Duryodhana’s voice was rising and rising. Suddenly he sprang to his feet and pointed at Uncle Dhritarashtra.
“He gave half my kingdom to the Pandavas. I was still a child or I would never have allowed it. Perhaps I was weak, anyhow I did not understand the consequences. Now listen, all who sit there in this sabha, and remember this: the Pandavas will not receive so much land as will sit on the point of the sharpest needle.”
Krishna closed his eyes and pondered. Then he said: “You wish for the death of a hero? Your wish will be fulfilled before long. But in case any other in this assembly has as short a memory as yourself concerning your misdeeds, I remind you all that you conspired with Shakuni to cheat at the dice game, and that you made indecent proposals to the Pandavas’ queen after having her dragged into the Sabha in her period. You did that to the queen of your kinsmen. By poison, serpents, and fire you tried to rid yourself of the Pandavas.”
Krishna was interrupted by a wail. It was Duhshasana.
“Duryodhana, if you go on, the elders will tie you up or hand you over to Yudhishthira. Look at Greatfather and Dronacharya, they are against us.”
Infuriated, Duryodhana jumped up, pushed his brother aside, and began stalking out. Uncle Vidura, Greatfather and the Acharyas tried to persuade him back to his seat. He pushed them off and marched out; his brother followed him. After a pause the other kings and chiefs to whom Karna had made tributary walked out.
Even as the last of Duryodhana’s followers were leaving the hall, Greatfather said in a detached voice, “The kings have followed him. The race of the Kshatriyas is doomed.”
Krishna turned to him and said firmly, “The elders of this court have failed to use force to check this reckless and dangerous man. The time for words is over, the time has come to act. When my uncle Kamsa, son of the old king Ugrasena, usurped the throne, I killed him because he was a tyrant and a voluptuary. Kamsa’s father was restored and the people of the Vrishnis, the Andhakas, and the Yadavas found peace and prosperity. It is the way of Dharma to sacrifice such a one for the good of the many. Indeed it is against Dharma not to do so. Now do not delay foolishly any longer. Hand Duryodhana, Karna, and Shakuni over to the Pandavas.”
Uncle Dhritarashtra waved his hands about and begged Uncle Vidura to bring Duryodhana’s mother to the Sabha to persuade her son to accept peace.
“She has more influence on him than I have. She has foresight. Oh, why am I blind?” wailed Uncle Dhritarashtra.
“It is your fault,” the queen said to Uncle Dhritarashtra. “You have never checked him.”
Uncle Vidura led a still infuriated Duryodhana back to the Sabha. His mother made a long and wise discourse on how a king must control his anger and lust for power and seek the friendship and advice of the wise. She told him that it would be his enemies who would rejoice over his rejection of wise advice.
Throughout her speech, Duryodhana prowled about the Sabha like a caged animal and before she had finished, he strolled out in search of his favourite adviser Shakuni.
“Krishna knows how to act, he won’t waste time. Strike and seize Krishna. When the Pandavas learn of Krishna’s capture, they will be helpless with grief and remorse. Lock up Krishna and prepare for battle.”
But Satyaki had followed him and told Kritavarman to wait with Krishna’s soldiers at the Sabha gate. Here Satyaki fell into silence.
“What happened, what happened?” I asked. Satyaki stared beyond me. “What happened, Satyaki?”
“I went back into the Sabha and told Krishna of Shakuni’s plan.”
“And then, Satyaki?”
“And then,” Satyaki said in a faraway voice, “Uncle Vidura started shouting at his brother and still Uncle Dhritarashtra kept saying, ‘Summon my wicked son into my presence with all his brothers and ministers and we will try to bring him back to the right path.’”
How Uncle Vidura ever brought Duryodhana back into the Sabha nobody knows. He seemed to be half dragging him, his arm hooked into his nephew’s. Duryodhana had always feared Uncle Vidura’s sharp tongue. He now stood defiantly before Krishna. Krishna asked Duryodhana if he thought it would be easy to capture Krishna. Duryodhana, who knew that Shakuni was at that very moment preparing to take Krishna, smiled craftily and looked over his shoulder.
Having said this much, Satyaki fell into deep silence. I tried one last time.
“Satyaki, did they actually lay hands on Krishna?” But he laid his finger on his lips as Krishna had done.
I leaned forward with urgency. “Satyaki, tell me. I need to know.”
His finger remained on his lips. And as my hand reached forward to snatch his hand back, I saw why, for the first time, he could not obey me. His eyes were full of unshed tears and something he could not talk about. With his chin he pointed behind me. I turned round to see the gleam of the Kaustubha jewel on Krishna’s chest. In three strides I was with him. He put his arms in mine. In silence we walked towards the enclosed garden. Still in silence, we sat beside the pool in whose waters the stars trembled and the fountain played softly.
The perfume of jasmine and champak soothed me. White night flowers twinkled all around us and fireflies jewelled the dark leaves. I breathed deeply.
“Krishna,” I breathed. “Tell me.”
Krishna was looking at the water where gold and lightning, blue and silver fish swam through the stars. They were varieties that Sahadeva had brought from the south and which Eldest had sent as a gift to Virata years before our exile.
Krishna’s voice was musing.
“The fools thought I was alone. Cousin Duryodhana had everybody, including myself, begging him as though he were a little boy, ‘Please don’t destroy the world, dear cousin.’ Arjuna, he is set on being the instrument for the bloodletting. You should have seen what went on in the Sabha.” Krishna’s laugh was without mirth. “He stormed out and was called back once, then he went off again and had to be coaxed back by his mother. He sulked through her reminder that there had been evil omens when he was born and made tormented faces when she said that no one was a match for the Pandavas. Aunt Gandhari then pointed out that though Greatfather and Ashwatthama and the Acharyas would be obliged, because of having eaten the king’s salt, to give their lives for him, they loved the Pandavas and would never be able to fight with any conviction. Duryodhana walked out of the Sabha for the third time. Then Satyaki rushed in to announce that Duryodhana and his three henchmen had decided to capture me ‘to drain the Pandava serpents of their poison’, as they said. Dhritarashtra, who was already clawing at his throat in anguish, began to tremble. Satyaki posted Kritavarman and the guard at the door. People were running in and out, bumping into each other.”
Krishna was showing me with his arms and eye movements the directions and the collisions so that I could see it as clearly as a puppet show. “Uncle Vidura threw up his arms and started shouting. He had had enough of his brother. ‘Don’t you understand that Krishna can send all your hundred sons to Yama?’ I felt sorry for Uncle Dhritarashtra, but do you know what he did? Instead of having Duryodhana seized, he had him brought back into the assembly and shook a finger at him and told them that he was like a child trying to seize the moon.”
Krishna shrugged. “My mission failed. I said, ‘Duryodhana, if you think to seize me because I am alone you are more of a fool than I thought.’ That is when I showed him who was with me.”
“Who?” The silence became utter silence. I heard the humming of the stars and the singing of the goldfish. A cloud moved.
“You, Arjuna.”
I waited and saw the fierce tenderness in his eyes and then the world swung round inside the garden. I knew that, though I had been waiting here for Krishna who was in Hastinapura, I had been with him there as he had been with me here. Everything met at one point and we were one, as he had always told me. The rest was illusion. Then I myself saw, as in a reflection, what they had seen in Hastinapura and I understood why he had laughed in the Sabha. The laughter hovered on his features
like sunlight on water and I saw myself in it—and my brothers. His chest opened and thumb-sized gods tumbled out. Armed warriors sprang out. Above them, wild hair waving, surged Lord Shiva in his terrible aspect.
My eyes were wide open, but I longed to close them. The night about us was lit like relentless day. Even as I gazed, darkness returned and in the heart of the universe Krishna and I were alone again, smiling at one another. I knew that I had had but a glimpse, but the corpse of my curiosity was reduced to ashes in the flame of Krishna’s love.
I had known there were things Krishna had not spoken of by the fountain that night, but not that one of them was Karna, and it was a bitter thing to learn of it from his charioteer. Had it not been that something beyond all words and actions and proof had been revealed to me near the fountain, I might have felt myself stabbed by treachery. Even so the warrior in me was hurt. We were talking to Daruka as Krishna’s chariot was being cleaned. There was a nip in the air. Winter was setting in. He told us that on leaving Hastinapura Krishna had taken Karna into his chariot in full view of the princes and servants and that they had spoken in friendship for a long time. Krishna had tried to persuade Karna to fight on our side, but Karna had shrugged and reminded him of the omens that portended inevitable calamity. And indeed Saturn was afflicting Rohini, and Mars was approaching the position that indicated the slaughter of friends. The spot on the lunar disc had shifted and Rahu was approaching the sun. Meteors were raining from the skies. Karna had said that while our horses and elephants were wheeling to the right, those of the Kaurava army were passing to the left while supra-physical voices were heard above them. While the auspicious peacocks and swans and cranes were known to follow our army, crows and vultures swooped down over theirs. He told Krishna that he had had a vision of Yudhishthira in a thousand-columned palace where we all reposed in white robes and white turbans. Eldest sat upon a heap of bones eating a celebration sweet out of a golden cup and then he swallowed the earth handed to him by Krishna. Karna knew that he would die fighting for Duryodhana, but he had pledged himself to him. Long afterwards, when I learnt what else had passed between Karna and Krishna on that day, I could not believe that I had not guessed the secret, but then it was too late to look closely at Karna’s features, or his feet, for he was dead.
Eldest was listening intently and so were the twins and Bheema. While Eldest asked one question after another of Krishna’s charioteer, all I could think of was Karna’s chariot and the two of them riding out of Hastinapura with all the princes and the servants watching. Did they all know by now that Krishna had begged Karna to fight on our side, not to fight against me? It was hardly likely that that prince of boasters had kept it to himself. It was even more unlikely that he had failed to insinuate that, like Eldest, Krishna thought I needed protection, and my whole being cried, Krishna, Krishna, why?
Did Krishna not know that I would much rather die bristling with Karna’s arrows than have this one arrow of Krishna’s in my heart? Not since Ekalavya had I felt so desolate and betrayed. For if Arjuna was not the greatest archer in the world, who was he? It seemed, I thought with bitterness, that he was not even the closest confidante of Krishna, for while Krishna had spoken at length of our mother’s disappointment in our pacific attitude, it was from Daruka that we were prying out information about Karna. But all he wanted to speak about was the vision of Krishna they had all had in the Sabha at Hastinapura when Krishna laughed: from every pore came blinding sunbursts. Only Uncle Vidura, Drona, Greatfather, and Sanjaya kept their eyes open. Thunder sounded, the thunder of divine drums, and Uncle Dhritarashtra had been granted sight. What he and the others saw were the gods flowing like fire from Krishna’s mouth, his thumbs, and chest. The guardians of the universe were on his arms. Light flowed from his right hand and all of us Pandavas were behind him. But it was hard to listen.
I found myself grateful to Karna. He had refused Krishna. I would have supposed he would be arrogant, but Daruka said not, he had simply pointed out that, by Duryodhana’s generosity and love, he had for thirteen years enjoyed his sovereignty without preoccupations and that he, Karna, had been chosen, in the forthcoming war, to fight against me in single combat and that nothing—not even the sovereignty of the whole world—could make him betray Duryodhana. His mission was to kill me.
When the sun had set and after our evening prayers, the Pandava brothers sat with Dhaumya warming our hands over braziers in Eldest’s private chamber. The only thing that I was grateful for was that Krishna, resting from his exertions on our behalf, was not there to see my anguish. When Eldest asked Daruka if Karna had betrayed any of his plans for attacking me, I would have walked out had I not been so busy hiding my anger. Every time the subject of Karna as my opponent came up, Eldest’s long nose began to twitch again as though I were his baby brother and it were I who had to be protected. He had lost his dignity and came close to losing his Dharma when he asked Uncle Shalya to distract Karna from me in our final duel. My fury was such that I trembled and my heart thudded. I heard the thundering of thousands of hooves in my ears and when they died Daruka was reassuring Eldest.
“Karna had a vision in which he saw that you had won this blazing kingdom. Yudhishthira, tiger among men, he told Krishna that the battle would be as a sacrifice in which Krishna would officiate. Arjuna, your Gandiva will be the sacrificial ladle…” He went on and on and I was lost in myself until I heard Daruka’s voice take on a new gravity. “When the nocturnal rites begin, Ghatotkacha will play the part of the killer of surrendered victims. Dhrishtadyumna will be the dakshina that has to be paid.”
Bheema stared at Daruka in horror and let out a wail of anguish. “Not Dhrishtadyumna!” Daruka looked at me in silence. They were all looking at me. Were Eldest’s fears not unfounded then? I found I was ready.
“Arjuna, he said that when you had killed him the fruits of the sacrifice would appear. In drinking Duhshasana’s blood Bheema will be sipping the Soma wine, and finally with the death of Duryodhana by the hand of Bheema, the sacrifice will be concluded. The lamentation and tears of the widows will be the final sacrificial oblation.” This meant we would win, but we were mute with horror.
“What else did he say?” Daruka looked into the distance.
I felt there was more, but he answered, “Nothing.” After a moment he added, “Krishna said to Karna that when he hears Arjuna twanging Gandiva with a sound that pierced the firmament like thunder, then all signs of the past three ages would vanish and we would find ourselves in the Kali Yuga.” The Kali Yuga!
The Kali Yuga. The Age of Iron, when all would be heaviness and darkness and Dharma would not be. And I, Arjuna, would be ushering it in with Gandiva. My own preoccupations were swallowed in the maw of the dark age which moved towards us, unseen. I regained my senses in time to hear Krishna’s message to the Kuru army elders.
“Tell the acharyas and Greatfather that this is a delightful season with abundant supplies, the plants and herbs are vigorous, the fruit hangs plentifully on trees, the air is free of flies and the roads of mud. The water is sweet, the weather clement. In seven days, on the day of the new moon which is presided over by Indra, let the war begin. Tell Duryodhana’s Kshatriyas that those of them who die in the war will attain heaven.”
After a silence it was Daruka who said in a subdued voice, “Then Karna offered worship to Krishna. He said to him, ‘Why do you, who know that the earth is about to be destroyed because of Duryodhana, seek to win me over to the Pandavas? Surely nothing can stop it when all the signs and portents point to it.’”
I waited for Krishna’s answer but saw from the set of Daruka’s mouth that he had said all he was going to say.
To hide my hurt I said, with less courtesy than I was wont to show Daruka, “Since Duryodhana refuses even five towns, we need no dreams nor omens to tell us there will be war.” Daruka looked at me with compassion.
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Who would be the commander under me? Krishna reminded me that we must structure the hierarc
hy carefully. Though I was in command of our side, Eldest was supreme and could overrule me if need be and though Krishna was our charioteer, he was our counsellor and Eldest would throw himself under a chariot at a word from Krishna.
There was a commander for each akshauhini, but one of them must be chosen as an intermediary between me and the different akshauhinis. It had to be someone with authority, vision, loyalty, imagination, flexibility, and discipline. Draupadi’s brother, Dhrishtadyumna, was the man who inspired me with total confidence and I could hardly wait to say so, but, since all five of us Pandavas had the right to make suggestions in this matter, I invited Sahadeva to speak first. His choice of Virata was not a bad one, but we could not think of repaying debts at this moment. Nakula suggested Draupadi’s father. Drupada was a great warrior and would not be hampered with sentiments for Dronacharya and Greatfather. But that was equally true of his son, I said.
Bheema burst out, “You all forget that the first thing to be done is to kill Greatfather.”
“Bheema, I never for a moment forget that we have to kill Greatfather.”
Bheema ignored the tightness in my voice and said, “Then why Dhrishtadyumna and not his brother? Shikhandin is just as close to us and was born to kill Greatfather. The Kauravas stake everything on Greatfather’s invincibility. Shikhandin will think of nothing but killing him. Once he is down, Duryodhana and his Kauravas will fall apart.”
It was not the time to think of what would happen to Arjuna on the day Greatfather was killed. There was sense in what Bheema said, but the last word went to Eldest and he who had most sense of all said, “Let Krishna appoint the man. Whoever Krishna chooses is the man for us. Speak, Krishna.”
“I say Dhrishtadyumna.”
The Great Golden Sacrifice of the Mahabharata Page 37