Read Jaya: An Illustrated Retelling of the Mahabharata Page 20


  ‘How do you know?’ asked a wide-eyed Uttara.

  ‘Because I am Arjuna, the third Pandava, son of Kunti.’ Uttara fell to his knees as he saw Arjuna standing before him holding the bow Gandiva in his hand. ‘Now we have a battle to fight and a war to win,’ said Arjuna.

  This time when the chariot entered the battlefield, the young prince was the charioteer and the eunuch was the warrior. Once again, the Kauravas laughed and blew their conch-shells until the eunuch raised his bow, released his arrows and brought down the flags of Duryodhana, Karna, Bhishma and Drona.

  ‘That’s not a eunuch,’ said Karna. ‘Look at the flag fluttering atop the chariot. It has the symbol of the monkey. And look at the bow in his hand. It looks like the Gandiva. That is without doubt Arjuna.’

  Duryodhana smiled at this revelation, ‘There, we have smoked them out. The thirteenth year of exile is not over and they have been discovered. They have to go back to the forest now.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure,’ said Bhishma. ‘The Pandavas are no fools to reveal themselves so publicly before the end of the thirteenth year. Think, Duryodhana, think. How do you calculate a year? By the movement of the sun through the twelve solar houses of the zodiac, or by the time taken for the moon to be full across twenty-seven lunar houses, or by the calendar given by astrologers? All three are different. Our astrologers add two extra months every fifth year so that their man-made calendar corresponds with the natural cycle of the sun and the moon. By that calculation, over five months have passed since the thirteenth year of the Pandava exile. Yudhishtira could have revealed himself five months earlier. But he did not want issues raised on technical grounds. So he and his brothers waited five more months to reveal themselves. So you see, they have kept their end of the agreement.’

  ‘There is merit in what Bhishma says,’ said Drona.

  ‘You always agree with the elders of the family,’ said Duryodhana. ‘As per my calendar, the thirteen years are not yet over, no matter what they argue. The Pandavas must stay in exile.’ Duryodhana then turned to Karna and Dusshasana and said, ‘Attack. Kill Arjuna and raze Matsya to the ground.’

  But before anyone could take a step forward, Arjuna released three arrows, one landed near Bhishma’s feet, another at Drona’s feet, indicating his reverence for the two of them, and the third one put the entire Kaurava army to sleep.

  Arjuna then instructed Uttara to go and collect the upper garments of Duryodhana, Karna, Drona and Bhishma. ‘When they wake up, they will know that I spared their lives. They will go away humiliated.’

  The yagna was a mobile ritual needing no permanent structure, suggesting that the followers of the Veda were primarily nomadic herdsmen. Over time, they intermingled and married people who lived more settled lives such as Naga agriculturists and Asura miners. The Mahabharata is the tale of an age when the intermingling was well on its way. But the tradition of stealing and fighting over cows had not yet waned.

  In Bhasa’s play, Pancharatra, dated 100 CE, the cattle raid is carried out on Bhishma’s instruction to teach Virata a lesson for not attending Duryodhana’s yagna. Duryodhana dares his teacher, Drona, to expose the Pandavas in five days failing which he is ready to divide his kingdom. Drona fails and Duryodhana divides the kingdom and peace follows—a total departure from the classical ending.

  Stealing cows or go-harana was the easiest method to start a fight in Vedic times. The epic states that the war was fought over thousands of cows and involved hundreds of chariots, elephants and foot soldiers from Matsya, Hastinapuri and Trigarta. The scale of the war described seems rather hyperbolic, an exaggeration of a smaller skirmish with cattle thieves.

  The story of Uttara and Brihanalla riding into the battlefield adds comic relief to the otherwise serious epic. To many, the character Brihanalla proves that men were castrated in Vedic times to serve in women’s quarters. There are those who dispute this, saying that this is a later interpolation and that the practice of castrating men and using them as servants came to India after the invasion of Central Asian warlords post 1000 CE.

  Ancient Indians were conversant with the complexities involved with measuring time. Attention was given to the movements of the sun and the moon across twelve solar constellations and twenty-seven lunar constellations while preparing a calendar. To align the twelve months of the lunar calendar with the six seasons and the movement of the sun and the moon, the notion of adhik-maas, or extra month, was created and used from time-to-time.

  70

  Marriage of Uttari

  When Virata returned to Matsya, having successfully retrieved his cows from Trigata with the help of his adviser, cook, horse keeper and cow herder, he was told that his son had single-handedly driven back the Kaurava army which had attacked the northern frontier. Virata beamed with pride at the news. ‘Can you believe it? Such a young boy and what a feat!’

  ‘With Brihanalla by his side, Uttara was bound to succeed,’ said Kanka. The king ignored this comment since it belittled his son’s achievement; he decided to celebrate by playing dice.

  While he was playing, he once again said beaming with pride, ‘Imagine my young boy routing all those great Kuru warriors.’

  ‘Not impossible considering Brihanalla was by his side,’ said Kanka once again. This repeated reference to a eunuch, suggesting that the prince owed his success to someone, further annoyed the king. This happened a third time; this time an irritated Virata flung the die at Kanka striking his nose so hard that it began to bleed.

  Sairandhri who was sitting nearby rushed with a cup so that not a single drop of Yudhishtira’s blood touched the ground. ‘He is an honest man,’ she explained, ‘if his blood touches the ground, there will be famine.’

  The king did not pay much attention to what was being said, as the prince entered the court at that very moment with the upper garments of senior Kuru warriors in his hand. Brihanalla coyly stood behind him. The women of the palace rushed to greet him. He was given a hero’s welcome. He tried to tell the truth but no one heard him. Nobody noticed Brihanalla walking behind the prince, smiling slyly.

  The night was spent celebrating the ‘success’ of Virata. The next day, when the king entered his court, he was shocked to find Kanka sitting on his throne with a spear in his right hand and Sairandhri seated on his left lap. Ballava, Brihanalla, Damagranthi and Tantipala stood behind him holding fierce-looking weapons of war.

  ‘What is the meaning of this? How dare you sit on a seat reserved for kings?’

  To this Brihanalla answered, ‘Because Kanka is a king. He is Yudhishtira, son of Pandu, grandson of Vichitravirya.’ The Pandavas then revealed their true identities to the king.

  Suddenly, everything made sense. Kanka’s sense of fair play, Ballava’s strength, Brihanalla’s skill, Damagranthi’s beauty, Tantipala’s intelligence and Sairandhri’s regal bearing. Virata and Sudeshna apologized for treating them as servants. ‘We were your servants,’ said the Pandavas extending a hand of friendship.

  ‘To make amends for our rudeness, committed in ignorance perhaps, I give my daughter, Uttari, to Arjuna,’ said Virata.

  ‘I spent the year teaching her dance. She is my student, like my daughter. So I accept her as a daughter-in-law. She shall marry my son, Abhimanyu.’

  Virata is so blind in his love for Uttara that he is unable to accept a truth that is evident to all. He is very much like the blind Dhritarashtra and the blindfolded Gandhari who regard Duryodhana very highly. Vyasa wonders if parents are naturally blind to shortcomings of their children like Dhritarashtra, or if they choose to be blind like Gandhari.

  There is an advice here for servants that perhaps it is wise to sometimes be quiet rather than correct. Kanka is being correct and in doing so annoying his master. Discretion here, perhaps even silence, would be more appropriate.

  In folk songs, there is a suggestion that Arjuna perhaps was secretly in love with Uttari. But since she looked upon him as a teacher, he decided to make her his daughter-in-law rather
than his wife.

  The name of Virata’s kingdom, Matsya, suggests that he may have been a descendant of Satyavati’s brother. Matsya means fish. Both Satyavati and her brother were found inside a fish. Since Uttari’s grandson eventually becomes the Pandava heir, Satyavati’s dream of being the mother of kings is finally fulfilled generations later.

  Book Thirteen

  Gathering

  ‘Janamejaya, those who enlisted to fight at Kuru-kshetra, were driven by many thoughts, not all noble.’

  71

  Negotiations

  After thirteen years of exile, the Pandavas were ready to return to Indra-prastha.

  First, a priest was sent by the Pandavas from Matsya to Hastina-puri to ask for their land. Duryodhana sent him back, claiming that while by the lunar calendar the Pandavas had completed the thirteen years of exile, they had not completed it as per the solar calendar. So they had to go back to the forest for another twelve years.

  Duryodhana then sent his father’s charioteer, Sanjay, as emissary to tell the Pandavas not to return for they were not welcome in Indra-prastha. All was well there and everyone had forgotten the Pandava brothers who had built the city only to gamble it away.

  Sages like Sanat and Kanva rushed to Hastina-puri and tried to explain to Dhritarashtra that his son’s stand was not right. It was against dharma. When the ethical and moral approach did not work, the sages warned Dhritarashtra and his sons that neither Krishna nor the Pandavas were ordinary men. Arjuna and Krishna were Nara and Narayana reborn. Krishna was Vishnu who walked the earth and no one had ever defeated Vishnu in battle.

  They narrated the tale of Garuda, the king of the birds, who insisted on eating Sumukha, the serpent, who Gunakeshi, the daughter of Indra’s charioteer, Matali, was betrothed to marry. Matali begged Garuda to spare the man his daughter had fallen in love with, but Garuda ignored him. Finally Matali invoked Indra, king of the Devas, who summoned Garuda. When Garuda displayed his prowess arrogantly, Indra placed his hand on Garuda. So heavy was his hand that Garuda could not stand. Humbled, he agreed to let the young Sumukha live. ‘Duryodhana, do not be arrogant like Garuda. Or, you will be humbled as he was.’

  When Duryodhana laughed at this story and Dhritarashtra remained silent, the sages shook their heads and went away in despair concluding that nothing now could save the Kuru household from the path of self-destruction.

  Krishna then decided to travel to Hastina-puri and try and make the Kauravas see sense. As he made his way to the city, he found that all along the highway arrangements had been made by Duryodhana for his refreshment. Tents had been set up. There were men holding pots of water and baskets of food. Krishna refused all this.

  In the city, he stayed in Vidura’s house instead of Dhritarashtra’s palace. ‘I will eat food with the Kauravas only when my meeting with them is successful.’ Vidura never ate in the house of the king. He and his family sustained themselves on green leafy vegetables that they grew in their own kitchen garden. This was basically to maintain their autonomy and to express their displeasure on the way the king had treated his own nephews.

  When Krishna finally met the blind king and his sons, things were not pleasant. Duryodhana told Krishna, ‘I will not part with Indra-prastha. I rule it well. No one wants the gamblers back.’

  ‘A word is a word. Whether you rule well or not does not matter. You promised to return Indra-prastha after the Pandavas endured thirteen years of humiliating exile. They have kept their word. You do too,’ said Krishna.

  ‘No,’ said Duryodhana.

  ‘For the sake of peace, give them at least five villages so that they may live with dignity,’ appealed Krishna.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Five houses in one village.’

  ‘No. Not even a needlepoint of territory will I part with,’ said Duryodhana.

  ‘By going back on your word,’ said Krishna, ‘you have destroyed the foundation of dharma. By refusing to a compromise for the sake of peace, you have made yourself unfit to rule. You must therefore be destroyed.’ Krishna stood up and took his decision. ‘Let there be war on the plains of Kuru-kshetra between the upholders of civilized conduct and the followers of the law of the jungle. Let the earth be drenched in the blood of those who do not deserve her bounty.’

  ‘How dare you threaten me!’ shouted Duryodhana. ‘Guards, seize this upstart cowherd.’

  The whole court was shocked by Duryodhana’s orders. Arresting Krishna! That was unthinkable. Soon, the court was filled with a dozen guards pointing their swords and spears at Krishna. Krishna smiled, ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ he said. And suddenly, the court was filled with a blinding light. What followed was a vision that terrified all the Kauravas: Krishna appeared not as a man but as a being with a thousand heads breathing fire, grinding entire worlds between his teeth. His head reached beyond the skies and his feet went beyond the seas.

  ‘What is it that everyone is seeing?’ asked the blind Dhritarashtra. But everyone was too thunderstruck to reply. ‘What is it? What is it? Please Krishna; let me for once see this.’

  Krishna obliged. For the first time in his life, Dhritarashtra could see and what he saw brought tears to his eyes. He could see God. ‘Let me not see anything more. Let me be blind once more. Eyes that have seen this must not see anything else.’

  The vision was replaced by darkness. When light returned, Krishna was gone. Bliss and awe experienced for a moment in the presence of divinity was forgotten once more. War had been declared and it would be fought.

  The five villages that Krishna asked for the Pandavas during his negotiations for peace included Paniprastha (modern Panipat), Sonaprastha (modern Sonipat), Tilprastha (modern Tilpat), Vrikshprastha (modern Bagpat) and Indra-prastha (modern Delhi).

  In Bhasa’s play, Duta Vakya, dated 100 CE, Krishna’s weapons appear in human form and terrify Duryodhana, who gives up his plan to arrest Krishna. The weapons are the disc called Sudarshan, the mace called Kaumodaki, the bow called Saranga, the sword called Nandaka and the conch called Panchajanya.

  Saam, daam, dand, bhed are the four methods enumerated in the Artha-shastra, the treatise on polity, to make people do one’s bidding. Saam means convincing people through talks using logic and emotion. Daam means bribing people. Dand means using force or the threat of force. Bhed means dividing and conquering the enemy. Krishna uses all four methods. He talks to the Kauravas. He is willing to settle for just five villages for the Pandavas. He narrates tales of the prowess of the Pandavas. When all this fails, he decides to divide the Kauravas.

  Just before the war, a solar eclipse is followed by a lunar eclipse. During negotiations, the sky was filled with inauspicious astrological omens. This information that comes from the Bhishma Parva has been used by astronomers to date the war.

  Before the war, following a solar eclipse, all the kings of India had gathered in Kuru-kshetra to purify themselves by bathing in the five lakes there. The Pandavas were in exile then. Krishna who was present was spellbound by the pomp and glory of the assembled royalty. He had a premonition that the next time the kings would gather in Kuru-kshetra, it would be to meet death.

  Vidura’s autonomy in the midst of political intrigue is legendary. Though he lived with his brother in the palace he never ate palace food; he sustained himself on green leafy vegetables that he grew in his own garden. Vidura-saag or the green leafy vegetables of Vidura have inspired songs of devotion, for they were given to him by Krishna himself, who was pleased with Vidura’s detached worldly conduct.

  After Krishna’s visit, the Kauravas sent a final emissary called Uluka formally declaring war against the Pandavas.

  72

  A fierce mother and a loyal friend

  Before leaving Hastina-puri, Krishna went to Kunti, mother of the Pandavas, who had stayed back with her brother-in-law. Krishna asked her if she had any advice for her sons who were rather disheartened, though not surprised, by the Kaurava refusal to return Indra-prastha after the stipulated per
iod of exile. ‘Tell my sons the story of Vidula,’ said Kunti, ‘Her son was similarly dispirited following his defeat by the king of Sindhu. Vidula told him, always fight for one’s rights, and it is better to have a short but glorious life with head held high than a long life of mediocrity and shame. Let Vidula’s advice to her sons be my advice to mine.’ Krishna bowed his head and promised to deliver this message.

  Krishna then decided to pay a visit to Duryodhana’s friend, Karna. ‘Why do you fight for the Kauravas even when you know they are wrong to cling to the land in such an unrighteous manner?’ Krishna asked Karna. ‘If you say you shall not fight for the Kauravas, then Duryodhana may rethink the war. The chances of a peaceful resolution will increase.’

  Karna said, ‘I will never abandon my friend.’ He would never abandon the man who had stood by him and declared him warrior when the world rejected him as a charioteer’s son. Krishna said that loyalty for a man who had gone back on his word would only breed adharma. But Karna stood his ground.

  It was then that Krishna revealed to Karna the secret of his birth. ‘Karna, the men that Duryodhana fights are your own brothers. You are the son of Kunti, conceived through the sun-god before her marriage. By the code of Shvetaketu, the man who married her, Pandu, is your father. That means you are a Pandava, the first Pandava, elder than Yudhishtira. And since Arjuna was asked by Kunti to share Draupadi with all his brothers, she is your wife too. Should you change sides, you will be the king of Indra-prastha and Draupadi will be your queen and the five Pandavas will serve you and Kunti will bless you.’