THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 1 (76 page)

THREE AJNATAVASA
 

Three days later, Bheema entered Virata with a ladle in his hand. The people of the city stopped to stare at the titan. No one dared accost him as he walked into the palace.

The extraordinary Bheema came and stood before the Matsya king. Virata said, “Welcome, splendid stranger! Which country do you rule? Tell us what we can do for you.”

Bheema said, “I am Ballava, my lord and I am one of the world’s great cooks. I seek work in your kitchen.”

Old Virata gazed shrewdly at the young giant before him. The king said, “Ballava, you seem to be far above the profession you claim for yourself. You look more like a prince of the earth to me, than a cook.”

“I can cook you a thousand dishes and every one a delicacy. I once cooked in the kitchens of Yudhishtira, in Indraprastha. But now that king has fallen on hard times and I am out of work. I will not work for just any master. But I have heard how generous you are and how kind.”

Virata said slowly, “Your physique is not a cook’s, Ballava. You are more suited to commanding an army from an elephant’s back, than plying a ladle in a kitchen.”

Bheema smiled. “That is because I am a wrestler, as well, my lord. It has always been my hobby and people tell me I am as good at wrestling as I am at my fires. If you let me, I will also train the young men of your court in the craft of kushti.”

“Very well,” cried Virata, beaming. “You shall be in charge of my kitchens from now and also my wrestling-pits. And welcome, noble stranger!” He paused, then, asked, “Tell me, are you sure you are not a kshatriya?”

Bheema laughed, “I am a cook, sire!”

He was shown to the kitchens. Two days later, king Virata was out in the morning to inspect the royal stables and the horses he loved as if they were his own children. As he made his round alone—he had come early and unannounced—he came upon a curious sight. Virata saw a dark young man, who was so handsome he took one’s breath away, speaking to the finest of the king’s horses, in the most intimate voice.

Virata paused in the shadows to watch. The young man was handsome enough to make another man wish he were a woman! Most amazing was the way the horses responded to him. Those haughty thoroughbreds, who would bite and lash out with their hooves if a stranger came anywhere near them, now nuzzled their pedigreed faces in the young man’s hands, as he stroked them and whispered to them. The horses spoke back to the dark stranger!

For a while, the king stood absorbed by the spectacle in the dawn light. Then he stepped out from the shadows and asked, “Who are you, young man?”

When the stranger turned to face him fully, even old Virata felt a pang. Nakula, every fiber of him regal, beautiful, answered the king, “My lord, I am a groom and I know horses well. I have come seeking work in your stables.”

“Truly, you know horses and they seem to love you. But to my old eyes you seem more like a kshatriya than a stable-hand. You don’t look used to rough work.”

“I am Damagranthi, my lord. It is horses I love and with them that I am happiest to be. As for knowing this work, I know it well. For once, my brother owned a great stable. I have heard you are a noble master and that you love your horses like your own children.”

Virata thought the young stranger, handsomer than any man he had even seen, spoke more like a prince than a groom. The king said, “I shall be honored if you look after my horses. Unless, of course…”

“What, my lord?”

“You would rather have command of my army,” said Virata shrewdly.

But Nakula only smiled and said, “I will be content in your stables.”

After another few days, Arjuna came to the court of the Matsya king. With this last week in the forest, his transformation was complete. The third Pandava was a eunuch now and rather a lovely one, though his shoulders were broad and his arms and chest too muscled for him to pass as a woman.

Wearing a woman’s clothes, his face painted like one’s, wearing necklaces of pearl and coral he had from Draupadi and a hairpiece he bought with jasmine strings threaded cleverly into it so it might have been his own hair, wearing bangles and perfume, his hips swaying when he walked: Arjuna came and stood before the Matsya king in his court.

In a deep woman’s voice, he said to Virata, “I am Brihannala the dancer, my lord. I can sing and play the vina too. No one on earth can sing and dance like me, for I learnt from a gandharva.”

“What can we do for you, Brihannala?” asked the king and his canny old eyes roved over Arjuna’s arms and shoulders. “Stay with us and rule the kingdom with me. Your arms make me think you are more an archer than a dancer. Tell me truthfully, are you really a eunuch?”

Arjuna laughed like the most seductive woman. In his soft new voice, he said, “My lord, the only string I play on is a vina’s. The only art I am a mistress of is dancing. Look, I will show you.”

Chitrasena’s gifted pupil sang and danced briefly before the Matsya king. So delectably did he do both, the king said at once, “You shall teach my daughter, the princess Uttaraa, how to dance.”

Arjuna replied, “I will make her the finest dancer on earth.”

Virata sent for Uttaraa and said to her, “This is Brihannala, who dances and sings better than anyone I have seen. She will teach you, but be sure you treat her with the respect you would show a queen.”

As sweet a young princess as one would find anywhere, Uttaraa led the eunuch away to her apartment. She and her companions became Brihannala’s sishyaas and her friends as well. Soon, Arjuna enjoyed his ajnatavasa more than he had thought he would. Though, with all that nubile young womanhood around him, he often wished he were himself again and a whole man.

A few days after the arrival of Brihannala in Virata’s court, Draupadi entered the city of that king. Wearing old and torn clothes, she came as a sairandhri. But the people in the streets stopped to stare at her, for she could not hide her dark beauty.

Queen Sudeshna, who was once a princess of Kekaya, was out on her balcony, looking up the main city thoroughfare that led to her palace. She saw the striking young woman, dark as dusk; some townspeople crowded round the young woman. One of them asked rudely, “Who are you, stranger?”

“I am a queen’s sairandhri. I have come seeking work,” Draupadi answered.

The men in the crowd looked her over frankly. Perhaps out of jealousy, seeing how beautiful she was, the women began to taunt her. They mimicked her royal accents, “I am a queen’s sairandhri,” and laughed. The jeering crowd followed the young woman down the road. Soon, some of them prodded and pinched her viciously. She cried out and quickened her stride; but the crowd was merciless.

Sudeshna saw all this from her balcony and the queen sent her maids out to the terrified Panchali. “Tell my guards to scatter the crowd and fetch that young woman here.”

The maids ran out into the street with the guards and the jostling crowd was quickly sent on its way. Draupadi stood trembling before the queen’s sakhis. They gasped when they saw her at close quarters: she was stunning. Those women took the frightened sairandhri’s hand, “Come, queen Sudeshna wants to see you.”

Her heart still fluttering from her encounter in the streets, Draupadi arrived before the queen. Her hands entwined nervously and her eyes turned down, she stood before Sudeshna. Sudeshna drew a sharp breath when she saw Panchali near. She made Draupadi sit beside her.

Stroking Panchali’s face, almost disbelievingly, the queen breathed, “You are so beautiful, my child, as if you belong to another world! Who are you, dark one? How are you alone? How does your husband dare let you out by yourself? Tell me why you have come to Virata. You look like a queen, at the very least.”

Slowly, Draupadi stopped shaking. But she said nothing yet and Sudeshna urged her again, “Your face, your eyes, your body, are all so perfect; yet you are out on your own. Who are you? Are you a yakshi or a gandharvi, an apsara or a devi? You are as lovely as Lakshmi herself.”

Now Draupadi answered, “My queen and I am a sairandhri in search of work. Once, I used to make up the queen Draupadi’s face and weave blue lilies and jasmine into her hair. She named me Malini, but alas, she has gone away into the forest and has no use for my gifts anymore. Queen Sudeshna, I have heard how kind you are and I have come seeking work with you.”

The queen looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then, said, “You are the most beautiful woman I ever saw. Yet, your face and your eyes tell me that you have suffered deeply. Tell me your misfortunes, Malini.”

There were tears in Draupadi’s eyes and she clasped Sudeshna’s hand tightly. She said in a low voice, which only the queen heard, “I am married to five gandharvas. But they were cursed to leave me for a year and I have never been apart from my husbands before.” She gazed imploringly into the other woman’s face, “I beg you, O queen, keep me with you for a year. I dare not think what will become of me otherwise. I will do your face and hair every day. You are so kind, I already feel like a daughter to you,” and she wept.

Sudeshna stroked her hand and said, “My poor child, such privilege you must have enjoyed when you were with Panchali. Use this palace as your own from now. You will be my sakhi and you may use my private garden whenever you want to be alone.”

The queen paused, before she said slowly, “Malini, you shall live with me in my palace and the thought delights me. Yet it troubles me, as well.”

“Why is that, my queen?”

“Like all men, my husband is fond of a beautiful woman. If he sees you, he will not be able to resist you; nor, for that matter, would any man. Why, you make me wish I were a man! I am afraid if the king sees you he will fall in love with you, old as he is. And he would leave me then, wouldn’t he? Is it wise for me to keep you here?”

Draupadi said, “My lady, I may not see them for this year, but my gandharva husbands watch over me. No man will come near me, not your king or any other. Besides, how could I betray your kindness, if you kept me here? I will always remain in your inner rooms and your garden and never show my face outside. Trust me, I won’t cause you any grief.”

Sudeshna kissed her and cried, “You are such a ravishing child! How can I refuse you?”

Draupadi turned her eyes down and said, “But I, too, have some small conditions I must keep.”

“What are they?”

“My husbands would not tolerate it if I were to eat any leavings. And they would be angry if I had to press anyone’s feet.”

Sudeshna smiled, “You will never have to do either in this palace.”

Thus, Yudhishtira’s queen Draupadi, once empress of all Bharatavarsha, joined the service of queen Sudeshna of the Matsya kingdom, as her flower girl. A week after she was ensconced in the palace, Sahadeva, the most intelligent Pandava, arrived quietly in Virata’s court dressed as a cowherd, carrying a staff in his hand. He said to that king in chaste language and a voice as deep as the rumbling of clouds, “My lord, give me work in your cattle-sheds. I have a way with cows and when I tend them, they give twice the milk they would otherwise. If you like, I can prove it to you before you take me in.”

The king gazed at the self-effacing young man. He said slowly, “Stranger, somehow it seems to me that you haven’t always been a cowherd.”

Sahadeva smiled, “My lord, cows are all I know. I can cure any disease your cattle may catch. My name is Tantripala and your herds will be contented and beautiful when I look after them.”

“We never refuse any good soul who comes to us. From now on, Tantripala, you shall be our chief cowherd. And I have lived long enough in this world to know I will not regret employing you. Indeed, you honor me by joining my service.”

He looked so acutely at Sahadeva, the youngest Pandava felt certain that Virata saw though his disguise.

The Pandavas, who were born to rule the earth, settled into the palace in the Matsya capital. Soon the king was happy only when he was in the company of his new courtier Kanka. He found the man even wiser than he had judged at first; and at gambling, the brahmana was peerless. After he had received the occult siddhi from the rishi Brihadaswa, Yudhishtira was an invincible master of the rolling dice. He beat the best players in the Matsya court, easily and entrenched himself in the king’s favor. Besides, Virata soon began to consult Kanka on complex and delicate matters of state and found in the brahmana an exceptionally sagacious counselor.

Bheema was as pleased as he could possibly be in the king’s kitchens. He slept on a cook’s bed, but on a wonderfully full stomach. Besides, he did enjoy cooking almost as much as eating what he cooked and the mighty Bheema was blessed with a spectacular culinary talent: he was, quite simply, a magnificent cook. Then, he wrestled. He taught the young kshatriyas of Virata, but he was careful never to reveal his true strength. The king saw that Ballava was as good a wrestler as he was a cook. Well pleased, he rewarded him with gold and jewels.

The horses of the royal stables were in finer fettle than Virata had ever seen them. Their coats were sleek and glossy and their fierce spirits contended. Virata rewarded Damagranthi, his new groom, generously. The cows of the Matsya king yielded more milk than ever before and they, too, shone with a quiet joy at being in the care of the new herdsman. Sahadeva was happy with the herd and the king was pleased with him.