Next Karna was made the Commander-in-Chief of the Kaurava armies. Arjuna found this a propitious hour for challenging him, and resumed the battle, supported by Bhima behind his chariot.
Dussasana now approached to attack Bhima with a shower of arrows. Bhima was thrilled at this opportunity, and cried, “Now is the moment of fulfilment.” He recollected the scene of Draupadi dragged before the assembly, jumped down from his chariot, and sprang upon Dussasana. Pulling him down, he tore at his hand, crying, “Is this not the hand that dragged Draupadi by her hair?” He flung the bleeding limb out to the battlefield into Duryodhana’s face. Then he sucked the blood gushing out of Dussasana’s body in fulfilment of his vow, shocking the onlookers, including Duryodhana.
Karna was shaken at the spectacle and stood transfixed for a moment at this exhibition of Bhima’s wrath.
Salya, driving Karna’s chariot, said, “I notice that you are hesitant and wavering. The situation warrants it, no doubt, but now, as a General, you must act resolutely. Don’t lose heart. After Dussasana, the responsibility rests fully on you.”
Karna had his chariot driven towards Arjuna and sent his choicest weapons across. A dazzling fiery arrow, called the Serpent, came spitting fire, searching out Arjuna’s head. In the nick of time, Krishna pressed down the chariot and sunk it five fingers deep into the ground. The arrow missed Arjuna’s head, but knocked off his crown. Red with anger, Arjuna fixed an arrow to finish off his opponent. At this moment, Karna’s fated hour having approached, his chariot’s left wheel stuck in the bloody mire of the ground, and he descended to lift it out of the rut. While struggling with it, he pleaded, “Wait till I set my chariot right; I depend upon your honour. Do not…”
Krishna cried, “Honour! How late you are in remembering this word! Where was this honour on that day when you made fun of a helpless woman dragged into your midst through no fault of her own? You did, of your own free will, choose to associate with evil-minded men, even when you could have avoided it. You revelled in evil acts, cruelty, uncharitableness, and your hatred of your brothers was blind and without cause. When all of you surrounded and butchered that child Abhimanyu, warriors thrice his age, where was this honour you talk about?” Denouncing him thus, Krishna urged Arjuna to give the final blow.
Karna now got back to his chariot, adjusted his arrow to a bow, and shot it. Arjuna was stunned by its force. As he paused, Karna got down again to lift the wheel of his chariot. When it still would not budge, he became desperate, and tried to send the ultimate astra, the Brahmastra. But at this moment, an earlier curse laid on him by his guru Parasurama—that he would forget the astra at the critical hour—became effective. He became desperate as he realised that the mantra was eluding his memory. Arjuna hesitated, since he did not really like to take advantage of this awkward moment, but Krishna urged, “Waste no more time, go on, shoot….” At this, Arjuna raised his Gandiva and sent an arrow, which cut off Karna’s head.
Duryodhana was advised at this point to sue for peace. “No,” he said. “How can I have peace with the Pandavas, who have spilled the blood of those dearest to me, one by one, relentlessly. I will fight them to the last breath,” and he did it literally, after making Salya the Commander-in-Chief.
Yudhistira personally led his forces against Salya and struck him down. Everyone was amazed at the martial capacity of Yudhistira, who was thought to be mild. Salya was one of the stoutest warriors, but in that engagement, Yudhistira displayed astonishing pertinacity and power, and did not stop till Salya’s body rolled off into the dust.
Dhritarashtra’s remaining sons combined to attack Bhima, but he destroyed them all with gusto, and cried, “Still the foremost enemy is alive; I will deal with him.” He went off in pursuit of Duryodhana, who had lost all hope when he learnt that even Sakuni was gone, having been dispatched by Sahadeva, the youngest of the Pandava brothers.
At this point, Aswathama and Kripa came in search of Duryodhana. Aswathama was installed as the General, although only three were left alive on the Kaurava side, and seven on the other. Deeply moved by Duryodhana’s plight, Aswathama took a pledge that he would wipe out the Pandava race without a trace.
Duryodhana could no longer rally his army. He picked up his mace, which was his mightiest weapon, and walked towards a lake. He churned the water apart by his mystic powers and stayed at the bottom, where Yudhistira and his brothers later tracked him down.
Yudhistira said, “Are you not ashamed to hide yourself underwater now, after all the destruction of our race that you have engineered?”
Duryodhana haughtily replied, “I was not trying to hide. I have stepped into the water to cool the fire that is still raging within me. What am I to fight or live for? All those whose friendship I cherished are gone. I have no desire to hold any kingdom. The earth is yours, take it, you have had to slaughter so many lives to get it. Take it.”
“You are indeed generous, having refused me space to cover a needle-point!”
Duryodhana came out of the water, mace in hand. “I am single; I will fight you all, one by one,” he said. “Surely, you have enough chivalry left not to fall on me in a pack. I am alone, without support or armour.”
“Ah, how sensitive,” said Yudhistira. “Did you fight one by one with that child Abhimanyu? You did indeed act like a pack of wolves. All right, put on your coat of armour, choose any of us for a fight. If you die, you will go to heaven; if you live, you can be a king again.”
Krishna felt that Yudhistira was blundering in making such an offer to Duryodhana. Since Bhima alone could prove a match for him, Krishna hurriedly urged, “Bhima, be ready.”
They gave Duryodhana time to come out of the lake, and the fight began. Both Bhima and Duryodhana were experts in the use of the mace, and the fight was well matched. Sparks flew off when their weapons clashed. The fight was prolonged and looked as though it could never conclude.
While watching the duel, Krishna said to Arjuna, “Do you think Bhima will have forgotten his vow to smash Duryodhana’s thigh?” Bhima overheard this at the same time that Arjuna too made a sign, and he recollected the ancient scene when Duryodhana had bared his thigh for Draupadi. He pounced on Duryodhana, brought his mace down, and smashed his thigh. As Duryodhana collapsed on the ground, Bhima stamped on his head and pressed it down with his heels, almost executing a dance over the fallen body.
Yudhistira intervened at this stage and admonished Bhima, “Enough, you have fulfilled your vow. Duryodhana was, after all, a king and our cousin.”
“Let us not tarry here,” Krishna said. “Soon the wicked soul of this wicked man will depart. Why linger? Come on, back to our chariots.”
Duryodhana looked up helplessly, following them with eyes blazing in anger, and said, “Your base tricks, Krishna, have brought these warriors their victory. Drona, Bhishma, Karna, and Jayadratha would not have been destroyed but for your deviousness. Don’t you feel repentant and ashamed?”
Krishna replied, “Your greed and hatred without reason have brought you and all your supporters to this pass. Remember, for your own good, how you won at the dice game. Don’t talk of my trickery, without which you and your friends would still be burdening the earth. I have put an end to it, and see nothing wrong in stopping a war which was itself unnecessary. Now at least, let your last minutes be spent in repentance.”
But Duryodhana was defiant till the end. “You profess to be a god, which I denounce completely. You allied yourself with those mendicants and weaklings and tried to prop them up. Think of me. I have lived well, never less than a king, and living as I pleased. I have enjoyed everything in life, and have nothing to regret. I have been loyal to my friends and a terror to my foes till my last second. I don’t mind Bhima dancing on my body, stamping on my head—after all, my body is going to perish in a moment. What a fool to be so vindictive on a near-corpse! I do not mind all this because my future is heavenward, where warriors reach, and I know my well-wishers are there and will welcome me. You and your wretched
Pandavas will be earthbound, spurned by all kshatriyas to come, when your sly, untruthful tactics are remembered. No warrior ever hit another on the thigh! Such was your advice!”
16 Victory and Sorrow
AT THE END OF THE WAR, the Pandavas returned to Hastinapura. It was difficult for them to face King Dhritarashtra and his wife, Gandhari, who had lost all their hundred sons.
Dhritarashtra asked, “Where is Bhima? I wish to greet him.”
Krishna, who knew the workings of the old man’s mind, presented to him an image of Bhima cast in iron. Dhritarashtra drew the image to his heart and gave it a paternal hug, putting into it all the strength of his desperation and grief. The image was crushed to pieces and fell from his embrace. Whereupon he lamented, “Oh, Bhima, alas! My embrace has proved too much for you. I hope you are not hurt.”
Krishna was familiar with the hypocrisy of the old King and said, “You have only crushed an iron image of Bhima. I hope that it has satisfied your longing for revenge.”
Now Dhritarashtra understood his position and said, “I am happy to know that Bhima is alive. My grief made me thoughtless. Krishna, I am grateful that you saved Bhima’s life from my thoughtless act.” This exercise exhausted the old man’s inward rage and resentment. Now he could take a realistic view of the situation, and discuss the future for re-establishing peace in the country.
But Gandhari’s grief was unabated. She turned to Krishna and lashed him with her tongue. “Are you happy now to see us all in this state? Your trickery has brought this great sorrow in our family. You have perpetrated heinous crimes on my sons.”
“It was all fated thus,” replied Krishna. “This was all the consequence of your sons’ karma. Now that they are purged of their sins, please feel happy that they are in the heaven reserved for warriors who die heroically.”
Gandhari continued to weep. “Your words hardly console me. I will know no peace until you also suffer in the same measure the consequences of your own treachery. In the thirty-sixth year from today, may all Vrishnis* destroy each other and leave you alone to die suddenly.”
Krishna laughed and said, “I hope it makes you feel better to say so. I know what is ahead. Exactly in the thirty-sixth year, with or without your curse, our Vrishnis will destroy themselves in strife. I know exactly how I shall leave this world.”
Now the one-month period of mourning was to be spent by the Pandavas outside the city of Hastinapura. They camped on the banks of a sacred river with Vidura, Sanjaya and Dhritarashtra, and all the women of the palace in their company, where they performed various rites for the salvation of the departed souls. When they were camping there, all the rishis including Narada and Vyasa visited them.
Narada said to Yudhistira, “Now that you have conquered the world and perpetuated your name, do you rejoice at your victory? I hope you have overcome your grief.” Narada, being what he was, knew exactly what effect this enquiry would have on Yudhistira.
“My victory!” said Yudhistira. “I have done so little to deserve it. The grace of Krishna and the physical prowess of Bhima and Arjuna brought us victory. But for me personally, it is the defeat of my whole life’s purpose. All the sons born to Draupadi are slain. How shall I face Subhadra, who has lost her son, Abhimanyu? How shall I face all the mothers and fathers and kinsmen of those for whose death I was responsible?
“Apart from all this, there is one particular subject which is most painful and shocking. Till a little while ago, I was not aware that Karna was Kunthi’s son. I had known him only as the son of a chariot-driver, but Kunthi has now told me his history. I have manoeuvred the death of my own brother to gain his kingdom. How shall I expiate this sin, the greatest sin among all others? I recollect I felt a tenderness for Karna whenever I looked at him. Even in his furious moments on the battlefield, even in that gambling assembly when he was so reckless in speech, I felt angry, no doubt, but I remember when I looked at his feet they resembled Kunthi’s so much that I could not continue to feel angry. None of us knew him to be a brother. I had always reflected on the resemblance between him and my mother, but without understanding the reason. Why was he cursed? What is the reason for the wheels of his chariot sinking in at the last moment? You know the past and the future. Please tell me why, so that I may understand the workings of fate. Why could he not shoot the Brahmastra?”
In answer to this question, Narada narrated an early history concerning Karna. When Karna was a young acolyte, he had gone to Parasurama to learn from him the use of Brahmastra. Since Parasurama had set himself up as an implacable enemy of all kshatriyas (and attempted wholesale extermination of that community), Karna had announced that he was a brahmin in order to be admitted as Parasurama’s pupil. One afternoon in the woods Parasurama was very tired and, resting his head on Karna’s lap, fell soundly asleep under a tree. At this time a monstrous insect, an abnormal centipede which was actually a rakshasa in insect shape, fastened its teeth on Karna’s thigh and sucked his blood. Karna bore the pain without moving a muscle for fear that it might disturb his master’s slumber. Parasurama woke up to find blood gushing and drenching him and demanded an explanation, and said immediately, “None but a kshatriya could have borne this pain in silence. You have deceived me by calling yourself a brahmin, and for this grave lapse I decree that the Brahmastra I have taught shall remain in your memory until you actually find an occasion to employ it; at the crucial moment, you shall forget the mystic syllables.” And Narada explained that this was the reason why Karna could not remember the Brahmastra when he tried to employ it against Arjuna.
Narada also explained why Karna’s chariot wheels stuck at the last moment. “Once upon a time, Karna had inadvertently killed a cow belonging to a hermit. The hermit, enraged at this loss, decreed, ‘The earth shall swallow up your chariot wheels at a critical moment,’ and as a result of this curse Karna could not advance towards Arjuna on the battlefield.”
These explanations mitigated to some extent Yudhistira’s grief, but still his heart was heavy with repentance. He turned to Arjuna and said, “Our so-called enemies have acquired merit and are in heaven now, while we are made to live long in this hell of repentance for all the slaughter. Grief alone is our reward! Don’t tell me again it is the duty of a kshatriya to kill. I do not want to be called a kshatriya if slaughter alone is the rule of life. Let me be a mendicant, far happier if I could think that I had exercised compassion and forgiveness than attained all this victory. Like dogs fighting for a piece of meat, we have fought and destroyed our blood relations. We were driven to it through Duryodhana’s reasonless, undiminishing hatred, but now we have no joy outliving him in this manner. Oh, Arjuna, you become the King of this country. Let me go to the forests to lead a life of renunciation. I will live with no possessions, no aim, with only trees and innocent creatures of the forest for company.” He revelled in a vision of ascetic life—to live on fruits and roots, enough to keep one’s body alive; renouncing speech; renouncing all judgement of good and bad, never telling anyone what to do, never resisting anything; walking in one direction, without looking back or forward with head bowed in humility, never noticing in which direction or country he was moving.
Yudhistira went on elaborating the picture of his life as a recluse in such detail that Arjuna could not help interrupting him in anger. “Oh, that will do,” he said. “Having sacrificed so much, so many lives, and acquired a kingdom, it is your duty to rule it, lest it should fall into lesser hands than yours and suffer. It is your duty to rule and enjoy, support the poor, support sacrifices, and maintain God’s justice as a ruler. You will never be able to achieve this unless you have kingly power, acquired by the legitimate means decreed for a kshatriya. You will never be able to discharge your duties in this respect unless you have prosperity and wealth. A pauper can never help others, a weakling can be of no use to his fellow men. A life of renunciation is only for mendicants and not for us. A man possessed of wealth is regarded as learned and worthy of respect; wealth brings about more wea
lth. Religious activities, pleasure, enjoyment, and every fulfilment of life proceed from wealth. He who has no wealth is spurned in this world as well as in the next. Quarrels and differences of opinion have their place even in heaven among the gods. When this is so, what is wrong if, in our human society too, there are also differences and fights. It is by fighting that glory is earned and from glory proceed all the good things of life. It is all known as the gift of the goddess Lakshmi, and he who spurns such a gift offends the Goddess. Remember, we can never see wealth acquired without some harm or injury to others.”
Yudhistira still repeated his philosophy of renunciation. His ascetic outlook infuriated Bhima, who said, “Great brother and elder, please stop your narration. Your mind is unbalanced and you have lost sight of realities. You are like the parrot-like repeaters of the Vedas, who go on babbling without relevance. If you think so ill of the duties of a king, all the slaughter of Dhritarashtra’s family which you led us to perpetrate was uncalled for. If we had known that this was your philosophy, we would never have consented to take up arms against anyone. Having slain our enemies, it is your bound duty to take up the reins of this kingdom and rule like a true kshatriya. However much you may dislike it, you cannot alter your caste now. Your action is similar to that of a man who has dug a well, and, after smearing himself with wet mud, retreats from the activity just when water is springing up. You are like a man who, having killed all his fearful enemies, finally also commits suicide. We have followed you and now realise that your intelligence is questionable. Please consider our position also. You are selfish in pampering your own feelings. A life of renunciation should be adopted only by kings who are incurably diseased or suffering from defeat. If renunciation and passivity are the greatest of virtues, then mountains and trees should be the most virtuous in creation, for mountains and trees always lead a life of aloofness and do not cross anyone’s path.”