Mahabharata: A Modern Retelling (86 page)

without the need to take the lives of creatures.

Sacrifice is not so wonderful.”

“Who was the half-gold mongoose?” asked the king.

Vaishampayana told him this story:

“
O
NCE THE SEER
Jamadagni collected milk from his cow, to use in a shraddha ceremony. To test the seer’s forbearance, Anger spoiled the milk. But Jamadagni, staying calm, sent Anger to see the ancestors, since it was they who had been deprived of the milk.

“The ancestors cursed Anger to take the form of a mongoose. He would only become free of the curse by censuring dharma. Through his condemnation of Yudhishthira’s sacrifice, the curse was lifted, since Yudhishthira was the Dharma King.”

Hastinapura. Life at court took on

a pleasant pattern. The horse sacrifice

had helped to reconcile Yudhishthira

to his royal burden, and he soon became

a most judicious ruler, compassionate

even to enemies. Always in his mind

were Bhishma’s teachings.

He never forgot,

for a single day, the harrowing price paid

for the great kingdom that he now possessed.

The searing loss endured by Dhritarashtra

and Gandhari could never be repaired.

But the king made sure as far as possible

that the aged couple should enjoy a life

similar to the one they led before.

Yudhishthira consulted Dhritarashtra

on many affairs of state. The old man

had Vidura, Sanjaya and Yuyutsu

as his frequent companions. And Vyasa

would visit him, reciting many stories

about the rishis back in ancient times.

At the king’s request, his younger brothers

would very often sit with Dhritarashtra,

showing him their respect. And their mother,

Kunti, with Draupadi and Subhadra,

waited on Gandhari with great devotion.

Vidura was now Yudhishthira’s steward

and managed his dominions with such skill

that they prospered, and his subjects too.

Dhritarashtra took it upon himself

to dispense royal pardons to prisoners

who were condemned to death, and Yudhishthira

did not interfere with him in this.

The king ensured that the most delicious

food and drink, the most comfortable apartments,

were made available to the old couple.

In short, Yudhishthira and his brothers

behaved toward them like devoted sons—

in fact with more devotion than their own sons

had ever shown. Yudhishthira forbade

any mention of Duryodhana

and his wickedness. On the surface, then,

happiness prevailed on every side

and, in this way, fifteen years went by.

But all was not exactly as it seemed.

Dhritarashtra felt only affection

and gratitude to four of the Pandavas.

But he could not banish from his mind

the way Bhima had killed Duryodhana.

It rankled still. And Bhima, for his part,

still resented Dhritarashtra’s role

in the disastrous dice game, and afterward.

Bhima knew the king would not permit

any overt insult to their uncle.

But he found ways of making the old man’s life

miserable—for instance, causing servants

to disobey him. And, within the hearing

of the old couple, he would boast and swagger

to his friends, “Do you see my powerful arms?

These are the arms that sent Duryodhana,

that brute, together with his sons and brothers,

to their deserved destruction!”

Dhritarashtra

suffered this in silence, and Yudhishthira

never came to hear of it. But in time,

the old man became more and more despondent.

One day, he summoned his nephews. “We all know

how the great destruction at Kurukshetra

was brought about. I take the blame for it.

All my advisers gave me the same counsel:

‘Control Duryodhana.’ But you see

I loved him, and that overrode my judgment.

Bitter remorse has gnawed me ever since.

Although it was the working out of time

that brought the destruction of kshatriyas

as was ordained, still, I regret my part.

“Now, after many years, I have resolved

to expiate my sins with renunciation.

Only Gandhari knows that, for some time,

I have eaten little, and have slept

on the bare ground. So has Gandhari.

Though we have lost a century of sons

we no longer grieve for them. They all died

as true kshatriyas.” He turned to the king.

“Yudhishthira, you have behaved toward us

as if you were our son. We have been happy.

But now we have decided to retreat

into the forest, wearing bark and rags,

and there, blessing you, eating little,

we shall end our days. Our austerity

will be to your benefit, since kings enjoy

the fruits of acts performed within their kingdom,

auspicious and inauspicious. Sanjaya

and Vidura will go with us. Now we come

to ask you to release us.”

“Oh no, uncle!”

cried Yudhishthira, “I thought you were content!

I have neglected you—I did not realize

that you were practicing such self-denial

and had these plans in mind. You need not go—

I myself will retreat to the forest

and your son Yuyutsu can rule the kingdom,

or you can rule, or anyone you choose.

Or if you insist on leaving here, then I

will go with you.” In this way, the king

flailed around in his shock and grief.

Dhritarashtra, exhausted by his fast,

was fainting, and unfit for more discussion.

“I will make no decision,” said the king,

“until you agree to take a little food.”

Vyasa appeared then, and urged the king

to let Dhritarashtra and Gandhari go.

“It is appropriate,” he urged. “The old king

should not die a demeaning death at home.

If not in battle, then he should be able

to acquire merit through renunciation

like many kings of old. For kings are like

exalted householders, and it is right

that, after their royal duties are completed,

they should embark on the third stage of life,

asceticism.” The king said, “So be it.”

Over the next days and weeks, well-wishers

came from far and wide to pay respects

and say their last farewell to Dhritarashtra.

A great crowd, citizens of every class,

congregated in the assembly hall.

In a failing voice, the old king spoke to them.

“Like my brother Pandu in his time,

I ruled you fairly. So did Duryodhana.

Through his wicked pride, he caused great bloodshed,

and paid for it with his life. That did not mean

that he neglected you. Now, for some years,

Yudhishthira has held the reins of kingship,

supported by his brothers, and he has been,

and will remain, an outstanding ruler.

I urge you to look after him with your lives

as he protects you. Now he has allowed me,

together with my respected wife, Gandhari,

to leave the court and spend what life is left

in renunciation. I ask you, too,

the people, to favor me with your consent.”

There was silence. All assembled there

were deeply moved, their eyes streaming with tears

at their old king’s humility. Then a buzz

of discussion arose, and they appointed

a learned brahmin to speak on their behalf.

“Sir, I speak for all of us. We honor

your decision. Everything you have said

is true. The house of Bharata has always

ruled us well and fairly. Duryodhana

never harmed us. The terrible events

that took place on the field of Kurukshetra

were not your fault, nor were they brought about

by Duryodhana, nor by heroic Karna.

That tremendous slaughter could not have happened

if the gods had not intended it.

We therefore, in your presence, absolve your son,

who now dwells in the heaven fit for heroes.

And we pledge our deep loyalty to the king.”

At this, the crowd shouted their approval,

and the old king joined his hands and honored them.

The date for the departure of the elders

was to be the day of the full moon.

Meanwhile, Dhritarashtra spent much time

with Yudhishthira, advising him.

Although the Dharma King had already ruled

for fifteen years (and long before, had reigned

in Indraprastha), he listened patiently

and welcomed his old uncle’s homilies.

In his last days at court, Dhritarashtra

sent Vidura to ask the king a favor:

would Yudhishthira give him the means

to carry out large-scale memorial rites

for his sons, and for all the other heroes

who were killed, even Jayadratha,

and including Bhishma? Yudhishthira

and Arjuna were pleased with this proposal,

but Bhima frowned. Arjuna said to him,

“Brother, do not begrudge our uncle this.

Look at the way time turns things upside down.

Once, we were begging him to favor us;

now, by good fortune, he is the supplicant.”

Bhima burst out, “It isn’t right! Why should he

perform rites to sustain his wicked sons,

gladdening his heart? They should be left

to make their own way in the afterlife.

Of course, rites should be carried out for Bhishma,

and Kunti can make offerings for Karna.

But it should be
we
who provide the gifts,

not Dhritarashtra. He and his wretched sons

subjected us to twelve long years of exile.

Where was his affection for us then?

What did he do to protect Draupadi?

How—” But then Yudhishthira cut him short

and rebuked him.

The king turned to Vidura.

“Please tell Dhritarashtra that my treasury

is at his disposal. Let him make gifts

to gratify the priests. And kindly ask him

to forgive Bhima his lack of charity.

Our years of exile still afflict his heart.”

Vidura went back to Dhritarashtra

with the king’s message. The old man was pleased

and set about arranging a huge event

to take place on the day of his departure.

There would be enormous gifts of wealth

made to brahmins, and to the assembled guests.

Yudhishthira collaborated fully

and decreed that the money spent on gifts

be multiplied tenfold.

The day arrived.

After the elaborate shraddha rites,

Dhritarashtra and his three companions,

dressed in deerskins, started on their journey.

The entire court and the citizens

came out into the streets, and sorrowfully

escorted their old king out of the city.

Then, slowly, they turned back toward their homes.

Kunti did not turn back. She had decided

to accompany the others to the forest.

Yudhishthira was shocked; so were his brothers.

Together they begged Kunti to change her mind.

“Mother, you cannot go,” said Yudhishthira.

“It was you who urged us to fight for justice,

you who said the kingdom should be ours.

How can you leave us now, abandon us

when we have gained the fruits of your advice?

Show some compassion; please do not deprive me

of your wisdom in my difficult calling.”

But Kunti continued walking.

Bhima said,

“We were born in the forest; it was you

who brought us as children to this city.

Do not reject Yudhishthira’s achievement.

It is unnatural for you not to share it—

and, you can see, the twins are heartbroken.”

“I have made up my mind,” replied Kunti.

“This is no quick decision. My heart is burdened

by sorrow and guilt at the death of Karna.

I was very wrong not to reveal

the truth about his birth, and now I grieve

bitterly every hour of every day

for the man who was, and was not, my son.

All I can do is seek to expunge my sin

by penances. True, I encouraged you

to fight for the kingdom that was yours by right.

You are kshatriyas, and of royal birth.

It was for this I brought you from the forest,

to acquire a warrior’s skills, a noble heart.

I owed your father that. Otherwise,

I could have climbed on his pyre, as Madri did,

and enjoyed heaven with him.

“I saw you grow

into fine young men. I stayed with you

through hard and dangerous times. I prayed for you

through all the dreary years of your long exile,

never knowing if you were alive or dead.

Then I urged you to fight. I understood

that only victory or death in battle

could bring you honor, and give any meaning

to all your sufferings. Only the deaths

of Duryodhana and Duhshasana

could avenge their insult to Draupadi

and give her peace.

“For the last fifteen years

I have devoted my life to Gandhari

whom I revere, both for her great virtue

and as the wife of Pandu’s older brother.

I have watched you and your brothers flourish.

But now my task on earth is at an end.

The fruits of sovereignty are yours, not mine.

I do not want them. I now wish to attain,

through penances, and through obedient service