sighted Duhsasana are perched precariously up a tree in search of a
honeycomb while below is the abyss of Bhima's anger yawning to receive them to
their destruction."
The blind king pursued his thought: "Alas, why did we
become a prey to covetousness? It is not as though poverty drove us to it! Why
did we take to the path of injustice? Instead of enjoying our boundless wealth
in contentment we succumbed to lust of power and possession and coveted what
was not ours. Wrong cannot but yield its bitter harvest! Arjuna has returned
from heaven with divine weapons. What could tempt one back to earth from heaven
but the craving for vengeance? And we have earned it!" These thoughts
would haunt and give him no peace.
Though Dhritarashtra was thus worried, Sakuni, Karna and
Duryodhana were giddily happy and found much pleasure in exulting
congratulation of one another on their prosperity.
Karna and Sakuni said to Duryodhana: "The kingdom
which was in the hands of Yudhishthira has become ours. We need no longer burn
with jealousy."
Duryodhana replied: "O Karna, all that is true, but
would it not be a joy of joys to see with my own eyes the sufferings of the
Pandavas and bring their sorrow to a climax by a display of our happiness? The
only way to perfect our happiness is to go to the forest and see the distress
of the Pandavas, but my father will refuse permission," and Duryodhana
shed tears at his father's cruelty in denying him this pleasure.
He said again: "The king fears the Pandavas, as he
thinks that they are endowed with the power of austerities. He forbids us to go
to the forest and meet them, lest danger should befall us. But I tell you, all
we have done so far is labor lost, without a sight of the sufferings of
Draupadi, Bhima and Arjuna in the forest. This life of idle ease is torment to
me without that great joy. Sakuni and yourself must seek a way of obtaining the
king's consent for us to go to the forest and see the Pandavas in their
misery."
Early next morning, Karna went to Duryodhana with a
cheerful face and announced that he had found a way out of the difficulty.
He said: "What do you think of going to our ranches
at Dwaitavana for the annual stock-taking of the cows? The king certainly
cannot object to that." Sakuni and Duryodhana applauded this bright idea
and sent the leader of the cowherds to the king to secure his permission.
But the king would not assent. He said: "Hunting is
indeed beneficial to the princes. It is also desirable to take stock of the
cows. But I learn that the Pandavas are dwelling in that forest. It is not
advisable for you to go there. I cannot agree to send you to a place near the
abode of Bhima and Arjuna while there is still occasion for anger and
strife."
Duryodhana said: "We shall not go near them. On the
contrary we shall be very careful and avoid them." The king answered:
"However careful you may be, there is danger in mere
nearness. Also, it is not right to intrude on the sorrows of the Pandavas in
their forest life. Anyone of your soldiers might trespass and give offence,
which may lead to trouble. Someone else can go in your stead to count the
cattle."
Sakuni said: "O king, Yudhishthira knows and follows
the path of dharma. He has given his promise in the open assembly and the
Pandavas will follow his bidding. The sons of Kunti will not show any enmity
towards us. Do not oppose Duryodhana who is fond of hunting. Let him return
after taking stock of the cows. I shall also accompany him and see to it that
none of us go anywhere near the Pandavas."
The king, over-persuaded as usual, said: "Well,
please yourselves." A heart full of hate can know no contentment. Hate is
a cruel fire, which extorts the fuel, on which it lives and grows.
40.
Duryodhana Disgraced
THE Kauravas reached Dwaitavana with a great army and many
followers. Duryodhana and Karna went with unconcealed joy at the very thought
of being able to gloat on the sad plight of the Pandavas.
They themselves camped in luxurious rest houses in a place
four miles off the abode of the Pandavas. They inspected the herds of cows and
took stock of them.
After counting the cows, bulls and calves, they enjoyed
the dance, the hunt, the sylvan sports and other entertainment’s arranged for
them.
While hunting, Duryodhana and his party reached an
attractive pond near the hermitage of the Pandavas and ordered a camp to be put
on its bank.
Chitrasena, the king of the Gandharvas, and his attendants
had already encamped in the neighborhood of the pool and they prevented
Duryodhana's men from putting up their camp.
They returned to Duryodhana and represented that some
petty prince who was there with his followers was giving them trouble.
Duryodhana was annoyed at this presumption and directed
his men to turn the Gandharva prince out and put up the tents. The attendants
returned to the lake and tried to carry out their orders but found the
Gandharvas too many for them and had to retreat in precipitation.
When Duryodhana came to know of this, he grew very angry
and with a large army marched to destroy the audacious enemies who had dared to
resist his pleasure. A great fight ensued between the Gandharvas and
Duryodhana's army.
At first the fight went in favor of the Kauravas. But the
tables were quickly turned when Chitrasena, the king of the Gandharvas, rallied
his troops and began using his magic weapons.
Karna and the other Kaurava heroes lost their chariots and
weapons and had to retreat in haste and ignominy. Duryodhana alone remained in
the battlefield but he was soon seized by Chitrasena, who placed him in his
chariot bound hand and foot, and blew his conch in token of victory.
The Gandharvas took many of the prominent Kauravas
captive. The Kaurava army fled in all directions and some of the fugitives took
refuge in the hermitage of the Pandavas.
Bhima heard the news of Duryodhana's defeat and capture
with delight and amusement. He said to Yudhishthira: "These Gandharvas
have done our job for us. Duryodhana, who must have come here to mock at us,
has got what he deserved. I feel like thanking our Gandharva friend!"
But Yudhishthira reproved him: "Dear brother, this is
not the time for you to rejoice. The Kauravas are our kith and kin and their
humiliation, at the hands of strangers, is ours. We cannot hold back and take
this lying down. We must rescue them."
Bhima did not think this very reasonable. He said:
"Why should we save this sinner who tried to burn us alive in the wax
house? Why should you feel sorry for the fellow who poisoned my food, bound me
hand and foot and wanted to drown me in the river? What brotherly feeling can
we really have towards these vile wretches who hauled Draupadi by the hair to
theassembly and disgraced her?"
At that moment a cry of agony from Duryodhana reached them
faintly from the distance and Yudhishthira, greatly moved, overruled Bhima's
objection and bade his brothers go to the rescue of the Kauravas.
Obedient to his behest, Bhima and Arjuna rallied the
routed Kaurava forces and offered battle to the Gandharvas. But Chitrasena had
no wish to fight with the Pandavas and at their approach, released Duryodhana
and the other prisoners saying that all he wanted was to teach a lesson to
these arrogant Kauravas.
The dishonored Kauravas returned in haste to Hastinapura,
with Karna, who, having been, driven off the battlefield, joined them on the
way.
Duryodhana, in great shame and dejection, felt it would
have been far better if be had been killed by Chitrasena and announced his wish
to fast unto death.
He said to Duhsasana: "Be crowned and rule the
kingdom. I can no longer continue to live after having become a laughing stock
to my enemies."
Duhsasana protested his unworthiness to be king and caught
hold of his brother's feet and wept. Karna could not bear the sight of the
brother's sorrow.
Karna said: "This does not befit heroes of the Kuru
race. What is the use of just collapsing under sorrow? It will but make your
enemies happy. Look at the Pandavas. They have not taken to fasts in spite of
the disgrace they have suffered."
Sakuni interposed and said: "Listen to Karna's words.
Why do you say that you would give up your life when the kingdom seized from
the Pandavas is yours to enjoy? Fasting serves no purpose, for if you really
repent of what you have done till now, you should make friends with the
Pandavas and give them back their kingdom."
When Duryodhana heard this speech, his evil nature
regained ascendancy, for giving back the kingdom to the Pandavas was to him a
hundred times worse than defeat or disgrace. He shouted: "I shall conquer
the Pandavas."
Karna said: "That is the way for a king to
talk."
And he added: "What sense is there in dying? You can
do something worthwhile only if you are alive."
While returning home, Karna said: "I swear to you by
all that is holy that, when the stipulated period of thirteen years is over, I
will kill Arjuna in battle." And then he touched his sword in token of the
oath.
41.
Sri Krishna's Hunger
WHILE the Pandavas were dwelling in the forest, Duryodhana
celebrated a great sacrifice with much pomp and splendor.
He wanted to perform the Rajasuya sacrifice, but the
brahmanas told him that he could not do that while Yudhishthira and
Dhritarashtra were alive and advised him to perform the sacrifice known as the
Vaishnava instead.
He accepted this advice and celebrated the Vaishnava with
great splendor. But when the ceremony was over, the citizens began to talk
among themselves that Duryodhana's sacrifice had not come up to even a
sixteenth part of Yudhishthira's Rajasuya in magnificence.
The friends of Duryodhana, on the other hand, praised him
and the sacrifice he had celebrated and likened it to those performed by
Yayati, Mandhata, Bharata and others.
Court flatterers were not sparing with their praise. Karna
told Duryodhana that his Rajasuya had been only postponed till the Pandavas
should be defeated and slain in battle and repeated that his part would be the
slaying of Arjuna.
"Till I have slain Arjuna," said he, "I
shall not take meat or wine, nor will I refuse the prayer of anyone who asks me
for anything." Such was the solemn vow taken by Karna in the assembly.
The sons of Dhritarashtra were delighted to hear this vow
of the great hero Karna and shouted in joy. They felt as if the Pandavas had
been slain already.
Spies conveyed to the Pandavas in the forest the news of
the oath taken by Karna. Yudhishthira was greatly concerned, for he had a great
opinion of Karna's prowess.
Karna had been born with divine armor and was undoubtedly
a mighty hero. One morning, just before the hour of awakening, Yudhishthira had
a dream.
Many of our dreams come either in the beginning or at the
end of our sleep. He dreamt that the wild beasts of the forest came and
appealed to him piteously not to destroy them altogether, but to move on to
some other forest.
Duryodhana felt sure that the Pandavas, who themselves
lived from hand to mouth in the forest, would be unable to feed or entertain
the sage and his following, and would incur some dreadful curse from that too
hasty visitor for their want of hospitality. This would give him greater joy
than any benefit he could have asked for himself when the sage offered a boon.
Durvasa went with his disciples to the Pandavas as was desired by Duryodhana,
as the latter were resting after their midday meal.
The brothers welcomed the sage, saluted and honored him.
Then the sage said: "We shall be back soon. Our meals must be ready then,
for we are hungry," and hurried off with his disciples to the river.
As a result of the austerities of Yudhishthira at the
beginning of their stay in the forest, the Sun god had given him the
Akshayapatra, a wonderful vessel that held a never-failing supply of food.
In making the gift, the god had said, "Through this I
shall place at your disposal for twelve years as much food as is required for
your daily consumption.
Not till everyone has been served and Draupadi herself has
taken her share will the vessel become empty for the day."
Accordingly, the brahmanas and other guests would be
served first. Afterwards the Pandava brothers would take their meals. Finally,
Draupadi would have her share.
When Durvasa reached the place, all of them, including
Draupadi, had eaten their meals and so the vessel was empty and denuded of its
power for the day.
Draupadi was greatly troubled and perfectly at a loss to
find food when the sage and his disciples should return after their ablutions.
In the kitchen, she prayed earnestly to Sri Krishna to come to her aid in this
hopeless predicament and deliver her from the wrath of the sage.
At once Sri Krishna appeared before her. "I am very
hungry," he said, "bring without delay something to eat and we shall
speak of other things afterwards."
Here was a pretty pass. It looked as though the ally from
whom she hoped for relief had gone over to the foe! She cried out in great
confusion: "Alas! Why do you try me thus, O Krishna? The power of the
vessel given by the Sun is exhausted for the day. And the sage Durvasa has
come. What shall I do? The sage and his disciples will soon be here and as
though this were not enough, you have also come at this juncture saying that
you are hungry."
Sri Krishna said: "I am terribly hungry and want
food, not excuses. Fetch the vessel and let me see for myself." Draupadi
brought it to him. A tiny bit of cooked vegetable and a grain of rice were
sticking to the rim of the vessel.
Sri Krishna ate them with satisfaction, accepting them as
Sri Hari, the Soul of the Universe. Draupadi was filled with shame at her
slovenliness in not having cleaned the vessel free of all remnants. A bit had
been left which had been partaken by Vasudeva!
Sri Krishna seemed replete with satisfaction after eating
his solitary grain and calling Bhima, told him to go to the river and intimate
to the revered sage that food was ready and waiting for them.
Bhimasena, greatly puzzled, but full of faith in Sri
Krishna, hastened to the river where Durvasa and his followers were bathing.
They were in great surprise to find that their ravenous
hunger had given place to a pleased satiety. They had all the comfortable
cheerfulness of people who had feasted well.
The disciples told the sage: "We have come here after
asking Yudhishthira to prepare food for us, but we feel well-fed and full and
cannot eat anything more."
Durvasa knew what it was and he told Bhima: "We have
taken our meals. Tell Yudhishthira to forgive us." Then the party went
away.
The explanation is that as the whole universe is contained
in Sri Krishna, his satisfaction with a single grain of rice satisfied for the time
the hunger of all beings including the sage.
42.
The Enchanted Pool
THE stipulated period of twelve years was drawing to a
close.
One day, a deer was rubbing itself against a poor
brahmana's fire-kindling mortar and as it turned to go, the mortar got
entangled in its horns and the affrighted animal fled wildly with it into the
forest.
In those days matches were unknown and fire was kindled
with pieces of wood by mechanical friction.
"Alas! The deer is running away with my fire-kindler.
How can I perform the fire sacrifice?" shouted the brahmana and rushed
towards the Pandavas for help in his extremity.
The Pandavas pursued the animal but it was a magic deer,
which sped in great leaps and bounds, decoying the Pandavas far into the forest
and then disappeared. Worn out by the futile chase, the Pandavas sat in great
dejection under a banyan tree.
Nakula sighed: "We cannot render even this trifling
service to the brahmana. How we have degenerated!" said he sadly.
Bhima said: "Quite so. When Draupadi was dragged into
the assembly, we should have killed those wretches. Is it not because we did
not do so that we have had to suffer all these sorrows?" and he looked at
Arjuna sadly.
Arjuna agreed. "I bore in silence the vulgar and
insulting brag of that son of the charioteer, doing nothing. So we have
deservedly fallen into this pitiable state."
Yudhishthira noticed with sorrow that all of them had lost
their cheerfulness and courage. He thought they would be more cheerful with
something to do. He was tormented with thirst and so he said to Nakula:
"Brother, climb that tree and see whether there is any pool or river
nearby."
Nakula climbed the tree, looked around and said: "At
a little distance I see water plants and cranes. There must certainly be water
there."
Yudhishthira sent him to fetch some to drink.
Nakula was glad when he got to the place and saw there was
a pool. He was very thirsty himself and so thought of quenching his thirst
first before taking water in his quiver for his brother. But no sooner did he
dip his hand in the transparent water than he heard a voice, which said:
"Do not be rash. This pool belongs to me. O son of
Madri, answer my questions and then drink the water."
Nakula was surprised, but carried away by his intense
thirst and heedless of the warning, he drank the water. At once, overcome by
irresistible drowsiness, he fell down, to all appearance dead.
Surprised that Nakula had not returned, Yudhishthira sent
Sahadeva to see what the matter was.
When Sahadeva reached the pool and saw his brother lying on the ground,
he wondered whether any harm had come to him. But before looking into the
matter further, rushed irresistibly to the water to quench his burning thirst.
The voice was heard again: "O Sahadeva, this is my
pool. Answer my questions and then only may you quench your thirst."
Like Nakula, Sahadeva also did not heed the warning. He
drank the water and at once dropped down.
Puzzled and worried that Sahadeva also did not return,
Yudhishthira sent Arjuna to see whether the brothers had met with any danger.
"And bring water," he added, for he was very thirsty.
Arjuna went swiftly. He saw both his brothers lying dead
near the pool. He was shocked at the sight and felt that they must have been
killed by some lurking foe.
Though heart-broken with grief and burning with the desire
for revenge, he felt all feelings submerged in a monstrous thirst, which
irresistibly impelled him to the fatal pool. Again, a voice was heard:
"Answer my question before you drink the water. This pool is mine. If you
disobey me, you will follow your brothers."
Arjuna's anger knew no bounds. He cried: "Who are
you? Come and stand up to me, and I will kill you," and he shot keen-edged
arrows in the direction of the voice. The invisible being laughed in scorn: "Your
arrows do but wound the air. Answer my questions and then you can satisfy your
thirst. If you drink the water without doing so, you will die."
Greatly vexed, Arjuna made up his mind to seek out and
grapple with this elusive foe. But first he had to quench his terrible thirst.
Yes, thirst was the enemy he must kill first. So he drank the water and also
fell down dead.
After anxious waiting Yudhishthira turned to Bhima:
"Dear brother, Arjuna, the great hero, has also not yet returned.
Something terrible must have happened to our brothers, for our stars are bad.
Please seek them out and be quick about it. Also bring water, for I die of
thirst." Bhima, racked with anxiety, hurried away without a word.
His grief and rage can be imagined when he saw his three
brothers lying there dead. He thought: "This is certainly the work of the
Yakshas. I will hunt them down and kill them. But O! I am so thirsty, I shall
first drink water the better to fight them." And then he descended into
the pool.
The voice shouted: "Bhimasena, beware. You may drink
only after answering my questions. You will die if you disregard my
words."
"Who are you to dictate to me?" cried Bhima, and
he drank the water avidly, glaring around in defiance. And as he did so, his
great strength seemed to slip from him like a garment. And he also fell dead
among his brothers.
Alone, Yudhishthira wailed full of anxiety and thirst.
"Have they been subjected to a curse or are they wandering about in the
forest in a vain search for water or have they fainted or died of thirst?"
Unable to bear these thoughts and driven desperate by an overpowering thirst, he started out to
look for his brothers and the pool.
Yudhishthira proceeded in the direction his brothers had
taken through tracts infested with wild boar and abounding in spotted dear and
huge forest birds. Presently he came upon a beautiful green meadow, girdling a
pool of pellucid water, nectar to his eyes.
But when he saw his brothers lying there like sacred
flagpoles thrown pell-mell after a festival, unable to restrain his grief, he
lifted his voice and wept. He stroked the faces of Bhima and Arjuna as they lay
so still and silent there and mourned:
"Was this to be the end of all our vows? Just when
our exile is about to end, you have been snatched away. Even the gods have
forsaken me in my misfortune!"
As he looked at their mighty limbs, now so helpless, he
sadly wondered who could have been powerful enough to kill them. Brokenly, he
reflected: "Surely my heart must be made of steel not to break even after
seeing Nakula and Sahadeva dead. For what purpose should I continue to live in
this world?"
Then a sense of mystery overcame him, for this could be no
ordinary occurrence. The world held no warriors who could overcome his
brothers. Besides, there were no wounds on their bodies which could have let
out life and their faces were faces of men who slept in peace and not of those
who died in wrath.
There was also no trace of the footprints of an enemy.
There was surely some magic about it. Or, could it be a trick played by
Duryodhana? Might he not have poisoned the water? Then Yudhishthira also
descended into the pool, in his turn drawn to the water by a consuming thirst.
At once the voice without form warned as before:
"Your brothers died because they did not heed my words. Do not follow
them. Answer my questions first and then quench your thirst. This pool is
mine."
Yudhishthira knew that these could be none other than the
words of a Yaksha and guessed what had happened to his brothers. He saw a possible
way of redeeming the situation.
He said to the bodiless voice: "Please ask your
questions." The voice put questions rapidly one after another.
The Yaksha asked: "What makes sun shine every
day?"
Yudhishthira replied: "The power of Brahman."
The Yaksha asked: "What rescues man in danger?"
Yudhishthira replied: "Courage is man's salvation in
danger."
The Yaksha asked: "By the study of which science does
man become wise?"
Yudhishthira replied: "Not by studying any sastra
does man become wise. It is by association with the great in wisdom that he
gets wisdom."
The Yaksha asked: "What is more nobly sustaining than
the earth?"
Yudhishthira replied: "The mother who brings up the
children she has borne is nobler and more sustaining than the earth."
The Yaksha asked: "What is higher than the sky?"
Yudhishthira replied: "The father."
The Yaksha asked: "What is fleeter than wind?"
Yudhishthira replied: "Mind."
The Yaksha asked: "What is more blighted than
withered straw?"
Yudhishthira replied: "A sorrow-stricken heart."
The Yaksha asked: "What befriends a traveller?"
Yudhishthira replied: "Learning."
The Yaksha asked: "Who is the friend of one who stays
at home?"
Yudhishthira replied: "The wife."
The Yaksha asked: "Who accompanies a man in
death?"
Yudhishthira replied: "Dharma. That alone accompanies
the soul in its solitary journey after death."
The Yaksha asked: "Which is the biggest vessel?"
Yudhishthira replied: "The earth, which contains all
within itself is the greatest vessel."
The Yaksha asked: "What is happiness?"
Yudhishthira replied: "Happiness is the result of
good conduct."
The Yaksha asked: "What is that, abandoning which man
becomes loved by all?"
Yudhishthira replied: "Pride, for abandoning that man
will be loved by all."
The Yaksha asked: "What is the loss which yields joy
and not sorrow?"
Yudhishthira replied: "Anger, giving it up, we will
no longer subject to sorrow."
The Yaksha asked: "What is that, by giving up which,
man becomes rich?"
Yudhishthira replied: "Desire, getting rid of it, man
becomes wealthy."
The Yaksha asked: "What makes one a real brahmana? Is
it birth, good conduct or learning? Answer decisively."
Yudhishthira replied: "Birth and learning do not make
one a brahmana. Good conduct alone does. However learned a person may be he will
not be a brahmana if he is a slave to bad habits. Even though he may be learned
in the four Vedas, a man of bad conduct falls to a lower class."
The Yaksha asked: "What is the greatest wonder in the
world?"
Yudhishthira replied: "Every day, men see creatures
depart to Yama's abode and yet, those who remain seek to live forever. This
verily is the greatest wonder."
Thus, the Yaksha posed many questions and Yudhishthira
answered them all.
In the end the Yaksha asked: "O king, one of your
dead brothers can now be revived. Whom do you want revived? He shall come back
to life."
Yudhishthira thought for a moment and then replied:
"May the cloud-complexioned, lotus-eyed, broad-chested and long-armed
Nakula, lying like a fallen ebony tree, arise."
The Yaksha was pleased at this and asked Yudhishthira:
"Why did you choose Nakula in preference to Bhima who has the strength of
sixteen thousand elephants? I have heard that Bhima is most dear to you. And
why not Arjuna, whose prowess in arms is your protection? Tell me why you chose
Nakula rather than either of these two."
Yudhishthira replied: "O Yaksha, dharma is the only
shield of man and not Bhima or Arjuna. If dharma is set at naught, man will be
ruined. Kunti and Madri were the two wives of my father. I am surviving, a son
of Kunti, and so, she is not completely bereaved. In order that the scales of
justice may be even, I ask that Madri's son Nakula may revive." The Yaksha
was pleased with Yudhishthira's impartiality and granted that all his brothers
would come back to life.
It was Yama, the Lord of Death, who had taken the form of
the deer and the Yaksha so that he might see his son Yudhishthira and test him.
He embraced Yudhishthira and blessed him.
Yama said: "Only a few days remain to complete the
stipulated period of your exile in the forest. The thirteenth year will also
pass by. None of your enemies will be able to discover you. You will
successfully fulfil your undertaking," and saying this he disappeared.
The Pandavas had, no doubt, to pass through all sorts of
troubles during their exile, but the gains too were not inconsiderable. It was
a period of hard discipline and searching probation through which they emerged
stronger and nobler men.
Arjuna returned from tapas with divine weapons and
strengthened by contact with Indra. Bhima also met his elder brother Hanuman
near the lake where the Saugandhika flowers bloomed and got tenfold strength
from his embrace. Having met, at the enchanted pool, his father Yama, the Lord
of Dharma, Yudhishthira shone with tenfold lustre.
"The minds of those who listen to the sacred story of
Yudhishthira's meeting with his father, will never go after evil. They will
never seek to create quarrels among friends or covet the wealth of others. They
will never fall victims to lust. They will never be unduly attached to
transitory things." Thus said Vaisampayana to Janamejaya as he related
this story of the Yaksha. May the same good attend the readers of this story as
retold by us.
43.
Domestic Service
"O BRAHMANAS, we have been deceived by the sons of
Dhritarashtra, cheated out of our kingdom and reduced to poverty. Still we have
passed these years cheerfully with joy in the forest. The thirteenth year of
exile has come, and with it the time for us to part from you. For we have to spend
the next twelve months undiscovered by the spies of Duryodhana. God knows when
the day will dawn which will see us together again, without fear or
concealment. Now, bless us before we go. And may we escape the notice of those
who may wish to betray us to the sons of Dhritarashtra, either through fear or
hope of reward."
So spoke Yudhishthira to the brahmanas who were living
with the Pandavas till then. His voice shook with emotion as he spoke these
words.
Dhaumya consoled him. He said: "Parting, is hard, and
the dangers are many and great. But you are too wise and learned to be shaken
or daunted. You must disguise yourselves. Indra, the Lord of gods, when pested
by the demons, disguised himself as a brahmana and lived unknown in the country
of Nishadha. Safely concealed thus, he managed to destroy his enemies. You must
also do likewise. Did not Mahavishnu, the Lord of the Universe, become a child
in the womb of Aditi, suffer human birth, and take away from Emperor Bali his
kingdom for the salvation of the world? Did not Lord Narayana, the refuge of
men, enter into the weapon of Indra to defeat Vritra, the asura king? Did not
the Fire god hide himself in the waters for the sake of the gods? Does not the
moon keep out of sight every day? Did not Lord Vishnu, the all-pervading God,
descend as the son of Dasaratha and spend long years, suffering many sorrows
for the sake of killing Ravana? The greatest souls in the past have sanctified
disguise for a good purpose. You will, likewise, conquer your enemies and win
prosperity."
Yudhishthira took leave of the brahmanas and gave the
members of his retinue leave to go home. The Pandavas retired to a secluded
spot in the forest and discussed their future line of action. Yudhishthira
sadly asked Arjuna: "You are well conversant with the ways of the world.
Where would it be best for us to spend the thirteenth year?"
Arjuna replied:
"O great king, you know Yama, the Lord of Death, has blessed us. We
can easily pass the twelve months together without being discovered. There are
many charming states for us to choose from for our sojourn, states like
Panchala, Matsya, Salva, Videha, Bahlika, Dasharna, Surasena, Kalinga, and
Magadha. It is, of course, for you to choose. But if I may venture an opinion,
the Matsya country of king Virata is the best, prosperous and charming as it
is."
Yudhishthira answered: "Virata, the king of Matsya,
is very strong and he loves us much. He is of mature judgment and is devoted to
the practice of virtue. He will not be won over or frightened by Duryodhana. I
agree that it would be best to live incognito in Virata's kingdom."
Arjuna said: "Well then, O king, what work would you
seek in the court of Virata?"
When he asked this question, Arjuna was full of sorrow at
the thought of Yudhishthira, the great and guileless king, who had performed
the Rajasuya sacrifice, having to disguise himself and take service.
Yudhishthira answered: "I am thinking of asking
Virata to take me in his service as a courtier. I could delight him with my
conversation and my dexterity at dice. I shall take the garb of a sanyasin and
shall keep him agreeably engaged by my skill in reading omens and knowledge
ofastrology as well as of the Vedas, Vedangas, ethics, politics and other
sciences. I shall have to be careful of course, but be not anxious about me. I
shall tell him that I was an intimate friend of Yudhishthira and learnt these
things while I was privileged to be with him. O Bhima, what works will you, who
conquered and slew Baka and Hidimba, take up under Virata? You saved us by
killing Jatasura. Valor and strength are over-flowing from you. What disguise
can hide your mighty personality and enable you to live unknown in the country
of Mastya?" Yudhishthira was in tears as he put this question to Bhima.
Bhima laughingly replied:
"O king, I think of taking service as a cook in the court of
Virata. You know that I have a great appetite and that I am also an expert in
cooking. I shall please Virata by preparing such dainty food as he has never
tasted. I shall chop the trees of the forest and bring heaps of fuel. I shall
also delight the king by contending with and defeating the wrestlers who come
to his court."
This made Yudhishthira anxious for he feared that danger
might befall them if Bhima engaged himself in wrestling bouts. At once Bhima
spoke thus to calm his fears:
"I shall not kill anyone. I may give a bad jolt to
any wrestler who deserves it but I shall not kill anyone. I shall restrain mad
bulls, buffaloes and other wild animals and thus entertain king Virata."
Afterwards Yudhishthira addressed Arjuna: "What
profession do you propose to take up? How can you hide your towering
valor?"
When he asked this question Yudhishthira could not
restrain him from narrating the brilliant exploits of Arjuna. He spoke of his brother's
glory in twenty verses. Well, who deserves praise if not Arjuna?
Arjuna replied: "Revered brother, I shall hide myself
in the guise of a eunuch and serve the ladies of the court. I shall hide under
a jacket the scars on my arms made by the constant chafing of the bowstring.
When I rejected Urvasi's amorous overtures on the ground that she was like a
mother unto me, she cursed me with loss of manhood. But through Indra's grace
the curse would hold good only for a year, and the time would be mine to choose.
I shall serve out that year of loss of manhood now. Wearing bangles made of
white conchs, braiding my hair like a woman, and clothing myself in female
attire, I shall engage myself in menial work in the inner apartments of
Virata's queen. I shall teach the women singing and dancing. And I shall seek
service saying that I used to serve Draupadi in Yudhishthira's court."
Saying this, Arjuna turned to Draupadi and smiled.
Yudhishthira was in tears. "Alas! Have the fates
decreed that he, who is the equal of Sri Krishna himself in fame and valor, a
scion of Bharata's line, who stands high like the great golden Mount Meru, must
go and seek employment of Virata as a eunuch in the queen's inner
apartments?" he said brokenly.
Yudhishthira then turned to Nakula and asked him what work
he would engage in and, as he thought of Madri, the mother of Nakula, tears
rolled down his eyes.
Nakula replied: "I shall work in King Virata's
stables. My mind delights in training and looking after horses. For I know the
heart of horses and have knowledge of their ailments and cure. I can not only
ride and break horses but also harness and drive them in a chariot. I shall say
that I had looked after the horses of the Pandavas and I have no doubt Virata
will take me in his service."
Yudhishthira asked Sahadeva: "You, with the
intelligence of Brihaspati, the priest and the preceptor of the gods, and the
knowledge of Sukra, the teacher of the asuras, what work will you take
up?"
Sahadeva replied: "Let Nakula look after horses. I shall
tend the cows. I shall guard Virata's cattle from the ravages of disease and
the attacks of wild beasts."
"O Draupadi," but Yudhishthira could not find
words to ask her what she proposed to do. She was dearer to him than life
itself, worthy of all reverence and protection, and it seemed sacrilege to talk
of service. She was a princess, the daughter of a king, nobly born, tenderly
nurtured. Yudhishthira felt choked by shame and despair.
Draupadi saw his grief and spoke these brave words:
"O best of kings, do not grieve or suffer anxiety on my account. I shall
be a sairandhri in the court of the queen of Virata, the companion and
attendant of the princess. I shall preserve my freedom and chastity, for the
attendant and companion of a princess has this right and can exercise it. I
shall pass my days in such light tasks as braiding the hair and entertaining
the women of the court with small talk. I shall represent that I had thus
served princess Draupadi in Yudhishthira's court and seek employment from the queen.
Thus shall I remain unknown to others."
Yudhishthira praised Draupadi's courage and said: "O
auspicious one, you speak as befits one of your family."
When the Pandavas thus decided, Dhaumya blessed them and
advised them thus: "Those who are engaged in service under a king should
always be vigilant. They must serve without talking too much. They may give
their counsel only when asked, and never obtrude it. They should praise the
king on befitting occasions. All things, no matter how small, may be done only
after informing the king, who is a veritable fire in human form. Do not go too
near him, nor yet appear to avoid him. Even though a person may be trusted by
the king and have great authority, still be should always behave as if he would
be dismissed immediately, It would be foolishness to place too much confidence
in a king. One may not sit in the conveyance, seat or chariot of the king,
presuming on his affection. A servant of the king should ever be active and
self-restrained. He should not be excessively elated, nor unduly depressed, by
being honored or dishonored by the king. He may not reveal the secrets confided
to him, nor may he receive anything in the form of gift from the citizens. He
should not be jealous of other servants.
The king may place fools in positions of authority, leaving aside the
wise. Such waywardness should be ignored. One cannot be too careful with the
ladies of the court. There should not be the faintest suggestion of indelicacy
in one's conduct towards them."
Dhaumya then blessed the Pandavas: "Live thus in
patience for one year, serving the king Virata, and then, you will pass the
rest of your days in happiness, regaining your lost throne."
44.
Virtue Vindicated
YUDHISHTHIRA put on the garb of a
sanyasin. Arjuna transformed himself into a eunuch. Others also disguised
themselves. But no disguise could take away their natural charm, grace and
nobility of appearance.
When they went to King Virata
seeking service, they seemed to him born to command and rule rather than to
serve. He hesitated, at first, to engage them in service but yielding to their
urgent solicitations, he finally appointed them to the places they sought of
him.
Yudhishthira became the king's
companion and spent his days in playing dice with him. Bhima worked as the
chief of the cooks. He also entertained the king by wrestling with the reputed
men of might whom came to the court, and by controlling wild animals.
Arjuna assumed the name of
Brihannala and taught dancing, singing and instrumental music to Princess Uttara,
the daughter of Virata, and the ladies. Nakula looked after the horses and
Sahadeva looked after the cows and the bulls.
The princess Draupadi who, if
fate had been less cruel, should herself have been served by many maids, had
now to pass her days in serving Sudeshna, Virata's queen. She lived in the
inner apartments of the palace as maid and companion, engaging herself in
uncongenial tasks.
Kichaka, the brother of Sudeshna,
was the commander-in-chief of Virata's army and it was to him that the old king
Virata owed his power and prestige. Kichaka wielded such vast influence that
people used to say that Kichaka was the real king of the Matsya country and old
Virata king only in name.
Kichaka was inordinately vain of
his strength and his influence over the king. He was so smitten with Draupadi's
beauty that he conceived an uncontrollable passion for her. And he was so sure
of his own attractions and power that it never occurred to him that she, though
a mere maidservant could resist his will. He made amorous overtures to her,
which greatly vexed her.
Draupadi was too shy to speak of
this to Sudeshna or to others. She gave out that her husbands were Gandharvas
who would mysteriously kill those who tried to dishonor her.
Her good conduct and lustre made
every one believe in her story about the Gandharvas. But Kichaka was not to be
frightened so easily and he sought persistently to seduce Draupadi.
His persecution became so
intolerable that at last she complained of it to Queen Sudeshna, and implored her
protection. Kichaka, of course, had greater influence over his sister, and he
shamelessly confided to her his unlawful passion for her maid and sought her
aid to compass his wish.
He represented himself as dying
of desire. "I am so full of torment," he said, "that from the
time I met your maid, I do not get any sleep or rest. You must save my life by
managing somehow to make her receive my advances favorably." The queen
tried to dissuade him but Kichaka would not listen. And finally Sudeshna yielded.
Both of them decided upon a plan to entrap Draupadi.
One night, many sweetmeats and
intoxicating drinks were prepared in the house of Kichaka and a great feast was
arranged. Sudeshna called Sairandhri to her side and handing her a beautiful
golden jug bade her go and bring her a jug of wine from Kichaka's house.
Draupadi hesitated to go to the
house of the infatuated Kichaka at that hour and begged hard that someone else
of her many attendants might be sent, but Sudeshna did not listen. She
pretended to be angry and said sharply: "Go, you must. I can not send
anyone else," and poor Draupadi had to obey.
Draupadi's fears were justified.
When she reached Kichaka's house, that wretch, maddened with lust and wine,
began to pester her with urgent entreaties and solicitations.
She rejected his prayers and
said: "Why do you, who belong to a noble royal family, seek me, born of a
low caste? Why do you take to the wrong path? Why do you approach me, a married
lady? You will perish. My protectors, the Gandharvas, will kill you in their
anger."
When Draupadi would not yield to
his entreaties, Kichaka seized her by the arm and pulled her about. But putting
down the vessel she carried, she wrenched herself free and fled, hotly pursued
by the maddened Kichaka.
She fled to the court wailing
loudly. But even there, intoxicated not only with wine, but even more by his
power and influence, Kichaka followed her and kicked her in the presence of all
with abusive words.
Everyone was afraid of the
all-powerful commander-in-chief and no one was bold enough to oppose him.
Draupadi could not bear the
sorrow and anger she felt at the thought of her helplessness under the
intolerable insult offered to her.
Her deep distress made her forget
the danger that would befall the Pandavas if they were discovered prematurely.
She went that night to Bhima and waking him up, gave vent to her agonized sense
of wrong.
After telling him how brutally
Kichaka had pursued and insulted her, she appealed piteously to Bhima for
protection and revenge. She said in a voice choked with sobs:
"I cannot bear this any
longer. You must kill this wretch at once. For your sake, to help you keep your
promise, I serve in a menial office and even prepare sandal paste for Virata. I
have not minded it, I, who have till now served only you or Mother Kunti, whom
I love and honor. But now, I have to serve these wretches, fearful every moment
of some disgraceful outrage. Not that I mind hard work, see my hands." And
she showed her hands, which were cracked and stained with menial tasks.
Bhima respectfully carried her
hands to his face and eyes, and speechless with sorrow and pity and love, he
dried her tears. Finally he found his voice, and said thickly:
"I care not for the promise
of Yudhishthira or the advice of Arjuna. I care not what may happen but I will
do as you say. I will kill Kichaka and his gang here and now!" and he
rose.
But Draupadi warned Bhima not to
be hasty. They talked it over and finally decided that Kichaka should be
beguiled to come alone at night to a retired spot in the dancing hall where he
should find waiting for him Bhima disguised as a woman, instead of Draupadi.
Next morning, Kichaka renewed his
hateful attentions and vaingloriously said to Draupadi: "O Sairandhri, I
threw you down and kicked you in the presence of the king. Did any one there
come forward to help you? Virata is only king in name of this Matsya country.
But I, the commander-in-chief, am the real sovereign. Now, do not be a fool,
but come and enjoy life with me, with all royal honors. I shall be your devoted
servant." And he begged and bullied and cringed, devouring her the while
with lust-reddened eyes.
Draupadi pretended to yield and
said: "Kichaka, believe me, I can no longer resist your solicitations. But
none of your companions or brothers should know of our relations. If you swear
that you will faithfully keep the secret from others, I shall yield to your
wish."
Kichaka delightedly agreed to the
condition and he promised to go alone to a place of assignation that very
night.
She said: "The women have
their dancing lessons during daytime in the dancing hall and return to their
own quarters at nightfall. None will be in the dancing hall at night. Come
there tonight. I shall be waiting for you there. You can have your will of me."
Kichaka reveled in happiness.
That night, Kichaka took his bath, perfumed and decked himself, went to the
dancing hall and finding with joy that the doors were open, gently entered the
place.
In the very dim light, he saw
someone lying there on a couch, no doubt Sairandhri. He groped his way in the
dark, and gently laid his hands on the person of the sleeper.
Alas! It was not the soft form of
Sairandhri that he touched but the iron frame of Bhima who lept forth on him
like a lion on its prey and hurled him to the ground. But surprised as he was,
Kichaka was no coward, and he was now fighting for dear life.
Grimly they wrestled, Kichaka no
doubt thinking he had to do with one of the Gandharva husbands. They were not
ill matched, for at that time Bhima, Balarama and Kichaka were reputed to be in
the same class in strength and wrestling skill.
The struggle between Bhima and
Kichaka was like that between Vali and Sugriva. In the end Bhima killed
Kichaka, pounding and kneading his body into a shapeless lump of flesh.
Then he gave the glad news of
Kichaka's punishment to Draupadi and went in haste to his kitchen, bathed,
rubbed sandal paste over his body and slept with satisfaction.
Draupadi awoke the guards of the
court and said to them: "Kichaka came to molest me, but as I had warned
him, the Gandharvas, my husbands, made short work of him. Your
commander-in-chief, who fell a prey to lust, has been killed. Look at
him." And she showed them the corpse of Kichaka, which had been reduced to
such a shapeless mass that it had no human semblance.
45.
Matsya Defended
THE fate of Kichaka made Draupadi
an object of fear to the people of Virata. "This woman, so beautiful that
she captures all hearts, is as dangerous as she is lovely, for the Gandharvas
guard her. She is a great danger to the people of the city and the members of
the royal household, for the Gandharvas may stop at nothing in their jealous
anger. It would be best to send her out of the city." Reflecting thus, the
citizens went to Sudeshna and prayed to her to expel Draupadi.
Sudeshna told Draupadi: "You
are, no doubt, a very virtuous lady, but kindly leave our city. I have had
enough of you."
There was only one month more to
complete the stipulated period of living incognito and Draupadi begged
earnestly to be permitted to stay just another month by when, she said, her
Gandharva husbands would have realised their objects and would be ready to take
her away with them.
The Gandharvas would be very
grateful to King Virata and his kingdom. Whether grateful or not, the
Gandharvas could be deadly if irritated and Sudeshna was too afraid of Draupadi
to refuse her request.
From the beginning of the
thirteenth year, the spies of Duryodhana, under his express orders, had
searched for the Pandavas in all possible places of hiding.
After several months of futile
search, they reported their failure to Duryodhana and added that probably the
Pandavas had perished of privations.
Then came the news that the
powerful Kichaka had been killed in single combat by some Gandharva on account
of a woman.
There were only two persons who
could kill Kichaka, and Bhima was one of them. And so they suspected that Bhima
might have been the vengeful Gandharva who had killed Kichaka. Duryodhana also
felt that the lady who was the cause of the killing might be Draupadi. He
expressed his doubts in the open assembly.
He said: "I suspect that the
Pandavas are in Virata's city. Now, he is one of the kings who are too
stiff-necked to court our friendship. It would be a good thing to invade his
country and carry away his cows. If the Pandavas are hiding there, they will
certainly come out to fight with us to repay Virata's hospitality and we can
easily spot them. If we discover them there and we can sure before the
stipulated time, they will have to go to the forest again for another twelve,
years. If, on the other hand, the Pandavas are not there, there is nothing
lost."
King Susarma, the ruler of
Trigarta heartily supported him. "The king of Matsya is my enemy." he
said, "and Kichaka has given me a lot of trouble. Kichaka's death must
have weakened Virata considerably. Give me leave to attack Virata now."
Karna seconded this proposition.
They unanimously came to the decision that Susarma should attack Matsya from
the south and draw off the army of Virata to the south for defence. Duryodhana,
with the Kaurava army, would then launch a surprise attack on Virata from the
northern side, which would be relatively undefended.
Susarma invaded Matsya from the
south seized the cattle and laid waste the gardens and fields on the way. The
cowherds ran in great distress to Virata, who now very much wished that Kichaka
were alive, for he surely would have made short work of the raiders. When he
said so to Kanka (the assumed name by which Yudhishthira was known in Virata's
court) the latter said: "O king, be not worried. Even though I am a
hermit, I am an expert in warfare. I shall put on armor and go in a chariot and
drive away your enemies. Please instruct that your horse keeper Dharmagranthi,
your chief cook Valala, and your stable herd Tantripala may also get into
chariots and help us. I have heard that they are great fighters. Kindly give
orders that the necessary chariots and the weapons may be given to us."
Delighted, Virata was only too
willing to accept the offer. The chariots were ready. All the Pandavas
excepting Arjuna went out with the army of Virata to oppose Susarma and his
men.
A fierce fight ensued between the
armies of Virata and Susarma, with much loss of life on both sides. Susarma
attacked Virata and surrounded his chariot, compelling him to get down and
fight on foot.
Susarma captured Virata and held
him captive in his chariot. With the capture of Virata, the army of Matsya lost
heart and began to scatter in all directions, when Yudhishthira commanded Bhima
to attack Susarma and release Virata and rally the scattered Matsya forces.
At these words of Yudhishthira,
Bhima was about to uproot a tree, but Yudhishthira stopped him and said:
"No such tricks, please, and no battle cry or your identity will be
revealed. Fight like anybody else from the chariot with your bows and
arrows."
Bhima accordingly got into the
chariot attacked the enemy, set Virata free and captured Susarma. The dispersed
forces of Matsya rallied into new formations charged and defeated the army of
Susarma.
As soon as the news of Susarma's
defeat reached the city, the people were extremely jubilant. They decorated the
city and went forth to welcome their victorious king back home.
When they were thus making
preparations to receive king Virata, the big army of Duryodhana came down on
them from the north, and began despoiling the cattle ranches on the outskirts
of the city.
The Kaurava army marched in force
and rounded up the countless cows that were there. The leader of the cowherds
ran to the city and said to the prince Uttara: "O prince, the Kauravas are
marching on, robbing us of our cows. King Virata has gone south to fight
against the Trigarta. We are in consternation as there is no one to protect us.
You are the king's son and we look to you for protection. Pray, come and
recover the cows for the honor of your family."
When the leader of the cowherds
made this complaint to Uttara in the presence of the people and especially of
the women of the palace, the prince felt flushed with valor and proudly said:
"If only I can get someone
to be my charioteer I will recover the cows single-handed. Well, my feats of
arms will be worth seeing and people will know there is little to choose
between Arjuna and myself."
When Uttara said these words
Draupadi was in the inner apartments and must have laughed within herself.
She ran to princess Uttara and
said: "O princess, great danger has be fallen the country. The cowherds
have complained to the young that the Kaurava army is advancing on our city
from the north and has captured cattle ranches and cows on the outskirts. The
prince is eager to fight them and is in need of a charioteer. Should such a
small thing as that stand in the way of victory and glory? I tell you that
Brihannala has been Arjuna's charioteer. When I was in the service of the queen
of the Pandavas, I heard of this fact and I also know that Brihannala learnt
archery from Arjuna. Order Brihannala immediately to go and drive the prince's
chariot."
Arjuna as Brihannala pretended to
be unfamiliar with armor and raised a laugh at his awkwardness in wearing it.
The women of the palace laughed
at his fears and told him again not to be afraid for Uttara would look after
him.
Arjuna spent some time in such
fun but, when he harnessed the horses, it could be seen that, at least, he was
an expert charioteer. And when he held the reins, the horses seemed to love and
obey him.
"The prince will be
victorious. We shall despoil the enemy of their embroidered robes and
distribute them to you as the prize of victory" were the last words of
Brihannala to the women of the palace, as the chariot rapidly bore the prince
outwards to battle.
46.
Prince Uttara
UTTARA, the son of Virata, set
off with enthusiasm from the city in his chariot with Brihannala as his
charioteer and commanded the latter to drive quickly to the place where the
Kauravas had rounded up the cows.
Willingly, the horses were put to
their best speed. And presently the Kaurava army was sighted, at first a
gleaming, line, enveloped in a cloud of dust that seemed to go up to the skies.
Going nearer, Uttara saw the
great army drew in battle by Bhishma, Drona, Kripa, Duryodhana and Karna. At
that sight, his courage, which had been gradually drying up during the rapid
rush to the field, was quite gone. His mouth went dry and his hair stood on
end.
His limbs were all in a tremble.
He shut his eyes with both his hands to keep out the fearsome sight. He
said:"How can I, single-handed, attack an army? I have no troops, since
the king, my father, has taken all available forces, leaving the city
unprotected. It is absurd to think that one man can alone fight a well-equipped
army, led by world-renowned warrior! Oh Brihannala, turn back the
chariot."
Brihannala laughed and said:
"O prince, you started from the city, full of fierce determination and the
ladies expect great things of you. The citizens also have put their trust in
you. Sairandhri praised me and I have come at your request. If we return
without recovering the cows, we shall become the laughing-stock of all. I will
not turn back the chariot. Let us stand firm and fight. Have no fear."
With these words Brihannala began to drive the chariot towards the enemy and
they approached quite close to them.
Uttara's distress was pitiable.
He said in a quaking voice: "I cannot do it, I simply cannot. Let the
Kauravas march off with the cows and if the women laugh, let them. I do not
care. What sense is there in fighting people who are immeasurably stronger than
we fight? Do not be a fool! Turn back the chariot. Otherwise, I shall jump out
and walk back." With these words Uttara cast off his bows and arrows, got
down from the chariot and began to fly towards the city, mad with panic.
This should not be taken as
something that has never happened in life. Nor is Uttara's panic during his
first battle, by any means, singular.
Fear is a strong instinctive
feeling, though it can be overcome by will-power or strong motives like love,
shame or hate, or more usually, by discipline.
Even men who have afterwards
distinguished themselves by heroic deeds have confessed to having felt
something like panic fear, the first time they came under fire. Uttara was by
no means an exceptional coward, for he fought and fell gauntly at Kurukshetra.
Arjuna pursued the running
prince, shouting to him to stop and behave like a Kshatriya. The braided hair
of the charioteer began to dance and his clothes began to wave as he ran in
pursuit of Uttara. The prince fled hither and thither, trying to dodge the
hands that would stop him.
Those of the Kaurava army, who
could see this spectacle, found it amusing. Drona was puzzled at the sight of
Brihannala who, albeit dressed fantastically, seemed a man rigged out as a
woman and to remind him curiously of Arjuna.
When he remarked about this,
Karna said: "How can this be Arjuna? What does it matter even if he is?
What can Arjuna alone do against us in the absence of the other Pandavas? The
king has left his son alone in the city and gone with his whole army to fight
against Susarma. The young prince has brought the attendant of the ladies of
the palace as his charioteer. That is all."
Poor Uttara was imploring
Brihannala to let him go, promising untold wealth if he did so. He appealed to
his pity: "I am the only son of my mother. I am a child grown up on my
mother's lap. I am full of fear."
But, Brihannala wanted to save
him from himself, and would not let him go. He pursued him, seized him and
dragged him to the chariot by force.
Uttara began to sob and said:
"What a fool I was to brag! Alas! What will happen to me?"
Arjuna said kindly, soothing the
prince's fears: "Be not afraid. I shall fight with the Kauravas. Help me
by looking after the horses and driving the chariot, and I shall do the rest.
Believe me, no good ever came of flight. We will rout the enemy and recover
your cows. You will have all the glory." With these words Arjuna lifted
the prince on to the chariot and, putting the reins in his hands, asked him to
drive towards a tree near the burial ground.
Drona, who was watching all this
intently, knew that the fantastically dressed charioteer was Arjuna and shared
his knowledge with Bhishma.
Duryodhana turned to Karna and
said: "Why should we worry who he is? Even if he is Arjuna, he will be
only playing into our hands, for his being
discovered will send the Pandavas to the forest for another twelve
years."
As soon as they came near the
tree Brihannala bade the prince get down, climb the tree and take down the arms
hidden there. The prince said in alarm and grief: "People say that what
hangs on this tree is the corpse of an old huntress. How can I touch a dead
body? How can you ask me to do such a thing?"
Arjuna said: "It is not a
corpse, prince. I know that it contains the weapons of the Pandavas. Climb up
the tree bravely and bring them down. Do not delay."
Seeing that resistance was of no
avail Uttara climbed up the tree as Brihannala had asked him to and took, in
great disgust, the bag tied up there and came down.
When the leather bag was opened,
he saw weapons as bright as the sun. Uttara stood amazed at the sight of the
gleaming weapons and covered his eyes.
He mustered courage and touched
them. The touch seemed to send a stream of hope and high courage into him. He
asked with ardor: "O charioteer, what a wonder! You say that these bows,
arrows and swords belong to the Pandavas. They have been deprived of their
kingdom and they have retired to the forest. Do you know them? Where are
they?"
Then Arjuna told him briefly how
they were all in Virata's court. He said: "Kanka, who serves the king, is
Yudhishthira. Valala, the cook who prepares such nice dishes for your father,
is none other than Bhima. Sairandhri, for insulting whom Kichaka was killed, is
Draupadi. Dharmagranthi, who looks after the horses and Tantripala, the keeper of
the cows, are Nakula and Sahadeva respectively. I am Arjuna. Be not afraid. O
prince, you will soon see me defeat the Kauravas even in the sight of Bhishma,
Drona and Aswatthama and recover the cows. You will also gain renown and it
will be a lesson to you."
Then Uttara folded his hands and
said: "O Arjuna, how fortunate I am to see you with my own eyes! So,
Arjuna is the victorious hero whose very contact has put heart and courage into
me. Forgive the wrongs I have done through ignorance."
As they approached the Kaurava
host, Arjuna recounted some of his heroic deeds, so that Uttara might not lose
grip of his newly awakened courage. Arriving in front of the Kauravas, he got
down, prayed to God, removed the conch-bangles from his hands and put on leather
gauntlets.
He then tied a cloth on his
flowing hair, stood facing the east, meditated on his armor, got into the
chariot and gloried in the familiar feel of his famous Gandiva bow. He stringed
it and thrice twanged the string whose shrill note raised an echo from all
sides.
Hearing the sound, the heroes of
the Kaurava army said to one another: "This surely is Gandiva's
voice." When Arjuna stood on the chariot in all his godlike stature and
blew his conch Devadatta, the Kaurava army was alarmed and a frenzied shout
arose that the Pandavas had come.
The story of Uttara, who spoke
boastfully in the ladies' boudoirs and fled in panic at the sight of the
hostile array, his not been introduced in the Mahabharata, merely as a comic
interlude.
It is in ordinary human nature to
look with contempt on lower levels of conduct in ability. The rich scorn the
poor, the beautiful scorn the plain, and the strong scorn the weak. Brave men
despise cowards. But Arjuna was no ordinary man. He was a great soul and a true
hero who felt that his duty as a strong, brave man was to help others to rise
above their weakness.
Knowing that nature had endowed
him with courage and bravery at birth, and that he owed them to no special
exertions on his part, he had the true humility of the really great. And he did
what he could to put courage into Uttara and make him worthy of his lineage.
This was Arjuna's characteristic nobility. He never abused his strength and
power. One of his many names is Bibhatsu, which means one who shrank from doing
an unworthy act, and he lived up to it.
47.
Promise Fulfilled
THE chariot of Arjuna thundered
on its way, seeming to shake the earth. The hearts of the Kauravas quaked when
they heard the twang of the Gandiva bow.
"Our army must be arrayed
well and with care. Arjuna, has come," said Drona anxiously. Duryodhana
did not at all like the honor Drona did Arjuna by this anxiety.
He said to Karna: "The
Pandavas' pledge was that they would spend twelve years in the forest and the
following year undiscovered. The thirteenth year has not ended yet. Arjuna has
revealed himself before the time. Why then should we give way to fear? The
Pandavas will have to go again to the forest for another twelve years. Drona is
suffering from the cold feet of the too learned. Let us leave him in the rear
and advance to the battle."
Karna assented and said:
"Our soldiers' heart is not in the fight and they are trembling with fear.
They say that the man, who stands so proudly, bow in hand, on the chariot,
speeding towards us, is Arjuna. But why need we fear even if it were
Parasurama? I will myself stop the advancing warrior and redeem my word to you,
and fight him, aye, even if all the others stand back. They may drive away the
cows of the Matsya king while, single handed, I shall give them cover, engaging
Arjuna in battle," and Karna, as usual, began to blow his own trumpet.
When Kripa heard these words of
Karna, he said: "This is pure tomfoolery. We must all make a combined
attack on Arjuna. That would be our one chance of success. Do not therefore,
brag about your opposing him alone and unaided."
Karna grew angry. He said:
"The acharya ever delights in singing Arjuna's praises and in magnifying
his prowess. Whether he does so from fear or excessive fondness for the
Pandavas, I do not know. Those, who are afraid, need not fight, but may simply
look on, while others, who are true to the salt they have eaten, engage in
battle. I, for one, a mere soldier who loves my friends and hates my enemies,
will stand here and fight. What business have men learned in the Vedas, who
love and praise their enemies, got here?" said he sneeringly.
Aswatthama, Drona's son and
Kripa's nephew, could not hear unmoved this sneer at the venerable teachers. He
said sternly to Karna: "We have not yet taken the king back to
Hastinapura, and the battle is yet to be won. Your brag is idle vainglory. It
may be that we are not kshatriyas and that we belong to the class that recites
the Vedas and the sastras. But I have not been able to find in any sastra that
it is honor able for kings to seize kingdoms by cheating at dice. Even those,
who fight and conquer kingdoms, do not crow too loudly about it. And I cannot
see what you have done to be proud of. The fire is silent and yet cooks the
food. The sun shines but not on him. Likewise, Mother earth sustains all
things, movable and immovable, and supports her burden without so much as a
whisper. What claim to praise has a kshatriya who has unlawfully seized
another's kingdom at a game of dice? To have cheated the Pandavas of their
kingdom is no more a matter of glory than to have spread traps for unsuspecting
birds. O Duryodhana, O Karna, in what battle did your heroes defeat the
Pandavas? You dragged Draupadi to the assembly. Are you proud of it? You have
destroyed the Kaurava race like an empty-headed clod that fells a big sandal
tree for love of its fragrance. A fight with Arjuna, you will find, is a very
different thing from a throw of the dice. The Gandiva will send forth sharp
arrows and not fours and twos as in the game of dice. Vain fools, do you think
that Sakuni can, by mere cheating, sneak a victory in battle for you?"
The leaders of the Kaurava army
lost their patience and began a loud wordy warfare. Seeing this, the grandsire
was filled with sorrow and said:
"The wise man does not
insult his teachers. One should engage in battle only after a careful
calculation of time, place and circumstance. Even wise people often lose their
balance and good sense over their own affairs. Ruffled by anger, even the
usually so sensible Duryodhana fails to recognise that the warrior who stands
braving our army is Arjuna. His intellect has been clouded by anger. O
Aswatthama, pray do not mind Karna's offensive remarks. You must take them as
intended merely to put the preceptors on their best spirit and sting them into
action. This is not the time to nurse enmity or sow dissension. Drona, Kripa
and Aswatthama should forget and forgive. Where can the Kauravas find in the
whole world, heroes superior to Drona, the preceptor, and his son Aswatthama,
who combine in themselves Vedic scholarship and kshatriya heroism? We know of
none other than Parasurama who can equal Drona. We can conquer Arjuna only if
we all join together and fight him. Let us address ourselves to the task before
us. If we quarrel amongst ourselves we cannot fight Arjuna."
Thus spoke the grandsire. Soothed
by his noble words, angry feelings subsided. Bhishma turned to Duryodhana and
continued:
"Best of kings, Arjuna has
come. The stipulated period of thirteen years terminated yesterday. Your
calculation is wrong, as men learned in the science of planetary movements will
tell you. I knew that the period had ended when Arjuna blew his conch. Reflect
a little before deciding on war. If you wish to make peace with the Pandavas, now
is the time for it. What do you seek, a just and honorable peace or a mutually
destructive war? Ponder well and make your choice."
Duryodhana replied: "Revered
sire, I have no wish for peace. I shall not give even a village to the
Pandavas. Let us get ready for war."
Then Drona said: "Let prince
Duryodhana take away a fourth of the army to guard him and return to
Hastinapura. Let another surround the cows and seize them. If we return without
seizing the cows it would amount to an acknowledgment of defeat. With the rest
of the army, the five of us will give battle to Arjuna."
The Kaurava forces ranged
themselves accordingly in battle array. Arjuna said: "O Uttara, I do not
see Duryodhana's chariot or Duryodhana. I see Bhishma standing, clad in armor.
I think Duryodhana is driving away the cows to Hastinapura. Let us pursue him
and recover the cows." With these words Arjuna moved away from the Kaurava army and went after Duryodhana
and the cows.
And as he was going, he respect
fully greeted his teachers and the old grandsire, by drawing his Gandiva bow
and sending arrows so as to fall near their feet.
Reverently saluting them in this
heroic fashion, he left them and pursued Duryodhana. Arjuna reached the place
where the cows were gathered and put to rout the marauding forces.
He then turned to the cowherds
and asked them to take the cows to the barns, which they did with great
rejoicing. Arjuna then pursued Duryodhana. Seeing this, Bhishma and the other
Kaurava warriors rushed to the rescue and, surrounding Arjuna, sent forth
arrows against him.
Arjuna carried on a wonderful
fight. First, he made at Karna and drove him from the battlefield. After that,
he attacked and defeated Drona. Seeing Drona standing spent with fatigue,
Aswatthama joined in the fight and attacked Arjuna, which gave Arjuna an
opportunity of letting Drona withdraw from the field.
Then, there ensued a bitter
struggle between Aswatthama and Arjuna. When Aswatthama grew weary, Kripa
relieved him and maintained the attack against Arjuna.
But Kripa also sustained defeat
and the whole army was routed and fled in fear. Though rallied and brought back
to the attack by Bhishma, Drona and others, there was no fight left in them.
Finally, they left the field, after a glorious fight between Bhishma and
Arjuna, which, it is said, the gods themselves came to see.
The attempt to head off Arjuna’s
pursuit of Duryodhana thus failed and soon Arjuna came up with Duryodhana and
strongly attacked him. Duryodhana was defeated and fled from the battlefield,
but not far, because, when Arjuna taunted him with cowardice, he turned round
like a serpent and resumed the fight.
Bhishma and others surrounded and
protected him. Arjuna fought and finally, he employed a magic weapon that made
them all fall down unconscious on the battlefield. While they were in that
condition he snatched away their garments. The seizure of the clothes of the
enemy was the sign of decisive victory in those days.
When Duryodhana came, Bhishma
sent him back to the city. The whole army returned to Hastinapura after this
humiliating defeat.
Arjuna said: "O Uttara, turn
back the horses. Our cows have been regained. Our enemies have fled. O prince,
return to your kingdom, adorning your person with sandal paste and decked with
flowers."
On the way back, Arjuna deposited
the weapons as before on the tree and dressed himself once more as Brihannala.
He sent messengers in advance to proclaim in the city that Uttara had won a
glorious victory.
48.
Virata's Delusion
AFTER defeating Susarma, king of
Trigarta, Virata returned to his capital amidst the acclamations of the
citizens. When he reached his palace, he saw that Uttara was not there and the
womenfolk told him with much elation that Uttara had set out to conquer the
Kauravas.
They had not a doubt that their
hand some prince could conquer the whole world. But the king's heart sank
within him at the news, for he knew the impossible task which the delicately
nurtured prince had taken on himself with no better following than a eunuch.
"My dearly loved son must be
dead by now," he cried, overwhelmed with anguish. He then bade his
ministers collect and send as strong a force as could be got together for
rescuing Uttara if he was still alive and bring him back. Scouts also were
immediately despatched to find out Uttara's whereabouts and fate.
Dharmaputra, now disguised as the
sanyasin Kanka, tried to comfort Virata by assuring him that the prince could
come to no harm, since Brihannala had gone as his charioteer. "You do not
know about her," said he. "I do. Whosoever fights from a chariot
driven by her, can be sure of victory. Further, the news of Susarma's defeat
must have reached there and the Kauravas must have retreated."
Meanwhile courtiers arrived from
the field of battle with the glad news that Uttara had defeated the Kaurava
forces and recovered the kine.
This seemed too good to be true,
even to the fond father, but Yudhishthira smilingly reassured him. Said he:
"Have no doubts, O king. What the messengers say must be true. When
Brihannala went out as charioteer, success was certain. There is nothing
extraordinary in your son's victory. I happen to know that even Indra's
charioteer or Krishna's cannot equal Brihannala."
This seemed absurd to Virata, but
he was too happy to resent it. He made large gifts of precious stones and other
wealth to the messengers who brought the good news and ordered public
rejoicing. "My success over Susarma is nothing," he proclaimed.
"The prince's is the real victory. Let special prayers of thanksgiving be
offered at all places of worship. Let all the principal streets are decorated
with flags and the citizen’s go in procession to strains of triumphal music.
Make all arrangements to receive, in a befitting manner, my lion-hearted
boy."
Virata sent out ministers,
soldiers, and maidens to welcome his son, returning in triumph. When the king
retired to his private apartments, he asked Sairandhri to bring the dice. He
said to Kanka: "I cannot contain my joy. Come, let us play," and sat
down to a game with Yudhishthira.
They talked while they played and
naturally, the king was full of his son's greatness and prowess. "See the
glory of my son, Bhuminjaya. He has put the famed Kaurava warriors to
flight."
"Yes," replied
Yudhishthira with a smile. "Your son is indeed fortunate for, without the
best of good fortune, how could he have secured Brihannala to drive his
chariot?"
Virata was angry at this
persistent glorification of Brihannala at the expenses of Uttara. "Why do
you, again and again babble about the eunuch?" he cried.
"While I am talking about my
son's victory, you expatiate on the charioteering skill of the eunuch, as if
that were of any significance." The king's anger only increased when Kanka
remonstrated: "I know what I am talking about. Brihannala is no ordinary
person. The chariot she drives can never see defeat, and whoever is in it, is
sure of success in any undertaking, no matter how difficult."
Now, this perverse flouting could
not be borne, and Virata in a passion flung the dice at Yudhishthira's face and
followed this up with a blow on Yudhishthira's cheek. Yudhishthira was hurt and
blood flowed down his face.
Sairandhri who was nearby, wiped
the blood with the edge of her garment and squeezed it into a golden cup.
"Why all this fuss? What are you collecting the blood into a cup
for?" demanded the angry king, who was still in a passion.
"A Sanyasin's blood may not
be split on the ground, O king," replied Sairandhri. "The rains will
fail in your land for as many years as there are drops in the blood that is
split on the earth. That was why I collected the blood in this cup. I fear you
do not know Kanka's greatness."
Meanwhile the gatekeeper
announced: "Uttara and Brihannala have arrived. The prince is waiting for
an audience with the king." Virata got up excitedly and said: "Ask
him in, ask him in." And Yudhishthira whispered to the sentry: "Let
Uttara come alone. Brihannala should stay behind."
He did this to prevent a
catastrophe, for he knew Arjuna would be unable to control his anger when he
saw the injury on his brother's face. He could not bear to see Dharmaputra hurt
by anyone except in fair battle.
Uttara entered and paid due
homage to his royal father. When he turned to do obeisance to Kanka be was
horrified to see his bleeding face, for now he knew that Kanka was the great
Yudhishthira.
"O king," he cried,
"who was it that caused hurt to this great one?"
Virata looked at his son and
said: "Why all this fuss about it? I struck him for untimely and envious
belittling of you when I was in an ocean of delight at the news of your
glorious victory. Each time I mentioned you, this unlucky brahmana extolled
your charioteer, the eunuch, and gave the victory to him. It was too silly
really, and I am sorry I struck him, but it is not worth talking about."
Uttara was overwhelmed with fear.
"Alas! You have done great wrong. Fall at his feet right now, father, and
pray forforgiveness or we will be destroyed, root and branch."
Virata, to whom all this was
inexplicable, stood with a puzzled frown not knowing what to do. But Uttara was
so anxious and importunate that he yielded and bowed to Yudhishthira asking for
pardon.
Thereafter, embracing his son and
making him sit, Virata said: "My boy, you are truly a hero. I am in a
fever of impatience to hear all about it. How did you defeat the Kaurava army?
How did you recover the kine?"
Uttara hung his head down.
"I conquered no army," he said, "and rescued no cows. All that
was the work of a god prince. He took up our cause, rescued me from
destruction, put the Kaurava soldiers to flight and brought the herd back. I
did nothing."
The king could hardly believe his
ears. "Where is that god prince?" he asked. "I must see and
thank the hero who rescued my son and beat back my foes. I will give my
daughter, Uttara, in marriage to him. Go and fetch him in."
"He has disappeared for the
time being," replied the prince, "but I think he will come again
either today or tomorrow." Uttara spoke thus because Arjuna was indeed a
prince of the gods and had also for the time being disappeared in Brihannala.
In Virata's hall of assembly, all
the leading citizens had gathered to celebrate the king's victory and the
prince's. Kanka, Valala the cook, Brihannala, Tantripala and Dharmagranthi, who
were responsible for the victories, arrived also and entering the hall, to the
surprise of everyone, sat among the princes unbid.
Some explained the conduct by
saying that, after all, these humbler folk had rendered invaluable service at a
critical time and really deserved recognition.
Virata entered the court. On
seeing Kanka sanyasin and the cook and the others seated in places reserved for
princess and the nobility the king lost his temper and gave loud vent to his
displeasure.
When they felt they had enough
fun, the Pandavas disclosed their identity to the amazement of all present.
Virata was beside himself with joy to think that it was the Pandava princes and
Panchali who had been ministering to him all these days in disguise. He
embraced Kanka in exuberant gratitude and made a formal surrender of his kingdom
and his all to him, of course immediately receiving them back with thanks.
Virata also insisted that he should give his daughter in marriage to Arjuna.
But Arjuna said: "No, that
would not be proper, for the princess learnt dancing and music from me. I, as
her teacher, am in the position of father to her." He, however, agreed to
accept her for his son Abhimanyu.
Meanwhile, envoys arrived from
the wicked and treacherous Duryodhana with a message for Yudhishthira. "O
son of Kunti," they said, "Duryodhana feels very sorry that owing to
the hasty action of Dhananjaya, you have to go back to the woods again. He let
himself be recognised before the end of the thirteenth year and so, in
accordance with your undertaking, you have to dwell in the forest for another
twelve years."
Dharmaputra laughed and said:
"Messengers, return quickly to Duryodhana and tell him to make further
inquiry. The venerable Bhishma and others learned in the stars will no doubt
tell him that full thirteen years had been completed before your forces heard
again the twang of Dhananjaya's bow and fled in fear."
49.
Taking Counsel
THE thirteenth year during which
the Pandavas had to remain undiscovered came to an end.
No longer obliged to be in
disguise, they left Virata's capital as Pandavas and settled openly in
Upaplavya, another place in Matsya territory. From there, they sent emissaries
to summon their friends and relatives.
From Dwaraka came Balarama and
Krishna with Arjuna’s wife Subhadra, and her son, Abhimanyu and accompanied by
many Yadava warriors. Loud and long was the blare of trumpet-conchs as the
Matsya prince and the Pandavas went forth
to receive Janardana.
Indrasena and many others like
him, who had at the beginning of the preceding year left the Pandavas in the
forest, rejoined them with their chariots at Upaplavya. The Kasi prince and
Saibya ruler arrived with their forces.
Drupada, the Panchala prince, was
there too with three divisions, bringing with him Sikhandin and Draupadi's sons
and her brother Dhrishtadyumna. There were many other princes gathered at
Upaplavya, well attached to the Pandavas,
Abhimanyu's marriage to princess
Uttara was solemnized according to Vedic rites before that illustrious
gathering of friendly heroes. The wedding celebrations over, they met in
conclave in Virata's hall of assembly.
Krishna sat next to Yudhishthira
and Virata, while Balarama and Satyaki were seated beside Drupada. As the
bustle died down, all eyes were turned on Krishna, who now rose to speak.
"You all know," said
Krishna to the hushed assembly, "the story of the great deceit how
Yudhishthira was cheated at the game board and deprived of his kingdom and
exiled with his brothers and Draupadi to the forest. For thirteen years, the
sons of Pandu have patiently borne their trouble in redemption of their pledged
word. Ponder well and counsel a course, which will be in consonance with dharma
and contribute to the glory and welfare of both Pandavas and Kauravas. For,
Dharmaputra desires nothing that he cannot justly claim. He wishes nothing but
good even to the sons of Dhritarashtra who deceived him and did him grievous
wrong. In giving your counsel, bear in mind the fraud and meanness of the
Kauravas as well as the honorable magnanimity of the Pandavas. Devise a just
and honorable settlement. We do not know what Duryodhana has in his mind. I
feel we should send an able and upright emissary to him to persuade him to a
peaceful settlement by the restoration of half the kingdom to
Yudhishthira."
Balarama then rose to address the
gathering. "You have just heard Krishna," he said. "The solution
he propounds is wise and just. I endorse it as good for both Duryodhana and
Dharmaputra. If Kunti's sons can get back their kingdom by a peaceful
settlement, nothing could be better for them, the Kauravas and for all
concerned. Only then will there be happiness and peace in the land. Someone has
to go to convey to Duryodhana Yudhishthira's wish for a peaceful settlement and
bring an answer from him, a man who has the weight and the ability to bring about
peace and good understanding. The envoy should get the cooperation of Bhishma,
Dhritarashtra, Drona and Vidura, Kripa and Aswatthama and even of Karna and
Sakuni if possible, and secure support for Kunti's sons. He should be one who,
on no account, would give way to anger. Dharmaputra, with full knowledge of
consequences, staked his kingdom and lost it, obstinately disregarding the
reasoning of friends. Fully aware that he was no match for the adept Sakuni, he
yet played against him. He cannot now complain but can only supplicate for his
rights. A fit envoy would be one who is not a warmonger but is dead set, in
spite of every difficulty, on achieving a peaceful settlement. Princes, I
desire you to approach Duryodhana tactfully and make peace with him. Let us
avoid an armed conflict by all the means in our power. Only that which accrues
in peace is worth while. Out of war, nothing but wrong can issue."
Balarama's position was that
Yudhishthira knew what he was doing when he gambled away his kingdom and could
not now claim it as of right.
The fulfilment of the conditions
of exile could only give the Pandavas their personal freedom and not their
kingdom, that is to say, they need not serve another term of exile in the
forest. But it gave them no right to the return of their kingdom.
Dharmaputra could only supplicate
for the return of what he had lost and not claim it as of right. Balarama did
not relish an armed conflict among scions of the same family and rightly held
that war would lead only to disaster.
The poet puts an eternal truth in
Balarama's mouth.
Satyaki, the Yadava warrior, who
heard Balarama speak thus, could not contain himself. He rose in anger and
spoke indignantly:
"Balarama's words do not
strike me as in the least degree just. One can, if skilful enough, make out a
plausible plea for any case, but not all the skill in the world can convert
wrong into right or injustice into justice. I must protest against Balarama's
stand, which fills me with disgust. Do we not see in one and the same tree, one
branch bowed with fruit and another sticking out gaunt and useless? So, of
these brothers, Krishna speaks words that breathe the spirit of dharma while
Balarama's attitude is unworthy. And if you grant what cannot be doubted that
the Kauravas cheated Yudhishthira of his share of the kingdom, why then,
allowing them to keep it is as unjust as confirming a thief in the possession
of his booty! Anyone, who finds fault with Dharmaputra, does so in cowardly
fear of Duryodhana, not for any sound reason. O princes, forgive my harsh
speech. Not of his own volition but because the Kauravas pressed and invited
him to do so, did the novice and unwilling Dharmaputra play with a dishonest
gambler that game so fraught with disaster. Why should he bow and supplicate before
Duryodhana, now that he has fulfilled his pledges? Yudhishthira is not a
mendicant and need not beg. He has kept his word and so have his brothers
twelve years in exile in the forest and twelve months there after in disguise
according to their pledge. And yet, Duryodhana and his associates, most
shamelessly and dishonestly, question the performance. I shall defeat these
impudent villains in battle and they shall either seek Yudhishthira's pardon or
meet their doom. How can a righteous war be wrong in any case? There is no sin
in slaying enemies who take up arms and fight. To supplicate before the enemy,
is to incur disgrace. If Duryodhana desires war, he can have it and we shall be
quite ready for it. Let there be no delay and let us get on with the preparations.
Duryodhana is not going to part with territory without a war and it would be
folly to waste time."
Drupada's heart was gladdened by
Satyaki's resolute words. He rose and said: "Satyaki is right and I
support him. Soft words will not bring Duryodhana round to reason. Let us
continue our preparations for war and let our friends be warned without loss of
time to bring up their forces. Send word instantly to Salya, Dhrishtaketu,
Jayatsena and Kekaya. We must, of course, send a suitable envoy to Dhritarashtra.
The learned brahmana, who conducts the religious ceremonies in my court, can be
sent to Hastinapura, with confidence. Instruct him well as to what he should
say to Duryodhana and how he should convey the message to Bhishma,
Dhritarashtra and Dronacharya."
When Drupada concluded, Vasudeva
(Krishna, the son of Vasudeva) rose and addressing Drupada, said:
"What you suggest is
practicable and also conforms to the kingly code. Baladeva and I are bound to
the Kauravas and the Pandavas with equal ties of affection. We came here for
princess Uttara's wedding and will return now to our city. Great are you among
the princes of the land, alike in age and wisdom, and entitled to advise us
all. Dhritarashtra too holds you, his boyhood friends, in high esteem like
Drona and Kripa. It is therefore only right that you should instruct the
brahmana envoy on his mission of peace. If he fails to persuade Duryodhana out
of his error, prepare for the inevitable conflict, my friends, and send word to
us."
The conference ended and Krishna
left for Dwaraka with his people. The Pandavas and their allies went on with
their preparations. Messengers went forth to all the friendly princes who got
busy and mobilised their respective armies.
Meanwhile, Duryodhana and his
brothers were not idle. They also began preparing for the coming conflict and
sent word to their friends to get their contingents ready for war.
News of these preparations on
both sides soon spread through out the land. "The constant rapid
journeying back and forth of princes caused a great stir everywhere. The earth
shook beneath the heavy tramp of marching legions," says the poet.
It would appear that even in
olden days, military preparations were made in much the same way as in our
times.
Drupada called in his brahmana
and said to him: "You know Duryodhana's bent of mind as well as the
qualities of the Pandavas. Go to him as the emissary of the Pandavas. The
Kauravas deceived the Pandavas with the connivance of their father
Dhritarashtra who would not listen to the sage advice of Vidura. Show the old,
weak king, who is misled by his son, the path of dharma and wisdom. You will
find in Vidura a great ally in this task. Your mission may lead to differences
of opinion among the elder statesmen such as Bhishma, Drona and Kripa as well
as among the warlords. And, if this happens, it will be some time before those
differences are smoothed out, which will be time gained for the completion of
the Pandavas war preparations. As long as you are in Duryodhana's capital talking
of peace, their preparations for war will receive a set-back which is all to
the good from the Pandavas' standpoint. If, by a miracle, you are able to come
back with good terms of peace, so much the better. I do not expect Duryodhana
will agree to a peaceful settlement. Still, to send one on a peace mission will
be advantageous to us."
In December 1941, the Japanese
were carrying on negotiations with the Americans and, immediately on the
breakdown of those talks, took them unawares and attacked Pearl Harbor
destroying their naval forces there.
Drupada's instruction to the
brahmana would show that this was no new technique. And that, even in the old
days, the same method was followed of carrying on negotiations and even
sincerely working for peace, but simultaneously preparing, with unremitting
vigor, for outbreak of war and carrying on peace talks with the object of
creating dissension in the enemy's ranks. There is nothing new under the sun!
50.
Arjuna's Charioteer
HAVING sent Drupada's brahmana to
Hastinapura on the peace mission, the Pandavas sent word, at the same time, to
the princes likely to favor their cause to collect their forces and hold
themselves in readiness for war. To Dwaraka, Arjuna went himself.
Having understood through his
spies the turn events were taking, Duryodhana too did not remain idle. Learning
that Vasudeva (Krishna) was back in his home city, he sped towards Dwaraka in
his chariot, as fast as his swiftest horses could take him. The two of them,
Arjuna and Duryodhana, thus reached Dwaraka on the same day.
Krishna was fast asleep. Because
they were his close relatives, Arjuna and Duryodhana could go into his bedroom.
There they both waited for Krishna to wake up. Duryodhana, who went in first,
seated himself on a decorated throne-chair at the head of the bed, while Arjuna
kept standing at its foot with arms folded in respectful posture.
When Mahadeva woke up, his eyes
fell on Arjuna who stood in front of him and he gave him warm welcome. Turning
then to Duryodhana, he welcomed him too and asked them what brought them both
to Dwaraka. Duryodhana was the first to speak.
"It looks," said he,
"as though war would break out between us soon. If it does, you must
support me. Arjuna and I are equally beloved of you. We both claim equally
close relationship with you. You cannot say that either of us is nearer to you
than the other. I came here before Arjuna. Tradition has it that he who came
first should be shown preference. Janardana, you are the greatest among the
great; so it is incumbent on you to set an example to others. Confirm with your
conduct the traditional dharma and remember that it was I who came first."
To which Purushottama (Krishna)
answered: "Son of Dhritarashtra, it may be that you came here first, but
it was Kunti's son that I saw immediately on waking up. If you were the first
arrival, it was Arjuna who first caught my eye. So, even in this respect, your
claims on me are equal and I am therefore bound to render assistance to both
sides. In distributing favors, the traditional usage is to begin with the
junior-most among the recipients. I would, therefore, offer the choice to
Arjuna first. The Narayana, my tribesmen, are my equals in battle and
constitute a host, large and almost invincible. In my distribution of assistance,
they will be on one side, and I individually on the other. But I shall wield no
weapon and take no part in actual fighting."
Turning to Arjuna he said,
"Partha, think it over well. Would you want me, alone and weaponless, or
would you prefer the prowess of the Narayana? Exercise the right to the first
choice which custom gives you as the younger man."
Scarcely had Krishna finished
when Arjuna said with reverence and without hesitation: "I would be
content if you are with us, though you may wield no weapon."
Duryodhana could hardly contain
himself for joy at what he thought was Arjuna's imbecile choice. He gladly
chose the help of Vasudevas army and his request was granted. Pleased with the
acquisition of a mighty force, Duryodhana went to Baladeva and told him the
story.
As he finished speaking, the
mighty Balarama said: "Duryodhana, they must have told you all I said at
the time of the marriage of Virata's daughter. I pleaded your case and urged
everything that could be said for you. Often have I told Krishna that we have
equal ties with the Kauravas and the Pandavas. But my words failed to carry
conviction to him. I am helpless. It is impossible for me to side with one whom
Krishna opposes. I will not help Partha and I cannot support you against Krishna.
Duryodhana, you come of an illustrious line, which is respected by all the
princes of the land. Well, then, if it must be war, bear yourself in accordance
with the Kshatriya code," said he.
Duryodhana returned to
Hastinapura in high spirits saying to himself: "Arjuna has made a fool of
himself. The great army of Dwaraka will fight on my side and Balarama's good
wishes too are with me. Vasudeva has been left without an army."
"Dhananjaya, why did you
choose thus unwisely, preferring me alone and unarmed to my fully equipped and
heroic forces?" asked Krishna of Arjuna with a smile, when they were
alone. Arjuna answered:
"My ambition is to achieve
glory even like yours. You have the power and prowess to face all the princes
of the land and their hordes in battle single-handed. I too feel I can do it.
So, I desire that I should win the battle with you driving my chariot unarmed.
I have desired this for long and you have today fulfilled my wish."
Vasudeva smiled again and
pronounced this benediction: "Are you trying to compete with me? May you
succeed," for he was pleased with Arjuna's decision. This is the sacred
story of how Krishna became Partha's charioteer.
51.
Salya Against His Nephews
SALYA, the ruler of Madradesa,
was the brother of Madri, the mother of Nakula and Sahadeva. He heard that the
Pandavas were camping in the city of Upaplavya and making preparations for war.
He collected a very big army and
set off towards that city to join the Pandavas. Salya's army was so large that
where it halted for rest, the encampment extended over a length of nearly
fifteen miles.
News of Salya and his marching
forces reached Duryodhana. Deciding that Salya should somehow be persuaded to
join his side, Duryodhana instructed his officers to provide him and his great
army with all facilities and treat them to sumptuous hospitality.
In accordance with Duryodhana's
instruction, several beautifully decorated rest houses were erected at several
places on the route, at which Salya and his men were treated to wondrous hospitality.
Food and drink were lavishly provided.
Salya was exceedingly pleased
with the attentions paid to him but assumed that his nephew, Yudhishthira, had
arranged all this. Salya's army marched on, the earth shaking beneath their
heavy strides.
Feeling very pleased with the
hospitality, he called the waiting attendants one day and said to them:
"I must reward you all who
have treated me and my soldiers with so much love and attention. Please tell
Kunti's son that he should let me do this, and bring me his consent."
The servants went and told their
master, Duryodhana, this. Duryodhana, who was all the time moving unobserved
with the party waiting on Salya and his soldiers, at once took this opportunity
to present himself before Salya, and say how honored he felt at Salya's
acceptance of the Kaurava hospitality.
This amazed Salya whom till then
had no suspicion of the truth, and he was also touched by the chivalry of
Duryodhana in lavishing kingly hospitality on a partisan of the Pandavas.
Greatly moved, he exclaimed,
"How noble and kind of you! How can I repay you?"
Duryodhana replied: "You and
your forces should fight on my side. This is the reward I ask of you."
Salya was stunned.
The Puranas wherein right conduct
is always preached, sometimes set out stories in which conduct, not in
conformity with Dharma, seems condoned. Is it right, one may ask, for religious
books thus to seem to justify wrong?
A little reflection will enable
one to see the matter in proper light. It is necessary to bring home the fact
that even wise, good and great men are liable to fall into error.
That is why the Puranas, although
ever seeking to instil Dharma, contain narratives to show how in this world
even good people sometimes sin against Dharma, as though irresistibly driven to
do so.
This is to press home the truth
that howsoever learned one may be, humility and constant vigilance are
absolutely necessary if one wishes to avoid evil.
Why indeed, did the great authors
of our epics write about the lapses of Rama in the Ramayana and Yudhishthira in
the Mahabharata?
Where was the need to make
mention of them and then labor arguments to explain them away, thereby
disturbing men's minds?
It was not as though others had
discovered the lapses and Vyasa and Valmiki had to defend their heroes. The
stories are artistic creations in which lapses they impress the desired moral.
The parts dealing with the lapses
deeply distress the reader's mind and serve as solemn warnings of pitfalls,
which wait to engulf the careless.
They dispose the mind to humility
and watchfulness and make it realise the need for divine guidance. The modern
cinema also projects on the screen much that is bad and immoral.
Whatever may be the explanation
offered by the protagonists of the cinema, evil is presented on the screen in
an attractive fashion that grips people's minds and tempts them into the path
of wickedness.
This is not so in the Puranas.
Although they do point out that even great men now and again fell into error
and committed wrong, the presentation is such as to warn the reader and not to
allure him into evil ways.
This is the striking difference
between our epics and the modern talkies, which arises from the difference in
the character of the people who produced them.
"You are the same unto us both.
I must mean as much to you as the Pandavas. You must agree to come to my
aid," said Duryodhana.
Salya answered: "Be it
so." Flattered by Duryodhana's splendid reception, Salya deserted the
Pandavas who were entitled to his love and esteem and pledged his word to fight
on Duryodhana's side which shows what dangers may lurk in receiving the
hospitality of kings.
Feeling that it would not be
right to go back without meeting Yudhishthira, Salya then turned to Duryodhana
saying: "Duryodhana, believe me. I have given you my word of honor. I must
however meet Yudhishthira and tell him what I have done."
"Go, see him and return
soon. And do not forget your promise to me," said Duryodhana.
"Good luck to you. Go back
to your palace. I will not betray you." Saying this, Salya went to the
city of Upaplavya where Yudhishthira was camping.
The Pandavas received the ruler
of Madra with great eclat. Nakula and Sahadeva were joyous beyond measure to
see their uncle to whom the Pandavas narrated all their hardships and sufferings.
When they started talking about
obtaining his help in the war that was impending, Salya related to them the
story of his promise to Duryodhana.
Yudhishthira saw at once that it
had been a mistake to take Salya's assistance for granted, thereby letting
Duryodhana forestall them.
Concealing his disappointment as
best he could, Yudhishthira addressed Salya thus:
"Great warrior, you are
bound to keep the promise you have made to, Duryodhana. You are the equal of
Vasudeva in battle and Karna will have you as his charioteer when he seeks
Arjuna's life in the battlefield. Are you going to be the cause of Arjuna's
death? Or are you going to save him then? I know I cannot fairly ask this of
you. Still I do."
To which Salya rejoined: "My
lad, I have been tricked into giving Duryodhana my word and I shall be ranged
against you in battle. But when Karna proceeds to attack Arjuna, if I happen to
be his charioteer, you may take it he will go to battle disheartened and Arjuna
shall be saved. Fear not. The sorrows and insults, which were visited on
Draupadi and you all, will soon be an avenged memory. Henceforth, yours will be
good luck. No one can prevent or alter what has been ordained by fate. I have
acted wrongly. Bear with me."
52.
Vritra
INDRA, the Lord of the three
regions, was once so drunk with pride that he quite forgot the courteous
manners and forms that the gods had hitherto observed.
When Brihaspati, preceptor of the
gods, foremost in all branches of learning, and venerated alike by the gods and
the asuras, came to his court, Indra did not rise from his seat to receive the
acharya or ask him to be seated and failed to do the customary honors.
In his great conceit, Indra
persuaded himself to believe that the sastras allowed him as a king in court the
prerogative of receiving guests seated. Brihaspati was hurt by Indra's
discourtesy and, attributing it to the arrogance of prosperity, silently left
the assembly.
Without the high priest of the
gods, the court lost in splendor and dignity and became an unimpressive
gathering.
Indra soon realized the foolishness of his conduct and,
sensing trouble for himself from the acharya's displeasure, he thought to make
up with him by falling at his feet and asking for forgiveness.
But this he could not do, because
Brihaspati had, in his anger, made himself invisible. This preyed on Indra's
mind.
With Brihaspati gone, Indra's
strength began to decline, while that of the asuras increased, which encouraged
the latter to attack the gods. Then Brahma, taking pity on the beleaguered
gods, advised them to take unto themselves a new acharya.
Said he to them: "You have,
through Indra's folly, lost Brihaspati. Go now to Twashta's son Visvarupa and
request that noble spirit to be your preceptor and all will be well with you."
Heartened by these words, the
gods sought the youthful anchorite Visvarupa and made their request to him
saying: "Though young in years, you are well versed in the Vedas. Do us
the honor of being our teacher."
Visvarupa agreed, to the great
advantage of the gods for, as a result of his guidance and teaching, they were
saved from the tormenting asuras.
Visvarupa's, mother was of the
asura clan of daityas, which caused Indra to regard Visvarupa with suspicion.
He feared that because of his birth, Visvarupa might not be quite loyal and his
suspicion gradually deepened.
Apprehending danger to himself
from this descendent of the enemies of the gods, Indra sought to entice him
into error with the temptresses of his court and so weaken him spiritually. But
Visvarupa did not succumb.
The artful and seductive
blandishments of Indra's glamour girls had no effect on the young ascetic. He
held fast to his vow of celibacy. When Indra found that his plan of seduction
failed, he gave way to murderous thoughts and one day killed Visvarupa with the
Vajrayudha.
The story goes that the world
suffers vicariously for this great sin of Indra. And, as a result of it, parts
of the earth turned alkaline and became unsuitable for cultivation and women
came to be afflicted with the physical troubles and uncleanness peculiar to
them. The frothing of water is also attributed to this.
Twashta in his great rage and
grief at Indra's cruel killing of his son and, desirous of avenging his death,
performed a great sacrifice. And out of the sacrificial flames sprang Indra's
mortal enemy Vritra.
Twashta sent him against the
chief of the gods, saying: "Enemy of Indra, may you be strong and may you
kill Indra." A great battle raged between the two in which Vritra was
gaining the upper hand.
When the battle was going against
Indra, the rishis and the gods sought refuge in great Vishnu who offered them
protection and said to them: "Be not afraid. I shall enter Indra's
Vajrayudha and he will win the battle in the end." And they returned in
good heart.
They went to Vritra and said to
him: "Please make friends with Indra. You are both equal in strength and
valor."
Vritra respectfully answered:
"O blameless ones, how can Indra, and I become friends? Forgive me. There
cannot be friendship between rivals for supremacy. Two great powers cannot
coexist as you know."
The rishis said in reply:
"Do not entertain such doubts. Two good souls can be friends and their
friendship is often after hostility."
Vritra yielded saying:
"Well, then, I shall cease fighting. But I have no faith in Indra. He
might take me unawares. So I seek this boon of you, namely, that neither by day
nor by night, neither with dry weapons nor with wet ones, neither with stone
nor with wood, nor with metals, nor with arrows shall Indra be able to take my
life."
"So be it," said the
rishis and the gods.
Hostilities ceased. But soon
Vritra's fears were confirmed. Indra only feigned friendship for Vritra but
was, all the time, waiting for a suitable opportunity to slay him.
One evening, he met Vritra on the
beach and began to attack him in the twilight. The battle had raged for a long
while when Vritra praising the Lord Vishnu, said to Indra: "Meanest of the
mean, why do you not use the unfailing Vajrayudha? Hallowed by Hari, use it
against me and I shall attain blessedness through Hari."
Indra maimed Vritra by chopping
off his right arm but, undaunted, the latter hurled with his left band, his
iron mace at his assailant who thereupon cut down his other arm also. When
Indra disappeared into the mouth of Vritra, great was the consternation of the
gods.
But Indra was not dead. He ripped
Vritra's belly open and issuing forth went to the nearby beach. And directing
his thunderbolt at the water hurled it so that the surf flew and hit Vritra. Vishnu
having entered the foam, it became a deadly weapon and the mighty Vritra lay
dead. The long battle thus ended and the afflicted world heaved a sigh of
relief. But to Indra himself, the end of the war brought only ignominy because
his victory was secured through sin and deceit and is went into hiding for
sheer shame.
Indra's disappearance caused the
gods and the rishis great distress. For a people without a king or a council of
state to govern them cannot prosper. So they went to the good and mighty king
Nahusha and offered him the crown.
"Forgive me, I cannot be
your king. Who am I to aspire to the seat of Indra? How can I protect you? It
is impossible," he humbly objected. But they insisted, saying: "Do
not hesitate. Be anointed our king. All the merit and potency of our penance
will be yours and be an addition to your strength. The power and the energy of
everyone you set your eyes on shall be transferred to you and you will be
invincible." Thus over-powered, he agreed. Revolution is no new thing. This
story shows that, even in the world of the gods, there was a revolution leading
to Indra's dethronement and Nahusha's installation as king in his stead. The
story of Nahusha's fall is also instructive.
53.
Nahusha
THE sin of the unrighteous
slaughter of Vritra pulled Indra down from his high estate and made him a
fugitive. Nahusha became the king of the gods in his stead. Nahusha started
well, assisted by the merit and the fame earned by him while he was a king on
earth. Thereafter, he fell on evil days.
The assumption of the kingship of
the gods filled him with arrogance, He lost his humility and became filled with
lawless desires.
Nahusha indulged freely in the
pleasures of heaven and gave him up to untamed and lecherous thoughts. One day,
he saw Indra's wife and became enamored of her. Possessed by evil thoughts, he
spoke in tones of command to the assembled gods:
"Why has not Sachidevi, the
wife of the king of the gods, come to me? Am I not the king of the gods now?
Send her to my house soon."
When she learnt this, Indra's
wife was indignant. In fear and distress, she went to Brihaspati and cried out:
"Preceptor, save me from this wicked person."
Brihaspati offered her
protection. "Fear not " he said, "Indra will soon be back. Stay
here with me. You will regain your husband." When Nahusha learnt that
Sachidevi did not agree to fall in with his wishes and that she sought and
obtained shelter under Brihaspati's roof, he became exceedingly angry.
The king's displeasure frightened
the gods. They protested: "King of the gods, be not angry. Your anger will
make the world sad. Sachidevi is another's wife, do not covet her. Do not
swerve from the path of righteousness."
But, the infatuated Nahusha would
not listen to them. Tauntingly, he said to them: "When Indra lusted for
Ahalya, where were your principles of righteousness and good conduct? Why did
you not prevent him then and why do you stop me now? What did you do when he so
shamelessly murdered Visvarupa when the latter was in penance and where was your
virtuous horror when he killed Vritra through deceit? Sachidevi's only course
is to come and live with me and it will be for your good to get her reconciled
to my proposal and leave her in my charge. So, now set about it," ordered
Nahusha.
The affrighted gods decided to
talk the matter over with Brihaspati and somehow contrive to bring Sachidevi to
Nahusha. They all went to Brihaspati and related to him what Nahusha had said
and pleaded that Sachidevi should submit to Nahusha’s desires.
At which, the chaste Sachidevi
shook with shame and fear and cried out: "My God! I cannot do it. I sought
refuge in you. Oh brahmana, do protect me."
Brihaspati consoled her and said:
"He, who betrays one who has sought refuge, will meet with destruction.
The very earth will not let the seed, that he sows, sprout. I will not give you
up. Nahusha's end is approaching. Be not afraid."
He indicated a way of escape from
her difficult situation by hinting that she should pray for time, and the
shrewd Sachidevi took the hint and bravely went to Nahusha's palace.
As soon as Nahusha saw her, pride
and lust having deprived him of his senses, he was beside himself with joy and
said: "O fair one, do not tremble. I am the lord of the three regions.
There can be no sin in your becoming my wife."
Hearing the wicked man's words,
the virtuous Indrani, Indra's wife, trembled for a moment. Soon regaining
composure she replied: "King of the gods, before I become yours, I have a
request to make. Is Indra alive or is he dead? If he is alive, where is he? If,
after making enquiries and searching for him, I do not find him, then no sin
will attach to me and I could become your wife with a clear conscience."
Nahusha said: "What you say
is right. Go and search for him and be sure to return. Remember the plighted
word." Saying this, he sent her back to Brihaspati's house.
The gods went to the great Vishnu
and complained to him of Nahusha. They said: "Lord, it was your might that
killed Vritra but Indra bears, the sin of it, and ashamed and afraid to show
himself in his unclean state, he has hidden himself.
Pray indicate a way of
deliverance for him." Narayana said in reply: "Let him worship me. He
will be cleansed of sin and the evil-minded Nahusha will meet with
destruction."
Sachidevi prayed to the goddess
of chastity, and, by her grace, reached where Indra was in hiding. Indra had
reduced himself to the size of an atom and hid himself in a fibre of the stem
of a lotus plant growing in Manasarovara. He was doing penance in that state
waiting for better days. Sachidevi could not contain herself for sorrow at her
husband's plight and burst into tears. She acquainted him with her troubles.
Indra spoke words of courage to
her. "Nahusha's end is drawing near," he said. "Go to him by
yourself and tell him that you consent to his proposal. Ask him to come to your
residence in a palanquin carried by ascetics. Then Nahusha will be
destroyed."
Sachidevi went and pretended to
agree to Nahusha's proposal as Indra had asked her to do. Overjoyed that she
had returned to him in this complaisant mood, the foolish Nahusha burst out:
"Blessed one, I am your slave and ready to do you’re every bidding. You
have been true to your word."
"Yes, I have come back. You
will be my husband. I want you to do something, which I very much desire. Are
you not the lord of the world? It is my wish that you should come majestically
to my house in a grander style than the great Vishnu or Rudra or the asuras.
Let the palanquin be borne by the seven rishis. I shall then be glad and receive
you and bid you welcome," she said.
Nahusha fell into the trap.
"What a grand idea! Your imagination is wonderful. It pleases me
exceedingly. It is but proper that the great rishis should carry me, who am
blessed with the powers of absorbing the energy of those on whom my eyes fall.
I shall do exactly as you have wished,"said he, and sent her back home.
The infatuated Nahusha called the rishis and bade them carry him on their
shoulders.
At this sacrilege, the three
worlds were aghast and trembled. But worse was to come as the palanquin was
carried along. Inflamed with thoughts of the beautiful Sachidevi waiting for
him, Nahusha was impatient to reach her soon. So he began goading the
rishi-bearers of his palanquin to go faster. And he went so far in his mad
wickedness as to kick Agastya, one of the bearers, saying "sarpa,
sarpa." (Sarpa means to move and also a serpent.) The insanity of lust and
arrogance had reached its culmination. Nahusha's cup of iniquity was full.
"Meanest of the mean, do
thou fall from heaven and become a sarpa on earth," cursed the rishi in
his wrath. Immediately Nahusha fell headlong, down from heaven, and became a
python in the jungle and had to wait for several thousand years for his
deliverance. Indra was restored to his state. He became the king of the gods
and Sachidevi's grief ended.
Relating this story of the
sufferings of Indra and his wife to Yudhishthira and Draupadi at Upaplavya,
their uncle Salya tried to comfort them.
"Victory awaits the patient.
Those, whom prosperity makes arrogant, meet with destruction. You, your
brothers and Draupadi have gone through untold sufferings like Indra and his
wife. Your trials will soon be over and you will regain your kingdom. The
evil-minded Karna and Duryodhana will be destroyed even as Nahusha was,"
said Salya.
54.
Sanjaya's Mission
THE Pandavas were camping at
Upaplavya in Virata's territory. From there, they sent emissaries to all
friendly rulers. Contingents arrived from all parts of the country and soon,
the Pandavas had a mighty force of seven divisions. The Kauravas did likewise
and collected an army of eleven divisions.
Then, as now, a division was made
up of all arms grouped together in accordance with established military
practice. In those days, a division consisted of 21,870 chariots, an equal
number of elephants, thrice as many horses and five times as many foot
soldiers, and they were provided with weapons of all kinds and other war
equipment.
Chariots were the "armored
cars" of ancient warfare and elephants, specially trained for war,
corresponded to the " tanks" of modern times.
Drupada's brahmana messenger
reached Dhritarashtra's court. After the usual ceremonial introduction and
enquiries were over, the messenger addressed the assembled gathering on behalf
of the Pandavas:
"Law is eternal and of
inherent validity. You know this and I need not point it out to you.
Dhritarashtra and Pandu are both Vichitravirya's sons and are, according to our
usages, equally entitled to their father's property. In spite of this, Dhritarashtra's
sons have taken possession of the whole kingdom, while Pandu's sons are without
their share of the common inheritance. There can be no justification for this.
Scions of the Kuru dynasty, the Pandavas desire peace. They are prepared to
forget the sufferings they have undergone and to let bygones be bygones. They
are unwilling to resort to war, because they fully know that war never brings
any good but only destruction. Render unto them, therefore, the things that are
due to them. This would be in accordance both with justice and with the
agreement previously reached. Let there be no delay."
After this appeal of the
messenger, the wise and brave Bhishma spoke. "By the grace of God,"
he said, "the Pandavas are safe and well. Although they have obtained the
support of many princes and are strong enough for battle, they are not bent on
war. They still seek peace. To restore to them their property is the only right
thing to do."
Bhishma had not finished when
Karna angrily broke in and, turning to the messenger, exclaimed: "O
brahmana, is there anything new in what you have said? What tortures it to tell
the same old story? How can Yudhishthira claim the property that he lost at the
game board? If, now, Yudhishthira wants anything, he must beg for it as a gift!
He arrogantly prefers this absurd claim in fond reliance on the strength of his
allies, particularly Matsya and Panchala. Let me tell you clearly that nothing
can be got out of Duryodhana by threats. As the plighted word, that the
Pandavas should live undiscovered during the thirteenth year, has been broken,
they must once again go back to the forest for another twelve years and return
thereafter."
Bhishma interposed: "Son of
Radha, you speak foolishly. If we do not do as this messenger tells us, war will
be upon us in which we are certain to be defeated. And Duryodhana and all of us
are doomed to destruction." The disorder and excitement in the assembly
made Dhritarashtra intervene.
He said to the messenger:
"Having in mind the good of the world and considering the Pandava's
welfare, I have decided to send Sanjaya to them. Please return at once and tell
Yudhishthira this."
Then Dhritarashtra called Sanjaya
aside and instructed him thus: "Sanjaya, go to the sons of Pandu and
convey to them my affectionate regards and my kind inquiries about Krishna,
Satyaki and Virata. Give all the princes assembled there my regards. Go there
on my behalf and speak conciliatingly so as to secure the avoidance of
war."
Sanjaya went to Yudhishthira on
this mission of peace. After the introductory salutations, Sanjaya thus
addressed Yudhishthira in the midst of his court: "Dharmaputra, it is my
good fortune to be able to see you again with my eyes. Surrounded by princes,
you present the picture of Indra himself. The sight gladdens my heart. King
Dhritarashtra sends you his best wishes and desires to know that you are well
and happy. The son of Ambika (Dhritarashtra) detests all talk of war. He
desires your friendship and yearns for peace."
When Dharmaputra heard Sanjaya say
this, he felt glad and answered: "If so, Dhritarashtra's sons have been
saved, nay, we have all escaped a great tragedy. I, too, desire only peace and
hate war. If our kingdom is returned to us, we will wipe out all memories of
the sufferings we have undergone."
Sanjaya spoke again:
"Dhritarashtra's sons are perverse. Disregarding their father's advice and
their grandsire's wise words, they are still as wicked as ever. But you should
not lose patience. Yudhishthira, you stand ever for right conduct. Let us
eschew the great evil of war. Can happiness be gained with possessions obtained
through war? What good can we reap from a kingdom won after killing our own
relatives? Do not therefore commence hostilities. Even if one were to gain the
whole earth bounded by the ocean, old age and death are inescapable. Duryodhana
and his brothers are fools. But that is no reason why you should swerve from
rectitude or lose patience. Even if they do not give back your kingdom, you
should not abandon the supreme path of dharma."
Yudhishthira answered: "Sanjaya, what you say is
true. Rectitude is the best of possessions, but are we committing wrong?
Krishna knows the intricacies of rectitude and dharma. He wishes both sides
well. I shall do as Vasudeva orders."
Krishna said: "I desire the
welfare of the Pandavas. I desire also that Dhritarashtra and his sons should
be happy. This is a difficult matter. I think I can settle this issue by myself
going to Hastinapura. If I could obtain peace from the Kauravas on terms that
do not conflict with the welfare of all, nothing would make me and the Pandavas
happier. If I succeed in doing so, the Kauravas will have been rescued from the
jaws of death. I shall also have achieved something good and worthwhile. Even
if, through a peaceful settlement, the Pandavas get back what is due to them,
they will still serve Dhritarashtra loyally. They desire nothing else. But they
are also prepared for war if need be. Of these two alternatives, peace and war,
Dhritarashtra can choose what he pleases."
And Yudhishthira said to Sanjaya:
"Sanjaya, go back to the Kaurava, court and tell the son of Ambika this
from me: 'Was it not through your generosity that we obtained a share of the
kingdom when we were young? You, who made me a king once, should not deny us
our share now and drive us to make a beggar's living on the charity of others.
Dear uncle, there is enough room in the world for both of us and the Kauravas.
Let there be no antagonism, therefore, between us.' Thus should you request
Dhritarashtra on my behalf. Give the grandsire my love and regards and ask him
to devise some way of ensuring that his grandchildren live happily in amity.
Convey the same message to Vidura also. Vidura is the person who can best see
what is good for all of us and advise accordingly. Explain matters to
Duryodhana and tell him on my behalf: 'My dear brother, you made us, who were
princes of the realm, live in the forest, clad in skins. You insulted and
harassed our weeping wife in the assembly of princes. We bore all this patiently.
Give us back, at least now, what is lawfully ours. Do not covet what belongs to
others. We are five. For the five of us give at least five villages and make
peace with us. We shall be content. Say thus to Duryodhana, Sanjaya. I am
prepared and ready for peace as well as for war."
After Yudhishthira had said these
words, Sanjaya took leave of Kesava and the Pandavas, and went back to
Hastinapura.
55.
Not a Needle-Point Of Territory
AFTER he had despatched Sanjaya
to the Pandavas, Dhritarashtra, filled with anxiety, could not get a wink of
sleep that night. He sent for Vidura and spent the whole night talking to him.
"To give the Pandavas their
share of the kingdom is the safest plan," said Vidura. "Only this can
bring good to both sides. Treat the Pandavas and your own sons with equal
affection. In this case, the right course is also the wise one."
Vidura counselled Dhritarashtra
in this manner at great length.
The next morning Sanjaya returned
to Hastinapura. And gave a full account of what had taken place in
Yudhishthira's court.
"Chiefly, Duryodhana should
know what Arjuna said: 'Krishna and I are going to destroy Duryodhana and his
followers, root and branch. Make no mistake about it. The Gandiva bow is
impatient for war. My bowstring is throbbing even without my stretching it and
from my quiver, arrows keep peeping out impatiently, demanding when? When?
Sanjaya, evil stars make the foolish Duryodhana seek war with Krishna and
myself. Not even Indra and the gods can defeat us.' Thus spoke Dhananjaya,"
said Sanjaya.
Bhishma counselled Dhritarashtra
against opposing the combined might of Arjuna and Krishna. "Karna, who
boasts repeatedly that he will slay the Pandavas", said Bhishma, "is
not equal to a sixteenth part of the Pandavas. Your sons are heading for
destruction, listening to his words. When Arjuna beat back your son's attack on
Virata's capital and humbled his pride, what was Karna able to do? When the
Gandharvas took your son prisoner, where did the invincible Karna bide himself?
Was it not Arjuna who drove back the Gandharvas?" Thus did Bhisma taunt
Karna and warn the Kauravas.
"What grandfather Bhisma
says is the only proper thing to do," said Dhritarashtra. "All wise
men say, and I know, that it is best to seek peace. But what can I do? These
fools would go their own way, however loudly I protest."
Duryodhana, who had been
listening to all this, stood up. "Father, do not worry and tremble about
our safety. We know how strong we are. That we shall win is certain.
Yudhishthira knows it too, for, giving up all hope of kingdom, he only begs now
for five villages. Is it not clear from this that he is already scared about
our eleven divisions? What can the Pandavas oppose to our eleven divisions? Why
then do you doubt our victory?" Duryodhana said to his father and tried to
cheer him up.
"My son, let us not have
war," said Dhritarashtra. "Be satisfied with half the kingdom. It is
enough if we govern that half well." Duryodhana could stand it no longer.
"The Pandavas will not receive even a needle-point of territory," he
exclaimed, and left the court. In the excitement that prevailed, the court
broke up.
Let us now relate what the
Pandavas were saying among themselves. After Sanjaya left Upaplavya for
Hastinapura, Yudhishthira said to Krishna: "Vasudeva, Sanjaya is
Dhritarashtra's alter ego. From his speech, I have divined what is in
Dhritarashtra's mind. Dhritarashtra is trying to secure peace without giving us
any territory. In my simplicity, I was glad at first when I heard Sanjaya
speak. But it soon became clear that my joy was unfounded. He then struck a
middle line and spoke desiring peace. But the words with which he ended his
message seemed to commend meekness to us, even if our just rights were denied.
Dhritarashtra has not been playing fair with us. The crisis is approaching.
There are none but you to protect us. I made my offer that we would be content
with only five villages. The wicked Kauravas will refuse even this. How can we
tolerate this height of intransigence? Only you can advise us in this crisis.
There is none but you who knows what our duty is now and can guide us in dharma
as well as in statesmanship."
Krishna said in reply: "For
the good of you both, I have decided to go to Hastinapura. I shall go to
Dhritarashtra's court and try to secure your rights without war. If my mission
succeeds, it will be for the good of the world."
Yudhishthira said: "Krishna,
pray do not go. What is the good of your going to the enemies' place now? The
perverse Duryodhana will stick to his folly. I do not like your going among
those unscrupulous men. We cannot let you jeopardise your safety, for the
Kauravas will stop at nothing."
Krishna answered:
"Dharmaputra, I know how wicked Duryodhana is. But still we should make
all attempts at a peaceful solution so as to give the world no cause to accuse
us of not having done everything possible to avert war. We must omit nothing,
no matter how slender our hopes of success. Have no fears for my safety, for,
if the Kauravas offer me, a messenger of peace, any threat of bodily harm, I
will reduce them to ashes."
Said Yudhishthira: "You are
all-knowing. You know our hearts as well as theirs. In expounding matters and
in the art of persuasion, there is none better than you."
Krishna said: "Yes, I know
you both. Your mind ever clings to righteousness and theirs is always steeped
in hatred, jealousy and enmity. I will do all I can to secure the result, which
I know is dear to you, a settlement reached without war even though it may
have, but little for you. The signs are ominous and portend war. Still duty
demands that we should make the attempt for peace."
Thus saying, Krishna took leave
of the Pandavas and set off in his chariot to Hastinapura.
56.
Krishna's Mission
SATYAKI accompanied Govinda
(Krishna) to Hastinapura. Before setting out on his journey, Krishna had a lone
discussion with the Pandavas. Even the mighty Bhima, rather surprisingly,
supported a peaceful settlement.
"Let not the race be
destroyed. Peace is very much to be preferred," said he. The poet Vyasa
makes Bhima speak thus in order to show that truly great warriors desire peace,
and that to seek peace is not a sign of fear.
But Draupadi could not forget her
humiliation. Holding her locks in her hand she stood before Krishna, and in a
voice quivering with grief, she said: "Madhusudana, look at these tresses
of mine and do what honor requires to be done. There can be no peace with
honor. Even if Arjuna and Bhima are against war, my father, old though he is,
will go to battle, supported by my children. Even if my father can keep out, my
children, with Subhadra's son Abhimanyu, at their head, will fight the
Kauravas. I have, for the sake of Dharmaputra, these thirteen years, suppressed
the burning flame of anger within me. I can restrain myself no longer."
And she sobbed, remembering the great outrage.
Krishna was moved and said:
"Weep not. Dhritarashtra's sons will not listen to my words of peace. They
are going to fall and their bodies
will be food for wild dogs and jackals. You will live to see us victorious and
the insult to you will be fully avenged, and that too, soon." Draupadi was
satisfied.
Madhava (Krishna) halted for the
night near the city of Kucasthala. When news of Krishna's forthcoming visit
came, the city was in great excitement.
Dhritarashtra issued orders for
decorating the city and arrangements for receiving Janardana (Krishna) were in
full swing. Dhritarashtra issued instructions that Duhsasana's palace, being
bigger and more beautiful than Duryodhana's, should be got ready and placed at
the disposal of Krishna and his entourage and large tents were erected at
several places outside the city, along the route which Krishna's chariot was to
take.
Dhritarashtra consulted Vidura.
He said to him: "Make arrangements for presenting Govinda with chariots
and elephants. Presents of other kinds should also be got ready." But
Vidura said:
"Govinda cannot be bought
with presents. Give him that for which he is coming to the land of the Kurus.
Does he not come here seeking a peaceful settlement? Make that possible. You
cannot satisfy Madhava with other gifts."
When Govinda reached Hastinapura,
the citizens had thronged in such numbers in the decorated streets that his
chariot could only progress very slowly. He went first to Dhritarashtra's
palace and then proceeded to Vidura's house. Kuntidevi met him there.
Thinking of the sufferings of her
sons and overpowered by grief, she wept. Krishna comforted her and, taking
leave of her, made for Duryodhana's palace.
Duryodhana gave Govinda welcome
and invited him to dinner, but Krishna said with a smile: "Emissaries eat
only after their mission is fulfilled. You may give a feast when my work here
is completed."
Declining Duryodhana's
invitation, he returned to Vidura's house where he rested.
Vidura and Krishna took counsel
together. Vidura told him that Duryodhana's arrogance was based on his
confidence that no one could defeat him as long as Bhishma and Drona, who, he
knew, were under a moral obligation not to abandon him, stood by him.
Vidura said that it would be a
mistake for Govinda even to enter the wicked man's court. All, who knew
Duryodhana and his brothers, apprehended that they would plot, through fraud
and deceit, against Krishna's life.
"What you say about
Duryodhana is true. I have not come here with any hope that I would be able to
secure a peaceful settlement, but only in order that the world might not hold
me to blame. Have no fear for my life," said Krishna.
The next morning, Duryodhana and
Sakuni came to Krishna and informed him that Dhritarashtra was waiting for him.
Govinda went to the court along with Vidura.
As Vasudeva came into the court,
that great assemblage of kings stood up. Saluting the elders with folded hands
and with a word or a smile for the others, Krishna took his seat. The
introductions over, Govinda rose from his seat and, turning to Dhritarashtra
explained the object of his visit. He made clear what the Pandavas wanted.
"Dhritarashtra, do not bring
ruin to your people. You regard as bad what is good for you and as good what is
bad. It is your duty to restrain your sons. The Pandavas are prepared for war
but they desire peace. They wish to live in happiness under you. Treat them
also as your sons and devise an honorable solution, and the world will acclaim
you," said Krishna.
Dhritarashtra said: "My
friends know that I am not to blame. I desire precisely what Madhava has stated
but I am powerless. My wicked sons do not listen to me. Krishna, I entreat you
to advise Duryodhana."
Krishna turned to Duryodhana and
said: "You are the descendant of a noble line. Pursue the path of dharma.
Your present thoughts are unworthy and befit only men of low birth. On account
of you, this famous line is in danger of being destroyed. If you listen to
reason and justice, the Pandavas themselves will install Dhritarashtra as king
and you as the heir apparent. Make peace with them by giving them half the
kingdom."
Bhishma and Drona also pressed
Duryodhana to listen to Govinda. But Duryodhana's heart could not be softened.
"I pity Dhritarashtra and Gandhari whom Duryodhana is dooming to
bereavement and desolation by his misdeeds," said Vidura.
Dhritarashtra once again said to
his son: "If you do not listen to Govinda's advice, our race will
perish."
Drona and Bhishma also tried
repeatedly to persuade Duryodhana and turn him from error. Duryodhana was
furious with everyone for pressing him in this matter to agree to a peaceful
solution. He rose, and said:
"Madhusudana, you wrong me
out of love for the Pandavas. The others here also blame me, but I do not think
I am one whit to blame in this
matter. The Pandavas, of their own
volition, staked their kingdom at play and, being defeated, justly forfeited
it. How am I responsible for it? Losing the game, they went to the forests as
in honor bound. For what fault of mine do they now seek battle and wish to slay
us? I will not yield to threats. When I was young, the elders did us grievous
wrong by giving the Pandavas, I do not know why, a part of the kingdom to which
they had not a shadow of a right. I acquiesced then but they lost it at play. I
refuse to return it to them. I am utterly blameless. I will not give the
Pandavas an inch of land, not even a needle-point of it!"
When Duryodhana said that he had
not committed wrong, Govinda laughed and said: "The play was fraudulently
arranged by you in conspiracy with Sakuni and you afterwards insulted Draupadi
in an assembly of princes. And yet, you have the impudence to say that you have
committed no wrong," and reminded him of the other iniquities he had perpetrated
against the Pandavas.
Duhsasana seeing that Bhishma and
others were accepting Krishna's indictment of Duryodhana said: "Brother,
it seems that these people have a plot to bind you with ropes and hand you over
to the Pandavas. Let us get away from here," and Duryodhana, accompanied
by his brothers, walked out of the court.
Govinda addressed the court again
and said: "Sires, the Yadavas and Vrishnis live happily, now that Kamsa
and Sisupala are dead. In order to save a whole people, it is some times necessary
to sacrifice an individual. Does it not happen occasionally that a village is
abandoned in order that the country may be saved? I am afraid you will have to
sacrifice Duryodhana if you want to save your race. That is the only way."
Dhritarashtra said to Vidura:
"Bring far-sighted Gandhari here. It is possible that Duryodhana might
listen to her." Gandhari was sent for and, when she came to the court,
Duryodhana was sent for.
Duryodhana, his eyes red with
anger, returned and Gandhari tried by all the means in her power to bring him
round to reason. Duryodhana said 'No' and again walked out of the hall.
He and his friends had plotted to
seize Krishna. News of this reached the court. Govinda, who had anticipated all
this, laughed and disclosed his divinity.
The blind Dhritarashtra, by the
grace of Krishna, temporarily regained his sight and was able to see Krishna in
his Visvarupa presence in every form.
"Pundarikaksha, (lotus-eyed
Krishna) having seen your Visvarupa, I do not wish to see anything else. I ask
that I should be blind again," said Dhritarashtra, and he became blind
again. "All our efforts have failed. Duryodhana is obstinate," said
Dhritarashtra to Govinda.
And Krishna rose and, with
Satyaki and Vidura on either side of him, left the court.
He went straight to Kunti. He
told her what had happened and she asked him to convey her blessings to her
sons.
"The time has come," said she,
"for that for which a kshatriya woman brings forth sons. May you protect
my sons!"
A kshatriya mother brings forth
children to be sacrificed in war. Purushottamat (Krishna as Supreme Being) got
into his chariot and sped towards Upaplavya. War became a certainty.
57.
Attachment and Duty
ANY ray of hope there might have
been of a peaceful settlement when Krishna went to Hastinapura was extinguished
when he returned and narrated what happened. Kunti was overwhelmed with grief
when she learnt that it was to be war to the death.
"How can I" reflected
Kunti, "give my thoughts tongue and say to my sons, 'Bear the insults. Let
us not ask for any territory and let us avoid war'? How can my sons accept what
is contrary to kshatriya tradition?"
"At the same time," she
thought, "what can be gained by mutual killings in the war and what
happiness attained after the destruction of the race? How shall I face this
dilemma?" Thus was she tormented by the prospect of wholesale destruction
on the one hand and the claims of kshatriya honor on the other.
"How can my sons defeat the
