Bhima Lone Warrior, page 28
Mother never came out of the women’s quarters. Even when we had thought that we could avoid war and make a treaty, she had fanned awake the feelings of vengeance lying dormant in us. Arjuna and Nakula cursed her too. Sahadeva said nothing.
I could not bring myself to curse her. But I could not forgive her either.
I thought of my mother’s life as Shoorasena’s daughter and the younger sister of Vasudevar – the child her father had loaned to Kuntibhoja, who had no children of his own. In order to please the sages, her foster father had sent her to work for them as a servant. Misfortune followed her when she came to the palace of Hastinapura as a bride. A co-wife who became more and more beautiful with each day that passed had arrived to share her position. It shocked her to discover that her husband was impotent. Later, she had had to leave the palace and live in the forest. For her husband’s sake, she had slept with gods and by the time she bore three children, she had become a widow.
Although she had grown-up sons, she had to leave them, stay in Vidura’s small house and accept the generosity of his family for thirteen years.
No, I could not curse her.
I thought of Karna. On the day when we had displayed our skills, it was I who had shamed him the worst in front of all those spectators. He should have vowed to kill me, had a lance made for that purpose.
I stopped when I reached Duryodhana’s deserted palace. The metal statue I had heard about, the one he had had made in my image to wrestle with, grinned foolishly at me. It had a huge stomach and massive arms. Below its rounded head, the gaping mouth grinned. The day Duryodhana had died, Dhritarashtra had hurled himself at it like a madman, to fight with it.
A servant came looking for me to say that my elder brother wanted to see me.
Dhritarashtra was still seated in the great hall. As I passed by, he heard my footsteps and asked, ‘Who is it?’
‘I, Bhimasena.’
He did not say anything more.
If anyone were to be blamed for transforming Hastinapura into a country of widows, it was this blind man. I wanted to cry out that he, this sightless man, whom death had passed by, was the reason for all the tragedies that had befallen us. This old man, who had not been able to conceal his delight when he heard the score being called out as his son cheated at the game of dice and won.
Yudhishtira was in the old gambling hall. Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva were there as well. I greeted him.
He said, ‘I have been thinking things over for several days and have finally come to a decision.’ He stopped and was plunged in thought again. Then: ‘This kingdom that has come to me is like a widowed girl’s dowry. We have no children, no relatives. Wherever I look, I see widows with tears streaming from their eyes. I cannot govern this country, I cannot.’
All of us remained silent.
‘The stench of blood clings to this place, refusing to leave it. At night, I dream of skeletons and cannot sleep. I have decided to go to the forest and live as an ascetic. I do not want Hastinapura.’
He gazed at the white marble floor, then raised his head and looked at Sahadeva, as if asking for his opinion.
Sahadeva said, ‘You must govern the kingdom, Elder Brother. All of us have waited to see you become king. We suffered the rigours of war for it.’
Nakula did not say anything. From his expression, it was clear that he did not think the decision was a right one.
Arjuna tried to lighten the atmosphere. ‘It’s often happened that a kshatriya feels detached from the world at the end of a war. But we have a responsibility to the subjects, don’t we? Elder Brother, you have endured so many hardships, accepting them as our evil destiny.’
Yudhishtira’s expression did not change.
Arjuna went on, ‘Let Krishna come back from Dwaraka. You can discuss the matter with him before taking a decision.’
‘I have already decided. I never say things I do not mean.’ He looked at me. ‘Let Bhimasena govern the kingdom.’
I held my breath.
‘The Kauravas died by Bhima’s hand. According to the kshatriya law, the throne is for him who wins the war. Bhimasena is worthy of governing in every aspect.’
I felt I had to speak. ‘It is the king who wins a war. You were king even when we were in the forest. This great war was fought so that you could reclaim your right to the kingdom, Elder Brother, not to avenge Panchali’s unbound hair, as I heard the magadha minstrels sing so wittily.’
His answer was that if I gave my consent, he would ask Vidura to start preparations for the coronation. He got up and went away.
We stayed on in the hall.
Arjuna said, ‘The great King Pandu sat on the throne that Dhritarashtra abdicated. What our elder brother said is in keeping with tradition. You must become the king.’
Sahadeva cried joyfully, ‘Say it! Say that you are willing.’
Nakula said the same thing.
‘What more is there to think about now?’ asked Arjuna.
I said, ‘Give me some time. Let my mind grow calm.’
Assuming I wanted to be alone, they left. I went out, and walked through the corridor into the courtyard. The plants in the garden had grown shrivelled and dry. I passed by the buildings where we had slept as children and reached the elephant sheds. I halted.
Vrikodara, the boy with the hungry stomach of a wolf, the king of Hastinapura? I wanted to laugh. None of those who would have made a joke of the matter were alive now. I walked back the way I had come. Looking at the withered plants, I thought about the coronation. There were not many of my friends left to come. I would have to quickly decide where special messengers should be sent. To Satyaki, Senesha …
I saw the blurred form of a woman in the shadows at the door to the women’s quarters and drew back, startled. The tawny-red beauty …? When she came out, I was relieved. I smiled. It was Draupadi.
She came up to me and, unusually for her, made an obeisance to me. She observed such customs only in Yudhishtira’s presence.
The silence of a blue lotus as it watches the sun set was on her face.
‘The date of the coronation will soon be decided,’ I said.
‘Have you decided?’
‘My elder brother took the decision. I have not yet given my word,’ I said in a casual manner, hiding my pleasure.
‘I came because I knew that.’
I had expected a secret smile and words of congratulation, but what I saw were her tear-filled eyes.
‘When I lived in the forest, when I worked as a servant, I hoped I would come back here one day. Will that hope too be denied to Draupadi?’
I was transfixed.
‘I am not yet old enough to retire to the forest. Nor have I achieved the state of mind to do so.’
I thought … when Yudhishtira goes to the forest to become an ascetic, Draupadi … But I would still be here, wouldn’t I?
‘I may not be a scholar, but I know the rules. Either I have to follow him, or I have to live on Balandhara’s generosity in some corner of the women’s quarters here.’
I was surprised to suddenly hear Balandhara’s name.
‘Balandhara?’
‘Yes, Balandhara. When you are crowned king, who will become queen? Balandhara of course!’
Dabbing at her tear-filled eyes, she spoke to the earth beneath her feet. ‘Maybe Panchali was born to be an eternal servant woman!’
She went back.
Dusk picked up the slivers of light in the shadows. I continued to stand by myself in the courtyard. From somewhere, I heard evening prayers being chanted. I walked to my mansion.
Two people awaited me there. At first, I did not notice the woman whose head was covered. Vidura was in front. The woman who stood behind him was Mother.
Mother said, ‘I too heard about the retreat to the forest, the decision to become an ascetic. Your uncle gave him some good advice, but he does not seem inclined to change his mind.’
What were they saying I should do? Vidura helped to make things clear.
‘All the people of the kingdom are waiting for the auspicious day when the follower of dharma, Yudhishtira, will become king. After all, they know that he was born to rule Hastinapura.
At last I heard my voice. ‘What must I do? Command me, Mother.’
She said, ‘Your elder brother must become king. You are not worthy enough, you know nothing about the codes of dharma or about political strategy. Therefore, you must say firmly that you are not prepared to be king. This is your uncle’s opinion as well.’
I remained silent for a while, in order to calm the secret furies within me. Then I laughed. First, Draupadi. And now, another woman – my mother!
‘I, a king? Vrikodara, the king of Hastinapura? What foolishness!’ I laughed louder. ‘A joke my elder brother made … he’s always made jokes about me. The blockhead, a king!’
My laughter spread to Vidura’s face. He sighed with relief.
After they left, I sank down on my bed, weighed down by the burden of thought. I forgot to laugh.
I had governed Hastinapura for a moment, just a single moment. I was a king who had abdicated. I laughed again, in the dark. A mighty man should not weep, after all.
2
Yudhishtira’s coronation was conducted simply, without any pomp. Nominal sums were given as gifts to the brahmins. The granaries in Hastinapura had been depleted by the war. We were all given small responsibilities to carry out during the royal procession around the city, in which Vidura, the brahmin priests and family members took part. Gifts were distributed according to custom: gold for the commander of the army; a white-backed bull for the king’s chief priest; a milch cow for the queen; a horse for the principal soota story-teller in the palace; bulls for the ministers and for the caretaker of the palace and its grounds; two bulls for the king’s charioteer; a chess board and chessmen carved in ivory for the chess master; a curved knife for the chief of the hunt; a bow and arrow and a red head-dress for the chief messenger. (If the king had abandoned a wife, she had to be given a black cow that had run dry.) At the end of the ritual, the king presented himself with a white bull.
I thought to myself as I watched the ritual that there was no end to the lessons a kshatriya had to learn.
In the hall, Yudhishtira gifted all four of us swords that had been sanctified by the priests. The senior members of the family had to anoint him first, starting with Dhritarashtra and Gandhari, then Mother and Vidura. The brahmin sages came next, then we brothers, followed by relatives, the army commanders and friends.
I occupied the raised seat next to the king’s, the one reserved for the second in line, the crown prince. Only Yudhishtira and one of the priests had to anoint me.
Draupadi was on the other side, on the seat meant for the king’s consort. I noted the fragrance of the sandal paste she wore and the glitter of her silk garments. She looked contented. The memory of her dead sons did not seem to trouble her.
Of the guests who had come to watch the coronation, only Krishna and Satyaki could be described as important. We had thought Senesha would come, but he did not. He sent his minister with gifts.
Citizens of importance lined the courtyard to watch and servants were ranged behind them.
The king’s proclamations followed the coronation. He ordered that the loads animals had to carry be lightened. He did not issue the customary proclamation that all prisoners be released and that death sentences be revoked, since Duryodhana had already given the prisoners weapons on the last day of the war and sent them to the battlefield to fight. We had begun to forget the war. I had stopped thinking about the enemy who still remained as well.
When Yudhishtira began to reign, Dhritarashtra moved to the seat in the gambling hall.
Yudhishtira summoned us to discuss ways and means to refill the depleted granaries, and Sahadeva described the state of the country to us. The fields were dry because there had been no rain, markets did very little trade, the cowsheds were empty. He suggested several ways to increase the levies and fill the granaries. Yudhishtira listened to everything and sat silent for a long time.
‘Uncle Dhritarashtra and Aunt Gandhari want to conduct the rituals necessary for the peace of the souls of the dead and distribute the gifts they are expected to give. We have to find a way to fulfil their wishes.’
Uncle wanted to gift cows to a thousand brahmins. We would need gold and money for the sacrificial rituals. Sahadeva made calculations.
Everyone was full of resentment.
I voiced mine openly. ‘Hastinapura is poverty-stricken after the war. Doesn’t Uncle know that?’
But Uncle wished to complete these rituals before he retired to the forest.
Yudhishtira said, ‘He says he will have no peace if he remains here. Moreover, he told me he caught people making fun of him.’
Everyone stared at me. I did not try to explain further. Only once had Dhritarashtra and I exchanged words.
‘It is usual to kill in war, Son. But does anyone drink blood?’ he had asked me. ‘I could not believe what I heard.’
Aunt Gandhari had been seated next to him.
I had answered respectfully, ‘When Dussasana’s blood wet my lips, Uncle, I did not like its taste, so I did not drink it!’
That was all that had happened. I had told the truth, I had only wet my lips.
As long as he remained in the palace, we would remember the horrors of the war. Therefore, I decided to give in to the last request of the old couple.
So the gifts were distributed and the rituals performed. As the old couple were about to start on the journey to the forest, we heard that Vidura had decided to go with them. He had given up the householder’s life long ago. Now that he had supervised the coronation, he had nothing left to do in the palace.
We decided that Dhritarashtra would be accompanied by a grand group of followers. Many of the servants who had worked for them and several old brahmins gathered at the palace doors to witness the old king’s departure.
When the chariots drew up in the courtyard, Yudhishtira ran up looking very upset and said, ‘Mother is going with them to the forest! What does this mean?’
Sahadeva rushed to Mother, then came back. ‘I said everything I could. Mother seems absolutely determined. Imagine, she wants to go to the forest when she should be staying here as the Queen Mother. She says Uncle and Aunt are her parents now. She has made up her mind to stay in the forest and look after them.’
‘Mother seems to take the greatest pleasure in giving us surprises from time to time,’ said Arjuna with a cruel smile. He was not prepared to plead with her or dissuade her from going.
Nakula tried to plead with Mother, but met with no success.
I went to her last. ‘You think of doing this at a moment when you should have stayed in the palace enjoying all its comforts and pleasures,’ I lamented. ‘When we were too distressed to take a decision, wasn’t it you, Mother, who prevailed upon us to wage war? If you wanted to stay in the forest, you could have spent all those years with us there. Why did we fight and shed so much blood? Why did we make so many women widows?’
‘What I wanted was radiance and glory for all of you. If you die maintaining your dharma, you will achieve renown. Your dharma now is governing the country, mine is to look after these old people. There is no need for anyone to grieve.’
There was no point in arguing with her.
Vidura took Dhritarashtra’s hand and helped him into the chariot, then he climbed in as well. Mother climbed into the second chariot with Aunt Gandhari. We walked ahead of and behind the chariots, keeping pace with them.
The chariots stopped in the middle of the forest. Everyone alighted.
Mother came up to us. ‘Live by your dharma. May you prosper!’ Saying nothing more, she walked away and caught up with our uncle and aunt.
I could not believe that Mother was leaving for the forest, it seemed like some crazy trick of my imagination.
When we got back to the palace we were even more silent than we had been on the night the war had ended. Yudhishtira was the most troubled of us.
After days, an ascetic arrived from the forest. We asked him anxiously for news of our people. They were well, at peace, living as guests of the sages, listening to their wise counsel. Vidura was going to renounce food, perform penance and give up his life to fall into a yogic sleep – the end that all ascetics accept with happiness.
Yudhishtira asked, ‘Shall we go there and find out how Mother and all the others are?’
Sahadeva felt that we could beg Mother once more to come back.
Yudhishtira said sadly, ‘I found fault with her, said so many cruel things. I want to ask her forgiveness again.’
I was certain that Mother would not come back. Still, I followed my elder brother.
Our guide told us that all of them were in the hermitage of Shatayupa. We reached there after noon. Grandfather Krishnadvaipayana was with the sages. He was explicating a text from the Vedas.
Dhritarashtra expressed his gratitude and happiness that we had gone to ask about their welfare. Mother was seated next to Gandhari. She smiled at us, but did not say anything.
Yudhishtira asked, ‘Where is Uncle Vidura?’
The sages told us that he was wandering in the forest, wearing strange attire, his body smeared with ashes. Yudhishtira decided to go to the forest and pay his respects to him. I walked in front, clearing the way for him.
A young sage we met on the way told us, ‘I saw him two days ago, under that ashvata tree.’ He pointed to a treetop in the distance.
Vidura was lying under the tree. His body, smeared with ashes, had shrunk to a skeleton. He was motionless, but he opened his eyes slowly when he heard our footfalls on the leaves. He gave Yudhishtira a weak smile. It was clear to us that he was very near death.
He tried to say something but the words were not clear.
Yudhishtira said, ‘I think his time has come. Bring me some water.’
