24
Before the Giver of Day had lighted the world, we bathed and prayed. At dawn we entered Virata’s Council Hall with all our sons. The gemencrusted seats were adorned with fresh garlands.
I looked around. These were the warriors we could count on. The sons of Panchala, our own son and those of Virata, Krishna, and Balarama, and their sons. Krishna’s Pradyumna and Shamba alone could take on an army, and so could Abhimanyu or any one of Draupadi’s sons.
Krishna began speaking easily, flowingly and without rancour.
“You all know how Yudhishthira was cheated by Shakuni, the son of Subala, so that the Pandavas have had to live in exile. Though the sons of Pandu could have taken their kingdom back by force, they are, as you know, men of faith. The cruel years are over and it is for you to decide what is just, knowing that Yudhishthira would never accept a single village unrighteously. He and his brothers ask only for their own kingdom, though if they wanted they could take Duryodhana’s kingdom from him. I want to remind you of how Duryodhana and his brothers, when yet little more than children, repeatedly attempted to kill the Pandavas. I ask you to think about this, each one of you, and also to discuss it amongst yourselves. The Pandavas have friends who will stand by them, fight for them, and lay down their lives for them.”
My heart exulted. I lost the sense of Krishna’s speech but not its music.
It had taken no time to get used to sitting on thrones again, to having attendants standing behind us with fly whisks, to having silk umbrellas unfurled above us every time we went out of the palace, to eating choice food off gold plates, but this, this was the thing I had yearned for, this was what gave us our hearts’ ease. Yesterday we had seen Draupadi the queen of queens again. Today we sat in council among powerful friends who had come not only to rejoice and celebrate but to lend their strength. We had not been forgotten. This was the taste of return. Krishna wore the Kaustubha jewel and he himself shone like a sun. I thought even then his light was of another world. As I tell this story now I do not know how I did not see the whole truth that day. I was not ready, of course, not even after the dice game and the thirteen years. Greatfather had said it in so many words at the Rajasuya, but those so many words had been like drops of water sliding off the feathers of a swan. “However, I suggest that an able ambassador try to avert war by tactfully inducing Duryodhana to return half the kingdom to Yudhishthira.” Krishna sat down amid murmurs of approval.
Balarama got up, handsome and imposing in his blue silk, and said: “The valiant Pandavas are prepared, for Duryodhana’s sake, most generously to allow Duryodhana half the kingdom and thus the sons of Dhritarashtra should be happy and grateful that the quarrel is over. If both sides are pacified it will be to the good of all men.” During the pause that followed, I sat admiring Balarama and wondered that I had never realized before how deeply, in spite of his friendship with Duryodhana, he felt for us. He too suggested that an ambassador be sent. “When all the elders are present, let him speak tactfully and with humility, for this indeed is what will best serve Yudhishthira’s interests. When Yudhishthira was King he was reckless enough to gamble his kingdom away.” So, we were going to have to drink the bitterness to the very bottom of this cup. “Yudhishthira, though a poor player, and dissuaded by his well-wishers, challenged Shakuni—wellknown as an expert—to a game.” I still do not know whether what I heard was a murmur of protest or a deep sigh or my blood beating like waves upon a shore. Balarama raised his voice. “Of all men to choose as an opponent he chose Shakuni. There were thousands of other dice players, but he stubbornly insisted on playing with Shakuni, who surely cannot be blamed, so let the ambassador be unsparing in humility, which, considering the circumstances of the loss, is only fitting.” Balarama’s fair skin was flushed. My limbs and mind were numbed.
“We have cause to be humble and it may gain us an enduring…” “Your heart speaks through your mouth.” Satyaki had sprung to his feet and was pointing at Balarama’s breast. His voice rang with contempt. “There are brave men and there are cowards. I do not so much condemn you, Balarama—you are probably drunk—as I do those who can bear to listen to you, you who unblushingly dare to cast the slightest slur on the virtue of Yudhishthira. It was he who was challenged. Yudhishthira was bound by the Kshatriya code to accept and was tricked into losing. On top of all that he has suffered, you ask him to humble himself? Duryodhana claims that the Pandavas were recognized in their last year, but that is according to his cheating calculations. Greatfather and Dronacharya have begged him to return their kingdom to the Pandavas. I shall not beg. My arrows will force them to beg at the feet of Yudhishthira, and if they refuse, I will send them on the unknown journey. Who will withstand Arjuna and Krishna and Bheema and the twins and myself and Dhrishtadyumna, the son of Drupada, and his brothers, and the sons of Draupadi who rival their fathers in valour, and Subhadra’s son and Krishna’s sons?” He shouted out the roll of heroes: “Pradyumna, Shamba, and Krishna’s brother, Gada. To be a beggar under the circumstances is infamous.” We breathed again.
“Yes.” It was Drupada speaking. “Duryodhana will never give up the kingdom peacefully and his doting father will not gainsay him. Bheeshma and Dronacharya will support them from sheer imbecility, and Karna and Shakuni, of course, from pride and envy. Yet Balarama’s words should not be disregarded. Our ambassador should seek a peaceful settlement.”
It was the first time I had known our father-in-law to use diplomacy, and he must have sounded strange to himself because he almost shouted: “Duryodhana to be addressed in mild words? Never. He is vicious and has no respect for mildness. You cannot use mildness on asses. Duryodhana will mistake mildness for witlessness. He will think himself victorious. I say, let us call upon all righteous kings. Let us send to our friends. Let us speed messengers to Shalya and Dhrishtaketu of the Chedis and Jayatsena and the prince of the Kekayas. Do not forget that Duryodhana will be sending word too and we must arrive first to win the support. Shalya, since he is maternal uncle to the twins, will of course support us, but let him be reached immediately—and the kings that are under him. We must send word to the eastern coast to the brave Bhagadatta and to the king of the Mallas and Rochamana and the ruler of the Chedis and the kings of the Sakas and the Pahlavas and Dantavaktra and Rukmi, and Ekalavya with his sons, and the kings of the Kamboja tribes. Let us send to the west coast and to the rulers of the land of the five rivers and the rulers of the mountain regions, and Paundra and the gallant son of Salwa and the king of the Kalingas.” As his voice rose and accelerated, the murmurs of approbation swelled into roars of acclaim. He waited and then, smiling, raised his arm to ask for our silence. “Yudhishthira, you know my priest, learned and trusted, a man of peace after your own heart; let him be sent. Tell him what words should be said to Duryodhana and in what terms you want Greatfather and your Acharyas to be addressed.”
“These words are wise. Our first duty is to adopt a political course. We are cousins to both the Kauravas and the Pandavas and our commitments to both are equal. We came summoned for a marriage. Let us return home. Send your messenger, Drupada. If Duryodhana refuses peace, summon us for war,” said Krishna.
We did not wait for Drupada’s envoy to return but sent our messengers to the east coast, to the west coast, to the mountains, to the land of the five rivers, and we awaited the armies with strong hearts. The council chamber is one thing, the vicissitudes of life, war, and the Kshatriya code are another, as Uncle Shalya was soon to demonstrate. Virata sent word to his friends and relatives, Drupada did the same, and so did we.
The earth soon began to vibrate with armies on the move, even as Drupada’s Brahmin was still negotiating for peace at Hastinapura. Our allies began to pour into the kingdom of Matsya from all sides with reports of the enemy forces they had crossed going to support Duryodhana in Hastinapura.
Where was Shalya? We had a messenger from him to say he was coming with all his sons and a vast body of troops and that his encampment would take up
more than a yojana. But when Uncle Shalya did come he was accompanied by only two of his sons and a few aides, and though he embraced us lovingly he looked browbeaten and accepted the foot bath and the traditional offerings in silence. After complimenting us on our virtue and for having kept our vows, and after many deep sighs he blurted out that he was pledged to support Duryodhana.
Support Duryodhana?
Duryodhana’s people posing as our envoys had intercepted him on his way to us and entertained him most lavishly in magnificent pavilions which he believed to be ours. His whole army had been splendidly received and Shalya himself was waited upon like a god. After a choice dinner, mellow from rare wine, dancing girls, and other creature comforts, he had proclaimed that he would reward those responsible for all this thoughtfulness as man had never been rewarded before.
We could just imagine him sitting on a throne and feeling like Indra in heaven when out popped Duryodhana saying, “Auspicious One, be true to your word.”
Duryodhana had asked nothing more nor less than that Shalya be the leader of the whole of the army, which meant, of course, that we had lost an entire akshauhini. Duryodhana had gained one. The uncle in Shalya was sad and guilty, but the soldier in him was not unflattered. In all fairness to him, he was bound by his word as a Kshatriya, but Eldest was the only one who felt like being fair and courteously assured him that he could not have done otherwise. Afterwards, he took him aside and I knew from the anxious way in which his long nose twitched exactly what he was going to ask of Uncle Shalya. Had I not known what it was costing Eldest to tread so dangerously close to the border of his Dharma, my pride would certainly have been wounded, for out of his disproportionate fear of Karna came the request that Uncle Shalya, as Karna’s charioteer, should destroy his confidence for the final duel with me. I could never get used to Eldest doing this. I wanted to tell him to ask Duryodhana to exchange Karna for me, but this was no time for outbursts. I held my tongue.
Uncle Shalya was relieved to be able to help us in some way. Like most people he disliked Karna and his arrogance and he could not have forgotten the indignities to which his nephews had been exposed and the disgrace of Draupadi.
I did not hear the whole of his story myself, for I had to hurry to Dwaraka to obtain the formal promise of Krishna’s support. If Duryodhana, who had equal claims on him as a cousin, asked him first, it would put Krishna in an impossible position. I rode my swiftest horses. As I approached the Raivataka gate, the memory of Subhadra’s hair streaming in the wind was abruptly replaced by the reality of the banners of a small party of horsemen racing over the bridge.
It was Duryodhana’s party. Duryodhana and I streaked unceremoniously past bowing attendants and followed pointing fingers into Krishna’s bedchamber. We reached the doorway at the same time and Duryodhana elbowed me back so I entered on his heels. I felt my heart torn within me, but then I saw Krishna sleeping on snowy white sheets and a great silence entered me like that of the mountain when, on the way to get the celestial weapons, I had listened to the snow coming down. As always, even if there was an akshauhini around us, I was alone with Krishna.
Duryodhana sat down at the head of the bed, but I stood at his feet to see Krishna better. I don’t know how long I stood gazing at him, but I do remember I had no thought of akshauhinis when Krishna opened his eyes. Duryodhana broke the silence.
“Arjuna and I are both your friends, Krishna, and both your cousins, and I need hardly remind you, Krishna, who are the embodiment of righteousness, that since I entered the room first it is beholden on you to help me. Where there is Krishna there is Dharma, as everybody says, and I know you will follow the rules of conduct, you who are the soul of courtesy and integrity.”
I could not have spoken had I wanted to. Krishna laid his hand on Duryodhana’s knee and he seemed to consider.
“Yes, indeed, cousin, that does give you a claim, but…let me see. On opening my eyes, I looked up and saw Arjuna at the foot of my bed. It looks as though I must give you both my assistance, but custom gives the first choice to the youngest. Therefore, Arjuna,” said Krishna, giving me a lazy smile, “it falls to you to make this difficult choice. I myself have resolved not to fight, but, as you know, I have one hundred thousand fighting men. They are the invincible Narayanas. You can choose either this army of my followers who will fight ferociously or…myself—who will not bear arms. Come, Arjuna, make your choice.”
With tears streaming down, my words jostling each other, I told him that I chose him.
Thus it was that I returned with Krishna and a triumphant heart to Eldest.
Duryodhana, well-pleased with his army of Narayanas, went to Balarama, but Balarama for all his love of Duryodhana would not side against Krishna. He would not fight. He had spoken up for his friend in the council chamber after Abhimanyu’s marriage in defiance of Krishna, but that was as far as he could go. His loyalty to and his love of Krishna dominated his life to the end. He would not fight.
25
Satyaki came to us with an army of foot soldiers, horses, chariots, and elephants. From a distance they advanced like clouds with lightning flashes, and when we went out to meet them their whole akshauhini was absorbed by our armies like a rivulet entering a sea. The men embraced.
Satyaki had gathered soldiers from the four quarters and their war weapons were various. Some had splendid engraved axes with gold inlaid handles, others steel swords and adorned daggers, and there were ingenious nooses such as we had never seen before, and arrows of the best temper.
The next to arrive was Dhrishtaketu, son of Shishupala, with his akshauhini, and then the king of Magadha, Sahadeva, who had remembered Krishna’s compassion at the time of his father’s death. Pandya came from the coast with the various troops he had gathered for us. His army was well accoutred and disciplined. Drupada came proudly at the head of his armies. From all directions armies kept arriving until we had seven akshauhinis bristling with banners and weapons.
Bhagadatta and Bhoorishravas and Kritavarman and Jayadratha of the land of the Sindhus on the south-west of Gandhara, and Sudakshina, the king of Kamboja, with the Yavanas and Sakas, and King Nila and the Avanti brothers and the five princes of Kekaya, south-east of Sindh, had joined Duryodhana. I calculated that if Uncle Shalya had joined us, instead of Duryodhana having eleven akshauhinis and our having only seven, we would have had eight and Duryodhana only ten. When Drupada’s priest returned to report that the army of Sudakshina arriving with the Yavanas Sakas was as endless as a cloud of locusts and that there was no space in the city of Hastinapura for even the principal leaders of Duryodhana’s army and that the whole land of the five rivers and the Kurajangala and the wild Rohitaka and the banks of the Ganga and Varana and Vatadhana and the hill tracts on the border of the Yamuna were covered with Duryodhana’s armies, I remained unshaken. We had Krishna.
Sanjaya’s embassy was one of peace. Poor Sanjaya had to recite all sorts of blather about our virtue, about Duryodhana’s villainy, and about the meanminded Karna. It might have made us smile under other circumstances, but coming from the old king, our uncle, who had done nothing but foster this villany, but we were in no mood for smiling. After having gone through the courtesies perfunctorily, Yudhishthira expressed his hope that those of whom we were fond were well, Greatfather, the Acharyas, Uncle Vidura, the mighty and handsome Ashwatthama, Yuyutsu, the youngest son of Uncle Dhritarashtra. And and then these courtesies led to the substance of what he wanted to convey.
“I am sure the King continues the allowances to the Brahmins and I would like to be sure, Sanjaya, that Duryodhana has not grabbed the gifts that I bestowed on the Brahmins.”
We did not see at first where his discourse was going. His speech was full of formal phrases starting with “I hope”. This was a new Yudhishthira.
“I hope Duryodhana provides for the state functionaries. I hope they do not think ill of us. I hope they remember us kindly. Do they remember Arjuna whose arrows fly straight? Do they remember Bheema? Do t
hey remember Sahadeva and his conquest of the Kalingas, and Nakula who conquered the western region for me? Do they remember that amusing encounter when they came to the forest pretending to check their cattle and had to turn tail? They would do well to remember, noble Sanjaya, for we have failed to win Duryodhana over to peace.”
“They remember. They remember. You know that Dhritarashtra does not approve of the injuries that were done to you. They know Yudhishthira wants peace. Dhritarashtra wants peace. Listen to his message, Sinless One. Dhritarashtra wants peace and he bids me beseech you not to commit an act that would besmirch your high reputation for virtue, for, as you well know, war at this time would result in universal slaughter. It would be unrighteous and it would lead to hell. Blessed are those who serve the cause of their relatives. What could life hold for you if you were to kill all your kinsmen? How can the sons of Kunti, those paragons of virtue, behave like base persons? For the success of my mission I prostrate myself before Krishna and Drupada. You, Krishna, are my refuge. The desire of the old king, and of your Greatfather, Yudhishthira, is that there may be peace between you and the Kurus.” His speech was over and we helped Sanjaya up.
“What man would go to war unnecessarily, Sanjaya? He who tosses a burning torch into the dense underwood of the forest in summer must necessarily regret it when he looks for a path of escape. Why does the old king, our venerable uncle, lament? Sanjaya, my cousin Duryodhana is vile and speaks his vileness for all to hear, but his father is full of guile; he is much worse than Duryodhana, he is worse than Shakuni himself.”
There was a cheer from the assembly, whether for this judgement on Uncle Dhritarashtra or because they had never seen this Yudhishthira before, I do not know.
He continued, “To imply that I want war and Uncle Dhritarashtra wants peace is worthy of the mind of Shakuni. Does my uncle really think that because Yudhishthira treads the path of righteousness, he is a fool? Apparently he does. He is like a child who has snatched a toy away without realizing that its rightful owner will claim it. Tell him that Indraprastha, my kingdom, is claimed by me. If it is returned there will be no war.”
The Great Golden Sacrifice of the Mahabharata Page 34