The Mahabharata (7 page)

Without coming out, Kunthi answered from the kitchen, “Very well, share it among yourselves.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Bhima. “Oh! Oh!” cried everyone, and the loudest exclamation was from Arjuna, who had won the bride.

The mother came out to see why there was such an uproar and cried, “Oh! Who is this? You have won, Arjuna?” She was full of joy, and clasped the girl's hand. “Oh! Arjuna, you have won this bride, this Princess, this lovely creature! So you entered the contest after all. I never believed that you seriously meant to go there. What a risk you took of being discovered by your enemies! How happy I am to welcome this daughter-in-law! Tell me… what was the… Come in, come in.” Her joy was boundless. Her son had won the greatest contest and had come through it safely and gloriously. “Come in, come in….”

They trooped in behind her. She spread out a mat and told the girl to be seated, but, like a well-mannered daughter-in-law, Draupadi would not be seated when the men and mother-in-law were standing. Moreover, her mind was all in a whirl.

There was an awkward pause as the five brothers stood around uncertainly and Draupadi stood apart with downcast eyes, trying not to stare at the five men who were to
share her, if the mother's injunction was to be obeyed. What a predicament for the girl, who thought that she was marrying one man and found four others thrown in unexpectedly!

Now Draupadi studied the five brothers as unobtrusively as possible, wondering what freak of fate had brought her to this pass. Kunthi tried to make light of her own advice and said with a simper, “Of course I did not know what you meant when you said you had brought bhiksha. I thought it was the usual gift of alms….” Her voice trailed away.

Bhima the strong, incapable of the subtleties of speech, struggled to explain himself. “I… meant to be jocular, I meant… ”

It was Arjuna who broke the awkward moment. “Mother, your word has always been a command to us, and its authority is inescapable. How can it be otherwise? We will share Draupadi as you have commanded.”

“No, no, no… ” cried the mother.

Yudhistira said, “Arjuna! What preposterous suggestion are you making in jest? A woman married to one man is a wife, to two, three, four, or five, a public woman. She is sinful. Whoever heard of such a thing!”

The mother said, “Don't make too much of an inadvertent bit of advice. You make me feel very unhappy and guilty, my son. Don't even suggest such an outrage.”

Arjuna pleaded, “Please don't make me a sinner; it is not fair to condemn me to suffer the sin of disobedience to a mother's word. You, my eldest brother, you are a man with a judicious mind and a knowledge of right and wrong. We four brothers and this girl will be bound by your words. You must advise us as to what is good and fair. Advise us, and we shall be bound by your words, but bear in mind that we cannot go back on the command of a mother….”

When he said this, all the brothers studied the face of the girl, and their hearts beat faster, for already Manmatha, the God of Love, was at work, stirring their blood and affecting their vision.

Yudhistira brooded for only a moment, recollected the
words of a seer who had already prophesied this situation. Deciding to avoid heart-burning amongst the brothers, he declared, “This rare creature shall be wife to all of us.”

The King of Panchala, father of Draupadi, summoned the Pandavas to discuss the arrangements for the wedding. The five brothers with their mother and the girl were invited to the palace to be honoured and feasted. They were taken through the palace and its grounds, where fruits, souvenirs, rare art objects, sculpture, paintings, carvings, gold-inlaid leather, furniture of rare designs, agricultural implements, chariots, and horses were displayed. When they passed through the hall where swords, arms, shields, and equipment of warfare were kept, the five brothers picked up the articles, admiring them and commenting among themselves, spending more time in this part of the palace than anywhere else.

Observing this, the King suspected that they might be warriors, although they were disguised as brahmins. When they repaired to the chamber and were settled comfortably, the King said point-blank to Yudhistira, “I know you will always speak the truth. Tell me who you are.”

And Yudhistira declared his identity and that of his brothers, and explained their trials and tribulations since the time of their leaving their kingdom a year before.

Now the King said, “Let us rejoice that this day your brother Arjuna, the man with the mighty arm, will marry my daughter, and let us celebrate this union of our families in style. Let us make everyone in this world happy today.”

Yudhistira replied, “I am the eldest and still unmarried. I must be the first to marry, according to our law. Please give me your blessings to be married first.”

“So be it,” said the King, little dreaming of the implication. “You are the eldest, my daughter now belongs to your family. If you decide to marry her yourself, you will be free to do so, or you may give her to whomever you like among your brothers. I have nothing more to say.”

“Now,” said Yudhistira simply and quietly, “Draupadi will have to be married to all of us.” He explained how it had come about and concluded, “We have always shared everything and we will never deviate from the practice.”

The King was stunned on hearing this. When he recovered his balance, he cried, “One man can take many wives, but one woman taking several husbands has never been approved anywhere, either in practice or in the scriptures. It is something that can never receive approval from any quarter. A man of purity like you, one learned and well equipped in knowledge—what evil power is influencing you to speak thus?”

Yudhistira tried to calm him. “The right way is subtle and complicated. I know I am not deviating from it. O conqueror of the worlds, have no misgivings, give us your permission.”

The King said, “You and your venerable mother and my daughter… please talk it over among yourselves and tell me what should be done.”

At this moment, the sage Vyasa arrived. When all the formalities of greeting were over, the King asked, “Give us your guidance; can a woman marry five men?”

“Not always,” answered Vyasa, “but in this particular instance, it is correct. Now listen… ” He got up and walked into the King's private chamber. The others followed at a distance and waited outside.

“Your daughter,” said Vyasa, “was called Nalayani in her last birth. She was one of the five ideal women in our land. She was married to a sage called Moudgalya, a leprous man, repulsive in appearance and habits, and cantankerous. She was, however, completely indifferent to his physical state and displayed the utmost devotion to him as
a wife. She obeyed all his erratic commands, accepted his fickle moods, submitted herself to all his tyrannical orders, and ate the scraps from his plate. All this she did without hesitation or mental protest, totally effacing her own ego. They spent many years thus, and one day her husband said, ‘O beautiful one, perfect wife on earth, you have indeed passed through the severest trial and come through unscathed. Know you that I am neither old nor diseased nor inconsiderate. I assumed this vicious and disgusting appearance in order to test you. You are indeed the most forbearing partner a man could hope for. Ask me for any boon you may fancy, and I will grant it.'

“Nalayani said, ‘I want you to love me as five men, assuming five forms, and always coming back to and merging in one form.' And he granted her the wish. He shed his unpleasant appearance in a moment and stood before her as an attractive, virile man—and he could assume four other forms too. The rest of their life was all romance; they travelled far and wide, visited beautiful romantic spots on earth, and led a life of perfect union, not in one, but several worlds. They lived and loved endlessly.

“She never got tired of it, but he did. He told her one day that his life of abandon was at an end and that he was retiring into loneliness and introspection. At this she wailed, ‘I am still insatiate. I have lived a wonderful life with you. I want you to continue it for ever.'

“Moudgalya rejected her plea, warded her off as a drag on his spiritual progress, and departed. Whereupon she came down to earth from the dreamy elysium in which she had dwelt and prepared herself to meditate on Ishwara the Almighty. She meditated with great rigour, and when Ishwara
appeared before her, she muttered, ‘I want my husband, husband, husband….'

“‘You will soon end this identity and will be reborn as a beauty and marry five husbands,' said the god.

“‘Five husbands! God! Why five? I want only one.'

“‘I cannot help it. I heard you say “husband,” and that five times,' said Ishwara. And that proved the last word on the subject, since a god's word is unretractable.

“While it seemed as if the god had spoken in jest, he had his purpose. In the vision of a god there is no joking, everything works according to a scheme. Nalayani was reborn as the daughter of Drupada without being conceived in a womb, but out of a sacrificial fire. Justice and goodness have to be reinstated in this world. The Kauravas are evil incarnate; powerful, clever, and accomplished. For the good of mankind, they must be wiped out, and Draupadi will play a great role in it.”

Draupadi was wedded to the brothers. At the ceremony, the first to take her hand was the eldest, Yudhistira; next came the mighty Bhima; after him the actual winner, Arjuna; and lastly the twins, Nakula and Sahadeva, one after the other. The Princess was to live with each brother for one full year as his wife, and then pass on to the next. When she lived with one, the others swore to eradicate her image completely from their minds. A very special kind of detachment and discipline was needed to practise this code. Anyone who violated it, even in thought, exiled himself from the family and had to seek expiation in a strenuous pilgrimage to the holy rivers.

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there was much uneasiness, since it was now clear that the Pandavas were still alive. “Then who was it that perished in the fire?” the courtiers speculated.

“Our own man—the fool,” said Duryodhana, “and a woman with five children, who had come to dine at the feast, and slept off—drank too much wine, I suppose! I have reports that she'd been seen earlier at the feast…. The God of Fire took a woman and her five sons, but not the five we had in mind….” And he and his brothers laughed grimly at the joke.

Dhritarashtra was heard to comment on the swayamwara, “Ah, what a glorious choice for our family! Drupada's daughter is a rare creature. I have heard about her indeed! May they flourish and be happy!”

When he caught him alone, Duryodhana berated him for his enthusiasm. “How can you felicitate our arch-enemy Yudhistira? Have you no interest in your own sons? Have you no concern for your own family?” He glared angrily at his father, who, though eyeless, sensed the fury behind his son's speech. He explained with an artificial laugh, “I did not mean it. I was speaking to Vidura, as you know, and I did not want to reveal to him my real feeling in the matter. We have to be careful with him. I would have been really happy if you had won the bride; that's how I had understood it at first, and felt happy too. But later Vidura explained, and one has to be cautious when referring to those boys in his presence.”

“Now we must act,” continued Dhritarashtra. “Drupada becomes a father-in-law and ally of the Pandavas. His son Dhrishtadyumna is equal to any of us. Drupada has not forgiven or forgotten the fact that his kingdom was cut up, and that he was humiliated by our guru, Drona. Each day he is getting stronger and stronger and will not rest until he has recovered his whole territory. Our guru made a mistake in leaving him alive. Drupada will never forget that we attacked him.”

“The Pandavas too had attacked him!” said Duryodhana.

“But their circumstances have changed, and they are in-laws now, and allies, and have a common enemy in us. Mark my words, they will not spare us.”

Duryodhana toyed with the idea of bribing Drupada to isolate the Pandavas or poison them… and Dhritarashtra, who was a fond parent, listened to him without contradicting him, although he was sceptical of Duryodhana's wisdom in such matters. Dhritarashtra's dilemma was that he loved his sons, but could not hate his brother's sons sufficiently. He knew he was a party to intrigues and unholy decisions, but he could not act on his judgement where his sons were concerned. He had no mind of his own, and was in a perpetual conflict with his better instincts. Whoever spoke to him
got his attention. This became more marked now, when Drona and Vidura and Bhishma gathered around him to discuss the Pandavas.

Bhishma said, “The gods have helped them. At least now you may rectify your error. Send them your blessings and gifts, and welcome the daughter-in-law of the house and bless her. Let them all end their exile and come back. Restore to Yudhistira what is rightfully his. As far as I am concerned, all are my grand-nephews; I knew that you supported your son's plan to get them out of your way. But you will have realised by now, I hope, that it is not so easy to get rid of human beings. The Almighty is all seeing….” Vidura spoke on the same lines.