THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 1 (81 page)

TWELVE DURYODHANA’S SPIES
 

Meanwhile, Duryodhana’s spies combed Bharatavarsha, all the kingdoms, all the sabhas, whispering questions among the people, but found no trace of the sons of Pandu. One by one, they came home to Hastinapura. One morning, when all his agents had returned, Duryodhana called them into his court where he sat among his brothers with Karna, Drona, Bheeshma and the Trigartas.

The chief spy was an old and attenuated man, who had looked as he did now ever since Duryodhana had known him. He said, “My lord, we have scoured the world for the Pandavas, but nowhere are they to be found: in no king’s court, upon no mountain, nor hidden in any valley or forest. We went to Dwaraka, but they were not there. We went to Panchala, disguised and no one had seen or heard of them in Drupada’s kingdom. We went among the people, everywhere, but there was no sign of your cousins.”

Duryodhana sat perfectly still on this throne, watching his agent with unwinking eyes. Another spy, a man as old as the first, said, “My lord, we believe the Pandavas are dead. We went across the earth like the breeze; we went among the people like their very breath. If they all conspired to hide the sons of Pandu, at least their thoughts would betray them: and we are experts at reading men’s minds. Duryodhana, it is as if the earth yawned open and swallowed your cousins.”

A third spy, a young fellow, was emboldened to cry, “Rule the world without a rival, Duryodhana! The Pandavas are not alive any more.”

Duryodhana greeted all this with silence. His hooded gaze moved from one spy’s face to the next. They shivered at his scrutiny. Then, apparently satisfied, he said, “Have you anything else of interest to report?”

The oldest spy now said, “The world talks of the death of the Matsya Senapati Keechaka.” The man looked quickly at the Trigartas and they shifted uncomfortably in their places. “I think the Trigartas remember Keechaka well; he defeated them often in battle.”

“How was Keechaka killed?”

“He was strangled in a dance hall in the middle of the night and no one saw the killer. They say a beautiful woman was the cause of his death. They say she has a gandharva husband who watches over her. Keechaka tried to molest the woman and he died.”

Another spy said, “I was in the Matsya country myself, the day after Keechaka was killed. His brothers tied the woman to his litter, to burn her with him in the forest. But her gandharva killed them all and set her free.”

Duryodhana said, “The death of Keechaka and his brothers is of passing interest to me. Give me news of the Pandavas. The time of the ajnatavasa is almost over and you have brought no word of them.”

The chief spy replied, “We have told you, my lord, the sons of Pandu have vanished as if into death’s clasp. No trace remains of them, that we should presume they are alive.”

Duryodhana gave his spies gold and dismissed them. Silence ruled the court and the Kaurava said, “The ajnatavasa draws to an end. If we do not find them quickly, they will come asking for their kingdom. Let some cleverer agents be sent forth. Let them bring word of our cousins, or let them also confirm that Yudhishtira and his brothers are not to be found anywhere. Perhaps it is true the Panda-vas are dead; they may have been eaten by wild animals in the forest.”

He savored the thought. Drona rose and said, “Yudhishtira and his brothers are men of destiny. They were not born into this world to be killed before their time by wolves or tigers. Duryodhana, listen to me, I am your guru. For thirteen years, you have enjoyed what belongs to the sons of Pandu. At least now, relent. When your cousins return give them back their kingdom graciously; beg their forgiveness and even you might find Salvation. If you dare make peace with the Pandavas, you will certainly find great fame.”

Bheeshma said, “The Acharya speaks truly. The Pandavas are alive, wherever they may be. Would my blood not cry out in my body if they died? Duryodhana, my son, it is later than you imagine. Retribution is not far and I am full of fear for you.” He sighed. “Ah, I see in your eyes that you have no patience to hear what I have to say. I will be brief; why, I will say all I have to in one word: dharma!

Duryodhana, where dharma is, victory shall also be. No man in this ancient world, however powerful or wealthy, has ever escaped that truth. Relent, my child, give back what is not yours to keep. Seek Yudhishtra’s forgiveness. He is noble and loves you still.”

Duryodhana ignored what they said and asked instead, “But where have the Pandavas hidden themselves?”

He rose and began to pace the floor. Bheeshma laughed. “You have not found the Pandavas because you don’t know where to look for them.”

Duryodhana stopped pacing. He turned to his grandfather. “Do you know where to look, Pitama?”

“Where Yudhishtira is the land will be more fruitful than it has ever been before. The granary and the treasury will spill over in plenitude. The rain will come at its appointed time and the harvest will be bounteous. The grace of God shall be upon the people of that land and fear, anger and envy will melt from their hearts.

Yudhishtira’s presence in that kingdom shall be as a God’s. For him, the birds of the sky will sing more joyfully and the flowers of the field will bloom more brightly. The fruit on the trees will be sweeter than they have ever been. If he lives in a city, there will be music in the air, as if invisible gandharvas played by day and night. The milk the cows of that land yield will taste like amrita.

So, Duryodhana, now you know where to look for the Pandavas. Send your spies to discover a kingdom in which there is a sudden surfeit of prosperity and you will find Yudhishtira Dharmaputra and his brothers there.”

Duryodhana stared at his grandfather. He began to speak, but Bheeshma had not finished. “Hear me out, I have something more to say to you. So far, I spoke as a loyal Kuru and as a courtier to his king. Now listen to what a grandfather says to his favorite grandson. I must tell you what my heart feels, as well.

Since you were a child, I was partial to you, even when I knew you were wrong. I always felt you were sensitive and vulnerable. Of all the princes in your generation, none is as generous as you are to those whom you love. You are brave and truly a kshatriya. Today, a doting grandfather implores you, Duryodhana: repent!

The Pandavas have suffered too long and for no fault of theirs. You are not a young man any more. Time has flown and what you are today is not what you were thirteen years ago. For thirteen years, you have enjoyed this kingdom by yourself. You must have learned much during these years and fulfilled yourself in many ways you could not have before. Now it is time to take account of yourself. Give back what is theirs to your cousins and rule the world with Yudhishtira as your ally. If you are united, no force on earth can stand against you both.

Leave your childishness behind you, Duryodhana, be a mature king. Age softens the mind; it must have softened yours. Let the end of the thirteen years mark the end of your enmity with the sons of Pandu; spend your last years in the world at peace with them.” Bheeshma’s old eyes were bright with tears. “Ah, my child, don’t destroy yourself!”

Duryodhana’s mouth was a thin line, as he retorted, “I can never do what you ask, Pitama. The Pandavas are my enemies. I hate them and my hatred rules my very life. I will never give them back their kingdom. I will move heaven and earth and I will find them, wherever they are. Then they must go back into the forest for another twelve years. Let those twelve years also pass and perhaps I will be old and soft enough to return their kingdom.”

Now Kripa said, “No one can stop a man when he has decided to seek his own death. Duryodhana, you have chosen the path to doom. All of us see this clearly and the astrologers say that the eclipse of the Pandavas’ fortunes is almost over. Still, you choose war. So I say to you as a warrior, since you have chosen an indomitable enemy, at least be prepared! Begin to collect an army such as the world has never seen. Send messengers to all the kings who came to your Vaishnava yagna. Tell them about the war that will be and make sure they will stand with you.

Duryodhana, the Pandavas are invincible; it is folly to fight them. If fight them you must, to be well prepared is your only hope.”

Duryodhana sat pensively through what Kripacharya said, nodding now and again, to show he agreed. His thoughts were elsewhere. When Kripa finished the Kaurava clapped his hands to summon a guard.

“Call back my spies who just left the sabha.”

When the spies stood nervously before him again, he said, “Recount the death of Keechaka to us once more. Leave no detail out.”

When the spy who was in the Matsya kingdom repeated his story, Duryodhana’s eyes shone and he cried, “I should have known at once! It is so obvious.”

The others stared at him, puzzled. Only Bheeshma smiled. Dusasana asked, “What is obvious?”

Duryodhana said, “I know where the Pandavas are! Just four men on earth were as strong as Indra himself: Balarama, Bheema, Shalya and Keechaka was the fourth. Keechaka is dead. Only one of the other three could have killed him with bare hands. Which was it? It could not have been Balarama or Shalya, or we would have known. Now consider the woman who was the cause of Keechaka’s death: the queen’s sairandhri. Eleven months ago, she arrives mysteriously in the Matsya kingdom and tells Sudeshna about her gandharva husbands, cursed to be apart from her for a year.

She is dark, this sairandhri and beautiful; Keechaka could never resist a beautiful woman and fell in love with her. The way you describe her, she is no ordinary beauty. Who is she, the flower girl for whom Keechaka is willing to sacrifice his very life? Who is she, with the gandharva husbands?”

He paused and looked around the sabha. Karna and Dusasana breathed together, “Draupadi!”

Duryodhana said, “And it was Bheema who killed Keechaka. Don’t you recognize our cousin’s style? The head and the arms thrust into the torso, the body mutilated. Then, there is the midnight assignation in the dance hall, the secrecy that shrouds the killing.

Surely, the Pandavas also live disguised in the Matsya king’s palace; perhaps they serve Virata in some menial capacity. Bheema could not kill Keechaka openly, since he would risk being discovered. I would not be surprised if Yudhishtira and the others did not know about the plan. They may have thought it too dangerous, but not Draupadi or Bheema. Think how Keechaka’s brothers died in the forest: bludgeoned with a tree. If that is not my cousin Bheema’s work…”

He was up and pacing the sabha again, a predator who had scented his prey. He went on breathlessly, “The spies say the Matsya kingdom has never known a harvest like the one they have this year. The king’s coffers flow over and, if you think about it, Virata is just the kind of old fool whose hospitality our cousins would seek.”

Dusasana was on his feet. “We must attack the Matsya kingdom!”

Duryodhana said, “The Matsyas’ cattle is their wealth. If we lift their herd, with Keechaka dead, the noble Pandavas will come to their hosts’ defence. And back to the forest with them for another twelve years. Gather an army, we ride at once.”

Susharma, king of the Trigartas, jumped up. “I will ride with you, Duryodhana. The Matsyas humiliated me repeatedly when Keechaka lived; now that he is dead I want revenge. I will attack Virata from the south and take the Matsya herd. That will fetch Virata’s forces out. Without Keechaka there, I will crush them. The day after I attack, you ride at them from the north. The Pandavas will have no choice but to show themselves and, Duryodhana my friend, we will achieve both our ends.”

Karna cried, “We welcome Susharma’s plan! Two armies are always better than one.”

Duryodhana was already on his way out of the sabha, “Susharma, you ride ahead and attack Virata tomorrow. The day after, a Kuru army, with Bheeshma, Kripa, Drona and Aswatthama, Karna, Shakuni and Duryodhana will ride at Virata from the north. Tomorrow is the eighth day after amavasya and, the day after, navami, the ninth. Victory will be mine!”

With that, he was gone. The sabha emptied itself; only Drona, Bheeshma and Kripa remained in it. Drona said to Bheeshma, “Is this just? Shall we ride with Duryodhana to send the Pandavas back into exile?”

Bheeshma smiled and answered cryptically, “We ride tomorrow. But it will be less easy than Duryodhana imagines to send Yudhishtira into exile again.”

Meanwhile, Susharma already flew toward his capital to collect his army for the next day’s exploit.

THIRTEEN VIRATA’S BATTLE
 

Like a storm in spring, the Trigartas blew at Virata’s cattle-sheds, south of his city. The cowherds could hardly resist Susharma’s soldiers and, abandoning their herd, they fled to Virata. The Trigartas drove away a hundred thousand cows.

The cowherds ran into the king’s court and cried, “Enemies are upon us! Our herd is gone! Save us, Virata!”

The old king was on his feet, crying out orders to muster his army. In moments, his brothers were at his side, battle-hardened kshatriyas: Sataneeka, Madiraswa and Suryadatta. Virata’s eldest son was with them too, Veeresankha. Within the hour, the Matsya army gathered at the city-gates, footsoldiers, horsemen, chariots and elephants. The king took his place in the leading chariot, at the head of his own army after so long; for it was always Keechaka who led the Matsyas to war. A miracle beginning in his spirit, the years seemed to fall away from Virata. He felt he was a young man again, a virile kshatriya full of courage.

Kanka the gambler appeared at his elbow and said quietly, “My lord, I know how to fight, from horseback or a chariot. I can wield a bow and a sword. Let me ride with you.”

The king cried, “Sataneeka, give Kanka a chariot, armor and weapons!”

The gambler said, “Your cook Ballava and Damagranthi and Tantripala, too, are fine warriors. They will be glad of this chance to repay your kindness to them.”

Virata said, “Let them be given weapons and chariots. With these four around me I am sure to win the day!”

Kanka was pleased. As they rode out, Yudhishtira told his brothers, “Susharma is a great kshatriya and Virata may well need our help. But stay behind and remember who you are meant to be. Use no astras unless there is dire need and I tell you to.”

The Matsya force overtook the Trigarta army quickly, since the enemy was slow because of the cattle they had lifted. Moreover, Susharma was eager to avenge himself on Virata and went at his ease. Battle was joined and men fell in thousands. Susharma was surprised. With Keechaka dead, he had not expected such resistance from the Matsyas. The fray was fiercer than either Virata or Kanka had thought.

Then Kanka took charge of the Matsya legion. Expertly he formed Virata’s warriors into fighting formation: a Garuda vyuha, an eagle phalanx of which only the greatest Senapatis are masters. Kanka had studied the secrets of the vyuhas of battle with Bheeshma and Drona.

Kanka himself was at the head of the bird of war. Tantripala and Damagranthi were stormy at the wing tips and the tremendous Ballava, mace in hand, was its tail. Inspired by Kanka’s fluent command, the fighting eagle of fifty thousand men swooped on the Trigarta force, with death at its beak and talons, wings and tail. A thousand of the enemy Kanka accounted for, himself; twice that number, Ballava the cook killed, once his brother allowed him freedom in battle. Fiercest of all were the twins at the eagle’s wings. Damagranthi’s victims were thrice what Kanka’s were and Tantripala’s, four times as many. Soon, the field was a sludge of blood and corpses and Susharma was beaten back.

Evening fell and then darkness over the clash of swords, warriors’ roars and screams of the dying. A ghostly moon rose over the earth, but neither army fought any less fiercely. Battle raged on and the Matsya king was the most tireless kshatriya. He was everywhere in his wheeling chariot, shouting encouragement to his soldiers. Virata was rediscovering his old prowess, his courage, finding himself again. His roars rang louder than all the others’, he killed as many of the enemy as Kanka did.

With nightfall, the Trigartas grew stronger and the Garuda vyuha seemed dissipated. Susharma rode out from the rear of his army and confronted Virata. He came in a swirl of chariot-dust and darkness. It seemed sorcery drove his horses and the Matsya king aimed his arrows in vain at Susharma in the moonlight. Suddenly, the Trigarta fell on Virata from behind. Virata’s charioteer died in a scarlet flash; his horses reared in panic. Out of the night Susharma swooped on the Matsya king, set a blade to his throat and dragged him from his chariot.

Susharma and two of his brothers seized Virata, flung him into a Trigatra ratha and rode from the field, roaring in triumph. Seeing their king taken, the Matsya soldiers fled in every direction; the Trigartas pursued them, cutting them down easily.

Kanka the gambler cried out to Ballava, the kings’ cook. Ballava rode up beside him under the gibbous moon and Kanka said, “You must rescue the king. Be as quiet as you can. Go on, fly!”

Ballava, splattered in enemies’ blood, roared, “I ride to save our king!”

A few yards on he stopped his chariot and leapt down. Nearby stood a sala tree and he wanted to use it as his cudgel! Kanka caught up with him as he strode toward the sala.

“What are you doing, Bheema? Pull up that tree and Susharma will have no doubt who you are. Use a bow and arrows and a sword. Let Nakula and Sahadeva ride with you to watch your flanks.”

Ballava laughed aloud. The exhilaration of battle had restored him wonderfully: this was what he was born for! The three brothers rode after Susharma, a storm of arrows flying before them, mowing down the Trigarta soldiers in waves. The Matsyas saw this and turned back to battle, following the chariots of the cook, the cowherder and the stable-hand. The Trigarta legion could not stand before the Matsyas swarming to free their king.

Bheema killed Susharma’s sarathy with an arrow that plucked him from his seat and nailed him to a nearby tree. Virata sprang up and fought Susharma hand to hand.

Seeing his fortunes rudely reversed, Susharma leapt down and tried to run. Ballava was on him in a flash. He seized the Trigarta by his long hair. Roaring, Bheema lifted Susharma into the air and flung him down on the ground.

“Dare you invade us? Dare you take our king captive? Die for your daring!”

Susharma fainted in terror of the dreadful cook. Ballava tied him up and hauled him before Kanka and a glowing Virata. The herd had been retrieved and the Trigarta army put to flight. Once more Ballava threw Susharma down, now at Virata’s feet and began to kick the hapless Trigarta savagely.

Kanka cried, “Stop, Ballava! Why do you want to kill him? Victory is ours and the cattle have gone back to their sheds.”

The glowering cook replied, “If the wretch wants to live, let him declare he is Virata’s slave. Or I must kill him.” He gave Susharma another kick.

Kanka smiled. “He is already Virata’s slave, whether he says so or not. He is a vanquished king and that is shame enough. Let him go, Ballava.”

Reluctantly, Bheema cut Susharma free. The Trigarta stood red-faced before them. Virata laughed at him and Kanka said, “Go, Susharma, you are free. But never return to Matsya lands.”

Burning with shame Susharma stumbled from there. Tears in his eyes, Virata embraced Kanka, Ballava, Tantripala and Damagranthi.

“My friends, you saved my life. Everthing I own is yours. Kanka, I should crown you king beside me!”

The gambler said, “It was the least we could do to repay your generosity. Think no more of it, my lord.”

Virata embraced him once more and said, “Best of all, I feel like a young man again! For too long I sat on my throne or in my harem and did not taste battle, because Keechaka was always there to fight for me. Today I feel I have my life back; I have not felt so alive in years! Let us pitch our tents here and spend what remains of the night under the moon and the stars. Ballava, tonight we shall dine together. I owe you my life, my friend and there is nothing I can ever do to repay that debt.”

The king sent word of their victory back to his palace. He ordered musicians and dancing-girls brought out and food and wine for all his soldiers. The next day, with the sun, he would re-enter his city in triumph.

Soon the drinking, singing and dancing were underway and the feasting, as well, for they all had a great appetite after the day’s battle. Cooks’ fires blazed up all over the camp and the mighty Ballava, when he was not seated at Virata’s side, flitted from fire to fire, to ensure the king’s meat was done to a turn.