THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 1 (45 page)

ELEVEN A COUSIN’S ANGER
 

The sacrifice of the six fires was underway. The golden vessels were the same ones Varuna had used for his Rajasuya yagna, in time out of mind. All the omens in heaven and on earth showed the Gods were pleased. Showers of petals fell from the sky like fragrant dew, so fine they were invisible.

When Yudhishtira was crowned, it was time for him to greet his guests. When all the kings were seated in the yagnashala—not in the Mayaa sabha but another open arena in the palace—Bheeshma rose and said to Yudhishtira, “These kshatriyas and brahmanas have come to Indraprastha to honor you. You must give them arghya, but begin with the foremost among your guests. You must decide who he is and worship him first of all.”

Yudhishtira rose. “My lord, in a sabha like this, it isn’t for me to say whom I should worship first. You are my Pitama; you tell me.”

Bheeshma was silent for a moment, then, said, “Six men are said to deserve worship: the guru, the priest, the kinsman, he that knows the Veda, the friend and the king. Offer arghya to all these, beginning with the best.”

“But, Pitama, who shall have the purodasa?”

Bheeshma said, “Surely, you don’t need an old man to tell you only Krishna deserves the purodasa. He is like the sun among the planets; the rest of us only reflect his splendor. Without him, this sabha would be plunged in darkness.”

A beaming Yudhishtira called Sahadeva to fetch the arghya. Sahadeva came and sat at Krishna’s feet. The Dark One still smiled. There was, perhaps, just a hint of pleasure on his face.

As Sahadeva washed Krishna’s feet, tears welled in the Pandava’s eyes. It was a sacred moment, an overwhelming one. Sahadeva washed Krishna’s dark blue feet as if nothing on earth could give him as much joy.

Flowers of light fell like cool embers out of the spirit realms and, with the arghya, Krishna had the purodasa at Yudhishtira’s historic Rajasuya yagna. There was silence in the yagnashala. You could hear the fragile flowers put themselves out with a thousand sighs. Yet, many of the kshatriyas did not approve of Krishna having this honor. They exchanged hot glances of reproval among themselves, which the Pandavas ignored, if they saw them through their tears.

Suddenly, a sneering laugh rang out, desecrating the sacral silence like a curse. Sishupala was on his feet. Every gaze turned to the pale Bull of Chedi. His eyes on fire, he raged, “What foolishness this is! A bastard asks the son of a river,” this was said as the worst insult, “who should have the purodasa in this sabha. The senile river-son says a black cowherd must be offered the first arghya. Another bastard performs the puja and the heavens bless this touching scene! What can I say?”

He sat down, trembling. Stunned silence for a moment, then, before anyone else could speak, Sishupala jumped up again. He turned on Yudhishtira, “Cousin, either you see more deeply than the rest of us, or you are blind. How can you give this cowherd the purodasa in this sabha? I thought the Pandavas were princes of dharma and could never set a foot wrong in anything you did. Ah, what have you done today?”

His lips twitched, his voice was somehow bestial. “The cowherd is not even a kshatriya! Look around you, Yudhishtira; can’t you see these illustrious munis and these rulers of the earth in your sabha? Yet, you honor this upstart, this nobody, before any of the others? Why, this fellow should not be here at all!

Do you, perhaps, revere him as an elder? But his father Vasudeva is among us. Shouldn’t he have the arghya before his son? Do you think Krishna was a friend in your need? But didn’t Drupada give you his daughter when you were exiles? Didn’t he keep you in his kingdom? Didn’t he agree to let all five of you marry Draupadi?

Perhaps, you believe the cowherd is your guru? Isn’t your Acharya here in this sabha, the great Drona?

Or do you think Krishna is a tapasvin? Surely, he is not a thousandth part the muni that your own grandfather, Vyasa, is.”

Froth flecked his lips and he shook more than ever. “Yudhishtira, we came to your Rajasuya not because we were afraid of you, but because we respected you as a man of dharma. And how do you reward us? By giving this cowherd the purodasa, while the greatest kshatriyas on earth look on like dumb animals! It was to please you that we came; but you seem to have gone mad. If the only purpose of this yagna was to worship Krishna, what was the point in inviting the rest of us?”

Bheema had turned red with fury. Arjuna tried to catch Yudhishtira’s eye: so he could silence Sishupala with an arrow through his mouth. Sahadeva and Nakula had their hands on their swords. But the object of Sishupala’s tirade was a picture of calm. The smile never left Krishna’s lips; his black eyes were still full of good humor.

Helpless to stop himself any more, Sishupala raved on. “If you wanted a kshatriya to honor, Bheeshma was your choice. If not him, there are others here as worthy, a hundred of them. If it was an archer you wanted, Karna is here, a better bowman than your Arjuna. Remember, Karna had the measure of Jarasandha in battle, a feat your cowherd could never match.”

Whenever he paused for breath, silence ruled the sabha and it seemed the other kings were disposed to agree with Sishupala. The Bull of Chedi had not finished. “I am insulted, Yudhishtira and so are all these lords of men. You have made a mockery of this profound sacrifice. As for Bheeshma, I can only say he has lost his wits with age. Who is this black Krishna, anyway, that you honor him like this? He is not your guru, or your son-in-law. He is just your cousin, as I am. Then why do you worship him? Are you afraid of him?”

His eyes narrowing, Sishupala turned to Krishna. “And you, Yadava; even if the Pandavas give you the purodasa, how can you take it? Did you think for a moment, if you are worthy of it? No. You lapped it up like a dog does the leavings of a feast!”

He turned back to Yudhishtira, “Cousin, you sent your brothers with this cowherd to Girivraja and you thought Krishna did you a service. The truth, credulous king, was that he did not go there for your sake but his own. Jarasandha was the one man Krishna could never deceive. I tell you, my lords, he was terrified of Jarasandha. He seized the first opportunity he saw to kill him with guile. Bheema, you poor fool, you allowed the cowherd to use you: for his purpose, not your brother’s!

And now he sits here, laughing at us kshatriyas that we accord him the agrapuja in this august sabha. I say to you, Pandava, what you have done is like showing the beauty of a golden dawn to a blind man, or getting a eunuch married. You others may suffer this madness, but not I. The scales have fallen from my eyes. Yudhishtira, now I know you for what you are and your Bheeshma and your Krishna. I won’t stay here a moment longer!”

Like an angry lion, Sishupala stalked out of the enclosure. With a cry, Yudhishtira jumped up and ran after him. He stopped him just outside the yagnashala.

“Lord of men,” said Yudhishtira indulgently, as to an erring brother, “don’t leave like this. You are overwrought, Sishupala. I did not mean to insult you, or the other kings. To us, Krishna is greater than anyone else is. Shantanu’s son Bheeshma said we should give the purodasa to Krishna. Bheeshma is older and wiser than we are; you should not offend him. There are other kshatriyas here, older than you or I; they approved of Krishna being worshipped first. Sishupala, Krishna is more than what you think he is.”

Now Bheeshma came there and he was livid. “Yudhishtira, you are an emperor now! How can you plead with this idiot? Not just we, but the three worlds honor Krishna; the very universe does. But this dullard is too blind with arrogance to see who Krishna is. Leave him, Yudhishtira, he is demented with envy.”

Sahadeva cried, “Krishna is our guru, he is everything to us. If you have anything more to say about him, I will kill you!”

Sishupala roared in anger and the other kshatriyas came out to hear him. It seemed many of them agreed with him; his hot words had swayed their minds. But Sahadeva roared louder than the Bull of Chedi. He raised his foot and brought it crashing down. “I will trample on anyone who dares insult Krishna!”

Petals of light streamed down on him.

Bheeshma cried, “The sun, the moon and the planets, all the mandalas, dwell in Krishna. He is the beginning and the end of all things. If Sishupala cannot see this for his vanity, let him leave!”

Crimson-eyed Sishupala howled, “Kshatriyas, we must answer this insult with weapons! Let us defile this unholy yagna. Let us take arms against the cowherd and his cousins, that they dare humiliate us.”

There were some shouts of, “Jaya Sishupala! Let us fight the Pandavas!” Many of the kshatriyas seemed inclined to stand with the Chedi Bull. Soon, all the sabha echoed with voices raised on one side or the other. Swords were drawn.

Yudhishtira cried anxiously to Bheeshma, “Pitama, we must do something quickly.”

Calmly, Bheeshma said, “It is the dog barking at the lion: nothing to worry about. Let him bark, he seems to like the sound of his own voice.”

With a snarl, Sishupala turned on the patriarch. “Old man, you don’t fool me with your simpering pretence of being a paragon of dharma. You are a common hypocrite. Let the simple-minded believe in your great vow. We know the real reason for your not taking a wife. You are a eunuch and the world would have known it if you married!”

Such a hush fell, but Sishupala ranted on. “As for being the son of a river,” he sneered, “we all know what a river is. She welcomes anyone who cares to bathe in her, welcomes all comers with equal ardor!”

Bheema cried, “Pitama, how can you stand this?”

But Bheeshma said coolly, “The minds of those whom Krishna has decided to kill become unsettled, like this dog’s.”

Sishupala screamed, “Krishna! Don’t tell me about your Krishna. Bheeshma, you try to frighten these kings with such lies that I am amazed your tongue does not split in a hundred slivers. Your Krishna’s fame is because he killed a bull, once and a horse. Are horses and bulls kshatriyas, that a cowherd becomes a legend because he kills the dumb beasts? Or because he once lifts an anthill called Govardhana? Or perhaps, it is because he killed Kamsa, whose bread he broke, who was his own flesh and blood? Noble Kamsa, who wanted to make Krishna his heir. Or is your Krishna worthy of this lick-spittle worship because he killed Putana, a woman?”

With a roar, Bheema rushed at Sishupala. But Bheeshma seized him in arms still strong enough to restrain the son of the wind. Sishupala cried, “Let him go, old fool! Let him come and perish like a moth in a flame. Let all these kings see on whose side truth lies: with these treacherous Pandavas and their witless grandfather, or with me.”

Bheeshma still restrained Bheema, though it was like holding a storm in his arms. The Pitama thundered, “My lords, you have heard all that the king of Chedi has to say and you have been swayed by him. You have heard the abuse he has heaped on Krishna and the Pandavas and on me. It is only fair you hear me out, as well. Let us return to the sabha. I don’t think even Sishupala will deny me the right to speak.”

Sishupala snorted, “Hurry up, old man. Then let us get down to the business of kshatriyas, in which eunuchs have no part.”

“Come, friends, come in again; you, too, Sishupala. Listen to what I have to say. It is your life’s story I want to tell and there are parts of it you don’t know yourself.”

All the agitated kings, their hosts, Bheeshma and Krishna and Sishupala, also, returned to the yagnashala. Then, at Yudhishtira’s Rajasuya yagna, Bheeshma told the story of Sishupala of Chedi.

TWELVE DARK OMENS
 

His deep voice filling the yagnashala, Bheeshma began, “Sishupala, you were not born an ordinary child. You came into the world with three eyes and four arms. You were a freak and we heard about you in Hastinapura.”

Sishupala stiffened where he sat, so full of contempt. He had never heard this before, yet he knew Bheeshma was telling the truth.

Bheeshma continued, “The monstrous child didn’t cry like a human baby but brayed like a little donkey, as demons do when they take a human form. Your parents were horrified and decided to do away with the freak. He couldn’t be raised as the heir to the Chedi throne.”

“You lie,” breathed Sishupala, but his voice lacked conviction. What the Kuru patriarch was saying was irresistible and light was breaking savagely into the Bull of Chedi’s dark spirit.

Bheeshma ignored Sishupala. “When your father Damaghosha thought of killing you, a disembodied voice spoke to him, ‘Your son will become a great kshatriya; keep him with you and raise him. It is not time for him to die and you are not the one who will kill him. But his killer has also been born.’

Your mother Srutadevi cried, ‘Who will be my son’s killer?

The asariri replied, ‘When you place the child in his lap, your son’s third eye and his superfluous arms will vanish.’”

“Strange tales you tell!” scoffed Sishupala, but he was plainly uncertain. “But are they any more than your senile fancies?”

Bheeshma was undeterred. “The kings of the earth heard of the freak born in Chedi and came to see him. Damaghosha welcomed them, because he wanted to discover who would be his son’s killer. Your father brought you in and set you in each king’s lap. But your third eye still glared at every kshatriya there and your four arms remained.”

Bheeshma paused; silence held the yagnashala. Slowly, the Kuru patriarch resumed, “One day, his Yadava cousins, Balarama and Krishna, came to Chedi to see Sishupala. He was handed to Balarama first and the child brayed at him.

Then Srutadevi placed her son in her younger nephew, Krishna’s, lap. There was a flash of light and the infant’s third eye had vanished and his extra arms. He lay in his cousin’s lap and now cried like any human child. The bestial voice was gone and Krishna held him, laughing softly.

Srutadevi is Vasudeva’s sister. She knew his own cousin would be her son’s killer. She said, ‘Krishna, I have a favor to ask you and you must not refuse me.’

‘Anything for you,’ said Krishna.

‘Promise me you will always forgive my Sishupala any offence he gives you.’

‘For your sake, I will forgive him a hundred times!”

She hugged him and never dreamt that Sishupala could offend Krishna a hundred times. They were cousins, after all, not enemies. But when Damaghosha heard what had happened, he did not believe Krishna’s promise to pardon Sishupala a hundred offences.

When he was still a boy, Damaghosha sent his son to Girivraja to become Jarasandha’s pupil. Who else on earth opposed Krishna as boldly as the rakshasi’s foster-son?

Jarasandha had heard about young Sishupala and, when the prince arrived in his sabha, he welcomed him, crying, “What a handsome fellow you are. I will make you a lion of a kshatriya!”

In Girivraja, Sishupala met another prince who was Jarasandha’s pupil and who would also become Krishna’s inveterate enemy: Rukmi of Vidarbha. Rukmi and Sishupala became great warriors and greater friends. When Sishupala visited Vidarbha with his friend, once, he saw Rukmi’s sister, Rukmini and fell in love with her. When he told Rukmi, his friend promised Sishupala his sister’s hand. Sishupala walked on air, thinking he would soon have the most beautiful bride in the world. But Rukmini already loved Krishna of Dwaraka.”

None of the kings in the Mayaa sabha stirred. Bheeshma continued unhurriedly, “Meanwhile, Jarasandha had sworn to avenge Kamsa’s death. He took eighteen armies to Krishna’s gates in Mathura and in half of them Sishupala fought against his cousin. Every time, Jarasandha was defeated and each time Krishna spared Sishupala’s life.

Sishupala was certain Krishna would not harm him, no matter what and his arrogance grew. Whenever a battle was lost, he would abuse Krishna foully. Even if Balarama wanted to kill him, Krishna stopped his brother, saying, ‘We must spare him for our aunt’s sake.’

That is why Sishupala behaves as he has today, that he dares abuse even me. He is sure that Krishna will not kill him.

And Sishupala hates Krishna; it was on the day he was meant to marry Rukmini, that the Dark One carried her away from under the eyes of a hundred kings. He has never forgiven Krishna for that. But when Rukmini loved Krishna, how could Sishupala even dream of having her?

This, my lords, is why he raves here as if he has lost his mind. I say to the rest of you, it would be reckless to follow a man who is as unhinged with envy as this one.”

The patriarch saw the kings now cast dark looks at the Bull of Chedi. Some of them cried, “For shame, Sishupala, you misled us.”

“This isn’t a kshatriya’s way.”

Bheeshma said, “Sishupala has exhausted the hundred pardons Krishna promised his mother. His time to die is here.”

Sishupala gave the roar of a cornered beast. Turning on Krishna, he cried, “Come cowherd, fight! I am tired of talk. This old fool says you will kill me, but I warn you this won’t be like seducing gopis in Vrindavana. It is a fight to the death I want. Dare you fight me?”

Krishna rose. He said to the other kings, “Twice a hundred times I have spared this fool’s life for his mother’s sake. Today you have all heard him abuse not just me but Bheeshma. You have provoked me repeatedly, Sishupala and I did nothing to you. Once you set fire to Dwaraka when I was away. You tried to stop my father Vasudeva’s Aswamedha yagna. You attacked our king Ugrasena on Raivataka. You were born to a Yadava princess and you are my cousin. But you have always hated our people.

As for women, you forced yourself on so many. I should have killed you when you and your friend Karusha molested the Yadava princesses and their sakhis on the highway through Anarta. You ravished Akrura’s wife.

My lords, I have not the time or the patience to recount all this man’s crimes. But, worst of all, he wanted my Rukmini for himself…”

Sishupala howled, “I wanted your Rukmini! To whom was she given by her brother and father? Whose bride was she to become when you abducted her? She was mine, cowherd, mine! You stole her from me.”

Still calmly, Krishna said, “I have forgiven you as much as you deserve. I will forgive you again, today, for Yudhishtira’s sake: because I do not want to desecrate his yagna. But you must ask Bheeshma’s pardon, Sishupala,” his voice grew softer, “or I will be forced to kill you.”

Sishupala laughed in his face. “Ask the pardon of this old eunuch? At a cowherd’s command. You forget I am a kshatriya and a king!”

Those were the last words he ever spoke. Suddenly, Krishna had the Sudarshana Chakra burning over his finger. He flicked his wrist forward sinuously and the blinding disk cut Sisupala’s head from his throat in a flash of blood. The huge Bull of Chedi, pale as mist, fell dead in the midst of Yudhishtira’s Rajasuya yagna and his head rolled away by itself. Blood gushed from him, spreading in a dark stain on the ground.

Every kshatriya was on his feet and Krishna stood there, cool as ever. A pulsing light, like a small sun, issued from Sishupala’s neck and flared into the Avatara. He glowed with it briefly, before it was part of him and subsided into his mystery. Krishna laughed softly.

Outside, thunder rent the sky and black clouds, which had gathered unnoticed, began to lash Indraprastha with torrential rain. Strange meteors flared out of the heavens and the earth shook with deep tremors. Far away, the sea rose in tidal waves and dashed against his shores. It seemed the killing of Sishupala at Yudhishtira’s Rajasuya yagna presaged some terrible calamity for the world, most of all, for its kshatriyas.

Yudhishtira ordered his brothers to honorably cremate Sishipala and crowned his son king of Chedi. Hardly any of those kings and princes, not even the Pandavas, noticed that Krishna’s eyes were full of another joy. None of them knew he had just ended a curse of ages and restored Vishnu’s dwarapalaka, Jaya, to eternal life. Narada, who knew all about that curse, smiled.

Once, on another world, some rishis had come to Vaikunta to visit Narayana, who lies upon the waters of eternity. But Vishnu’s gatekeepers, Jaya and Vijaya, barred their way because the holy ones came as chattering, mischievous children.

The munis cursed Jaya and Vijaya to three demonic lives on earth. Vishnu promised them that he, too, would be born into the world to deliver them. The first time, in a mythic age, the two had been born as the golden-skinned demons, Hiranyaksha and Hiranyakashyapu, who terrorized creation for a million years. Vishnu came as an awesome Boar and a dreadful Manticore to kill them.

The second time, at the beginning of the dwapara yuga, nine hundred thousand years before Krishna’s time, there had been the sinister rakshasa Ravana and his brother Kumbhakarna. Vishnu came as Rama to rescue the earth from their satanic tyranny; and to release them, as well, from another monstrous incarnation.

Now, as the dwapara yuga ended, Jaya and Vijaya had been born as Sishupala, the Bull of Chedi and his friend crooked-teeth Dantavakra, king of Kalinga. Krishna had redeemed his dwarapalaka Jaya. Dantavakra waited for the Dark One outside the city, beside the midnight-blue Yamuna. Having received the purodasa, Krishna had to go alone to the river for the avabhruta snana, the closing ablution.

Dantavakra attacked him there. Vishnu’s Avatara liberated Vishnu’s other gatekeeper with a blow of his mace, shattering his head like a melon. Meanwhile, many of the kshatriyas at the sacrifice were shocked at the calm and brutal slaying of Sishupala. Seeing the omens of the elements after the killing, they may have thought of leaving before the sacrifice was completed; but Krishna stood at the door with the Sudarshana Chakra whispering over his finger. Yudhishtira’s Rajasuya was properly concluded in marvelous Indraprastha, while sinister omens swept through the world.