THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 (87 page)

Bheema and the twins have seen to it that Hastinapura is splendid with its new mansions and sab-has. The guests are wonderstruck by the yagnashala that stands at the heart of the city, reminiscent of another sabha in another city: a sabha that sparked such envy that a war to end all wars was fought in the world.

Bheema, of course, is in charge of the kitchen that serves the visiting kings; and it can be safely said the fare in Hastinapura is even more extraordinary than it was fifteen years ago in Indraprastha. For, in between, Bheema had served a year in Virata’s kitchens and he had learnt a good deal of the culinary art during that year. With typical humility, Yudhishtira receives his guests and shows them to the mansions where they will stay.

All the kings have arrived and at last, one day, the white horse canters into Hastinapura, with Arjuna just behind it. Dhritarashtra and Yudhishtira go out to the gates to welcome home the conquering kshatriya and the city begins its celebrations. The next morning, with Vyasa and his hundred rishis presiding over the ritual, the horse is sacrificed to the Gods. The animal is cut into pieces and then Draupadi, the queen, is made to sit next to these. The brahmanas then cook the marrow of the dead steed and the Pandavas all sniff the fumes from the boiling marrow—which would remove every stain of sin from them. The other portions of the horse are fed to the sacred fire and for the second time, Yudhishtira is crowned emperor of Bharatavarsha.

Those who were there say that the Pandavas, Krishna and all the Yadavas are present at Yudhishtira’s Aswamedha yagna. But the other kings who attend are either sons or nephews of the lords of the earth that came to the Rajasuya in Indraprastha: their sires and elders have all perished in the war.

The yagna is concluded and Yudhishtira the sacrificer turns to his grandfather Vyasa and says, “Take all this earth we have conquered, Muni, as our gift to the brahmanas who came to our sacrifice.”

The performance of the Aswamedha yagna requires the sacrificer to give all his lands as alms. The custom was seldom observed literally, only a token offering was made. Vyasa replies, “I return this gift to you, my child. We brahmanas have no use for lands, but we have use for gold.”

Yudhishtira is insistent. “Not my brothers or I can keep what rightfully belongs to the brahmanas.”

Vyasa says, “We are moved by your generosity. But give the brahmanas gold and keep the lands for yourselves.”

Yudhishtira is about to protest again, when Krishna says, “Do as the muni says, Yudhishtira. He knows best.”

Yudhishtira gives the brahmanas millions of gold coins, as well as the golden vessels from king Marutta’s hoard that was used at the yagna. One by one, the visiting kings depart: dazzled by the sacrifice, overwhelmed by the wealth and the generosity of Yudhishtira Chakravarti.

Just as the Aswamedha yagna is being wound up, the queerest thing happens. In the midst of the brahmanas, the Pandavas and Vrishnis, a blue-eyed mongoose makes his appearance. He is an extraordinary creature, for half his pelt is shimmering gold! The mongoose speaks to the Kuru king and the others in perfect human speech, “Yudhishtira, your yagna isn’t half as great as the sacrifice of the Kurukshetra brahmana.”

The brahmanas and kshatriyas crowd around the exceptional creature. One priest asks, “Everything at this Aswamedha has been conducted according to the Shastras. What fault do you find with it?”

The mongoose laughs. “It isn’t a lie I tell and I don’t speak from vanity. But neither your yagna nor your king’s generosity is equal to those of the poor brahmana of Kurukshetra, whose only offering was four bowls of gruel.”

The munis are incredulous. They say, “We have followed the Shastras in every particular. How can you compare the poor brahmana’s sacrifice with this one?”

The mongoose replies, “I was there at that yagna of yagnas and just seeing it made half my body turn golden. Listen, if you want to hear about that sacrifice.

Long ago, in Kurukshetra, a brahmana lived on the grain that his neighbors, the farmers, threw away. This hardly amounted to anything and he, his wife, his son and daughter-in-law ate but once in three days. Sometimes, they ate only once in five days, barely keeping body and soul together. A terrible drought fell upon that land. It did not rain and the earth grew parched and all the fields dried up and lay desolate. The poor brahmana’s family starved.

One day, they could not bear the pangs of hunger that tore at them and went to forage for some food. After wandering for hours, in blazing heat and blinding dust and they often collapsed from weakness, they managed to collect a few handfuls of coarse barley and came home with it.

They cooked gruel from the arid grains. They divided the gruel in four bowls and sat down to eat, when a guest arrived at the door, a stranger. The brahmana rose and offered him a place at his table. The silent stranger came in and sat down. Shyly, the brahmana set his bowl of gruel before the man. The stranger quickly ate the gruel. He looked up when he had finished and he was not satisfied.

The brahmana was embarrassed, hardly knowing what to do. His wife called from the kitchen. She pressed her bowl into her husband’s hands and said, ‘Give the visitor my gruel as well. If you can go hungry, so can I.’

Almost in tears, he gave her portion to the stranger. In no time, the guest licked the second bowl clean, then looked around, obviously not sated still. The brahmana’s son called his father and pressed his uneaten gruel into his hands. ‘I, too, can starve, father. Let our guest eat.’

The brahmana began to protest, but his son was adamant and the stranger had the third bowl of gruel. He still looked around him hopefully. The daughter-in-law called the old brahmana and handed him her bowl. The brahmana said, ‘No, my child! I cannot take this from you.’

She would not listen and the fourth bowl of gruel was also set before the stranger and he emptied it quickly, as if it was the finest delicacy he had ever tasted. Suddenly, the stranger’s body shone with heaven’s light. He said, ‘Brahmanas, your generosity isn’t of this world.’

A shower of petal-rain fell in that humble home, its fragrance was divine. The poor brahmana and his family stood astonished. Their guest went on, ‘Your generosity has earned you a place in Devaloka.’ He pointed through the door, ‘Look, Lord Indra has sent a vimana for you. Your sacrifice is greater than any Aswamedha or Rajasuya. Come, let us go.’

The poor brahmana family followed the stranger into the marvelous vimana and he took them into heaven. I had been hiding in my corner, watching all this and when the brahmanas flew away with the messenger, I came out. I was also hungry and I saw that a few drops of the barley gruel had fallen onto the floor. Oh, it smelled so wonderful, better than any other food! I crept up and licked up those fallen drops, at once half my pelt turned golden.

Since that day, my friends, I make it a point to visit every yagna in the land of Bharata to see if I can turn the other half of myself golden. So far, though I have been at countless sacrifices, a Rajasuya and an Aswamedha among them, I have not found a yagna to match that of the brahmana of Kuruk-shetra. Look, the proof is upon my pelt: only half of me is gold. Yudhishtira, non-violence, self-restraint, contentment, uprightness and gentleness, sincerity, austerity, truhtfulness and charity are superior to the greatest ritual sacrifices. All the fine offerings of your yagna are not equal to a few drops of the poor brahmana’s gruel!”

With that, the mongoose vanishes
⁴
. Krishna stands smiling to himself and all the others have something to ponder. Soon, it is time for their royal guests to depart and last of all, Krishna, Balarama, Satyaki and their Yadavas leave Hastinapura to return to Dwaraka on the ocean. Though the Aswamedha yagna might not have been as great as the poor brahmanas’ sacrifice, it does wash their sins of the war from the Pandavas. Peace returns to Yudhishtira’s spirit. The nightmares that ravaged him since Kurukshetra no longer stalk his sleep. With Parikshita as their hope for the future, the sons of Pandu begin a long and blessed reign from Hastinapura.

BOOK FIFTEEN
ASRAMAVASIKA PARVA 

AUM, I bow down to Narayana, the most exalted Nara and to the Devi Saraswathi and say
Jaya
!

ONE
THE PASSING OF THE ELDERS 

When the Aswamedha is completed, Yudhishtira goes back in earnest to his task of ruling the Kuru kingdom. The eldest Pandava is a king of dharma, blessed by the Gods in heaven and by Krishna on earth and his reign is all that was expected of such a noble prince. The kingdom blooms at his touch. The people are contented: their lives flow pure and fruitful. Prosperity sweeps Bharatavarsha, as if a Deva sat upon the throne of Hastinapura.

Yudhishtira is king of the Kurus; but whenever he has to take an important decision, Pandu’s son is careful to consult Dhritarashtra. Uncle and nephew grow close and the bitterness between them melts. Yudhishtira still treats Dhritarashtra like a father and Gandhari with as much love he shows Kunti. Indeed, if anyone ever disparages the old king or queen, he runs the risk of incurring Yudhish-tira’s wrath.

Yudhishtira brings costly robes, the finest maireya wines, rare and delectable fish, sherbets, honey and a hundred other delicacies to Dhritarashtra. When kings of other lands visit Hastinapura, they all come to meet the blind one even as they used to when he was king. Kunti herself shows Gandhari the utmost respect, while Panchali, Subhadra and Ulupi and Chitrangada, when they came to Hastinapura, all wait upon her like serving maids. Gandhari’s bitterness melts and she begins to love the Pandavas as her own sons.

Acharya Kripa lives in Hastinapura again and perhaps the noblest thing Yudhishtira does is to reinstate him in the Kuru sabha. He even appoints Kripa as young Parikshita’s guru. Fifteen peaceful years pass and as is the way with men, the war is almost forgotten. Kripa, Sanjaya and Vidura have the responsibility of seeing Dhritarashtra never wants for anything. They are his constant companions. Vyasa often visits his son and recounts ancient legends from the Puranas to him—tales of rishis and devarishis of the olden days, as well as those of the pitrs and the rakshasas. Yudhishtira is as loving as a son and Yuyutsu also takes to spending time with his aging father. But Dhritarashtra’s heart is not in Hastinapura. It is far away, with a son of his whom he can never forget, his favorite, who is no longer in the world. Dhritarashtra pines for Duryodhana.

The old king is so well cared for in Hastina that he has no cause for complaint. He has no immediate reason to tell Yudhishtira that he longs to go away to the forest, to embark on the final journey of his life: that he longs to die and be with his Duryodhana again. But one day, fifteen years after the war, fate takes a hand in Dhritarashtra’s life.

There is someone in Hastinapura who has never forgiven the blind king for everything that happened. Bheema cannot forgive his uncle. In deference to Yudhishtira, he is never openly hostile toward Dhritarashtra or Gandhari; but within him, he is full of rancor. For fifteen years, somehow, Bheema controls himself and gives neither Dhritarashtra nor Gandhari any offence. But he seethes every time he sees them, certain that they have not been punished as they deserve.

One evening, Bheema sees Dhritarashtra and Gandhari sitting on an open terrace, taking the air outside their royal apartment. He himself is out for a walk with some friends. Suddenly, a compulsion to hurt the old people seizes him. Pretending he has not noticed them, he boasts loudly, “No man on earth is as strong as Bheemasena. With these arms I crushed all the hundred sons of that blind fool!”

Bheema gives a gory account of how he killed some of his cousins on Kurukshetra. When he finishes, he wanders off with his companions. Dhritarashtra and Gandhari sit very still. Finally, with a sigh, Dhritarashtra says, “I feel weak, I must lie down.”

He goes in and Gandhari follows him. Four days pass and the king neither eats, nor stirs from his bed. On the fifth day, Dhritarashtra calls Yudhishtira, Vidura and some others to his chambers.

He says, “We all know the Kuru House was divided because of me, because I would not listen to wise counsel. I have been happy here in Hastinapura and well looked after, these fifteen years. But I have thought about my sins and their horrible consequence. Yudhishtira, my son, I have decided the only way for me to find expiation is to go into the jungle and do penance. I must atone for my crimes, before I can leave this world in peace. Gandhari and I have made up our minds to spend the rest of our days in the vana, in tapasya.

Yudhishtira, you are the king in Hastinapura now and I beg you to let me go.”

Yudhishtira cries, “What a fool I am that I did not see how unhappy you have been! You look so weak, my lord, what has happened to you? I swear I will mend all that, if I have to serve you myself. For heaven’s sake, do not speak of going away. Don’t even think of it.”

Dhritarashtra says, “My child, since the eldest times, our ancestors renounced the world in their final days and sought peace in the jungle.”

“I will not let you go! If you do, I will come with you into the forest myself.”

The argument continues for some time, then, Dhritarashtra becomes very agitated. He gets up and cries, “Sanjaya! Kripa! Vidura! Explain to Yudhishtira that I am exhausted and I cannot argue any more. Tell him I must go into the jungle to find my peace!”