Arjuna

by Anuja Chandramouli

  ‘You have dared to slight the most virtuous woman that ever lived! For that alone you do not deserve to live! I shall rip out that filthy tongue from your mouth and feed it to the dogs. Then I will crush your skull with my bare hands!’ Bheema roared.

  ‘Control yourself, Bheema. Remember what Yudhishthira said. We should spare his life for Duhshala’s sake, even if he is the basest creature in existence!’ Arjuna said, spearing Jayadratha with a look of extreme repugnance but interposing himself bodily between his enraged brother and their cowering captive.

  Bheema snorted in disgust and pushing Arjuna aside, proceeded to shave Jayadratha’s head with his sword, all the while muttering imprecations against his elder brother, his repressive ways, and lack of judgment. He was deliberately clumsy and left a crisscross of cuts and bruises across his captive’s offending scalp. Then he trussed him up like a chicken and made him declare with the bloody sword at his throat, that he was a slave of the Pandavas, before dumping him unceremoniously into the chariot and speeding back to Yudhishthira and Draupadi.

  On their return, Bheema dragged Jayadratha like an animal and threw him at Yudhishthira’s feet and kicked him repeatedly for good measure. ‘Bheema! Is this any way to treat a defeated foe? Have I taught you nothing about dharma? Release him immediately!’ Yudhishthira admonished his brother.

  ‘What do you wish, Draupadi? Would you also like to kick the brute who misbehaved with you? Or shall I kick him some more for you? He is our slave! You can order him to do whatever you want,’ said Bheema defiantly, ignoring his brother and the reprimands on his conduct, which he had been hearing since he was a little boy. Arjuna looked a little abashed, but the twins, between peals of scornful laughter, were making inappropriate suggestions about tasks for their newly acquired slave.

  ‘Release him at once! This conduct is most unbecoming of a Kshatriya!’ Yudhishthira remonstrated with his brother.

  ‘Let him go! The very sight of him is offensive to me. You have punished him by shaving his head. That is enough for me!’ said Draupadi, tossing her hair back with magnificent contempt.

  Yudhishthira patted Jayadratha awkwardly on his shoulder and said, ‘You are free to return to your Kingdom. Erase the unhappy events that transpired today from your memory and start life afresh. Live according to the laws of dharma and you will be rewarded. Go with God!’ The King of Sindhu limped homeward, suffused with shame and with the jeers of Bheema and the twins ringing in his ears.

  The memory of that terrible day gnawed away at him and he found sustenance in rage. Basking in the flames of that anger, he plotted his revenge. Turning his back on his Kingdom, he repaired to the banks of Ganga and began practising severe tapas to win the grace of Lord Shiva. The years rolled by and the consuming rage he so ardently nourished within himself, strengthened his resolve and helped him adhere unswervingly to his chosen path. Finally, his deadly perseverance paid off. Lord Shiva appeared before him and granted him a boon.

  ‘Great Lord! I wish to destroy the Pandavas in battle! Nothing would bring me more joy,’ Jayadratha said on his knees.

  ‘What you ask of me is impossible, as the Pandavas cannot be defeated in battle. However, you will prevail over them just once! But even then, you will not be able to stop Arjuna,’ answered Shiva.

  Jayadratha was disappointed, but even he knew better than to argue with the Destroyer. Promising himself that he would make his one victory over the Pandavas count, he prostrated himself at Shiva’s feet. In the years that followed, his disappointment vanished for somewhere in his black heart he sensed that he had acquired the power to do them grievous harm and was well pleased. Holding on to his hate, he bided his time and waited for the day when he would pay the Pandavas and Draupadi back for the humiliation he had suffered on that fateful day.

  Thus it came to be that on the thirteenth day of the battle, Jayadratha dealt the Pandavas the deadly blow that would cause them to lose a life that was precious to them all. Blissfully unaware of the converging circumstances that would soon lead to his doom, Abhimanyu rode without fear to meet his death.

  No sooner had Abhimanyu broken into the chakravyuha, than his escape route was sealed off and he was surrounded by hostile enemy ranks. Undeterred, he slaughtered all in his path and effortlessly dispatching thousands to their deaths, he worked his way deeper, all the way to the heart of the formation. The enemy soldiers were as helpless as hens in a coop with a wolf in their midst. Convinced that Arjuna’s son was no mere mortal, but a supernatural being capable of destroying the entire universe if he so chose, the soldiers fled for their lives in blind terror, and the resultant stampede was an ugly sight indeed.

  Drona was hugely impressed even as he watched the carnage on all sides and recalled that Bhishma had said on the first day of battle that Abhimanyu was a warrior par excellence. ‘Truly that boy is a marvel. His father’s son without a doubt!’ he told Kripa.

  Seeing his mighty army fleeing from a mere slip of a boy and hearing the lavish praise from Drona’s lips, Duryodhana was enraged and decided to fight Abhimanyu himself. Seeing this, Abhimanyu smiled in anticipation and raised his bow in answer. Drona marshalled his troops and ordered them to spare no effort in saving their King. Soon Duryodhana was drawn away from the young Prince by the expert manoeuvring of his men and Abhimanyu was thwarted. Furious at having his prized opponent snatched away, the Prince vented his fury on those closest to him and found solace in the life-blood they spilled on the battlefield.

  Karna approached his enemy’s son with a casual air, having decided that the lad had been allowed to do enough damage. But he had underestimated Arjuna’s son. Abhimanyu shattered Karna’s armour in an embarrassingly short time and forced him to retreat. Turning to Shalya, Abhimanyu wounded him severely and would have killed him had not the latter’s charioteer rushed him to safety. Asmaka charged at him, furious that a mere slip of a boy was effortlessly putting paid to their dreams of victory. Abhimanyu killed him with a single arrow.

  Duhshasana and Karna tried again to kill the infuriating lad but found they could not get close to him as he showered them generously with his deadly arrows. Duhshasana’s bow was shattered and he himself rendered unconscious. Karna’s brother was killed by Abhimanyu in the blink of an eye and Karna could only watch helplessly as he was fighting for his own life.

  Duryodhana’s son, Lakshmana, then led the charge against Abhimanyu. The two Princes had been rivals for the hand of Balarama’s daughter, Vatsala. The Princess had chosen Abhimanyu but her father arranged her marriage to his favourite pupil’s son instead. On the day of the wedding, aided by Ghatotkacha, Abhimanyu had carried away the bride. Lakshmana had to endure the humiliation of having his lovely bride snatched away from under his nose. The two rivals now met in a heated clash, their mutual antagonism adding an extra impetus to the fierce duel that followed. An arrow from Abhimanyu found its mark and Duryodhana’s son crumpled to the ground lifeless, having lost to his hated rival yet again.

  Seeing the lifeless body of his son, Duryodhana roared, ‘I want that devil dead! Now! If there is a man among you, kill that murdering brute!’

  Hearing his anguished command, Drona, Karna, Duhshasana and the other warriors, gathered around Abhimanyu again, circling him like a pack of ravenous wolves. Ignoring the code of combat, they launched a combined attack on him. But it did them no good. Drawing on his innermost reserves of strength, Abhimanyu fought like never before. Despite his youthful optimism and refusal to acknowledge death, somewhere at the core of his being he sensed that his time was running out and he wanted to do all in his power to aid his loved ones before leaving them, never to return.

  Using the illusory powers Arjuna had learned from the gandharvas and taught him, Abhimanyu created the illusion of thousands of Abhimanyus fighting by his side. These deadly killers destroyed wave upon wave of soldiers in a never-ending flow. This unearthly spectacle terrified the Kaurava ranks and they started attacking each other, imagining Abhimanyu to be in front of them. Th
e apparitions around them laughed gleefully, gloating at their mortal fear. The valiant Prince howled in grisly merriment along with his many illusions, as the bodies piled up around him in the thousands.

  Karna saw the army falling apart under Abhimanyu’s onslaught and he turned to Drona. ‘We have to stop him before he ends the war on this very day! Tell us what must be done! He seems to be impervious to my arrows, whereas I am hurting from his deadly darts that have found their mark!’

  ‘I am not surprised. It was I who taught Arjuna the art of strapping on the armour in such a way that makes it impenetrable. Abhimanyu has received the secret from his father. Therefore, it is virtually impossible to find a vulnerable spot on his person,’ replied Drona grimly.

  ‘There must be something we can do!’ Karna persisted, eager to counter the rampaging lad.

  ‘There is only one way and yet I hesitate to say it out loud... It calls for actions so craven that even to contemplate them is enough to earn us eternal contempt from our fellow human beings,’ murmured Drona in a low voice, struggling to contain the conflicting emotions raging within him.

  ‘This is not the time to hesitate! We must do whatever it takes to stop this maniac from killing us all!’ Karna and Duryodhana screamed at him in unison. Duhshasana, Shakuni, and the others, added their voices to the plea. So Drona gave in.

  ‘So be it! Future generations will malign our memory, but let whatever will be, be. His charioteer must be killed first, and then the reins of his horses severed. This will compromise his mobility. While he is thus disadvantaged, he must be disarmed. To do that, his bow has to be shattered from behind as Arjuna’s son cannot be deprived of his weapon in straight combat. Only then will it be possible to kill him!’ Drona’s voice shook as though his tongue could not bring itself to articulate the poisonous words that issued from his lips in bilious wisps.

  Without pausing to think or allowing his conscience to intervene, lest his resolve weaken, Karna killed Abhimanyu’s charioteer and rear attendants and cut off the reins. From behind, he broke Abhimanyu’s bow with a well-directed arrow and thus disarmed him. With grudging admiration, he noticed that Abhimanyu was still unafraid and still deadly. The lad was without fear. His entire being was focused on killing as many of the enemy as possible, for it would mean that there would be so many less standing in the way of victory for his loved ones. He grabbed a sword and a shield and leapt to the ground. With these weapons, he fought on foot and continued to kill warriors by the dozen, refusing to yield to the death that was frighteningly close and hell bent on claiming him. Then, an arrow from Drona severed his sword at the hilt and Karna shattered his shield.

  Abhimanyu was inching closer into death’s deadly embrace but still he would not quit. Picking up a chariot wheel, he charged at Drona.

  But a cloud of missiles from the soldiers who rushed at him like beasts of prey moving in for the kill, smashed the chariot wheel to smithereens and he stood unarmed, naked before his deadly foes. He knew death was near but he refused to tremble.

  Searching for a weapon, in the briefest moment of respite allowed him by his attackers, he bodily threw those who rushed at him, his eyes finally fixing on one in particular. Picking up a fallen mace, Abhimanyu attacked Ashwatthama and killed his horses and rear guards. Swinging the mace in mighty arcs, he demolished chariots and disabled elephants. Duhshasana’s son, Saindhava, also snatched up a mace and charged towards Abhimanyu, determined to put an end to the destruction wrought by him.

  The two warriors attacked each other and each dealt fierce blows upon the other. Abhimanyu could barely stand, as even his great reservoir of strength was almost gone. Yet he fought on, with the adrenaline coursing through his veins and his own indomitable spirit urging him on. Reeling from the tremendous impact, the two combatants swooned and fell to the ground. Saindhava was the first to recover. Abhimanyu stirred and struggled to get into a sitting position when Saindhava raised his mace and smashed it onto his skull, crushing it like an eggshell. The greatest young hero Mother Earth had nurtured, fell on the blood-soaked battlefield of Kurukshetra. He would never rise again.

  A great cheer went up from the Kaurava forces and the sound was bloodcurdling. The Kaurava soldiers danced around Abhimanyu’s lifeless form with gay abandon, baying like hounds. The birds of prey that were forever circling the battlefield, refused to approach the fallen hero as if they themselves abhorred the repellent actions that had brought about this unspeakable tragedy; they maintained a disdainful distance from the ghastly celebrations. Drona too, turned away from the grotesque spectacle to hide his tears and offer a silent prayer for the bereaved father. His heart felt like lead... he had lived too long on this earth.

  The Pandava forces heard the awful sounds and were engulfed in a tidal wave of despair, unable to believe that the Gods could condone such a heinous deed. Believing that the once-noble age of Dvapara was rapidly drawing to a bloody conclusion, they ran blindly, hoping to hide from they knew not what. Yudhishthira mechanically tried to rally the men but met with no success. He himself was barely holding on to sanity, heartsick and inconsolable as he was. Bheema and Ghatotkacha were weeping on each other’s shoulders, clinging to each other like children. The twins Nakul and Sahadv and the five sons of Draupadi, were wailing and ululating like women. They dragged themselves back to the camp, chased by the sounds of raucous laughter and revelry of their enemies.

  Back in his tent, Yudhishthira bent his head, unable to bear the twin burdens of guilt and grief. ‘What have I done? I sent one who is dearer to me than life itself, to his death! How am I going to face Arjuna? What words of comfort can I offer Subhadra? Think of Uttara and her unborn child! If only I could go back in time and change the course of events...I would gladly give my life in exchange for his! Even if we win this accursed war, it will be but a hollow victory for life without Abhimanyu will have no meaning for any of us!’

  While Yudhishthira lamented thus, the others grieved in silence. Veda Vyasa suddenly appeared, as was his wont when the Pandavas needed him the most, to offer comfort and succour. Embracing Yudhishthira, he said with embalming kindness, “As Dharma’s embodiment, you should understand the nature of death. You must not allow grief to gain mastery over you.’

  ‘Where is the dharma in this? How could death claim blameless Abhimanyu? He was only sixteen years old... I sent him to his death before he could fully experience the joys of marriage or fatherhood. What has he done to deserve this fate?’ asked Yudhishthirain utter despair.

  ‘Abhimanyu achieved more in his sixteen years than most men do in a lifetime. He fought valiantly, brought honour to his family, and is a credit to the human race. People will talk about his courage for ages to come. The lad has gone to the warriors’ heaven and is in a better place than all of us,’ said the sage.

  ‘It makes no sense to me! Why should good people die?’ Yudhishthira asked tearfully.

  ‘There are no answers to these questions. To search for them is an exercise in futility. All we can do as human beings is accept what has happened and move on because life waits for nobody,’ responded Vyasa. ‘Let me tell you a little story. When Brahma created mortals he became worried about their capacity to breed and multiply. He knew the earth would be overrun and all would then be lost. His apprehension soon manifested itself as a roaring fire that threatened to destroy the whole of creation. Rudra appeared before him, calmed the distraught Creator, and urged him to find a more rational solution to his dilemma – one that did not involve the complete annihilation of his fine work. Thus encouraged, Brahma set forth the law of death. All who are born, must die. Death can claim life however it wants – accidents, sickness, war, murder, famine, and other natural disorders. Death is therefore an incontrovertible facet of life itself. There is no escaping it. And the truly wise man refrains from giving in to immoderate grief and finds solace in calm acceptance.’

  Seeing that his words had helped the brothers survive the worst of their grief, Veda Vyasa departed. Yudhishthir
a stiffened his resolve and waited for Arjuna, dreading the task ahead of him. No one dared meet his tormented gaze and immersed themselves in their own overpowering sadness.

  15

  Arjuna Avenges His Son’s Martyrdom

  Arjuna and Krishna in the meanwhile, were speeding back to the camp after slaying the Samsaptakas. It had been a victorious day for Arjuna as he had finally destroyed the irksome suicide squads down to their last man. But he was feeling far from jubilant. A premonition of disaster stole its way into his consciousness and a nameless fear seized him and held him paralyzed. He addressed Krishna saying, ‘Something terrible has happened! I can feel it deep in my bones. A great sense of loss overwhelms me; my mouth has run dry and my throat is parched with an unquenchable thirst. If something has happened to Yudhishthira, I will not be able to bear it! Hurry Krishna! I will know no peace till all my loved ones are accounted for.’

  ‘Don’t worry about your brothers. They are not destined to die on the battlefield of Kurukshetra,’ Krishna said, even as he urged the tired horses to greater speed. As they sped towards their destination, Arjuna’s fear increased and his heartbeats were a rapid staccato of mounting anxiety.

  ‘Do you hear that Krishna? The camp is engulfed in deathly silence. There is no music playing and the soldiers are not chatting with each other as is their wont. They are all avoiding my gaze and staring steadfastly at the ground! I am so worried! Where is Abhimanyu?

  He is usually the first to greet me, keen on exchanging notes about the day’s happenings. Where is he?’

  Krishna was strangely quiet as they entered the camp. Still nobody addressed a word to Arjuna, who grew increasingly agitated. ‘This infernal silence is killing me! Where is Abhimanyu? Drona arranged the troops in the chakravyuha today. To the best of my knowledge, there is no one in this army save Abhimanyu who has the knowledge and skill required to break it. Surely the child did not pierce it and enter its deadly jaws? It would have been a suicidal mission for he knows not how to escape its confines!’