The Mahabharata: A Modern Rendering (2 Vols.), page 57
“Was there dharma in Shakuni’s hands when he cast his loaded dice? Or dharma in Dusasana’s, when he tried to strip me naked? Or dharma in Duryodhana’s heart when he called me to sit in his lap! And for this dharma that rewards you with exile, you will gladly sacrifice Bheema, Arjuna, Sahadeva, Nakula and me. Yes, I know it, Yudhishtira. Your obsession with dharma is stronger than your love for us.
“What is this patience you go on about, my lord? I know nothing of it!” cried Draupadi.
Yudhishtira smiled indulgently. He said with no rancour, “Patience is a Goddess who bestows her favours selectively. You, dearest Panchali, are not one of her chosen. Why, among us all, perhaps patience favours only me. She did not choose Duryodhana to be one of her own, nor Karna or Dusasana; and it seems she hasn’t chosen any of my brothers or my wife.” He sighed, “Only me. But do you know, I am not disappointed that she has chosen me. I am honoured, and I will do everything in my power to prove worthy of her.”
Here was a king speaking, softly yet entirely firmly, as he told his queen what he intended to do, despite her tirade. Draupadi was silenced for the moment. Perhaps she had never wanted to push the argument to a conclusion, but only vent her anguish. She grew quiet.
Suddenly, Bheema, who had sat silently under his tree, rose and came near. Speaking to Yudhishtira directly for the first time since they left Hastinapura, he cried, “Of what use is your great dharma? Where has it brought us? We never strayed from the path, and look where we are today. While those that lie, cheat and would kill to get what they want, live in a palace, without a care in the world.
“Still, you rave about dharma. Did we fight a war of dharma with the Kauravas, that we are banished for thirteen years? Did they vanquish us at a battle or arms? No, Yudhishtira, it was a game of dice, and everyone on earth knows the dice Shakuni throws are loaded. Everyone except my brother. And my brother gambles away a kingdom at a game of loaded dice. Then he talks of dharma!”
After months, Bheema showed some animation. He raged, “When we stood wretchedly in the sabha in Hastinapura, when Draupadi was dragged in like an animal, did Arjuna not have his Gandiva with him? Had Bheema lost the strength of his arms? No! But Arjuna and Bheema forced themselves to remain quiet, and not lift a finger to defend Panchali. Because it was their dharma to obey their older brother, do whatever he decided, go after him on whatever path he chose to tread, even if it led them straight to hell. Yes, for dharma Arjuna and Bheema kept quiet. So later Draupadi would tell Krishna all her five husbands did nothing when Dusasana tried to strip her, when Duryodhana dared call her to sit in his lap.
“And all this for what? For dharma! And where does your dharma get us, but into the jungle for thirteen years? Now think of Duryodhana for a moment. He has lied, he has cheated, and often enough, he has tried to kill us. And what has all that got him? Well, my brother, while your dharma has fetched you exile, our cousin’s sins have rewarded him. He has another kingdom to show for his daring, a kingdom with all its wealth and subjects.”
Bheema’s chest heaved, his eyes burned in the dying light of the day. Calming himself a little, he went on. “Listen to me for once, Yudhishtira. I beg you, open your heart to what I am saying. It concerns not just you but all of us; not only your life, but ours as well.
“What happened in Hastinapura was not dharma. It was a game of dice. You talk of patience and not breaking your word, and, indeed, that would be just if we were dealing with noble enemies. But they are not noble; they are laughing at what they have done. You had no chance whatever of winning any of the throws of dice: you know as well I that Shakuni cheated. How can you expect your brothers and your wife to give up everything and live like beasts in the jungle, over a game of loaded dice? Is this really dharma? Aren’t you carrying things to an insane extreme? Aren’t you being negligent towards the rest of us, who hate this forest life as much as you seem to adore it? Aren’t you, quite simply, being selfish?
“Yudhishtira, come to your senses. Let your mind be moved to anger to see Draupadi wearing valkala. Let it be moved to seek revenge by the memory of what those devils did to her. Take up your weapons like a kshatriya. You speak of dharma; then, bring dharma back to the House of Kuru. We are five fires, let us go and burn our enemies!”
Bheema stood shaking, his hands clenched as if around Dusasana’s throat. Yudhishtira gazed out across the lake on which the last streaks of crimson and gold were dying, after the sun had set. For a long time, he said nothing to answer Bheema, but sat very still.
Bheema and Draupadi exchanged a glance. They thought, for a moment, they had prevailed. The only sound in the asrama was of the water birds roosting on the lake. Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva had also turned towards their eldest brother, waiting for him to answer Bheema. Then Yudhishtira spoke, and he spoke with no resentment, but sadness in his voice.
“Bheema, I deserve to have you say all this to me, my brother. Your words are like livid needles in my heart; and for what I did, I deserve worse. It is my fault we are here. It is not as if I did not know I would lose my reason, once I sat at the dice-board. Shakuni knew this, and how to goad me on; but I knew it too. It wasn’t the first time I had played dice.”
He sighed, and his eyes were moist. “What is done is done, and nothing I can say or do will fetch back time. I am guilty, and I must learn to live with my guilt, finding solace where I may for making all of you suffer. Nothing you say can be worse than my own memories of that day. Over and over again, I see the dice rolling ruin out of Shakuni’s smooth hands. I hear myself losing my kingdom, my brothers, myself, Panchali, everything. And it is like dying, worse than dying, for these memories are fraught with such terrible shame. But I must learn to be brave: to accept what I did, to live with it, and to overcome it.
“Draupadi, Bheema, whatever you say to me, your harshest accusations can only be less than my crime deserves.”
He fell silent. Bheema was certain he had convinced Yudhishtira. All that remained was for his brother to give the word, and they would swoop down on Hastinapura and set everything right again. Then, lowering his voice, Yudhishtira spoke so softly that he was almost speaking to himself. But the others heard him clearly, and there was no mistaking what he said.
“Yes, Bheema, it is only true, what you say I have done. But there is one other thing. At the end of my folly, when our kingdom was lost at the second game of dice, I gave my word that I would spend twelve years in the jungle in exile, and a thirteenth in disguise. And, hear me well, Bheema, Draupadi, all of you: my word is sacred and I will not break it.”
He spoke calmly, but it was clear he meant what he said. It was Yudhishtira, their older brother and husband, who spoke, and now it was Yudhishtira their king. He said, “At the end of thirteen years, if Duryodhana refuses to give us back our kingdom, then, Bheema, I shall indeed become as angry as you want me to. Then I will think of killing our enemies and, at that time, no one will stop me. Just as no one will persuade me today, because I know I have returned to the path of dharma and I will not leave it again.
“At the end of thirteen years, if they do not give back what is ours, we shall have war with them. Then, Bheema, you can strew the field of battle with our enemies’ corpses, and you can do it with my blessing. You can dismember Dusasana, and break Duryodhana’s thigh. Arjuna, you can kill Karna and his men. Sahadeva can kill Shakuni, and Nakula can kill his son Uluka. And, Panchali, you can feast your eyes on the dead, and wash your hair in Dusasana’s blood.”
He paused, and it was so strange for the others to hear their pacific brother speak like that of war and killing. They could almost see the jungle turn into a battlefield, and the lake before them into blood. They sat bemused by the visions Yudhishtira conjured for them. He went on as in a dream, still speaking as softly as night fell.
“I will fight beside you then. I will also let my hands and my weapons speak for me. Ah, yes, I will also let loose the fiend, rage, whom I would have shackled for thirteen long years. And no one will say Yudhishtira is the same man who stood silently in the court of Hastinapura while his wife and brothers were humiliated, repeatedly. No one will believe it.”
He spoke simply, from his heart, and not Bheema or Draupadi dared talk back to Yudhishtira. It was as if he had been called on to prove he was worthy of being their king: that he could contain them. No one could have proved it so quietly, so effectively.
“Bheema, I swear everything I have said will come to pass if they don’t keep their word at the end of thirteen years. But not a day before that. For, in the meanwhile, I must keep my own word. Otherwise, dharma will desert me, and I shall be no better than they are.”
Then he paused, before saying, “There is something else. You imagine the Kauravas are perfectly happy now, that they have sent us into exile. You think they are enjoying the fruits of their crime. Bheema, things are not what you imagine. I tell you, Dhritarashtra hasn’t a moment of peace. His conscience savages him for what he has done to us, and fear chokes every breath he draws. His life has turned into a hell, and he is in constant dread of the day we return to claim what is ours. Your threats haunt him, and he suffers anguish worse than death. Bheema, our uncle is already paying for what he did.
“And so also, Duryodhana and the others. They are only human, and guilt will not spare them its torments. No man who breaks dharma escapes the consequences. The seat of dharma is not somewhere far from a man, or in heaven, but in his own heart. With all the reasoning in the world, the one person he can never escape is himself. Our enemies already pay for their sin. So let us be masters of ourselves, in the knowledge that, even today, they are punished fiercely by guilt and fear. At the end of thirteen years, if they have not relented, then we shall become the instruments of a final retribution.
“As for the reason I restrained you in the sabha of Hastinapura, it was because rashness never achieves anything. We must reflect before we act. We must act calmly, so we accomplish our purpose. Most often, men do not realize what they do, or why; and they gain nothing by their thoughtlessness.”
“So, Bheema,” finished Yudhishtira decisively, “we must wait these thirteen years out, patiently. When they are over, if our cousins are still adamant, we will face them in war. That I promise you.”
Even as he spoke, it seemed to the others Yudhishtira grew old and wise beyond their understanding. Now Bheema was quiet. What his brother said about the Kauravas already suffering calmed him. Draupadi was quiet; though grudgingly, she, too, saw the sense of what Yudhishtira said. It was only he who saw clearly in this time of darkness, and when he spoke to them like that, with such conviction, the others saw their own immaturity and rashness reflected clear against his quiet wisdom. They realized that he also wanted justice for what they had suffered; perhaps, he wanted it more fervently than they did. Yudhishtira was prepared to wait to see justice done: to be sure it was done properly.
Knowing they had mistaken his deeper concern for indifference, his wife and his brothers fell silent. Just then, a familiar voice hailed them and they saw their grandsire Vyasa walking up the woodland path.
SEVEN
Vyasa’s advice
YUDHISHTIRA MAY HAVE HEAVED A SIGH OF RELIEF WHEN HE SAW Vyasa walking up the path to the asrama. If he had ever needed the support of an elder, it was now; and Vyasa arrived as if he had sure instinct of his grandson’s need.
At once, the mood in the asrama changed. The Pandavas and Draupadi lay at the muni’s feet for his blessing. Draupadi served a meal, and then, as a golden moon rose over forest and lake, they sat together on the steps of the hermitage.
Vyasa said, “From far away, I saw discord rear its head among you. Bheema you are like a child, impulsive, impatient. It is never wise to follow someone like you. Have you thought how powerful your enemies are, before you want to rush at them without an army? They have strengthened themselves immeasurably since you left. Bhoorisravas and Sala have joined them, and Bheeshma and Drona have sworn to fight for Duryodhana. Regardless of right and wrong, they decided to cast their lot with Hastinapura and its king.
“Have you considered Aswatthama and Karna? Those two by themselves are enough to raze an army. Karna, Drona and Bheeshma all have the same guru. Bhargava has given them astras that can consume the very earth. How will you fight these three without dharma on your side? If you attack them now, every one of you will die. But you did not pause to consider this possibility, did you Bheema? Or you, Draupadi? You were so angry. And you wouldn’t have been the first ones to lose your lives because you let anger rule you.
“You are fortunate Yudhishtira is not as rash as you are, but reflective and cautious, as a king should be. Who knows, but for him, all of you might already be dead. And instead of thanking him with all your hearts, you rage at him.”
Vyasa paused, and let his words sink in. His eyes were like lamps in the moonlight. He wanted Bheema and Draupadi to understand how dangerous their rashness had been. By the flush on their cheeks and their lowered eyes, Vyasa saw he had achieved his purpose. Yudhishtira showed no pleasure at his small victory; relief was all he felt. He was far more mature than the others, and often saw them as his own children.
And it was Yudhishtira who asked Vyasa, “My lord, if they are so powerful, how can we ever hope to fight them? What if they don’t give back our kingdom after thirteen years? From what you say, we shall be helpless.”
“The serene mind arrives most quickly at its true destination! Your question is well asked. Do you remember the burning of the Khandava vana? What Indra said when Arjuna asked him for the devastras?”
Arjuna remembered. “He said he would give me all the astras he had, when the time came. But first, Lord Siva must give me his Paasupatastra.”
Vyasa said, “The time has come. Send Arjuna to the mountains. He must perform a tapasya to Siva, and receive his Paasupatastra from the Lord. Then, Indra will give him all his astras. You will have need of every one, for the war will be a harder one than you can imagine.”
Yudhishtira wondered, “You seem certain there will be war.”
Vyasa said grimly, “There will be war, it was written before you were born. There will be a war to end all wars: the Mahabharata yuddha, the war on the crack of the ages. Let Arjuna prepare himself for that war; he will be the key to victory, and Bheema. But Bheema was born with unearthly strength, and he has drunk nagamrita.”
Bheema’s eyes shone in the silvery night. He for one was delighted to hear that there would be a war. He would have his revenge then; nothing would stop him. They sat in silence, watching the moon float on the lake as a lotus-scented breeze rustled through the forest.
Vyasa said, “You have stayed long enough in the Dwaitavana; this place has grown stale on you. It fills your spirits with melancholy; it fills Draupadi with sadness. The vapours of the lake have this effect. Go back to the Kamyaka now.”
Yudhishtira said, “We will leave tomorrow.”
Draupadi was glad. She felt her husband spent too much time with the rishis of the Dwaitavana, and neglected her. They sat in silence for some time, then turned in. The next morning, Vyasa was up before the sun, and he shook Yudhishtira awake, and took him down to the lake. He made the Pandava wash in the still dark water, and sit before him under a tree. He made him shut his eyes, and, placing his hand on Yudhishtira’s head, the muni chanted a secret mantra. He said, “Receive the pratismriti from me.”
A current of energy coursed through Yudhishtira, and if his eyes had been open, he would have seen that light flowed into his body from Vyasa’s hand, making him glow uncannily. Vyasa kept his palm on his grandson’s head for a while, then, removed it slowly, and the lustre faded. After another moment, the muni said, “You can open your eyes now, the pratismriti is with you. You must teach it to Arjuna.”
Yudhishtira felt a deep sense of wellbeing, and he prostrated himself before the maharishi. Vyasa said, “I must leave now, but don’t tarry here any more. You have lived six years by this lake, and that is enough. You have been patient, brave and strong, my son, and I am proud of you. But it is time you began to prepare in earnest for the end of your exile and the war you must fight.”
Blessing Yudhishtira, Vyasa walked away, promising to see them again soon. The sun rose. The other Pandavas rose with it. When they had bathed and worshipped Surya Deva, they set out for the Kamyaka, retracing their steps of six years ago. By midday, they arrived on the banks of the Saraswati, and fording the river in the same ferry, they were back in the old forest.
They found their way to the clearing where they had built the first asrama of their exile, and saw the hardy wooden huts had withstood the seasons well. A few small repairs to the little kutilas, and the Pandavas, Draupadi and their brahmanas settled back in the Kamyaka. It was remarkable how Bheema and Draupadi, Arjuna and the twins seemed to shed their dejection as soon as they left the Dwaitavana. Perhaps, it was just the change of place, or possibly, they felt restored hearing Vyasa’s prophecy that there would be a war: they would have their chance to take revenge on Dhritarashtra’s sons.
When they had spent a rather pleasant month in the clearing in the Kamyaka, Yudhishtira took Arjuna aside one day. Taking his brother’s hand, he said, “Vyasa is certain there will be a war and, in my heart, so am I. Drona, Bheeshma and Karna will fight against us. You are our main hope against them.” He sighed, “Life is cruel, that our Pitama and our Acharya might face us in battle; but we must expect every eventuality. Somehow, I do not believe Duryodhana will return our kingdom to us peacefully; and more than Bheeshma or Drona, even, I fear Karna. You must prepare yourself to face him, Arjuna, and for that you must have the devastras of Indra.”
Yudhishtira was loth to part from his brother for even a day. It had been hard for him when Arjuna went away on his tirtha-yatra; but then, their circumstances had been very different. Here in the jungle, the very thought of sending Arjuna away dismayed Yudhishtira. But he must go now; later, there would not be time. Who knew how long he would have to sit in tapasya before Siva gave him his Paasupata? Who knew what trials Mahadeva would subject him to, before he decided he was worthy of having that astra? And only after Arjuna had the Paasupatastra, would Indra give him his weapons.
