THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 1 (84 page)

NINETEEN ARJUNA
 

Like bright thoughts, two arrows flew down at Drona’s feet, two more at Bheeshma’s and another two at Kripa’s. Arjuna was still too far for them to see him clearly, but a grandson and a pupil greeted his elders! An inspired Uttara Kumara flicked his reins over his horses. As Arjuna’s chariot flew nearer, another arrow hummed past Drona’s ear and one more. Both spumed up into the sky. Then two shafts whistled past Bheeshma’s face, almost brushing his cheek and two past Kripa’s: Arjuna was announcing his intention to fight. The Kuru elders picked up their bows.

As the lone chariot skimmed along, Uttara Kumara was a superb sarathy and he hardly knew how himself. Arjuna cried, “I see Drona and Kripa. I see Karna at the head of the Kuru legion. I see my Pitama behind the crescent moon, but nowhere do I see Duryodhana.”

His charioteer cried back into the wind that swept their faces like a river, “I see another force riding away to the west. Look, Arjuna, a banner in the wind!”

It was a golden banner, with a menacing black serpent upon it. Arjuna said with a smile, “They have decided Duryodhana must not meet me today. But I mean to fight him. Veer to the west; we must pass the crescent and follow my cousin. He has your father’s herd with him and we are here to free the cattle.”

Uttara Kumara swung his horses to the right. But by now they were too near the Kaurava phalanx to avoid it entirely. As the chariot stormed at them, some Kaurava warriors rushed forward to challenge Arjuna. The Pandava cried to his sarathy, “Go after the serpent banner, Uttara Kumara, go like the wind!”

The Matsya prince turned the chariot sharply, but some of Duryodhana’s brothers were too close to evade. A tide of arrows rose from the Gandiva, driving them back, while Uttara Kumara’s chariot flitted past one tip of the crescent moon.

Bheeshma cried, “He is after Duryodhana! Catch him quickly, or he will kill our prince.”

Bheeshma turned his own chariot and went after Arjuna as hard as he could. Meanwhile Arjuna neared the Matsya herd. He said to Uttara Kumara, “Slow the chariot, let us free the cattle first.”

Another fire-tide from the Gandiva and, in moments, a thousand men guarding the Matysa herd died. The rest fled. Exultant Arjuna roared to his charioteer, “Indra’s Matali cannot match you today! After the serpent-banner again, Kumara.”

As if he had been a sarathy all his life, Uttara Kumara went furiously after the fleeing Duryodhana. When the Kuru horsemen herding them fled, Virata’s cattle turned and stampeded back home to their cowherds. Prince Uttara weaved through the milling herd and stayed on Duryodhana’s trail. Bheeshma, Karna and the other Kurus barred his way.

As a mind does its thoughts, the Gandiva streamed arrows.

Karna peeled away from the main Kaurava force and plunged at Arjuna. As he went, Aswatthama cried at him, “If you lose, you can always ask Shakuni what to do next!”

Arjuna said to Uttara Kumara, “Ride into them, I will fight them all together. Look! Duryodhana has turned around. He is no coward that he would run from a battle.”

Karna roared at Aswatthama, “Taunter, today you will see my arrows speak for me!”

Quickly Arjuna was in the thick of the Kurus, just as they wanted. He fought those awesome kshatriyas as disdainfully a lion does a jackal-pack. All together, they rained arrows on him; but Arjuna’s archery was hardly a thing of the earth, so, too, the Matsya prince’s skill with his horses! Arjuna’s chariot was so quick it was impossible to aim at it, yet the Pandava’s arrows were everywhere, finding chinks in Kuru mail.

Inevitably, Karna and Arjuna faced each other. Laughing easily, the shafts radiating from his bow like rays from the sun, Arjuna cried, “Here we are at last, face to face! I hear you brag there is no archer like you on earth. Words are cheap, prove yourself with arrows. I won’t spare you today Karna, for everything you have said and done.”

Karna’s reply was to strike Arjuna’s horses and sarathy with shafts like fire. The Matsya prince was imperturbable. Calmly, he plucked out Karna’s barbs with one hand, while the other guided his horses as brilliantly as before.

When Arjuna saw Uttara Kumara bleeding, with a roar he lifted his own archery. Karna had his bow cracked in his hands. Wave upon wave of arrows flew at him from every side, from the sky and it seemed, up from the very earth. He could not face Arjuna. His horses killed and he himself bleeding, Karna leapt out of his shattered chariot and ran. Arjuna’s arrows chased him from the field, in mockery, one for every step he went. Of course, Arjuna would never kill an enemy in flight, but this revenge was sweet enough.

Drona rode up to challenge the Pandava. The master could not match his pupil today. Arjuna was no longer just the bowman his acharya had made him; he was much more. Yet, he never broke his guru’s skin, but beat Drona back with a luminous tirade and then plucked the bow out of his hand with a shaft as subtle as prana, as breath.

Aswatthama came to help his beleaguered father. Arjuna shone in Uttara Kumara’s chariot: his body as bright as a God’s, his arrow-storm coruscating. Bheeshma and Kripa came to engage him and Arjuna beat them back effortlessly and cried to his young sarathy, “Ride at the serpent-banner, my prince! Duryodhana is the one I want.”

Horses and elephants perished around Arjuna, footsoldiers and horsemen in incredible thousands, in moments. Duryodhana, mortified, saw his dreams of victory scattered like straws in a gale, all his heroes’ valor consumed by the majestic Pandava. His cousin’s blinding archery cut down his serpent-banner and shrouded him in swift fear. He, too, turned his chariot and fled.

Exhilarant Arjuna cried after him, “Duryodhana, come back and fight like a kshatriya! Do you love your life so much that you abandon your honor for it?”

It seemed Arjuna’s taunt was sharper than his arrows and Duryodhana turned his chariot around. Karna also rode back at his friend’s right hand. Drona, Bheeshma, Kripa and Aswatthama surrounded Arjuna again, but the son of Pandu, Indra’s son, was implacable. He was a fire and they could not contain him.

So far, no astra had been invoked. Now the Kauravas pressed Arjuna all together and he would have to kill some of them if they fought on. He also feared for his sarathy, the Matsya prince’s, life.

Arjuna invoked an astra, no apocalyptic weapon, but one that would quell the enemy. Drona and Kripa, Aswatthama, Duryodhana, Bheeshma and Karna saw the Pandava turn his bow over their heads. A silver shaft floated languidly at them. They turned their eyes up at it, for it shone so hypnotically on its strange, slow flight. From that arrow what seemed to be a shower of fireflies fell on the Kaurava army, like snow.

Bheeshma laughed, “The sammohanastra!”

Next moment, the Kuru heroes, their footsoldiers and horsemen were all covered in the rain of stardust and enchanted by that weapon of sleep, they fell on the ground or in their chariots. The army of Hastinapura lay like a sea quieted, not a man moving.

A delighted Arjuna said to Uttara Kumara, “my prince, you were perfect! We beat them as much by your chariotry as with my arrows. Do you remember what your sister asked for? Go and fetch the mantles of the Kurus for her dolls. And when they wake up, let Duryodhana and the others know they were beaten.”

Uttara Kumara leapt down from the chariot-head. He took Acharya Kripa’s glistening cape of white silk, Karna’s fulvid yellow one. Arjuna cried to him, “Don’t leave Duryodhana’s blue cloak, or Aswatthama’s crimson one.”

But when the prince approached the supine Bheeshma, Arjuna said, “Don’t go near the Pitama. The sammohana will not hold him for long; he knows its mantra. Come away, we have enough souvenirs.”

Even as Uttara Kumara, his arms full of silks and jewels, climbed back into the chariot, Bheeshma awoke with a roar and gave them battle. After a short, fierce fight, Arjuna’s arrow plucked his bow from the ancient warrior’s hands. Arjuna folded his palms reverently to his Pitama and told prince Uttara, “Ride home now, our mission is accomplished.”

In a while, the other Kauravas awoke from the astra’s slumber. Karna roared, “After him! Arjuna won’t escape me today.”

Bheeshma laughed at him. “Haven’t you had enough shame for one day? Arjuna has stripped you of your mantles and jewels. He has taken your honor. He could have had your lives; but he is too noble to kill sleeping men, even if they are his enemies. Let us admit defeat and ride back to Hastina.”

As he spoke, a conch sounded at the shoulder of an undulation in the earth. They looked up and saw Arjuna’s chariot framed against the sky. Shimmering, dreamlike arrows appeared again, seemingly out of nowhere. They flashed down at the feet of Drona, Bheeshma and Kripa, in salutation and farewell. Another shaft streaked at Duryodhana and knocked the crown from his head! Then, they saw the Pandava’s chariot no more.

Duryodhana howled, “Back! Back to Hastinapura! And never speak of this black day.”

The Kuru army turned home, leaving its dead on the field of its humiliation. Some way off, on the road back to Virata, Arjuna asked Uttara Kumara to stop the chariot. The Pandava said, “Your cattle have gone home. Now send word back to the city that you vanquished the Kuru army by yourself. As for me, I must be Brihannala again.”

“I can’t do that! You beat the Kurus. How can I even dream of telling such a lie?”

“Do it for my sake. Your father must not yet learn that the Pandavas are in his city. When the time comes, in a day or two, he will know everything. Until then you must keep up the pretence.”

Reluctantly, Uttara Kumara agreed. They drove back to the cremation-ground in the forest. Arjuna returned the Gandiva to the winding-sheet; he took down Hanuman’s banner and folded it away; the great vanara and the other spirits flew out from it and vanished into the air. Arjuna peeled off his archer’s gloves and put them back with his silver quivers. He tied the bundle up, so it resembled a corpse once more and hoisted it back into the sami tree.

The Pandava untied his hair and put on Brihannala’s silks again. He walked round the great tree in pradakshina, climbed into the sarathy’s place, took the reins and with Uttara Kumara back in the archer’s seat, they drove toward the city of Virata.1

1. The battle between Arjuna and the Kurus is described in great detail and some 30 pages, in the original text.

TWENTY A GAMBLER’S BLOOD
 

Later that day, Virata entered his city. Surrounded by four Pandavas, he rode up to his palace. Queen Sudeshna and the princess Uttaraa received him on the palace steps with arghya and marked his brow with the crimson tilaka of victory. The king did not see his favorite son. “Where is Uttara Kumara? Why isn’t he here to receive me?”

Sudeshna had tears in her eyes. Virata cried, “Tell me! Where is my son?”

Princess Uttaraa said, “The Kurus attacked us from the north when you were away. They also drove away our herd. There was no other man left in the city, so Uttara Kumara rode after them. Brihannala has gone with him as his sarathy.”

Her father was aghast. “My little son has ridden alone against Bheeshma and Drona, Kripa, Karna and Duryodhana? With a eunuch for his sarathy! We must go after him at once.”

Kanka said, “If Brihannala has gone with the prince we have nothing to fear.”

The king frowned. But he trusted his gambler implicitly, especially after the victory against the Trigartas. Virata sat waiting in his apartment with his queen and his daughter; the hours dragged by. Then they heard cowherds’ voices outside asking to see the king.

Virata cried, “Let them in! They may have news of my boy.”

The cowherds, their faces flushed, were shown in. Their chieftain said, “My lord, we come from near the field of battle. We followed the herd and we saw prince Bhoominjaya’s chariot. Brihannala was driving the chariot and she stopped when she saw us.”

“The news, man, tell us what news!”

The cowherds began to speak all together, repeating themselves.

“The herd has been rescued!” cried one.

“The prince defeated the Kaurava army by himself.”

“Uttara Kumara crushed the Kurus.”

“Brihannala said to us, ‘Run back to the king and tell him the prince has triumphed. Let the city prepare to receive him.’”

Virata was on his feet. He roared, “Let our city be set out in flowers and arches to receive my son! There is no kshatriya on earth like Bhoominjaya. Did you hear, Sudeshna? Our prince has beaten the Kuru army by himself!”

Kanka the gambler smiled to himself and murmured, “I am not surprised when Brihannala was his sarathy.”

The king frowned again, but he was so delighted at the news he made no reply to Kanka. Virata said, “Let our musicians and dancers take to the streets to welcome the hero!” He turned to the cowherds, “How long before they arrive?”

“An hour, my lord.”

“I can hardly wait!” Virata saw the sairandhri in the passage, “Malini, fetch the dice-board. I am in the mood for a game, Kanka. Come friend, let us play, I am sure I will beat you today.”

“My lord, our minds are excited and one should never gamble when one is not calm.”

“Absurd! We are not playing for money, only to pass the time until my son returns.”

“It is a dangerous game at the best of times. It cost Yudhishtira everything he had. It robbed him of his reason and he lost his kingdom, his brothers, his wife and even himself. Wine is as nothing compared to dice, to make a man mad. We will play later, my lord, or tomorrow when we are both calmer.”

But the king must have his way and the board was set up and the game began.

As they played, Virata said, “Kanka, you have no idea how proud I feel. Not all of us together could have done what my boy did today. I always knew he would be a great kshatriya some day, but he has exceeded my fondest dreams.”

Kanka said quietly, “My lord, Brihannala won the day.”

Virata’s face turned crimson. He cried, “This is the third time I have heard you praise Brihannala for Bhoominjaya’s victory. You forget yourself, gambler. My son is a kshatriya prince and your Brihannala a eunuch. How dare you compare them?”

Through clenched teeth Virata said, “I forgive you this time, Kanka, but don’t insult my boy again!”

The gambler smiled and said serenely, “My lord, truth is not always pleasant, yet truth must be told. Let me tell you what must have really happened. Your son was Brihannala’s sarathy, while the eunuch fought. How could Uttara Kumara face the Kuru army that the Devas themselves would fear?”

The king exploded in anger. “Brahmana wretch! Dare you?” He flung the dice in his hand at Kanka. The heavy thing struck the gambler’s forehead. He cried out and clasped his brow. The sharp corner of the ivory had drawn blood and Kanka cupped his palms under the wound, collecting every drop of his blood, not letting a single one spill on to the ground.

With a cry, Malini ran forward with a bowl of water. She mopped Kanka’s brow with the sari she wore, stanching the blood. Gently she bathed the wound and Kanka washed his hands in the bowl she held for him. Together they managed to stop the bleeding and no drop of the gambler’s blood fell on the ground.

Virata watched this contemptuously. But when the sairandhri used the hem of the silk she wore to wipe the gambler’s face, the Matsya king cried, “What are you doing, Malini? The fool deserves what he got!”

The flower girl replied angrily, “For every drop of this man’s blood that falls on the ground, your kingdom will go without rain for a year! And there is he who has sworn to kill anyone who spills Kanka’s blood. If he sees the gambler bleeding, you shall not live, Virata. I have just saved your kingdom and your life.”

The king hardly believed her; he was still furious with Kanka. Just then, a messenger ran in. “My lord, prince Uttara Kumara has returned. I left him at the palace steps. He is on his way here and Brihannala is with him.”

Kanka sprang up and before the king could say a word, he drew the messenger aside. “Quick, fellow! Brihannala must not come here. Make sure only the prince comes in first; tell the eunuch that Kanka said so. Run now!”

Not ten paces down the passage outside, the messenger met the prince and Brihannala. He plucked Brihannala by his sleeve, “An urgent message for you from Kanka.”

The eunuch stopped at once. “You go on to your father, my prince. Remember to keep our secret!”

When Uttara Kumara had gone, the messenger said, “Kanka says you must not go into the king’s chambers yet. He will send for you.”

Brihannala nodded and waited outside. Uttara Kumara walked into his father’s apartment and Virata embraced him with a cry. “O Kshatriya!”

But the prince had eyes only for Kanka the gambler and the dark sairandhri who wiped the blood from his face. Uttara Kumara whispered, “Who did this to you, noble one?”

Kanka only smiled. Virata said, “The brahmana dared compare you to the eunuch and I threw the dice in his face.”

Uttara Kumara gasped. “Father! Beg his pardon at once, lest the Gods curse you for injuring a brahmana.”

Virata looked puzzled. But he was so happy to see his son that his rage had left him. He went up to Kanka, took his hand and said gently, “Forgive me, my friend. I owe you a great deal and would not have you angry with me.”

Calmly, the gambler said, “It was nothing, my lord. I was only anxious lest my blood fell on the ground.”

Virata still looked perplexed. Then, the joy of his son’s deed was upon him again and he began to press the prince for every detail of the battle. Kanka signaled to the guard at the door to call Brihannala in.

The eunuch came in, glowing. He bowed to the king. Kanka stood with the side of his face where the dice drew blood turned away from Brihannala. Virata said, “Brihannala, I thank you for being my son’s sarathy. I always knew he would be a great kshatriya; today he has surpassed all my expectations.”

Brihannala smiled. Uttara Kumara blushed and said quickly, “But, father, it wasn’t I who defeated the Kurus!”

The eunuch looked warningly at the prince. Uttara Kumara said, “It was a Devaputra.”

The king whispered, “A Devaputra?”

“A Deva’s son. He was at the enemy like a host of light.”

“Who was he? I want to offer him my kingdom. And my daughter Uttaraa!”

The prince said, “He vanished after the battle, but he has promised to see us very soon.”

As the prince spoke Brihannala turned his gaze to Kanka, but the gambler kept his face turned away. Virata said again to Brihannala and now more humbly, “I thank you for bringing my son back to me safely.”

Brihannala bowed to the king and to Kanka and left the royal apartment. He went to the princess Uttaraa with the silks and jewels from the battlefield. She hugged him and cried, “Now my dolls will wear Kuru warriors’ silks! And one day my sons will wear their jewels.”

Brihannala patted her cheek and left her. But he was troubled: he could not fathom why Yudhishtira kept his face turned from him in Virata’s apartment. Was he displeased that he had shown himself to the Kauravas?

Brihannala took his anxiety to Ballava. Bheema gave a shout to see his brother and embraced him. “So you routed them! How sweet revenge must have felt. And I am glad you didn’t kill any of them, but left that for when I could be there as well.”

Arjuna said, “Bheema, why did Yudhishtira turn his face from me in the king’s chambers? Is he angry at what I did?”

“I have no idea. He should be as delighted as I am. Let us go and ask him.”

When Yudhishtira saw Arjuna in his rooms, the eldest Pandava jumped up with a cry and clasped his brother. “How proud I am of you! Oh Arjuna, our evil days are over.”

But Arjuna had seen brother’s wound. “What is this?” he cried. Bheema was glowering at it, as well.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” said Yudhishtira. “I said you must have fought the Kauravas and the king thought I was insulting his son. He threw the dice at me.”

“So that was why you kept your face turned from me.”

Bheema’s eyes were already ablaze. He hissed, “If you hadn’t stopped us this Virata would have been dead long ago.”

Arjuna said, “Enough of your patience, Yudhishtira. I am going to kill Virata.”

He spoke so quietly it was plain he meant every word. Bheema cried, “Let us be lords of Matsya first. Then we can conquer the world from here.”

They rose to go, but Yudhishtira said, “Bheema, Virata does not know who I am. Besides, he has been very kind to us this past year. We have been his guests and eaten his food. We must not be ungrateful.”

Bheema and Arjuna began to protest, but their brother stopped them. “Hear me out. All I say is that he deserves another chance. Tomorrow we will show Virata who we are: I will go and sit on his throne. If he is still defiant, you can kill him. But if he honors us, we must forgive him.”

Arjuna and Bheema exchanged a glance and nodded.