The Mahabharata Read online

  The onlookers and the gambling parties took their respective seats in the hall. Sakuni spoke first. “The King has given you back everything you had lost. That is well, we cannot question His Majesty’s actions. But now there is going to be a different kind of stake. At the end of this game, the loser will go into exile, barefoot, and dressed in deerskin. He must live in the forests for twelve years, and then in a city incognito for one full year. In that year of hiding, if he is recognized, there must be another term of twelve-year banishment. If you defeat us in this game, we will go into exile immediately for twelve years, and if you are defeated, you will go through it right from the moment you lose.”

  Yudhistira, as usual, needed no persuasion to say “yes” to the proposal. Sakuni threw the dice and said, “I win.”

  Not long after, one by one, the Pandavas once again had to cast off their glittering royal robes. They dressed themselves in deerskin and prepared to leave for the forests. Again they were taunted by the victors. Dussasana said to Draupadi, “Your father planned a noble life for you, and now you have ended up with these vagrants. What good will they do you clad in deerskin and begging? This is your time to choose a proper husband out of the nobles assembled here, someone who will not sell you. Those brothers are now like corn without the kernel….”

  Bhima nearly jumped on him and said, “You pierce our hearts with these words; I promise I will pierce yours with real arrows, when I remind you of these words someday….”

  Dussasana clapped his hands and almost danced around their victims, jeering, “Oh, cows, cows.”*As they were moving out, Duryodhana, setting aside all his dignity, walked behind Bhima, mimicking his strides and manner.

  Bhima turned round and said, “You gain nothing by this buffoonery; we shall all recall this when I split your thighs with my mace and trample on your head.”

  Arjuna, Nakula, and Sahadeva also promised to take revenge, each in his own way. They then went up to Dhritarashtra and all the elders of the family and bade them farewell. Vidura suggested, “Let your mother, Kunthi, stay behind in my home. I will look after her till you are all back from your exile.”

  When he got a chance to talk to Vidura privately, King Dhritarashtra asked, “Tell me how and in what state the Pandavas left.” He was, as usual, torn between tender feelings for his nephews and an inability to displease his son Duryodhana. The King was filled with self-blame, anxiety, and a blind hope that everything would turn out all right—as if after a bad dream—and that he would hear someone say that the Pandavas actually did not suffer, but were happy and unscathed all through.

  But if any such soothsayer was needed, it certainly could not be Vidura. “Yudhistira crossed the street with his head bowed, his face veiled with a piece of of cloth. Bhima looked neither to his left nor right, but fixedly at his mace in hand. Arjuna looked at no one either, but went spraying handfuls of sand around. Yagnaseni*covered her face with her dishevelled tresses, and passed on in the clothes she had been wearing. Nakula and Sahadeva smeared their faces with mud in order not to be recognized…. Dhaumya, their priest, walked holding a spike of dharba grass steadily pointing east, and reciting aloud the Sama Veda….”

  “What does it all signify?”

  “Yudhistira, being a righteous man, covered his face because he knew his look would burn up any one catching his eye; he wishes to save your sons and their friends from this fate. Bhima looked at his own muscle and the weapon in his hand since he wanted to show that in the fourteenth year he’d be employing them to good purpose. Arjuna wished to indicate that his arrows would spread out like a cloud of spray when his time came. Dhaumya indicated that he will have an occasion again to recite the Sama Veda and lead the Panda vas back in a procession on their victorious return.”

  “Alas, alas!” wailed Dhritarashtra. “Is there no way of undoing all this error? Go, someone, go up and call them back. Tell them that I want them to forget everything and come back. I shall earnestly ask them to return. Let them live in peace; let my sons also live in peace and prosperity with nothing lacking.”

  8 Wanderings

  THE PANDAVAS MARCHED ON in silence with a group of devoted followers trailing along, until they reached the banks of the Ganga. There they spent the night under a spreading tree. A few among Yudhistira’s followers lit a sacrificial fire and melodiously chanted the Vedas, to while away the time.

  Yudhistira appealed to them, “Please go back. The forest is too full of risks—reptiles and beasts of prey. We have brought upon ourselves this fate, why should you share it? My brothers are too dispirited even to pluck fruits or hunt animals to provide you food. So please return to your homes.”

  Some listened to his advice and left, but others refused to go, assuring him that they would look after themselves without proving burdensome in any manner. Yudhistira was touched by their affection, and was unable to check the tears welling up. His sorrow affected everyone.

  At this moment, Saunaka, one of the learned men in the group, consoled him with the philosophy. “Griefs and fears by the thousands afflict all men night and day, but affect only the ignorant. Wise men like you should never be overwhelmed by changes of circumstance, which cause poverty, loss of home, kingdom, or of one’s kith and kin.” He expounded a philosophy of acceptance and resignation, of getting beyond appearances to the core of reality, where one could understand the ephemeral nature of wealth, youth, beauty, and possessions.

  Yudhistira explained, “It is not for myself that I feel the loss of a home. I feel for my brothers and Panchali, whom I have involved in this misery. I am sorry for those who are following me. One should have a roof to afford rest and shade to those who seek one’s hospitality, otherwise one ceases to be human.”

  Understanding his predicament, Daumya, his priest, said, “At the beginning creatures were born hungry. In order to help, the Sun tilted himself half the year northward and the other half southward and absorbed the vapours. The moon converted the vapours into clouds and sent down the rain, and created the plant world, which nourishes life, at the same time providing for the six kinds of taste. It is the Sun’s energy that supports life. Hence, Yudhistira, you must seek his grace. All ancient kings have supported their dependents by meditating on the Sun.”

  Yudhistira purified himself with ablutions, and centered his thoughts on the Sun God. Reciting a hymn in his praise, he uttered his one hundred and eight names, standing in knee-deep water and fasting. In answer to his prayers the Sun God appeared, luminous and blazing, offered him a copper bowl, and said, “Let Panchali hold this vessel from this day, and you will have from it an inexhaustible supply of food, as much as you want for twelve years to come, and in the fourteenth year, you will regain your kingdom.”

  After crossing over to the other bank of Ganga, they trudged along for many days and reached a forest known as Dwaitavana, where dwelt many hermits, living a life of contemplation amidst nature. The Pandavas could forget their trials momentarily in such enlightened company. With the copper bowl in Draupadi’s hands, Yudhistira could provide the hermits as well as his followers with limitless food.

  One afternoon Vidura arrived at their retreat. The moment Yudhistira saw the coming chariot, he said to his brothers, “Does Vidura come again to summon us to play dice? Perhaps Sakuni feels that he should appropriate our weapons too, which he did not touch last time.” With great apprehension they welcomed the visitor and enquired of his purpose. He replied, “I have been cast away by our King.” And he explained the circumstances that led to it.

  After the banishment of the Pandavas, Dhritarashtra was filled with regret and summoned Vidura to prescribe for him a course for attaining peace of mind. He had spent many sleepless nights thinking of his brother’s children now treading the hard path in the forests. He wanted a salve for his conscience, some agreeable statement from Vidura that the Pandavas would be quite well, that fate had decreed their exile, and that Dhritarashtra was not personally responsible for anything. But Vidura was as outspoken as ever
and repeated that Duryodhana should be cast away if their house was to be saved. This irritated the King, who said, “Vidura, you believe in being disagreeable. You hate me and my children. You are partial to the Pandavas and always wish to do things that are agreeable to them.”

  “As the sick man detests the medicine given to him, so did the King hate the words of advice I uttered. Just as a youthful damsel would spurn the advances of a man of seventy, so did Dhritarashtra spurn my advice. He said, ‘Go away for ever. I shall not need your guidance or advice to rule the world. Go where they will heed your words—anywhere you may choose except here. Now go away immediately.’ And here I am.”

  The Pandavas were happy in Vidura’s company. But hardly had they settled down to this pleasant state when another messenger arrived post-haste from Hastinapura. It was Sanjaya. He was again received with every courtesy, but he would hardly be seated for a moment. “I am in a great hurry,” he explained. “Our King commands Vidura to return immediately. Yesterday the King fell down in a faint at the assembly hall. He had been grief stricken ever since he had expelled Vidura, and lamented, ‘I have lopped off my own limb. How can I live? Will he forgive me? Is he alive?’ We revived him and then he ordered, ‘Go and seek Vidura wherever he may be, and if he is alive, beg him to return. Tell him how I feel like branding my tongue with hot iron for my utterance. Sanjaya, my life depends upon you, go this instant and find him.’”

  Vidura had no choice but to return to Hastinapura. On seeing him, Dhritarashtra, who had lain prostrate, sat up and wept with joy. But this situation did not suit his sons.

  Sakuni, Duryodhana, and Karna consulted among themselves. “Our King is fickle minded. Someday he is going to send his own chariot for his nephews and offer them the throne, and that is going to be the end of us. We know where they are now. Let us go with a body of picked men and destroy them. We should not let them nurture their grievance and plan revenge for thirteen years….” And soon they made various preparations to go forth and attack the Pandavas in their forest retreat.

  At this moment Sage Vyasa, knowing by intuition what was afoot, arrived and advised them to drop their adventure. Turning to Dhritarashtra he said, “Listen to me; I will tell you what will help you. Don’t allow this hostility to continue. Your brother’s children are only five, yours are a hundred…. You have no cause for envy. Command your sons to go out and make their peace with the Pandavas. Otherwise, as I read the future, at the end of thirteen years the Pandavas will wipe you out of human memory. Heed my warning.”

  Frightened by this prophecy, Dhritarashtra said, “Please advise my evil-minded sons.”

  At this moment another sage named Maitreyi arrived on a visit, and Vyasa said, “Let this sage speak to your sons.”

  After he was seated and shown all the courtesies, Maitreyi said to Dhritarashtra, “I was on a pilgrimage to the holy places and happened to visit Dwaitavana, where I met Yudhistira, his brothers, and Panchali living out the life of forest nomads. I was pained to see them thus, and though Yudhistira is resigned to it, it strikes me as an undeserved suffering.” Then, turning to Duryodhana, the rishi said very softly, “O mighty warrior, listen to me. Put an end to all this strife and bitterness and you will be saving your family from annihilation.”

  Duryodhana received the advice with a cynical smile, slapping his thigh in response and kicking the ground at his feet to show his indifference, whereupon the sage laid a curse on him. “When the time comes, you will reap the fruits of your insolence and Bhima will rip that thigh of yours, which you slap so heroically now.”

  Dhritarashtra was aghast and begged, “Please take back your curse.”

  “That I can’t, once uttered. However, if your son makes peace with the Pandavas, my curse will not take effect. Otherwise, it will turn out exactly as I have decreed.”

  Having come to know that Yudhistira had been condemned to a forest life, several friendly kings visited him to ask if they could help him in any way. Yudhistira just said, “Wait for thirteen years. In the fourteenth year, I will need all your help.”

  Krishna had also arrived from Dwaraka, and spoke with Yudhistira. “I had to be away on another mission. Otherwise I would have come to Hastinapura and stopped the game which has brought you to this pass. I would have persuaded the Kauravas to give up their sinful ways—or I would have destroyed them all on the spot.”

  Draupadi was moved by Krishna’s sympathy. “My five husbands, gifted warriors of this world, looked on helplessly while I was dragged about, insulted, and disrobed…. Dussasana grabbed me by the hair, and if I put up my hands to protect my head, he tugged away the single wrap around my body. He ignored my plea that this was not the time to touch me…. Nowhere in the universe has any woman been so vilely handled, and Karna and Dussasana and the others leered and joked and asked me to take a new husband, as if I were a harlot.” She broke down and wept at the memory of the incident. “Five warriors—five warriors were my husbands who could not lift a finger to help me, except Bhima who was held back. You alone came to my rescue… you heard my call… you are my saviour. Arjuna’s Gandiva and someone else’s mace or sword—of what avail were they when I was dragged before an assembly of monsters?”

  Krishna appeased her. “I promise you—Duryodhana, his brothers, Karna, and the evil genius behind them all, Sakuni—all of them will be punished. Their blood will stain the dust. You will see Yudhistira installed on the throne.”

  After Krishna left, an argument began between Yudhistira and Draupadi. She had faithfully obeyed Yudhistira’s commands, but never accepted his philosophy. “To see you—particularly you, whom I have seen in a silken bed and on a golden throne, waited upon by the rulers of the earth—now in this state, mud spattered, clad in deerskin, sleeping on hard ground—oh, it wrings my heart. To see Bhima, who achieves single-handed every victory, now in this distressing state, does it not stir your anger? Arjuna of a thousand arms—as it seems when he sends the arrows, worshipped by celestials and human beings alike—bound hand and foot, does it not make you indignant? Why does not your anger blaze up and consume your enemies? And me, the daughter of Drupada and sister of Dhrishtadyumna, disgraced and forced to live like this! How is it you are so mild? There is no kshatriya who is incapable of anger, so they say, but your attitude does not prove it. You should never forgive a devil, but destroy him without leaving a trace. On this subject, have you not heard the story of Prahlada and his grandson Bali of ancient times? The grandson enquired, ‘Tell me, is blind forgiveness superior to judicious anger?’ Prahlada, who knew all the subtleties of conduct, answered, ‘Child, aggressiveness is not always good, nor is forgiveness. One who is known to be forgiving always suffers and causes his dependents also to suffer. Servants, strangers, and enemies ill-treat his, steal his goods under his very nose, and even try to take his wife away. The evil-minded will never be affected by compassion. Equally bad is indiscriminate anger and the exercise of force. A man of anger and violence will be hated by everyone, and suffer the consequences of his own recklessness. One should show forgiveness or righteous anger as the situation may demand.’”

  Yudhistira listened to her patiently and said, “Anger is at all times destructive, and I will not admit that there could be any occasion for its exercise. O beautiful one, one should forgive every injury. There can be no limit to forgiveness. Forgiveness is God and Truth and it is only through divine compassion that the universe is held together. Anger is the root of every destruction in the world. It is impossible for me to accept your philosophy. Everyone worships peace. Our grandfather, Bhishma, as well as Krishna, Vidura, Kripa, and Sanjaya; all of them strive for peace. They will always urge our uncle to adopt peace. He will surely give us back our kingdom someday. If he fails in that duty, then he is bound to suffer. It is not for us to be angry or act in anger. This is my conviction. Patience.”

  Draupadi replied, “It seems to me that men can never survive in this world by merely practising tolerance. Excessive tolerance is responsible
for the calamity that has befallen you and your brothers. In prosperity and adversity alike you cling to your ideals, fanatically. You are known for your virtuous outlook in the three worlds. It seems to me that you would sooner abandon me and your brothers than abandon your principles. O tiger among men, you practise your philosophy with a steady mind. You have performed grand sacrifices on a scale undreamt of by anyone in this world. Yet, my lord, impelled by I know not what unseen power, you did not hesitate to lose your wealth, kingdom, and all of us, and in a trice reduced us to the level of mendicants and tramps. When I think of it my head reels and I go mad. We are told that it is all God’s will and everything happens according to it. We are like straws wafted about by strong winds, I suppose! The mighty God creates illusions and makes every creature destroy its fellows. The Supreme Lord enjoys it all like a child shaping and squashing its clay doll. Sometimes God’s behaviour is bewildering. He sees noble, virtuous persons persecuted beyond endurance, but keeps sinners happy and prosperous. I am sorely confused and bewildered. Beholding you in this state and Duryodhana flourishing, I cannot think too highly of God’s wisdom or justice. If God is the real author of these acts, he himself must be defiled with the sin of every creature.”

  Yudhistira felt shocked at this speech. “You speak with profound fluency, but your language is that of an atheist. I do not trade in virtue as merchandise, to weigh its profit and loss. I do what seems to be right only because it is the only way, and not for results. It is not right to censure God, my beloved. Do not slander God. Learn to know him, understand his purpose, bow down to him. It is only by piety that you can attain immortality.”

  “It is not my purpose to slander God or religion. I am perhaps raving out of my sorrow; take it in that light if you like. And I will continue my lamentations and ravings, if you please. My lord, every creature should perform its legitimate act; otherwise, the distinction between the animate and inanimate will vanish. Those who believe in destiny and those who drift without such beliefs are alike the worst among men; only those who act and perform what is right for their station in life are worthy of praise. Man should decide on his course of action and accomplish it with the instrument of intelligence. Our present state of misery could be remedied only if you acted. If you have the will and the intelligence and proper application, you can regain your kingdom. Sitting on my father’s lap, I used to hear such advice from a seer who often visited him in his days of distress.”