The Sanskrit Epics, page 627
Vaishampayana continued, “After he had thus been told nothing but the truth by Krishna, O monarch, king Dhritarashtra replied unto Devaki’s son, saying, ‘It is even so, O thou of mighty arms! What thou sayest, O Madhava, is perfectly true. It is parental affection, O thou of righteous soul, that caused me to fall away from righteousness. By good luck, that tiger among men, the mighty Bhima of true prowess, protected by thee, came not within my embrace. Now, however, I am free from wrath and fever. I desire eagerly, O Madhava, to embrace that hero, the second son of Pandu. When all the kings have been dead, when my children are no more, upon the sons of Pandu depend my welfare and happiness.’ Having said these words, the old king then embraced those princes of excellent frames, Bhima and Dhananjaya, and those two foremost of men, the two sons of Madri, and wept, and comforted and pronounced blessings upon them.”
SECTION 14
VAISHAMPAYANA SAID, “COMMANDED by Dhritarashtra, those bulls of Kuru’s race, the Pandava brothers, accompanied by Keshava, then proceeded to see Gandhari. The faultless Gandhari, afflicted with grief on account of the death of her hundred sons, recollecting that king Yudhishthira the just had slain all his enemies, wished to curse him. Understanding her evil intentions towards the Pandavas, the son of Satyavati addressed himself for counteracting them at the very outset. Having cleansed himself by the sacred and fresh water of the Ganga, the great rishi, capable of proceeding everywhere at will with the fleetness of the mind, came to that spot. Capable of seeing the heart of every creature with his spiritual vision and with his mind directed towards it, the sage made his appearance there. Endued with great ascetic merit and ever intent on saying what was for the benefit of creatures, the rishi, addressing his daughter-in-law at the proper moment, said, ‘Do not avail thyself of this opportunity for denouncing a curse. On the other hand, utilize it for showing thy forgiveness. Thou shouldst not be angry with the Pandavas, O Gandhari! Set thy heart on peace. Restrain the words that are about to fall from thy lips. Listen to my advice. Thy son, desirous of victory, had besought thee every day for the eighteen days that battle lasted, saying, “O mother, bless me who am fighting with my foes.” Implored every day in these words by thy son desirous of victory, the answer thou always gavest him was, “Thither is victory where righteousness is!” I do not, O Gandhari, remember that any words spoken by thee have become false. Those words, therefore, that thou, implored by Duryodhana, saidst unto him, could not be false. Thou art always employed in the good of all creatures. Having without doubt reached the other shore in that dreadful battle of Kshatriyas, the sons of Pandu have certainly won the victory and a measure of righteousness that is much greater. Thou wert formerly observant of the virtue of forgiveness. Why wouldst thou not observe it now? Subdue unrighteousness, O thou that art conversant with righteousness. There is victory where righteousness is. Remembering thy own righteousness and the words spoken by thyself, restrain thy wrath, O Gandhari! Do not act otherwise, O thou that art beautiful in speech.’ Hearing these words, Gandhari said, ‘O holy one, I do not cherish any ill feelings towards the Pandavas, nor do I wish that they should perish. In consequence, however, of grief for the death of my sons, my heart is very much agitated. I know that I should protect the Pandavas with as much care as Kunti herself protects them, and that Dhritarashtra also should protect them as I should. Through the fault of Duryodhana and of Shakuni the son of Subala, and through the action of Karna and Duhshasana, extermination of the Kurus hath taken place. In this matter the slightest blame cannot attach to Vibhatsu or to Pritha’s son Vrikodara, or to Nakula or Sahadeva, or to Yudhishthira himself. While engaged in battle, the Kauravas, swelling with arrogance and pride, have fallen along with many others (that came to their aid). I am not grieved at this. But there has been one act done by Bhima in the very presence of Vasudeva (that moves my resentment). The high-souled Vrikodara, having challenged Duryodhana to a dreadful encounter with mace, and having come to know that my son, while careering in diverse kinds of motion in the battle, was superior to him in skill, struck the latter below the navel. It is this that moves my wrath. Why should heroes, for the sake of their lives, cast off obligations of duty that have been determined by high-souled persons conversant with every duty?’”
SECTION 15
VAISHAMPAYANA SAID, “HEARING these words of Gandhari, Bhimasena, looking like one in fright, said these words for soothing her, ‘Be the act righteous or unrighteous, it was done by me through fear and for the object of protecting my own self. It behoveth thee therefore, to forgive me now. Thy mighty son was incapable of being slain by anybody in a fair and righteous battle. It was for this that I did what was unfair. Duryodhana himself had formerly vanquished Yudhishthira unrighteously. He used always to behave guilefully towards us. It was for this that I had recourse to an unfair act. Thy son was then the sole unslain warrior on his side. In order that that valiant prince might not slay me in the mace-encounter and once more deprive us of our kingdom, I acted in that way. Thou knowest all that thy son had said unto the princess of Pancala while the latter, in her season, was clad in a single piece of raiment. Without having disposed of Suyodhana it was impossible for us to rule peacefully the whole earth with her seas. It was for this that I acted in that way. Thy son inflicted many wrongs on us. In the midst of the assembly he had shown his left thigh unto Draupadi. For that wicked behaviour, thy son deserved to be slain by us even then. At the command, however, of king Yudhishthira the just, we suffered ourselves to be restrained by the compact that had been made. By this means, O queen, thy son provoked deadly hostilities with us. Great were our sufferings in the forest (whither we were driven by thy son). Remembering all this, I acted in that way. Having slain Duryodhana in battle, we have reached the end of our hostilities. Yudhishthira has got back his kingdom, and we also have been freed from wrath.’ Hearing these words of Bhima, Gandhari said, ‘Since thou praisest my son thus (for his skill in battle), he did not deserve such a death. He, however, did all that thou tellest me. When Vrishasena, however, had deprived Nakula of his steeds, O Bharata, thou quaffedst in battle the blood from Duhshasana’s body! Such an act is cruel and is censured by the good. It suits only a person that is most disrespectable. It was a wicked act, O Vrikodara, that was then accomplished by thee! It was undeserving of thee.’ Bhima replied, saying, ‘It is improper to quaff the blood of even a stranger, what then need be said about quaffing the blood of one’s own self? One’s brother, again, is like one’s own self. There is no difference between them. The blood, however, (that I am regarded to have quaffed) did not, O mother, pass down my lips and teeth. Karna knew this well. My hands only were smeared with (Duhshasana’s) blood. Seeing Nakula deprived of his steeds by Vrishasena in battle, I caused the rejoicing (Kaurava) brothers to be filled with dread. When after the match at dice the tresses of Draupadi were seized, I uttered certain words in rage. Those words are still in my remembrance, I would, for all years to come, have been regarded to have swerved from the duties of a Kshatriya if I had left that vow unaccomplished. It was for this, O queen, that I did that act. It behoveth thee not, O Gandhari, to impute any fault to me. Without having restrained thy sons in former days, doth it behove thee to impute any fault to our innocent selves?’
“Gandhari said, ‘Unvanquished by anyone, thou hast slain a hundred sons of this old man. Oh, why didst thou not spare, O child, even one son of this old couple deprived of kingdom, one whose offences were lighter? Why didst thou not leave even one crutch for this blind couple? O child, although thou livest unharmed, having slain all my children, yet no grief would have been mine if thou hadst adopted the path of righteousness (in slaying them).’”
Vaishampayana continued, “Having said these words, Gandhari, filled with wrath at the slaughter of all her sons and grandsons, enquired after Yudhishthira, saying, ‘Where is the king?’ After she had said these words king Yudhishthira, trembling and with joined hands, approached her and said these soft words unto her, ‘Here is Yudhishthira, O goddess, that cruel slayer of thy sons! I deserve thy curses, for I am the cause of this universal destruction. Oh, curse me! I have no longer any need for life, for kingdom, for wealth! Having caused such friends to be slain, I have proved myself to be a great fool and a hater of friends.’ Unto Yudhishthira who spoke such words, who was overcome with fear, and who stood in her presence, Gandhari, drawing long sighs, said nothing. Conversant with the rules of righteousness, the Kuru queen, possessed of great foresight, directed her eyes, from within the folds of the cloth that covered them, to the tip of Yudhishthira’s toe, as the prince, with body bent forwards, was about to fall down at her feet. At this, the king, whose nails had before this been all very beautiful, came to have a sore nail on his toe. Beholding this, Arjuna moved away to the rear of Vasudeva, and the other sons of Pandu became restless and moved from one spot to another. Gandhari then, having cast off her wrath, comforted the Pandavas as a mother should. Obtaining her leave, those heroes of broad chests then proceeded together to present themselves to their mother, that parent of heroes. Having seen her sons after a long time, Kunti, who had been filled with anxiety on their account, covered her face with her cloth and began to weep. Having wept for some time with her children, Pritha beheld the wounds and scars of many weapons on their bodies. She then repeatedly embraced and patted each of her sons, and afflicted with grief wept with Draupadi who had lost all her children and whom she saw lying on the bare earth, indulging in piteous lamentations.
“Draupadi said, ‘O venerable dame, where have all your grandsons, with Abhimanyu among them, gone? Beholding thee in such distress, why are they delaying in making their appearance before thee? Deprived as I am of my children, what need have I of kingdom?’ Raising the grief-stricken princess of Pancala who was weeping thus, Pritha began to comfort that lady of large eyes. Then Kunti, accompanied by the princess of Pancala and followed by her sons, proceeded towards the grief-afflicted Gandhari herself in greater affliction still. Beholding that illustrious lady with her daughter-in-law, Gandhari addressed her, saying, ‘Do not, O daughter, grieve so. Behold, I too am as much stricken with grief as thou. I think this universal destruction has been brought about by the irresistible course of Time. Inevitable as it was, this dreadful slaughter has not been due to the voluntary agency of human beings. Even that has come to pass which Vidura of great wisdom foretold after Krishna’s supplication for peace had failed. Do not, therefore, grieve, in a matter that was inevitable, especially after its occurrence. Having fallen in battle, they should not be grieved for. I am in the same predicament with thee. (If thou actest in such a way) who then will comfort us? Through my fault, this foremost of races has been destroyed.’”
Here ends the Jalapradanika-parva in the Stri-parva.
SECTION 16
(Stri-vilapa-parva)
Vaishampayana said, “Having said these words, Gandhari, though staying on that spot which was distant from the field of battle, beheld, with her spiritual eye, the slaughter of the Kurus. Devoted to her lord, that highly blessed lady had always practised high vows. Undergoing the severest penances, she was always truthful in her speech. In consequence of the gift of the boon by the great rishi Vyasa of sanctified deeds, she became possessed of spiritual knowledge and power. Piteous were the lamentations in which that dame then indulged. Endued with great intelligence, the Kuru dame saw, from a distance, but as if from a near point, that field of battle, terrible to behold and full of wonderful sights, of those foremost of fighters. Scattered all over with bones and hair, and covered with streams of blood, that field was strewn with thousands upon thousands of dead bodies on every side. Covered with the blood of elephants and horses and car-warriors and combatants of other kinds, it teemed with headless trunks and trunkless heads. And it resounded with the cries of elephants and steeds and men and women and abounded with jackals and cranes and ravens and kankas and crows. And it was the sporting ground of Rakshasas subsisting on human flesh. And it swarmed with ospreys and vultures and resounded with the inauspicious howls of jackals. Then king Dhritarashtra, at the command of Vyasa, and all the sons of Pandu with Yudhishthira at their head, with Vasudeva and all the Kuru ladies, proceeded to the field of battle. Those ladies, bereaved of their lords, having reached Kurukshetra, beheld their slain brothers and sons and sires and husbands lying on the ground, and in course of being devoured by beasts of prey and wolves and ravens and crows and ghosts and Pishacas and Rakshasas and diverse other wanderers of the night. Beholding that carnage which resembled the sights seen on the sporting ground of Rudra, the ladies uttered loud shrieks and quickly alighted from their costly vehicles. Witnessing sights the like of which they had never before witnessed, the Bharata ladies felt their limbs to be deprived of strength and fell down on the ground. Others became so stupefied that they lost all their senses. Indeed, the Pancala and the Kuru ladies were plunged into unutterable distress. Beholding that dreadful field of battle resounding on every direction with the cries of those grief-stricken ladies, the daughter of Subala, acquainted with every duty, addressed the lotus-eyed Keshava, that foremost of all men. Witnessing that universal slaughter of the Kurus and filled with grief at the sight, she said these words: ‘Behold, O lotus-eyed Madhava, these daughters-in-law of mine! Deprived of their lords, they are uttering, with dishevelled hair, piteous cries of woe like a flight of she-ospreys. Meeting with those dead bodies, they are calling back to their memories the great Bharata chiefs. They are running hither and thither in large bands towards their sons and brothers and sires and husbands. Behold, O mighty-armed one, the field is covered with mothers of heroes, all of whom, however, have been bereaved of children. There, those portions again are covered with spouses of heroes, who have, however, been bereaved of their spouses! Behold, the field of battle is adorned with those tigers among men, Bhishma and Karna and Abhimanyu and Drona and Drupada and Shalya, as if with blazing fires. Behold, it is adorned also with the golden coats of mail, and with the costly gems, of high-souled warriors, and with their angadas, and keyuras and garlands. Behold, it is strewn with darts and spiked clubs hurled by heroic hands, and swords and diverse kinds of keen shafts and bows. Beasts of prey, assembled together, are standing or sporting or lying down as it likes them! Behold, O puissant hero, the field of battle is even such. At this sight, O Janardana, I am burning with grief. In the destruction of the Pancalas and the Kurus, O slayer of Madhu, I think, the five elements (of which everything is made) have been destroyed. Fierce vultures and other birds, in thousands, are dragging those blood-dyed bodies, and seizing them by their armour, are devouring them. Who is there that could think of the death of such heroes as Jayadratha and Karna and Drona and Bhishma and Abhimanyu? Alas, though incapable of being slain, they have yet been slain, O destroyer of Madhu! Behold, vultures and Kankas and ravens and hawks and dogs and jackals are feasting upon them. There, those tigers among men, that fought on Duryodhana’s side, and took the field in wrath, are now lying like extinguished fires. All of them are worthy of sleeping on soft and clean beds. But, alas, plunged into distress, they are sleeping today on the bare ground. Bards reciting their praises used to delight them before at proper times. They are now listening to the fierce and inauspicious cries of jackals. Those illustrious heroes who used formerly to sleep on costly beds with their limbs smeared with sandal paste and powdered aloe, alas, now sleep on the dust! These vultures and wolves and ravens have now become their ornaments. Repeatedly uttering inauspicious and fierce cries those creatures are now dragging their bodies. Delighting in battle, those heroes, looking cheerful, have still beside them their keen shafts, well-tempered swords, and bright maces, as if life has not yet departed from them. Many foremost of heroes, possessed of beauty and fair complexions and adorned with garlands of gold, are sleeping on the ground. Behold, beasts of prey are dragging and tearing them. Others, with massive arms, are sleeping with maces in their embrace, as if those were beloved wives. Others, still cased in armour, are holding in their hands their bright weapons. Beasts of prey are not mangling them, O Janardana, regarding them to be still alive. The beautiful garlands of pure gold on the necks of other illustrious heroes, as the latter are being dragged by carnivorous creatures, are scattered about on every side. There, those fierce wolves, numbering in thousands, are dragging the golden chains round the necks of many illustrious heroes stilled by death. Many, whom bards well-trained to their work formerly used, with their hymns and eulogies of grave import, to delight every morning, are now surrounded by fair ladies stricken with grief and weeping and crying around them in woe, O tiger of Vrishni’s race! The faces of those beautiful ladies, O Keshava, though pale, look resplendent still, like an assemblage of red lotuses! Those Kuru ladies have ceased to weep, with their respective followers and companions. They are all filled with anxiety. Overwhelmed with sorrow, they are running hither and thither. The faces of those fair ones have, with weeping and anger, become resplendent as the morning sun or gold or burnished copper. Hearing each other’s lamentations of incomplete sense, those ladies, in consequence of the loud wails of woe bursting from every side, are unable to catch each other’s meaning. Some amongst them, drawing long sighs and indulging in repeated lamentations, are stupefied by grief and are abandoning their life-breaths. Many of them, beholding the bodies (of their sons, husbands, or sires), are weeping and setting up loud wails. Others are striking their heads with their own soft hands. The earth, strewn with severed heads and hands and other limbs mingled together and gathered in large heaps, looks resplendent with these signs of havoc! Beholding many headless trunks of great beauty, and many heads without trunks, those fair ones have been lying senseless on the ground for a long while. Uniting particular heads with particular trunks, those ladies, senseless with grief, are again discovering their mistakes and saying, “This is not this ones,” and are weeping more bitterly! Others, uniting arms and thighs and feet, cut off with shafts, are giving way to grief and losing their senses repeatedly (at the sight of the restored forms). Some amongst the Bharata ladies, beholding the bodies of their lords, — bodies that have been mangled by animals and birds and severed of their heads, — are not succeeding in recognising them. Others, beholding their brothers, sires, sons, and husbands slain by foes, are, O destroyer of Madhu, striking their heads with their own hands. Miry with flesh and blood, the Earth has become impassable with arms still holding swords in their grasp, and with heads adorned with earrings. Beholding the field strewn with their brothers and sires, and sons, those faultless ladies, who had never before suffered the least distress, are now plunged into unutterable woe. Behold, O Janardana, those numerous bevies of Dhritarashtra’s daughters-in-law, resembling successive multitudes of handsome fillies adorned with excellent manes! What, O Keshava, can be a sadder spectacle for me to behold than that presented by those ladies of fair forms who have assumed such an aspect? Without doubt, I must have perpetrated great sins in my former lives, since I am beholding, O Keshava, my sons and grandsons and brothers all slain by foes.’ While indulging in such lamentations in grief, Gandhari’s eyes fell upon her son (Duryodhana).”
