Mahabharata: A Modern Retelling (33 page)

He was delighted with his son’s replies,

and brought all four brothers back to life.

“I was the stag that took the brahmin’s sticks—

here they are. Now ask a favour of me.”

“My lord, grant that in our thirteenth year

of exile we will not be recognized.”

“It shall happen as you wish,” said Dharma.

“And, Father, if I may ask one thing more:

may my mind always lead me toward the truth.”

“You ask for what you already have, my son.”

And the god Dharma blessed the Pandavas.

Twelve years were over. Now the Pandavas

must think how best to live unrecognized

during their final year—though, thanks to Dharma,

their success was certain. Where should they go?

After the interminable seclusion

of the forest, they welcomed the prospect

of life in a city—somewhere not too close,

and not too famous, a pleasant backwater.

Arjuna, well-traveled, named a number

of delightful kingdoms with hospitable

rulers who reigned from well-appointed cities,

and of these Yudhishthira chose Matsya,

a wealthy kingdom ruled by King Virata.

He discussed the prospect with his brothers.

“We will take employment with the king.

Now, sons of Kunti, say what kind of work

you are best fitted for. What disguises,

what false identities can you sustain

plausibly until our exile ends?

“I myself will be a brahmin, ‘Kanka.’

I have become quite learned in the Vedas;

and I can offer the king my mastery

at dice! Remember, the sage Brihadashva

taught me how to win without cheating.

I shall enjoy rolling my fine dice

made of beryl, ivory, gold, ebony . . .

And if the king asks where I learned my skill

I’ll say I was once Yudhishthira’s close friend.

“But, Wolf-belly, you’ll find disguise a problem.

How many men are there as tall and strong

as you, or with so fiery a temper?”

“It’s true,” laughed Bhima, “that disguising me

is rather like trying to hide Mount Meru!

But I’ll be ‘Ballava,’ a master cook

experienced in every fine cuisine.

I’ll install myself in the royal kitchen

and curry favor with my toothsome curries!

I can give wrestling courses on the side.

I’m sure the king will love me when he samples

what I can do. And if he should ask questions

about my previous experience,

I’ll tell him that my expertise was honed

in the kitchens of King Yudhishthira

at Indraprastha—that should satisfy him!”

“And you, Arjuna?” asked Yudhishthira.

“The most distinguished warrior in the world,

eagle among men, brilliant as a god,

won’t find it easy to go unremarked.”

“These bowstring scars on my arms,” said Arjuna,

“may be a problem, but I’ll cover them

with bangles, braid my hair, wear women’s dress.

I’ll teach the ladies in the king’s seraglio

dancing, singing and all the female arts

I learned from the gandharvas in Indra’s realm.

I can play instruments, entertain the court

with beguiling tales as well as any bard.

I’ll pose as a eunuch, a transvestite,

woman with a flute, ‘Brihannada’!”

Nakula proposed to seek employment

with the horses in the royal stables.

He excelled at all equestrian skills,

and was a master tamer of wild horses,

no matter how intransigent or vicious.

He loved them; and he had acquired the art

of healing them when they were sick or injured.

He would go by the name of “Granthika.”

The region of the Matsyas was well known

for its plump and fertile cattle. Sahadeva

had never been happier than in the days

when he had supervised the royal herds

of Indraprastha. Now he would persuade

King Virata that the cattle stations

would flourish under his good management.

He would call himself “Tantipala.”

What of the virtuous Draupadi? Her husbands

hated the thought of their beloved wife

condemned to drudgery. But she was scornful

of their scruples. “Do you really think

I’m too weak for the life of a maidservant

after what I have gone through in the forest?

After what happened in the gambling hall?

I shall play the part of a chambermaid,

‘Sairandhri,’ a woman free to find her own

employment. But I shall say I have a husband—

five, in fact, gandharvas, strong celestials—

who will fight for my honor if required.

I shall enter the service of Queen Sudeshna,

arrange her hair, mix her creams and lotions,

help to dress her, advise her if required.

If I am questioned, I shall say that, once,

I was a handmaid to Queen Draupadi.”

They left their forest camp a few days early

so as to give Duryodhana’s spies the slip.

They said their heartfelt farewells to the brahmins

who had been with them for their whole exile,

consoling them and saying prayers for them.

Dhaumya gave them blessings for their journey

and words of wise advice.

“You must remember

you have never known a life of servitude

and there are gestures, postures, ways of moving

that will come naturally to you, but which

may cause offense when noticed in a servant.

Be vigilant. Take care not to arouse

envy or resentment. Neither too merry

nor too glum, too eager, too reluctant—

rather, be of even temperament,

wearing a habitual gentle smile.

That is the best way to survive at court.

“Speak to the king only when spoken to.

If he should ask you, ‘What is your opinion?’

search your mind for what will give him pleasure

and bring him profit—profit first and foremost.

Pay him compliments judiciously

but never make any reference to his wealth.

Be discreet, never repeat to others

what the king may say to you in confidence.

That is the best way to survive at court.

“A wise courtier knows that the king’s favor

is uncertain, and always strives to earn it.

Do not spend time with those whom the king dislikes,

nor be too friendly with the courtiers’ wives,

arousing jealousy. If the king gives you

gifts—whether vehicles, clothes or jewels—

be grateful, and make sure he sees you use them.

“The successful courtier emulates the king

but never rivals him. Faced with some errand

he leaps to volunteer; the king’s interests

must come before those of his own family.

That is the best way to survive at court.”

So saying, Dhaumya blessed them yet again.

Yudhishthira expressed his gratitude

and the Pandavas set out on the long walk

to their new place of refuge. They followed

the winding course of the Kalindi River,

through Dasharna, then south of Panchala,

avoiding any towns or villages

and, after crossing miles of wilderness,

reached the outskirts of their destination,

the handsome capital of Virata’s realm.

Yudhishthira gave the brothers secret names,

for an emergency, auspicious names

invoking victory—Jaya, Jayatsena,

Jayanta, Vijaya and Jayadbala.

Before the Pandavas entered the city

they needed to discard their warriors’ weapons.

On a hill outside the city walls,

there was a desolate cremation ground,

a doleful place where no one ever loitered;

and there they saw a towering shami tree,

difficult to climb and with thick foliage.

Nakula shinned up, and stowed away

the brothers’ bows that had achieved such feats,

their swords, and other oiled and well-made weapons,

tying them fast with rope to a thick branch

where they could not be seen, and where the rain

would not fall on them. As a precaution,

he tied a stinking corpse to another branch

so people would avoid the tree in horror.

Yudhishthira told curious passersby

this practice was a family tradition,

and the corpse was that of his ancient mother.

Entering the city, Yudhishthira

went straight to the palace and sought audience

with King Virata. “Sir, I am a brahmin

seeking a position at your court

having lost my wealth.”

Virata was impressed

by his appearance. “Just look at the man—

he does not seem a brahmin, more like a god.

Tell me your name, stranger, and where you come from.”

“I was once a friend of King Yudhishthira.

I am an expert gambler—see my dice.

My name is Kanka.”

“Splendid!” said Virata.

“Make your home here, enjoying every comfort.

You should rule the kingdom by my side!”

Later, Bhima sought an audience.

Broad-shouldered as a lion, dressed all in black,

he carried cook’s equipment. “Great king,” he said,

“I am Ballava, great master chef.

Once, I was cook to King Yudhishthira

and he would eat my dishes with delight.

On the side, I am a champion wrestler

and my skill in fighting lions and tigers

will entertain you—if you will employ me.”

“What an amazing man!” exclaimed Virata.

“You shall certainly rule over my kitchens,

although, judging by the look of you,

you should be ruling Matsya instead!”

Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva,

clothed in their false names and histories,

presented themselves in turn, and all were met

with a similarly generous welcome.

Each found his place, as planned, within the court.

All were paid a handsome wage, and no one

thought to challenge their identities.

Dark-eyed Draupadi wandered near the palace

dressed in a single black and dirty garment,

looking troubled. Virata’s wife, Sudeshna,

standing on her balcony, noticed her

and had her summoned. “Good heavens, my dear,

what are you doing, hanging about the court

unprotected? You are so beautiful!

Your hair is glossy, your breasts and buttocks round,

your movements graceful, your face like the full moon,

and your eyes and mouth are perfect. Tell me,

who are you?”

“I am a chambermaid,”

said Draupadi. “I will work for anyone

who will feed me, clothe me and give me shelter.

I have worked for Satyabhama, Krishna’s wife,

and for Queen Draupadi at Indraprastha.

I can dress hair, I can make fine unguents.

But I won’t eat leftovers, nor will I wash

the feet of anyone.”

Sudeshna smiled.

“You look more like a goddess than a maid.

I would like you to enter my own service,

but that might well be marital suicide.

If I took you in, I’d be like the crab

whose embryo destroys her from within.

Once my husband glimpsed your voluptuous shape

he would instantly fall in love with you

and cast me off!”

“Madam,” said Draupadi,

“have no fear of that. I am married

to five strong, invisible gandharvas

who guard me constantly. Any man

who looks at me with lustful disrespect

is dead meat, believe me!” Reassured,

resolving to inform Virata, the queen

happily welcomed Draupadi as her maid,

to dress her hair, and that of her entourage,

prepare her unguents, look after her clothes

and generally become a useful presence.

As the months went by, the Pandavas

were well liked in their various occupations.

Yudhishthira won popularity

with the courtiers, and with Virata,

by entertaining them at games of dice.

Arjuna kept largely out of sight

in the seraglio, where all the women

loved him. During his years in Indra’s realm,

he had learned to sing and dance exquisitely

and, as we know, women love nothing more

than a man—or even half a man—

who is a gifted dancer. So Arjuna

danced for them, and taught them skillful steps,

showed them how to undulate seductively,

how to cast their eyes in languorous glances