The omniscient sages flushed with fury and rounded on the miscreants. ‘How dare you rascals try to make us look like fools? That is no woman, it is Krishna’s son, Shamba. But he will give birth to something, make no mistake; an iron mace will be delivered by him and it is that offspring of your folly which will be responsible for the complete destruction of the Vrishni clan. Laugh now if you dare!’
Petrified, the youths fled from the rage of the saints. But there was no escaping the events they had inadvertently set in motion. Shamba did give birth to an iron mace. The loathsome thing was presented at court. The aged monarch, Ugrasena, consulted with his wise men and decreed that the mace be ground into fine powder and buried in the sea. His instructions were carried out almost to the letter – almost – because the sharp tip of the mace remained indestructible. Finally, it was decided that it should be discarded in the sea along with the rest of the mace, where it was swallowed by a huge fish. The tide brought the powder back to shore and a virulent, green patch of reeds grew at the spot. As for the sharp tip of the mace, a fisherman found it and sold it to a hunter named Jara.
Feeling that catastrophe had been thwarted, the people went about their business. Life cannot go on just brooding about the prospect of death. But when thirty-six years had elapsed after Gandhari had pronounced her fateful words, ill omens were seen all over the Kingdom. Krishna realised that the time had come for his people to depart the world.
Krishna gave the order that the people should get ready to visit Prabhasa and offer prayers at the Shiva temple there. In those days, such pilgrimages were a huge event and generated a lot of excitement. People gathered en masse and the long trek began. Once the pujas had been performed and the Lord worshipped, the enterprise which had begun with proper religious fervour, deteriorated into licentiousness and uninhibited revelry. A drunken orgy commenced on the grounds some distance from the temple, at the place where the River Saraswati merged into the sea. Food and drink were consumed in vast amounts and folk were in a state of inebriation, their good sense drowned in intoxicants as all the primeval passions normally restrained by rigid self-control, came bursting forth.
No good drinking session was complete without a detailed discussion of the great battle fought at Kurukshetra. As the men gave their opinions about the key events in the great war, Satyaki gave vent to his long suppressed fury over the dastardly act committed by Kritavarma, Ashwatthama and Kripacharya, in the dead of the night, when the Pandava army had been slumbering. In strident tones, he said, ‘I saw many terrible things happen on the killing fields of Kurukshetra, but none as base as the dastardly act of Kritavarma and his fellow assasins in taking the lives of sleeping men. The world has yet to see cowardice and evil of such magnitude. Could anyone have taken the life of Dhirishtadyumna – that fine warrior born from the sacred flames – if he was on his feet? Or the valiant sons of the Pandavas? This basest of creatures had to resort to treachery, along with that snake Ashwatthama and the weakling Kripacharya.’ At the end of his tirade, Satyaki hawked up phlegm and spat it out in Kritavarma’s direction, just in case he had not made his contempt clear.
The object of his ire responded in kind. ‘What right do you have to talk about cowardice and treachery in others? I remember how you killed Bhurishrava while he sat in meditation with his fighting arm lopped off by Arjuna. It is my recollection that he had defeated you in fair combat, and you lay on the floor and put up the same resistance as a whore would to a rich customer, while he stomped on your head. You would have been dead if Arjuna had not come running to your rescue. That sordid episode is proof enough that you have no right to judge others.’
Seeing a few of the onlookers shaking their heads in agreement, (although it was equally likely that they were merely trying to clear their heads from the fumes of total intoxication), Satyaki lost control completely. ‘Enough of your inane talk; it is time for me to pay back the murderer of Dhrishtadyumna in kind!’ And with those words, Satyaki lopped off Kritavarma’s head with one sudden stroke of his curved scimitar.
The dead man’s relatives immediately pounced on Satyaki and tried to tear him to pieces with their bare hands. Krishna’s son, Pradyamuna, jumped into the murderous fray, determined to rescue Satyaki; but to no avail as the duo were engulfed by wave upon wave of drunken and bereaved kin. They managed to take down as many men as possible before they succumbed to the blows of the furious mob.
Seeing the dead bodies of his favourite son and beloved friend, Krishna grabbed the evil-looking reeds close at hand and they immediately became a formidable mace in his hands. With this, he smashed the skulls of Kritavarma’s relatives and left piles of corpses behind him. Others followed his example, tugging out tufts of reeds and finding themselves armed with powerful weapons. Krishna had moved away from the frenzy of mass killing all around him and stood to one side, watching in silence as his entire clan looked all set to extinguish themselves down to the last man. Shamba, his son, and Aniruddha, his grandson, went down as blows were rained down on their heads by blood relatives. Krishna continued to watch till there was nothing left to see save a river of blood and more carcasses than one could count.
Only Daruka, his faithful charioteer, and Babhru, a Minister of the Yadava court, escaped the carnage. Krishna sent Daruka to inform Arjuna and the Pandavas of what had transpired. Babhru was assigned the task of keeping the women and children who had been left in Dwaraka, safe. Krishna had barely issued the instructions, when an arrow came out of nowhere and decapitated Babhru. A moment elapsed before Krishna went in search of Balarama. He saw his beloved brother at the seashore, deep in meditation. A white serpent escaped from his lips like a sigh that had taken shape. And Krishna knew that Balarama had departed the mortal world.
Thinking of everything and nothing in particular, Krishna wandered into the forest and reclined under a tree, carefully sticking his feet out. The hunter, Jara, who had become the proud owner of the indestructible tip of the fatal mace, saw the divine feet and mistaking them for an animal, let his arrow fly. It pierced the heel of Krishna, which was the only weak spot on his person. When Jara realized what he had done, he wept and beat his chest, begging Krishna to forgive him. The Lord smiled at him and said that he had done a great service in releasing him from a mortal’s life and that a place in heaven would be his after his own end. Having blessed Jara, Krishna bade him leave. The Lord then closed his eyes and severed his spirit, which flew to Vaikuntha, to once again become part of the essence of Vishnu, the Preserver of the Universe.
Daruka reached Hastinapura and informed the Pandava brothers about the destruction of the Yadava clan, as foretold by Gandhari. Arjuna did not bother to talk things over with his brothers. He called for a chariot and ordered the charioteer to ride in great haste to Dwaraka. As he always did in times of great turmoil and sorrow, Arjuna simply desired to be with his best friend; with Krishna by his side, everything somehow became easier. But this time he knew that Krishna would not be there; and he also knew that he himself would shortly follow him down the dark road of death to rejoin him on the other side.
Arjuna could hear the wailing of the women of the Palace a long way off. He walked in and though he was a veteran of heartbreak, the sea of sorrow he encountered proved too much even for him, and he sank to the floor in a dead faint. He was helped onto a couch by the piteously few members who remained of the magnificent clan. When he revived, he went at once to meet his maternal uncle, Vasudeva. The old man told him everything that had transpired and the two wept fresh tears. Arjuna marvelled that he himself still lived when his friend had departed the world. Vasaudeva said, as though reading his thoughts, ‘It was time for him to pass on, Arjuna. He had achieved every single thing he was born to do. The destruction of so many asuras, who were crushing Mother Earth to death with their evil ways, was possible only because of Krishna. Kamsa, Shisupala, Jayadratha, and countless other villains, were destroyed by him, either directly or through his Divine Will; many were the miracles he performed and wo
nders that he wrought. Deeds that would ordinarily take a thousand lifetimes to fulfil, he accomplished in one glorious birth. We are blessed indeed to have known and been loved by him. But the age draws to a close and it is time for all of us to leave this world behind and reap the fruits of our labours here. Be calm and prepare yourself for the inevitable, Arjuna. Do not be so forlorn. Krishna will never be far from his beloved friend.’
Hearing the soothing words uttered by his noble uncle, Arjuna felt as though Krishna himself had put the words in the old man’s mouth. He bestirred himself and began preparations for what needed to be done. He summoned the remaining Ministers and issued orders for the week ahead. They were to make preparations to leave Dwaraka. It was his intention to take the survivors to Indraprastha, where Krishna’s great-grandson, Vajra, sired by his son Aniruddha and the asura Princess Usha, would be crowned.
Arjuna spent a sleepless night, unable to believe that he could not make the final journey from this life to the great beyond, with Krishna by his side. He drew some comfort from the fact that his beloved brothers and Draupadi were still there with him, and that they would remain together to the very end. Vasudeva passed away during the night and a saddened Arjuna personally performed the last rites for his uncle. Later, he went to the spot where the Yadava clan had met its end. Once more, he performed the last rites and rituals for all those who had passed away on that spot, victims of the combined curses of Gandhari and the rishi, and their preordained fate.
Having completed this onerous task, and when the traditional period of mourning for seven days had passed, Arjuna shepherded the survivors in the direction of Indraprastha. En route, the little retinue came under attack from a vicious group of bandits. Arjuna snatched up his infallible Gandeeva, but to his dismay, his memory failed him completely and he could not remember any of the mantras to summon the celestial weapons he had so painstakingly accumulated over a lifetime. Refusing to watch helplessly as the innocent folks dependent on him died in large numbers, attempting to protect their paltry possessions, he tried to fight with ordinary weapons. But soon his supposedly inexhaustible quiver became empty and his bowstring snapped. When he tried to restring the bow, his fingers refused to perform the task they had performed to perfection all these years. Arjuna finally gave up; partly because there was no other choice and partly because he had decided to stop fighting fate. The robbers departed as quickly as they had arrived, carrying away their precious booty and leaving many lifeless bodies behind.
Heartsick and finally feeling the full weight of his long years, Arjuna gathered together the dwindling number of survivors and hastened to Indraprastha. Once there, he installed Vajra on the throne before anything further could happen to that beleaguered clan. Deciding that Krishna would have been happy with his actions, Arjuna then made his way towards Hastinapura.
The third Pandava decided to take a detour and visit his ascetic ancestor, Veda Vyasa at his ashram. There he poured out his grief over the loss of Krishna and his inability to come to terms with life without him. ‘How could such a thing happen? I cannot imagine a force strong enough to actually snuff the life out of Krishna, who could have crushed the three worlds to smithereens with just his fingers. And mighty Balarama is also gone! Satyaki, Pradyamuna... so many people I loved like my own brothers have left me for good. The entire Vrishni race has been decimated. My celestial weapons are lost to me; the power of my Gandeeva seems to be failing; and I am incapable of protecting those under my care. How could such a thing happen to Arjuna, the hero of the battle of Kurukshetra? Why does it have to end like this? Krishna is not here to explain all this to me and I cannot bear it!’
The venerable sage then spoke wise words to him. ‘Arjuna, you know the answers even as you ask the questions. But your mind is so impaired by emotional turmoil that you refuse to acknowledge the truth to yourself. As you have said, Krishna would not have stood by and watched the Vrishnis kill themselves if it had not been ordained by all-powerful providence. His passing was also something that had to be, as he had done all that was expected of him and more. Krishna submitted to fate with typical grace and calm acceptance. He would certainly expect the same from you. The Pandavas have also carried out the task entrusted to them at birth; which is why your weapons fail you now. They have served their purpose and there is no need for their usage. All is as it should be. Deep within, you know it too. Let go of your passions. Talk to your brothers, and together you must prepare to leave this world and enter the heavenly abode you so richly deserve.’
Arjuna listened like an obedient child, and touched Vyasa’s feet before leaving. On reaching Hastinapura, he told his brothers all that had transpired. The Pandavas then made a solemn decision. Yudhishthira, with the help of his brothers, completed any pending tasks regarding the governance of his beloved subjects, and began arrangements to place Arjuna’s grandson, Parikshit, on the Kuru throne. Yuyutsu, humble and wise, was appointed as successor to Vidura. And finally it was time for the Pandavas and Draupadi to leave.
They left the palace quietly, unwilling to make their last journey with anyone other than themselves. A dog decided to walk with them, and meeting with no resistance, joined the solemn group. Having traded their royal robes for bark, the Pandavas and Draupadi set out with the vague design of visiting holy places, but their feet seemed to know where to take them. On and on they walked, crossing rivers, plains and mountains.
The brothers carried nothing of worth with them, but Arjuna held onto his Gandeeva and the quivers Agni had presented him. They were practically a part of him, and he was not ready to sever them from his being. But in the course of their journey, Agni met them, and he instructed Arjuna to return both the bow and the quivers to Varuna. The third Pandava acquiesced, but could not help thinking that now he knew exactly what Karna had gone through when his divine father had relieved him of his celestial armour and earrings.
Resuming their journey, the Pandavas and Draupadi came to the foothills of the Himalayas, and began the perilous ascent up the icy slopes with their bare feet and scanty clothing. Arjuna looked up at the majestic range and a wonderful sense of calm filled his soul. With every breath he took, he felt more and more detached from his human self and he noted the progress of his brothers and wife as if from a distance that kept increasing. And yet he had never seen them more clearly.
Draupadi, who had found the going rough, suddenly lost her balance and plummeted to the depths below. Her husbands continued ahead without stopping. Arjuna felt Bheema’s anguish – he had loved her more than the other four brothers. The second Pandava inched closer to Yudhishthira, wanting to know from him why Draupadi, who had borne so much, had to be the first to die. But Arjuna knew that it was because in the innermost recesses of her heart, she had always loved him, Arjuna, more than the others. He had known it, but had chosen not to acknowledge her love for him in full and given his deepest devotion to Subhadra. It was not a conscious decision, but Arjuna knew that he had done the right thing, for otherwise the Pandavas would have been torn apart by their forbidden love. But with Draupadi gone, he finally allowed himself to realise that he had loved her back in equal measure – always.
Sahadeva, wise and true, the family baby and Kunti’s favourite, followed Draupadi shortly after. Arjuna watched him disappear into the foggy mist of nothingness below. A keener intellect the world had seldom seen, he thought to himself. Yudhishthira had disapproved of Sahadeva’s vanity, and was explaining to Bheema that it was the reason for his passing, but Arjuna himself felt there was nothing wrong with being proud of the truths about oneself, especially since Sahadeva had used his intelligence to help others all he could. Moreover, he had been fiercely loyal and always striven to be the best that he could be in every aspect of his life.
Nakula, who could not bear separation from his twin for long, went down after him almost immediately. Arjuna thought, as he had many times in the past, that Nakula was the most handsome man he had ever seen. The fourth Pandava had even more lady admir
ers than Arjuna himself, or Krishna for that matter. Yudhishthira had cautioned Nakula as well, about the perils of taking inordinate pride in one’s personal appearance. But Nakula’s ability to bring laughter and warmth into their lives had been a precious gift to them all and Arjuna wanted the world to remember his little brother’s generous heart, rather than a trivial foible called vanity.
Yudhishthira had always reserved his lengthiest sermons on humility and modesty not for the twins, nor for Bheema, who loved to boast about his inhuman strength, but for Arjuna. And with good reason, Arjuna thought to himself, as an inner smile lit up his noble visage and made him look more beatific than ever. His all-too-evident pride in his unmatched prowess with the bow and arrow, may have seemed like a shortcoming to many, but Arjuna himself did not see it that way. The hubris that was so characteristic of him, had helped him weather the roughest storms and the darkest days of his life. It had spurred him on to achieve everything he had ever wanted to. This imperfection which people kept pointing out, was an integral part of his aggregate persona. It was the same for Draupadi, and the twins, who had gone before him; and for Bheema, with his gluttony and vainglory, as well as for Yudhishthira, whose little white lie was perhaps the only black mark on an otherwise unblemished soul, but which nevertheless shifted the balance in favour of all that was good and noble in the world.
As for himself, at the end of it all, Arjuna could say, and rightfully so – that he was Arjuna, the best there ever was, and the best there ever would be. This last thought accompanied him as he fell into the chasm of nothingness. His embodied soul freed itself and soared heavenwards to where Krishna, Abhimanyu, and all those he had loved best, stood waiting to receive him.
Arjuna Page 31