THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 1 (60 page)

“You see the sorrow on his face. He is anxious about his brothers and his wife who live in exile in the forest. Take word to them in the Kamyaka aranya, Muni. Tell Yudhishtira where his brother is and that he is well; tell him Arjuna is now a master of every astra.”

Arjuna beamed, “Also, Muni, tell my brother that I am learning music from Chitrasena.”

Indra said, “Go and comfort Yudhishtira, Lomasa. He is softhearted and grieves too much for his brother. Tell him about the Nivatakavachas and say Arjuna’s mission in Devaloka will be a test for him.” He fell silent and thoughtful. After a moment, he mused, “I think Yudhishtira and his brothers should go on a pilgrimage now. They must bathe at all the tirthas.

Their exile ends; let them purify themselves for the war. They will need every blessing of heaven and earth that they can get. Teeming legions of evil will mass against them and the fate of the world will hang in the balance. Let the Pandavas go on a yatra to the holiest tirthas on earth; and, good Muni, I would be pleased if you went with them on their pilgrimage. You must watch over Yudhishtira in the wilds and protect him with your siddhis. For, he must rule the world again, after the war.”

Lomasa’s face lit up. Even before he came here, he had felt fate urging him to visit Amravati. Now he knew why. He said, “I will go straightaway to Yudhishtira in the Kamyaka aranya.”

Indra said, “Let them give generous charity along their yatra. I tell you again they shall have need of every blessing they can have, to turn the tide of evil back from the earth.”

Arjuna said, “Give them my love, Muni. Tell them I miss them and that I will return to them soon.”

Smiling fondly at Arjuna, bowing to Indra, Lomasa left Amravati. At speed past believing, he flew along a vivid skyway, one thread of a golden web that links the entire universe. At his wish, this path set him down in the Kamyaka aranya in half the time it had taken Arjuna to fly to Devaloka in Matali’s vimana.

FIFTEEN THE MUNI BRIHADASWA
 

Back on earth, life in the Kamyaka vana without Arjuna was miserable for his wife and his brothers. Now that he was gone, the days and nights were full of him. The forest seemed desolate without his quiet presence, which had been a middle way between Yudhishtira’s position and Bheema’s. Most of all, Draupadi missed him; if she loved any of her husbands a shade more than the others he was Arjuna. Often, she would hide away on her own and cry her heart out.

As the days wore into weeks and months, even Yudhishtira began to feel the bitterness of exile. Not his meetings with the rishis cheered him any more. Bheema and Draupadi did not help matters. One evening, when they all sat together in somber silence, suddenly Draupadi cried, “All this wretched forest is so forlorn since Arjuna left! Sorrow hangs on every branch, leaf and blade of grass; not even the flowers seem beautiful any more. I can’t bear it, I can’t bear him being away. Nothing can make me happy until Arjuna returns.”

She was near breaking down. This was just the encouragement Bheema needed. He, too, was passionately attached to Arjuna and felt lost without him. He could always talk to Arjuna, while Yudhishtira was more like a father, someone remote, perfect. He was someone you looked up to, but could not share much with, because he lived in a rarefied world, of dharma and the spirit, in which the earthy Bheema never felt at home.

Now, Bheema cried with feeling, “Not just the forest, Draupadi, but the sky seems to lack the sun without Arjuna and the night seems empty of the moon and the stars. How I hate this jungle! And everything that is happening to us here.”

He began sadly but soon his eyes burned and yet again, he turned on poor Yudhishtira.

“First you go and lose everything we had at a game of dice. Then you are quite happy living like a sannyasi. You love this life, sitting with hermits from dawn to dusk; and you are determined to make us like it, too. But we are kshatriyas! War is what we are born for and to rule.

For a while, this exile over some imaginary dharma of yours was at least bearable, that we were all together. Now, to crown your foolishness, you have sent Arjuna away. Who has heard of a kshatriya doing tapasya? And for what?”

Bheema’s voice boomed across the quiet jungle. “Why does Arjuna have to worship Siva? Because you have no faith in him or in me? It would take us just an hour to crush Duryodhana and his brothers. Did you ever think why they didn’t challenge us to a battle, but played dice instead? Because they are afraid of us! But though the rest of the world trembles at our names, our brother Yudhishtira doubts Arjuna and Bheema.

We said we would go to Hastinapura and finish this thing off. You would not listen. Do you know it is a year since Arjuna left? And there is no word from him. Did you think this was a game of dice? That Siva would appear as soon as our brother sat down and called Him? Ah, I don’t know what to say to you, except that you have ruined our lives!”

He seized Yudhishtira’s arm. “Listen to good sense at least now, Yudhishtira. Let us go and fetch our brother back. Then we will call Krishna here, march on Hastinapura, kill our enemies and have our kingdom back! This forest has become unbearable without Arjuna. It doesn’t matter who is older or younger. You must listen to the voice of reason, even if it is I who speak in it. You must listen to me, Yudhishtira: do this for your brothers’ sakes and Draupadi’s.”

Yudhishtira was to have no respite today. Now Nakula said, “I don’t want to live here any more. I see his face in the trees, I hear his voice in the wind and I want to leave this place until Arjuna returns.”

Quietly, Sahadeva agreed, “I, too, would rather leave.”

Bheema’s tirade hurt Yudhishtira most. Of all his brothers it was Bheema whom Yudhishtira was fondest of, Bheema of whom he felt most protective, for all his bulk and strength. Perhaps this was because Bheema and he were closest to each other in age or, possibly, Yudhishtira felt that, in his way, Bheema was the most vulnerable of them. He knew it was grief that made Bheema speak harshly.

The son of the wind was still in a hurry to wreak revenge on their cousins. He could hardly wait to tear Dusasana’s chest open and let Draupadi wash her hair in his blood, or to break Duryodhana’s thigh on which the Kaurava had called Panchali to sit. Bheema was obsessed and Yudhishtira understood him too well to take offence at what he said.

But Yudhishtira loved Bheema very much and he couldn’t bear to see him suffer. To see Draupadi pining for Arjuna also distressed him. Yudhishtira was the most softhearted Pandava and keeping his wife and brothers calm, until their exile ended, was an unenviable task. Often, time and life itself seemed fearfully short and he was on the verge of giving in and throwing high dharma to the winds. This was such an evening. Yudhishtira missed Arjuna as much as anyone else did and he was tempted to let Bheema have his way. And so, when the rishi Brihadaswa arrived in that asrama, at just this moment, he came God-sent indeed.

Bheema had to stop his tirade and Yudhishtira’s moment of weakness passed. Arghya was fetched for the merry sage, who was a short, plump man with a permanent smile on his round and shining face. The other brahmanas came to meet him. Later, when they had all shared the meal from the Sun’s plate and the night wore on, Yudhishtira and Brihadaswa were left alone together. The others had turned in, the Pandavas obviously upset. Bheema and Draupadi hardly spoke a word all evening.

When the two men had sat in silence for some time, Yudhishtira turned to the muni and sighed, “My lord, I am the unhappiest man on earth!”

“Why do you say that, O king? You are blessed.”

It all came pouring out of Yudhishtira: the loneliness he felt since Arjuna left, how the others had turned against him, how difficult exile had become and how he had been on the point of yielding to Bheema that evening. Tears fell down Yudhishtira’s face. “Perhaps I was wrong to send Arjuna away, I feel so alone since he left. It seems none of my other brothers understands the way of dharma and I have begun to doubt my own wisdom. If only Arjuna were here beside me; he is my strength.”

Brihadaswa patted the disconsolate Pandava’s hand. “This is not the time to give in to rashness; most of your exile has already passed. This is a trial and you must be strong. The dark days are almost over, you must not dream of submitting now. Besides, Arjuna will be back with you sooner than you think.”

Yudhishtira wiped his eyes. He said warmly, “I thank you for coming, when I most needed to share my burden.”

It seemed that just being able to talk about his turmoil relieved Yudhishtira so much that he was actually smiling again. But then, this was Brihadaswa’s gift: that his was such a genial presence and he could make anyone see the brighter side of things.

They sat together late into the night, while a silken moon rose above the forest, in which spirits roamed now as freely as animals did by day. Yudhishtira discovered the plump rishi was a veritable treasurehouse of lore: about legendary kings of the earth, rishis of huge tapasya, divine Devas and gandharvas, powerful and sinister Asuras. Brihadaswa was a font of legends and, awash on his profound and frequently hilarious stories, Yudhishtira soon forgot his troubles, as he badly needed to.

Into the small hours, they sat on the steps of the asrama, Yudhishtira never wanting the night to end or the rishi’s grand old tales to stop. Once, Brihadaswa turned solemnly to the Pandava. He said, “Did you know you aren’t the first king who lost everything at gambling?”

Somewhat startled, Yudhishtira said, “Was there another as hapless as me, then? Who was he, Muni? Did he regain what he lost or was he ruined forever?”

“You must have heard of him, Yudhishtira, but you have forgotten. He was Nala, king of Nishada1. He, too, lost everything at a game of dice, because he was also tested by time. Would you hear the tale of Nala again? Or is it too late and time for you to sleep?”

“For me, Muni?” laughed Yudhishtira. “I was worried about keeping you up. These days sleep and I are no longer friends; I lie awake for hours after I have lain down. No, do tell me the story of Nala.”

The blithe Brihadaswa told Yudhishtira the story of Nala of old, how he lost his all at a game of dice. Tears filled Yudhishtira’s eyes again, when he heard the trials of that king. How intimately the Pandava felt he knew the long-dead Nala, how well he understood his every misfortune, every dark turn his life took, once he entered his evil time through the very door Yudhishtira had.

The Pandava did not feel so alone any more, knowing his was not the only life that had taken this twisted course. He was eager to discover how Nala’s story ended.

“Muni, tell me, what happened to Nala of Nishada finally? Did he take his own life, or did he become a sannyasi in the forest?”

Brihadaswa laughed. “Neither. Once his evil days were over, Nala won back his kingdom. And the lovely Damayanti became his wife.”

“He mustered an army in exile?”

“Oh no!” cried Brihadaswa. “It was far simpler than that for Nala. He just learnt to play dice. He won back his kingdom exactly as he had lost it.”

Yudhishtira was astonished, “But how?”

“He learnt the arcane akshahridaya, which few people remember any more. Once he knew it, no one in heaven or earth could beat him at dice. He became a master of the very game that had once ruined him!”

Yudhishtira’s eyes shone. He was pleased no end for Nala’s sake. He said wistfully, “How I wish I could find someone to teach me the akshahridaya.”

“You won’t have to look far,” murmured Brihadaswa.

“You know it! Oh, will you teach me, Muni? Who knows if I will be challenged to another game of dice and lose my kingdom again, even if we have it back? I beg you, teach me the akshahridaya, Brihadaswa. There is no one on earth that better deserves to learn the secret of gambling.”

“You need no dice to learn the akshahridaya. Repeat this mantra three times after me. That will be your first lesson and then we will sleep; for the mantra must take root in your dreams. Tomorrow I will teach you another mantra. In ten days, you will be a master of the rolling dice. Yudhishtira who

1. The story of Nala and Damayanti in the Ganguli text is some 50 pages long (of roughly 550 words each).

lost a kingdom at dice shall be the greatest gambler in the world. Not Shakuni, not anyone, will be your equal.”

Yudhishtira had unusual midnight diksha from Brihadaswa, into the occult akshahridaya. That night, the Pandava slept soundly for the first time in months. The jovial muni’s arrival in the Kamyaka was like a breath of fresh air blowing through the disconsolate Yudhishtira’s life. For just ten days, the little rishi stayed; by the time he left, he had everyone in a more hopeful mood. Even Bheema and Draupadi were smiling at his fabulous stories, which were not only funny but also made them see their own predicament with some detachment. Once their despair was blunted, the world seemed a brighter place and the flowers and the birds of the forest were no longer forlorn or ominous. Even Bheema realized his mind had been playing tricks on him.

Yudhishtira was a master of gambling, when Brihadaswa left the asrama at Kamyaka and went off into the wide world from which he had appeared so opportunely. As they stood waving to the muni, Draupadi said quietly, “Well, he came just in time, didn’t he?” and gave Yudhishtira a wry smile.

He replied, “Arjuna will be back soon. I feel it in my blood.”

Hours after Brihadaswa left, they heard the limpid plucking of a vina in the woods and into the clearing walked Narada, as always with a song of Vishnu brimming on his lips.

The Pandavas, Draupadi and the brahmanas came and touched his feet and he blessed each of them. When they sat in the shade of the banyan, Narada said, “Yudhishtira, I think it’s time you left the Kamyaka. Go on a tirtha-yatra to purify yourselves for the war.”

Yudhishtira glanced at his brothers and he saw their faces light up at the very mention of leaving. He turned to Dhaumya, “I am in favor of a tirtha-yatra. It will lighten our spirits. What do you say, Dhaumya? You are our priest.”

Dhaumya was excited at Narada’s suggestion. The brahmana cried, “Narada muni would never suggest a futile pilgrimage. Lord, which tirthas do you have in mind for us to visit?”

Yudhishtira said, “I am curious, Muni. What punya does a man gain by going to the tirthas?”

Narada laughed, “Your grandsire Bheeshma once asked the rishi Pulastya the same question. I will tell you some of what Pulastya said.”

The muni went on to extol the virtue and the power of the great tirthas in the four quarters: of the Gomati in the Naimisa vana; of Prayaga, where the Ganga and Yamuna meet; the Triveni Sangama where the Saraswati joins them; of the Mahanadi, the Nanda and Paramananda and all the other tirthas, old as the earth, created for her sanctity and lying upon her as naves of eternal grace where men may wash their sins. He told them some legends of the very first days of the world, when the tirthas were created2.

2. Narada and then Dhaumya, ‘wise as Brihaspati’, dwell at some length on the sacred tirthas. Again, some 50 pages in Ganguli’s translation.

Even as he spoke, impassionedly, of the miracles that enlivened the tirthas in olden times, another great rishi arrived in their midst. Even Narada rose to greet Lomasa, who had come straight from Amravati. Lomasa’s face shone with where he had been and his eyes with the news he brought.