Vidura, ever a candid critic, said, “He deserves all this and more. But, O King, I know your secret purpose. The Pandavas desire to be given only five villages; you can please our visitor by yielding those five villages rather than all these luxuries and gems. You only plan to win Krishna’s support with all your bribes. You will not succeed. Give him rather what he comes for… peace and justice. Behave like a father to the Pandavas also, as they always treat you with the utmost filial respect and affection. Krishna is trying to speak to you about the need to let the Pandavas and Kauravas live in peace. You must try to achieve it rather than offering him virgins, gems, and the other gifts.”
Duryodhana understood Vidura’s statement in his own way and declared, “I agree with Vidura. You must not give Kesava* anything more than a welcome of honour. And then… ,” he chuckled to himself as he added, “We will keep him as our honoured… prisoner. When he is confined, the Pandavas will collapse and become our slaves. Now if you wish to advise, tell me how best to achieve my purpose without rousing Krishna’s suspicion when he arrives tomorrow morning.”
Dhritarashtra felt shocked at his son’s words. “Never talk in that strain again. He is coming as an ambassador and has done no harm to anyone. What undreamt-of evil comes to your mind!”
Krishna was received on the outskirts of the capital by Bhishma, Drona, Kripa, and others, and citizens thronged there by the thousands. On his arrival, Krishna went straight to the palace to formally call on Dhritarashtra. Then he visited Kunthi at her residence to give her news of her sons, from whom she had been separated for over thirteen years.
She said, “When I think of it, my daughter-in-law’s fate fills me with more grief than my sons’. Married to these heroic men, she yet had neither protection nor peace, and has been separated from her children all these years! How she could have borne this particular anxiety, in addition to all else, is unimaginable. Tell my sons that it is time to act. If they hesitate and delay, they will be making themselves contemptible and I will give them up for ever.”
Krishna said, “You will soon see them as the lords of the earth, with their enemies routed and buried.”
At the first opportunity, Duryodhana said to Krishna, “O Great One, you must eat in my house today. I have prepared a grand banquet in your honour.”
Krishna replied, “No, I cannot accept your hospitality.”
“Why so? With you we bear no ill will. Your reply is unbecoming.”
“One should accept food only if one is desperate or loves the person who offers it. I am in no desperation. Nor have you endeared yourself to me by any act of yours. For no known reason you hate the Pandavas, who have done you no injury. He who hates the Pandavas hates me; those who love them love me; that is all. I cannot eat your food, which seems to me contaminated with evil.”
Instead, Krishna went to Vidura’s home and ate there. Vidura had a warning for him: “This fool, Duryodhana, already thinks his purpose is achieved with the assembling of his huge army. He is in no mood to listen to anyone. I dread your going into that wicked assembly and speaking your mind. No purpose will be served by your going into their midst again. Please keep away from them.”
Krishna was untouched by these fears and appeared next day at the full assembly. There he gave vent to his feelings, and explained his mission unambiguously, offering peace with one hand and an ultimatum with the other.
Duryodhana was angered by Krishna’s words. “I see nothing to be apologetic about. What have I done? I won the game. I do not see why you people find fault with me all the time, as if I had committed a heinous deed. The Pandavas were defeated in the game by Sakuni and lost their kingdom, that is all. I gave them back everything at the end of it, but they lost again and went into exile. Whose fault is it? Who compelled Yudhistira to come back and play a second time? Why do they think of me as their enemy? For what reason? Why should I be blamed for all their rotten luck and incompetence in playing? Now they seek a fight with us as if they were strong. Please dissuade them from taking this suicidal step. Tell them, O Kesava, as long as I breathe I will not give them any land, not even enough to cover a needle-point. That is final.”
“Oh, you have a blunted conscience,” said Krishna. “You think that you have done no wrong. Let the eminent men assembled here judge….” He recounted the history of the conflict from beginning to end, every now and then warning Duryodhana of the consequences.
Dussasana, seeing that all the elders were supporting Krishna, said cynically to his brother, “If you do not make peace with the Pandavas, Drona, Bhishma, and your own father will bind us, hand and foot, and deliver us over to the Pandavas.” At this, Duryodhana glared angrily at the assembly and walked out of the hall. Following him went his brother, his allies and counsellors, leaving the ambassador without an audience for his message.
Krishna said, “King, the time has come for you to bind and confine this son of yours with his accomplices, as Dussasana himself suggests. Deprive him of his authority and make peace with the Pandavas. Save the race from extinction.”
Dhritarashtra became nervous and told Vidura to fetch Gandhari immediately. “If she has any influence on this demon, we may still be able to save ourselves.”
Gandhari was brought in hurriedly, and Dhritarashtra explained the situation to her. She ordered an attendant to fetch Duryodhana at once. Then she scolded her blind husband, blaming him for the recklessness of Duryodhana, for the indulgence he had always shown him. When Duryodhana came back, she lectured him, although he breathed heavily (“like a snake”) and with eyes red (“as copper from wrath”). Gandhari spoke on the futility of war and the sin of avarice, but Duryodhana spurned her advice and, even while she was talking, walked out again.
Outside the hall he consulted Sakuni, Dussasana, and Karna, and came to the conclusion that it was time for them to act. “We shall seize this Krishna by force, confine him in prison, and then fight and eliminate the Pandavas in a trice. Let Dhritarashtra cry and protest, but we shall execute our plan.” Satyaki, coming to know of this plan, assembled his troops in readiness to protect Krishna, and entered the assembly hall to warn him.
When Krishna heard the news he said to Dhritarashtra, “If they wish to seize me violently, let them. I can chastise all these misguided men, but I will refrain from such acts in your august presence. I give them permission to try and seize me if they wish.”
Dhritarashtra became desperate, begging for time to make one more attempt to dissuade Duryodhana from his evil plan. When Duryodhana re-entered, surrounded by his group of supporters, Dhritarashtra spoke once more to him strongly, but it had no effect. Vidura also spoke to him at length.
Finally Krishna himself said, “Suyodhana,* you are a deluded being. You plan to seize and hold me, thinking that I am alone!” He burst into laughter and said, “Now see….” He produced a multidimensional vision of his stature and personality, surrounded by the Pandavas and all the gods, and all the armies of the world. It was impossible to seize any part of him. It is said that Dhritarashtra regained his sight for a moment to behold the grand vision and then begged to be left sightless again so that later he might not see the destruction of his race with his own eyes.
After granting this vision, Krishna resumed his mortal form and walked out of the assembly. When he was ready to start back for Upaplavya, all the Kauravas at the court bade him a respectful farewell. Before leaving, Krishna turned to Karna and suggested, “Why don’t you come into my chariot and ride with me?” Karna immediately obeyed, with his own chariot following him.
During the ride Krishna spoke to him with extreme tenderness and tried to wean him away from the Kauravas. He explained to him his parentage; how he was to be considered the eldest of the Pandavas; how he would be the successor, as soon as the war was won; and how Yudhistira, being his junior, would be the heir apparent. Karna simply said, “I understand your love, which makes you promise me these, but, Janardana, I cannot accept your suggestion. I am indebted to Duryodhana for h
is support all these years. How can I give him up, although I know we are all doomed?”
“Your loyalty is understandable, but destructive, unnatural. You are gifted and brilliant, but you must have discrimination and understand right and wrong. Your friendship is no help to Duryodhana; you are only supporting his unholy decision, for which his death is certain.” Krishna stopped his chariot so that Karna might get into his own and return to Hastinapura. Before parting, Karna said, “If I am killed in the war, I shall attain the heavenly seat kept for warriors. Once there may I hope to have the honour of meeting you again and retaining your grace?”
Krishna said, “Let it be so,” and gave him a parting message. “When you get back, tell Drona and Bhishma that this month is suitable. Food, drink, and fuel are abundantly available; the roads are dry, free from slush; the weather is pleasant and moderate. After seven days we will have the new moon. We will commence the battle then.”
The next day, Kunthi arrived at Karna’s home to try to persuade him to give up Duryodhana. Again she explained Karna’s origin, and how he was to be considered one among the Pandavas.
Karna said, “I respect and believe you, but I cannot accept your words with the authority of a mother. You found it possible to desert me and float me down the river. The parents I have known are the Suta and his wife who saved and nourished me. I will fight for Dhritarashtra’s son until a wisp of breath is left in me. However, in deference to your wishes, I shall fight only with Arjuna and no one else. I will never encounter the other four at any time. I promise, whether I survive or Arjuna survives, you will have five sons left at the end.”
Kunthi embraced him and wept and said, “Very well, you have pledged to spare four of my other sons. Only remember this pledge at the time you draw your bowstring. Fate, fate, what can one do? My blessings and farewell.”
14 Hesitant Hero
WHEN KRISHNA CAME BACK and reported the results of his mission, Yudhistira turned to his brothers and said, “You have heard the final word from the other side. We have assembled seven akshaunis of troops. We have seven distinguished warriors who could each lead a division: Drupada, Virata, Dhrishtadyumna, Sikandi, Satyaki, Chekithana, and Bhima; all of them conversant with the Vedas, brave, and accomplished in the science of warfare; all of them familiar with the use of every kind of weapon. Now I want your advice as to who should be the Commander-in-Chief. On the other side, Bhishma is certain to be the Generalissimo.” Many names were suggested, but finally, on Krishna’s advice, Draupadi’s brother, Dhrishtadyumna, was made the Supreme Commander.
As the time for battle approached, troop movements began, creating a tremendous din—horses neighing, elephants trumpeting, their riders shouting and urging them on over the noise of drums, conchs, and rolling chariot wheels. Yudhistira personally supervised the transportation of food supplies and fodder. He gathered a stock of tents, cash chests, war machines, weapons, and medicines, and made arrangements for surgeons and physicians to follow the army. He left Draupadi behind at Upaplavya, with a strong contingent to guard her.
Yudhistira marched at the head of the advancing troops. In the rear were Virata, Dhrishtadyumna, Virata’s sons, forty thousand chariots; cavalry and infantry. Yudhistira encamped on the levelled part of a field called Kurukshetra, which was at a fair distance from cemeteries, temples, and other consecrated ground. Krishna dammed a little river nearby for water storage, and stationed a strong body of troops to protect it. Thousands of tents were pitched all around, stocked with plenty of food and drink. Huge quantities of weapons and coats of mail were heaped in mounds.
At Hastinapura, the troops were mustered in millions and moved to the front. Duryodhana arranged his eleven akshaunis of troops—men, elephants, chariots, and horses—into three classes—superior, middling, and inferior. In addition to normal weapons, his military store consisted of earthen pots filled with poisonous snakes or inflammable material, strange devices for throwing hot treacle, poison darts, and huge syringes for shooting boiling oil. He placed akshaunis of troops under Kripa, Drona, Salya, Dussasana, and others. His Supreme Commander, as expected, was Bhishma. Karna reminded everyone of his vow not to fight until Bhishma should be slain in battle.
Duryodhana ordered musicians to play their instruments, sound the drums, and blow conchs. Suddenly, amid these celebrations, there were bad omens. The sky was cloudless, but blood-coloured showers fell and made the ground slushy. Whirlwinds and earthquakes occurred. Meteors fell. Jackals howled.
Dhritarashtra received a description of the armies through Sanjaya, who had been granted an extraordinary vision by which he could watch the progress of the battle from his seat in the palace hall. Sanjaya reported on the formations of troops facing each other on the east and west of Kurukshetra Field. At dawn all the arrangements were complete and both sides were ready to fight.
Piloted by Krishna, Arjuna’s chariot was stationed at a strategic point in the front line from which he could survey fully the personalities opposite. He recognized each one, and suddenly lost heart. All his kinsmen, his guru, his uncle, grandfather, and cousins were there waiting to be hurt and killed. He suddenly felt weak and irresolute. He confessed to Krishna, “I cannot go on with this war. My grasp on Gandiva slips, my mind wanders; how can I slaughter my kith and kin? I do not want the kingdom; I do not want anything. Leave me alone. Let me go away.” The Gandiva slipped from his hand, and he sat down on the floor of his chariot and began to sob. “How can I direct my arrow at Bhishma or Drona, whom I ought to worship? I do not know if any kingdom is worth winning after so much bloodshed. What is that gain worth?” Thus he lamented.
When Arjuna fell into a silence after exhausting his feelings, Krishna quietly said,* “You are stricken with grief at the thought of those who deserve no consideration.”
Krishna then began to preach in gentle tones, a profound philosophy of detached conduct. He analysed the categories and subtle qualities of the mind that give rise to different kinds of action and responses. He defined the true nature of personality, its scope and stature in relation to society, the world, and God, and of existence and death. He expounded yoga of different types, and how one should realize the deathlessness of the soul encased in the perishable physical body. Again and again Krishna emphasized the importance of performing one’s duty with detachment in a spirit of dedication. Arjuna listened reverently, now and then interrupting to clear a doubt or to seek an elucidation. Krishna answered all his questions with the utmost grace, and finally granted him a grand vision of his real stature. Krishna, whom he had taken to be his companion, suddenly stood transformed—he was God himself, multidimensional and all-pervading.
Time, creatures, friends and foes alike were absorbed in the great being whose stature spanned the space between sky and earth, and extended from horizon to horizon. Birth, death, slaughter, protection, and every activity seemed to be a part of this being, nothing existed beyond it. Creation, destruction, activity and inactivity all formed a part and parcel of this grand being, whose vision filled Arjuna with terror and ecstasy. He cried out, “Now I understand!”
The God declared, “I am death, I am destruction. These men who stand before you are already slain through their own karma, you will be only an instrument of their destruction.”
“O Great God,” said Arjuna, “my weakness has passed. I have no more doubts in my mind.” And he lifted his bow, ready to face the battle. Krishna then resumed his mortal appearance.
When Arjuna was seen to take up his bow again, great relief swept through the ranks of the Pandavas. Just when this happened and the battle was about to begin, much to everyone’s surprise, Yudhistira was seen crossing over to the other side, after taking off his armor and mail coat. The Kauravas thought at first that he was approaching to sure for peace, having become nervous at the last moment. But Yudhistira went directly to his master, Drona, and bowed to him, touched the feet of his grand-uncle, Bhishma, and the other elders, and returned to his post. Wearing again his coat of mail a
nd armour, he gave the signal for attack.
The battle was to rage for eighteen days on the field of Kurukshetra, sometimes in favour of one side and sometimes in favour of the other. It was strictly understood that action should begin at sunrise and end with the setting sun, but as the days passed this restriction was not always observed. Sometimes battle was prolonged into the night when the armies fought with the help of flares and torches. Normally they ceased to fight at sunset, and retreated to their respective tents to assess the day’s action and plan the following day’s strategy. The soldiers relaxed at night with song and dance.
Each day the troop formations were altered. Both sides tried to obtain information as to the intentions of the other and plan a counter-move. Several types of troop formations were ordered by the generals according to the need of the hour. If the troops on one side were formed in makara, the fish, the other adopted the form of krauncha, the heron, so that the formation and the attack thereon might follow a logistical law. The commanders chose how the troops should be placed, deployed, or formed. Each unit commander had to decide for himself how best to act under a given circumstance. On the third day, Bhishma had the Kaurava army in the eagle formation. For this the antidote was the crescent formation, with Bhima and Arjuna at each tip of the crescent, which could close from both sides in a pincer movement.