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
