Arjuna said, ‘The point of life is to compete and excel in the playground of life.’
Bhima said, ‘The past is gone. Don’t think about it. Focus on the present, the future, the food we shall all eat and the wine we shall all drink. That is the point of it all.’
Nakula said, ‘The point is to make wealth and distribute it to the poor and the wise and the deserving.’
Sahadeva, as usual, said nothing. Nor did Draupadi, still mourning her five sons.
Vidura spoke solemnly to his nephew, ‘Everybody dies—some suddenly, some slowly, some painfully, some peacefully. No one can escape death. The point is to make the most of life—enjoy it, celebrate it, learn from it, make sense of it, share it with fellow human beings—so that when death finally comes, it will not be such a terrible thing.’
A Charvaka, one who does not believe in the existence of anything spiritual or metaphysical, shouted from the city square, ‘Yes, Yudhishtira, life has no point at all. So enjoy every moment for there is no tomorrow, no life after death, no soul, no fate, no bondage, no liberation, no God. Be a king if it makes you happy; don’t be a king if it does not. Pleasure alone is the purpose of life.’
None of this pacified Yudhishtira. He paced the palace corridors all day and lay awake on his bed at night, haunted by the wail of widows and orphans. No one understood his pain. ‘Perhaps I must become a hermit. Find serenity in the forest.’
It was then that Krishna spoke, ‘Yes, Yudhishtira, you can renounce the world and become a hermit and achieve peace, but what about the rest of the world? Will you abandon them?’ Yudhishtira did not know what to say. Krishna continued, ‘A hermit seeks meaning for himself but only a king can create a world that enables everyone to find meaning. Choose kingship, Yudhishtira, not out of obligation but out of empathy for humanity.’
‘Why me?’ asked Yudhishtira.
‘Who better than you? You, who gambled away your kingdom, can empathize with the imperfections of man. You, who silently suffered thirteen years of exile, know the power of repentance and forgiveness. You, who saw Duryodhana reject every offer of peace, know the power of the ego and the horror of adharma. You, who had to lie to kill your own teacher, know the complexities of dharma. Only you, son of Kunti, have the power to establish a world where the head is balanced with the heart, wealth with wisdom, and discipline with compassion. Come, Yudhishtira, with your brothers by your side, be Vishnu on earth.’
Yudhishtira needed no more persuasion. He realized what it meant to be king. He agreed to wear the crown.
In the presence of all elders, he was made to sit on the ancient seat reserved for the leader of the Kuru clan. Milk was poured on him and water. He was given first a conch-shell trumpet, then a lotus flower, then a mace and finally the royal bow.
The priests said, ‘Like Vishnu, blow the trumpet and make sure the world knows your law. Reward those who follow it with the lotus of prosperity and discipline those who don’t with a swing of your mace. And always stay balanced—neither too tight nor too loose—like the bow.’
Everyone bowed to the new king. It was the birth of a new era, an age where dharma would be reinstituted by the five Pandavas with the guidance of Krishna. Filled with hope, the people cheered their new king as he rode into the streets dressed in white and gold on a cart pulled by a hundred oxen. Conch-shell trumpets blared from the eight corners of the city. Flowers were showered on him on every street. The war seemed a distant memory. It was an impressive sight, worthy of the great Kuru clan.
The coronation ceremony in ancient times paralleled the ceremony in which a stone statue was transformed into a deity in temples. The ceremony was aimed to bring about a shift in consciousness. Just as it enabled a stone to become divine and solve the problems of devotees, it enabled an ordinary man to think like God—more about his subjects and less about himself.
One must never forget that during Yudhishtira’s coronation, each and every Pandava is aware that all their children are dead—Abhimanyu, Ghatotkacha, Iravan, Barbareek, even the five sons of Draupadi. The only surviving heir is unborn, resting in the womb of Abhimanyu’s widow, Uttari. Thus, it is not quite a happy occasion as some storytellers like to project.
Dharma is not about winning. It is about empathy and growth. Yudhishtira knows the pain of losing a child. He can empathize with his enemy rather than gloat on their defeat. In empathy, there is wisdom.
98
Bed of arrows
When the coronation ceremonies drew to a close, Krishna advised the Pandavas, ‘Go and seek the blessings of your granduncle. Let him share with you the secret of peace and prosperity before he dies.’
Life was slipping away slowly for Bhishma as he lay on the bed of arrows, but he was eager to share all he knew with the new king. ‘Give me some water first,’ he said.
Arjuna immediately shot an arrow into the earth and water gushed out, leaping into the mouth of the dying patriarch.
His thirst quenched, Bhishma told Yudhishtira, ‘Life is like a river. You can struggle to change its course but ultimately it will go its own way. Bathe in it, drink it, be refreshed by it, share it with everyone, but never fight it, never be swept away by its flow, and never get attached to it. Observe it. Learn from it.’
Bhishma told Yudhishtira about the human condition. A dove, pursued by a hawk, asked a king called Sivi to save it. As soon as the king offered it protection, the hawk shouted, ‘What will I eat then?’ Sivi then offered the hawk any other dove to feed on. ‘That is not fair to the other birds, is it, O king?’ asked the hawk. The king then offered his own flesh, equal in measure to the dove’s weight. ‘How much flesh can you give king? Sooner or later, you will die, and the dove will have to fend for itself. Unless one creature dies, another creature cannot survive, that is the natural cycle of life,’ said the hawk. ‘Was I wrong to save the dove?’ wondered the king—his inner voice said he was not. So what must a man do? What must a king do? Save doves and let hawks starve or save hawks by allowing them to kill doves? At that moment, the king realized how different man was from animal. Animals spent their entire lives focused on survival. Humans could look beyond survival, seek meaning in life, harm others to save themselves, help others by sacrificing themselves. Humanity was blessed with a faculty that enabled it to empathize and exploit. It was this unique faculty that allowed humans to forsake the jungle and establish civilization.
Bhishma told Yudhishtira about human society. Humans, unlike animals, were blessed with imagination. They could foresee the future, and take actions to secure it. Often attempts to secure the future led to hoarding; need gave way to greed. With greed came exploitation. King Vena plundered the earth to such a degree that the earth, tired of being so abused, ran away in the form of a cow. The sages then had Vena killed. Vena’s son, Prithu, pursued the earth-cow crying, ‘If you don’t feed them, my subjects will die.’ The earth-cow retorted angrily, ‘Your subjects squeeze my udders until they are sore. They break my back with their ambition.’ Prithu then promised that he would establish a code of conduct based on empathy, rather than exploitation, which would ensure the survival of humanity. ‘This code of conduct will be called dharma,’ said Prithu. By this code, the earth became a cow while kings became the earth’s cowherds ensuring there was always enough milk for humans as well as the cow’s calves.
The conversation between Bhishma and Yudhishtira went on for many days. At first, everything seemed like the ramblings of a dying man. Later, everything made great sense. Yudhishtira learnt many things—history, geography, law, polity, economics and philosophy, the idea behind the strange tales of gods, demons and humans.
Yudhishtira had many questions. Bhishma answered each of them. At one point Yudhishtira asked, ‘Who gets greater pleasure in life? Man or woman?’
‘Not all questions have answers, Yudhishtira. No one knows what you ask, except perhaps Bhangashvana, an ancient king, who was cursed by Indra to turn into a woman. He was the only creature on earth who knew sexual ple
asure both as a man and a woman. And only he had children who called him “father” and children who called him “mother”. Only he knew if a man has greater pleasure during sex or a woman. Only he knew if the call of “father” is sweet or if the call of “mother” is sweeter. The rest of us can only speculate.’
Finally, Bhishma told the Pandavas about God. ‘Our merits create fortune. Our demerits create misfortune. Merits bring us joy. Demerits bring us sorrow. We are thus fettered by karma. Karma binds us to the material world, compels us to be born and compels us to die. No one can change this, except one. That one is God. Pray to God to cope with the fetter of karma.’
Following this, Bhishma began chanting the thousand names of God. As he mouthed these words, the Pandavas noticed that the sun was now on its northerly course along the horizon. It was time for Bhishma to die.
In both the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, at the end of the war, there is a scene of discourse before death. In the former, Ram requests Ravana, his learned opponent, to share his wisdom before he dies. In the Mahabharata, the Pandavas request Bhishma to share his wisdom. The idea behind both episodes is that, unlike wealth, knowledge does not outlive death, hence has to be passed on to the living so that it is not lost forever.
There is little difference between the latter part of the Shanti Parva and the whole of the Anushasan Parva. In both, Bhishma is sharing his knowledge on various topics including death and immortality, ascetic life and householder’s life, peace and conflict, rebirth and liberation, space and time, health and disease, duty and desire.
The Mahabharata is among the first Indian scriptures to move away from ritualism and abstract speculation and propagate devotion. In it, divinity is not nirguna (without form) but saguna (with form). Both the Mahabharata and Ramayana identify God as Vishnu, the worldlier form of God, because both these epics are concerned with worldly issues like property and conflict.
The practice of chanting God’s name to invoke God’s grace can be traced to the Mahabharata. Bhishma identifies God as Vishnu and chants the thousand names of Vishnu or Vishnu Sahasranama before he dies, each name describing an attribute or a feat of the divine. In the chant, he identifies Krishna as Vishnu on earth, thus transforming Krishna from a mere hero and statesman to a very personal form of the divine.
Many communities in South India observe Bhishma Ekadashi on the eleventh day of the waxing moon in the month of Magh (Jan–Feb) to mark the occasion when the Vishnu Sahasranama was revealed to the Pandavas.
99
Death and rebirth
At long last, eight days after the full moon that followed the end of the terrible war, Bhishma breathed his last. He was at peace: all his knowledge would outlive him. It was up to the new king to make use of it.
Bhishma’s cremation was attended by all the surviving kings and warriors of the land. He was not just an elder of the Kuru clan; he was the last representative of the old order. His death symbolized the end of an era. For the Pandavas, Bhishma’s death was a personal tragedy; he was the only father they knew.
But the sorrow was short-lived for a few weeks after Bhishma’s cremation, Abhimanyu’s widow, Uttari, went into labour. The whole palace was abuzz with excitement as her water broke. All the women of the palace, from Draupadi to Gandhari, rushed to the side of this young girl to help her give birth to the one who would be the last surviving member of the Kuru clan.
Uttari heaved and the women around her waited with bated breath. The child slipped out. It was a boy. Everyone smiled. But then the midwife exclaimed, ‘The baby is not crying! The baby is not moving! I think he is stillborn.’
Hearing this, all the Kuru women began to wail. Was this household cursed? Was it doomed to wither away and die?
The wail of the palace women reached Krishna’s ears. He rushed to the women’s quarters and took the newborn into his arms. ‘Don’t be afraid, child,’ said Krishna, ‘the world is not such a terrible place.’
Coaxed by Krishna’s comforting voice and his gentle touch, the young prince opened his eyes and smiled. Krishna returned the smile and then presented him to the world. ‘Behold, Parikshit, the first of the next generation.’
Bhishma died after fifty-eight days. Scholars are not sure if the fifty-eight days are to be calculated from the first day of the war, from the last or from the day Bhishma was shot. What is clear is that he died after the sun enters the house of Capricorn (Makara Sankranti), following the winter solstice, after which days get longer and warmer. Thus the war took place in winter, in the darkest and coldest days of the year. This could be taken as factual or symbolic, indicative of the end of an era and the collapse of a great household.
B.N. Narahari Achar has determined the date of the war using Planetarium software, beginning with Krishna’s journey to Hastina-puri and ending with Bhishma’s death. He concludes that Krishna left on 26 Sep 3067 BCE, reaching Hastina-puri on 28 Sep and leaving Karna on 9 Oct. A solar eclipse occurred with the new moon on 14 Oct, with Saturn at Rohini and Jupiter at Revati exactly as given in the epic. The war began on 22 Nov 3067 BCE. Bhishma expired on 17 Jan 3066 BCE (Magh Shukla Ashtami), the winter solstice occurring on 13 Jan 3066. It must be kept in mind that 5000 years ago, the date of the winter solstice was very different from what it is today; the current night sky is different from the one seen by our ancestors.
Bhishma is believed by many to have died on the eighth day of the waxing moon in the month of Magh (Jan–Feb) following Uttarayan, the northern movement of the rising sun. Since he left behind no offspring, he is forever trapped in the land of the dead. Since there is no food in the land of the dead, even today, priests across India perform funeral rites and offer him rice cakes on Bhishma-ashtami.
100
Horse sacrifice
Parikshit’s birth restored the smile on Yudhishtira’s face. His family would survive.
To mark this joyful event, Dhaumya, still the family priest of the Pandavas, and now the royal priest, proposed that the Pandavas perform the sacrifice of the royal horse known as Ashwamedha. This would involve letting the royal horse loose and allowing it to roam freely for a year, followed by the army. All the lands it would traverse unchallenged would come under Pandava rule. On its return, the horse would be sacrificed so as to symbolically transfer to the king all the power and glory gathered on the year-long journey.
The idea so excited his brothers that Yudhishtira agreed to the proposal. The priests divined that the most suitable horse for the ceremony could be found only in the city of Bhadravati in the stables of king Yuvanashva. Bhima set out to fetch the horse accompanied by his grandson, Meghavarna, son of Ghatotkacha and his nephew, Vrishadhvaja, son of Karna. At first Yuvanashva refused to part with the horse but after much debate and some display of force by Karna’s son and magic by Ghatotkacha’s son, he agreed.
After the horse was brought to Hastina-puri, the yagna began and after due ceremony the horse was let loose into the wilderness beyond the city frontiers to the sound of chants, drums and conch-shell trumpets. Arjuna led the army that followed the horse. He was accompanied by Nakula. Bhima and Sahadeva stayed back to watch over Hastina-puri while they were away.
When the horse reached Champaka-puri, it was met with opposition. Its king, Hamsadhvaj, was so determined not to accept Yudhishtira as overlord that he declared that whosoever in his kingdom did not fight Arjuna would be boiled in oil. Unfortunately, when the army gathered at the gates, the youngest son of the king, Sudhanva, was nowhere to be found. He was busy making love to his wife. Since he made his wife’s pleasure his priority, the king ordered that he be boiled in oil. Sudhanva’s wife begged for mercy. When none was forthcoming, she prayed to Krishna, who had saved Draupadi in her time of need. Krishna responded and the hot oil miraculously had no effect on Sudhanva.
Suratha, the eldest son of Hamsadhvaj, led his father’s army against Arjuna. He fought so ferociously that his body continued to fight even when his head was chopped off. This so impressed the gods that they
took Suratha’s head and offered it to Shiva who wears round his neck a garland made of the heads of warriors who die valiantly in the battlefield.
Having lost his eldest son, a heartbroken Hamsadhvaj submitted to Arjuna and let Yudhishtira’s royal horse pass through Champaka-puri.
The horse then reached Gaurivan, a sacred grove that belonged to the Goddess. It was an enchanted grove where all things turned female. As soon as the horse trotted in, he turned into a mare. The army behind stopped in its tracks. Nakula, who understood the language of birds, was advised by the creatures of the forest to wait on the other side of the grove. As soon as the mare would leave the grove, she would become a horse once again.
In the middle of this grove stood Nari-pur, the city of women. The women there were prevented by a curse from ever leaving the city until they got married, but they could not marry because any man who wished to marry them turned into a woman as soon as he entered the enchanted grove. The trapped and frustrated queen of the city, Pramila, caught hold of Yudhishtira’s sacrificial horse, now mare, as soon as he reached the gates of Nari-pur. ‘She shall pass and Yudhishtira shall become my overlord only if Arjuna accepts me as his wife,’ she said. Her words reached Arjuna through the animals of the forest who spoke to Nakula. Arjuna was at first angry by such a demand but then discretion prevailed and he consented. A joyful Pramila emerged from the enchanted grove along with the mare. The mare became a horse and she became Arjuna’s wife. ‘Go to Hastina-puri and wait for me till I return,’ said Arjuna to his new wife. Pramila agreed and Arjuna resumed his journey as guardian of Yudhishtira’s sacrificial horse.
Jaya: An Illustrated Retelling of the Mahabharata Page 29