THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 1 (55 page)

Draupadi, Bheema, whatever you say to me, your harshest accusations can only be less than my crime deserves.”

He fell silent. Bheema was certain he had convinced Yudhishtira. All that remained was for his brother to give the word and they would swoop down on Hastinapura and set everything right again.

Then, lowering his voice, Yudhishtira spoke so softly that he was almost speaking to himself. But the others heard him clearly and there was no mistaking what he said.

“Yes, Bheema, it is only true, what you say I have done. But there is one other thing. At the end of my folly, when our kingdom was lost at the second game of dice, I gave my word that I would spend twelve years in the jungle in exile and a thirteenth in disguise. And, hear me well, Bheema, Draupadi, all of you: my word is sacred and I will not break it.”

He spoke calmly, but it was clear he meant what he said. It was Yudhishtira, their older brother and husband, who spoke and now it was Yudhishtira their king. He said, “At the end of thirteen years, if Duryodhana refuses to give us back our kingdom, then, Bheema, I shall indeed become as angry as you want me to. Then I will think of killing our enemies and, at that time, no one will stop me. Just as no one will persuade me today, because I know I have returned to the path of dharma and I will not leave it again.

At the end of thirteen years, if they do not give back what is ours, we shall have war with them. Then, Bheema, you can strew the field of battle with our enemies’ corpses and you can do it with my blessing. You can dismember Dusasana and break Duryodhana’s thigh. Arjuna, you can kill Karna and his men. Sahadeva can kill Shakuni and Nakula can kill his son Uluka. And, Panchali, you can feast your eyes on the dead and wash your hair in Dusasana’s blood.”

He paused and it was so strange for the others to hear their pacific brother speak like that of war and killing. They could almost see the jungle turn into a battlefield and the lake before them into blood. They sat bemused by the visions Yudhishtira conjured for them. He went on as in a dream, still speaking as softly as night fell.

“I will fight beside you then. I will also let my hands and my weapons speak for me. Ah, yes, I will also let loose the fiend, rage, whom I would have shackled for thirteen long years. And no one will say Yudhishtira is the same man who stood silently in the court of Hastinapura while his wife and brothers were humiliated, repeatedly. No one will believe it.”

He spoke simply, from his heart and not Bheema or Draupadi dared talk back to Yudhishtira. It was as if he had been called on to prove he was worthy of being their king: that he could contain them. No one could have proved it so quietly, so effectively.

“Bheema, I swear everything I have said will come to pass if they don’t keep their word at the end of thirteen years. But not a day before that. For, in the meanwhile, I must keep my own word. Otherwise, dharma will desert me and I shall be no better than they are.”

Then he paused, before saying, “There is something else. You imagine the Kauravas are perfectly happy now, that they have sent us into exile. You think they are enjoying the fruits of their crime. Bheema, things are not what you imagine. I tell you, Dhritarashtra hasn’t a moment of peace. His conscience savages him for what he has done to us and fear chokes every breath he draws. His life has turned into a hell and he is in constant dread of the day we return to claim what is ours. Your threats haunt him and he suffers anguish worse than death. Bheema, our uncle is already paying for what he did.

And so also, Duryodhana and the others. They are only human and guilt will not spare them its torments. No man who breaks dharma escapes the consequences. The seat of dharma is not somewhere far from a man, or in heaven, but in his own heart. With all the reasoning in the world, the one person he can never escape is himself. Our enemies already pay for their sin. So let us be masters of ourselves, in the knowledge that, even today, they are punished fiercely by guilt and fear. At the end of thirteen years, if they have not relented, then we shall become the instruments of a final retribution.

As for the reason I restrained you in the sabha of Hastinapura, it was because rashness never achieves anything. We must reflect before we act. We must act calmly, so we accomplish our purpose. Most often, men do not realize what they do, or why; and they gain nothing by their thoughtlessness.”

“So, Bheema,” finished Yudhishtira decisively, “we must wait these thirteen years out, patiently. When they are over, if our cousins are still adamant, we will face them in war. That I promise you.”

Even as he spoke, it seemed to the others Yudhishtira grew old and wise beyond their understanding. Now Bheema was quiet. What his brother said about the Kauravas already suffering calmed him. Draupadi was quiet; though grudgingly, she, too, saw the sense of what Yudhishtira said. It was only he who saw clearly in this time of darkness and when he spoke to them like that, with such conviction, the others saw their own immaturity and rashness reflected clear against his quiet wisdom. They realized that he also wanted justice for what they had suffered; perhaps, he wanted it more fervently than they did. Yudhishtira was prepared to wait to see justice done: to be sure it was done properly.

Knowing they had mistaken his deeper concern for indifference, his wife and his brothers fell silent. Just then, a familiar voice hailed them and they saw their grandsire Vyasa walking up the woodland path.

SEVEN VYASA’S ADVICE
 

Yudhishtira may have heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Vyasa walking up the path to the asrama. If he had ever needed the support of an elder, it was now; and Vyasa arrived as if he had sure instinct of his grandson’s need.

At once, the mood in the asrama changed. The Pandavas and Draupadi lay at the muni’s feet for his blessing. Draupadi served a meal and then, as a golden moon rose over forest and lake, they sat together on the steps of the hermitage.

Vyasa said, “From far away, I saw discord rear its head among you. Bheema you are like a child, impulsive, impatient. It is never wise to follow someone like you. Have you thought how powerful your enemies are, before you want to rush at them without an army? They have strengthened themselves immeasurably since you left. Bhoorisravas and Sala have joined them and Bheeshma and Drona have sworn to fight for Duryodhana. Regardless of right and wrong, they decided to cast their lot with Hastinapura and its king.

Have you considered Aswatthama and Karna? Those two by themselves are enough to raze an army. Karna, Drona and Bheeshma all have the same guru. Bhargava has given them astras that can consume the very earth. How will you fight these three without dharma on your side? If you attack them now, every one of you will die. But you did not pause to consider this possibility, did you Bheema? Or you, Draupadi? You were so angry. And you wouldn’t have been the first ones to lose your lives because you let anger rule you.

You are fortunate Yudhishtira is not as rash as you are, but reflective and cautious, as a king should be. Who knows, but for him, all of you might already be dead. And instead of thanking him with all your hearts, you rage at him.”

Vyasa paused and let his words sink in. His eyes were like lamps in the moonlight. He wanted Bheema and Draupadi to understand how dangerous their rashness had been. By the flush on their cheeks and their lowered eyes, Vyasa saw he had achieved his purpose. Yudhishtira showed no pleasure at his small victory; relief was all he felt. He was far more mature than the others and often saw them as his own children.

And it was Yudhishtira who asked Vyasa, “My lord, if they are so powerful, how can we ever hope to fight them? What if they don’t give back our kingdom after thirteen years? From what you say, we shall be helpless.”

“The serene mind arrives most quickly at its true destination! Your question is well asked. Do you remember the burning of the Khandava vana? What Indra said when Arjuna asked him for the devastras?”

Arjuna remembered. “He said he would give me all the astras he had, when the time came. But first, Lord Siva must give me his Paasupatastra.”

Vyasa said, “The time has come. Send Arjuna to the mountains. He must perform a tapasya to Siva and receive his Paasupata from the Lord. Then, Indra will give him all his astras. You will have need of every one, for the war will be a harder one than you can imagine.”

Yudhishtira wondered, “You seem certain there will be war.”

Vyasa said grimly, “There will be war, it was written before you were born. There will be a war to end all wars: the Mahabharata yuddha, the war on the crack of the ages. Let Arjuna prepare himself for that war; he will be the key to victory and Bheema. But Bheema was born with unearthly strength and he has drunk nagamrita.”

Bheema’s eyes shone in the silvery night. He for one was delighted to hear that there would be a war. He would have his revenge then; nothing would stop him. They sat in silence, watching the moon float on the lake as a lotus-scented breeze rustled through the forest.

Vyasa said, “You have stayed long enough in the Dwaitavana; this place has grown stale on you. It fills your spirits with melancholy; it fills Draupadi with sadness. The vapors of the lake have this effect. Go back to the Kamyaka now.”

Yudhishtira said, “We will leave tomorrow.”

Draupadi was glad. She felt her husband spent too much time with the rishis of the Dwaitavana and neglected her. They sat in silence for some time, then turned in. The next morning, Vyasa was up before the sun and he shook Yudhishtira awake and took him down to the lake. He made the Pandava wash in the still dark water and sit before him under a tree. He made him shut his eyes and, placing his hand on Yudhishtira’s head, the muni chanted a secret mantra. He said, “Receive the pratismriti from me.”

A current of energy coursed through Yudhishtira and if his eyes had been open, he would have seen that light flowed into his body from Vyasa’s hand, making him glow uncannily. Vyasa kept his palm on his grandson’s head for a while, then, removed it slowly and the luster faded. After another moment, the muni said, “You can open your eyes now, the pratismriti is with you. You must teach it to Arjuna.”

Yudhishtira felt a deep sense of wellbeing and he prostrated himself before the maharishi. Vyasa said, “I must leave now, but don’t tarry here any more. You have lived six years by this lake and that is enough. You have been patient, brave and strong, my son and I am proud of you. But it is time you began to prepare in earnest for the end of your exile and the war you must fight.”

Blessing Yudhishtira, Vyasa walked away, promising to see them again soon. The sun rose. The other Pandavas rose with it. When they had bathed and worshipped Surya Deva, they set out for the Kamyaka, retracing their steps of six years ago. By midday, they arrived on the banks of the Saraswati and fording the river in the same ferry, they were back in the old forest.

They found their way to the clearing where they had built the first asrama of their exile and saw the hardy wooden huts had withstood the seasons well. A few small repairs to the little kutilas and the Pandavas, Draupadi and their brahmanas settled back in the Kamyaka. It was remarkable how Bheema and Draupadi, Arjuna and the twins seemed to shed their dejection as soon as they left the Dwaitavana. Perhaps, it was just the change of place, or possibly, they felt restored hearing Vyasa’s prophecy that there would be a war: they would have their chance to take revenge on Dhritarashtra’s sons.

When they had spent a rather pleasant month in the clearing in the Kamyaka, Yudhishtira took Arjuna aside one day. Taking his brother’s hand, he said, “Vyasa is certain there will be a war and, in my heart, so am I. Drona, Bheeshma and Karna will fight against us. You are our main hope against them.” He sighed, “Life is cruel, that our Pitama and our Acharya might face us in battle; but we must expect every eventuality. Somehow, I do not believe Duryodhana will return our kingdom to us peacefully; and more than Bheeshma or Drona, even, I fear Karna. You must prepare yourself to face him, Arjuna and for that you must have the devastras of Indra.”

Yudhishtira was loth to part from his brother for even a day. It had been hard for him when Arjuna went away on his tirtha-yatra; but then, their circumstances had been very different. Here in the jungle, the very thought of sending Arjuna away dismayed Yudhishtira. But he must go now; later, there would not be time. Who knew how long he would have to sit in tapasya before Siva gave him his Paasupata? Who knew what trials Mahadeva would subject him to, before he decided he was worthy of having that astra? And only after Arjuna had the Paasupata, would Indra give him his weapons.

Still, Yudhishtira hesitated. He did not want to tell Arjuna to go. But eager to be off on his archer’s quest, Arjuna said, “It is time I went to the mountains.”

With a cry, Yudhishtira embraced him. It was difficult for Arjuna to leave his brothers and harder still to leave Draupadi who wouldn’t stop crying when she heard he was going. Only when Arjuna left did the Pandavas begin to understand the subtle miracle exile had wrought among them: despite their differences, it had brought them closer than ever.

Arjuna hugged his brothers. He embraced Draupadi and she ran sobbing into her kutila. Yudhishtira insisted on going some way with him. They went quite a distance, silently, until Arjuna turned to his brother, “You must go back now. It will take you a long time to reach the asrama.”

Yudhishtira agreed reluctantly, “I suppose you are right. But spend a moment with me. Before he went, Vyasa blessed me with the pratismriti. He told me to give it to you, it will help you on your quest.”

Yudhishtira made Arjuna sit before him in the lotus posture, with his eyes shut and laid his hand on his brother’s head. He invoked Parasara’s son, Vyasa Dwaipayana and at once felt a mysterious energy rise from the depths of his being, from unconscious zones and flow through his hand into Arjuna. This lasted some moments and Arjuna’s body glowed as he received the pratismriti. Then Yudhishtira withdrew his hand and they rose.

Once more, with tears in his eyes, Yudhishtira clasped Arjuna tightly. He laid his palm on his brother’s head, blessing him and stood watching while he set off on his mission. Long after he had vanished from sight, Yudhishtira stood gazing after him. Finally, wiping his eyes, he turned back to the asrama.