Yuyutsu - Rise of the last Kaurava

by Aniket Sharma

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  arrow is shot, it doesn’t know if it would hit a man or an animal. Nobody can differentiate the blood of the men from those of the animals. The pain and cries of these beings are ignored, as they can’t speak as humans can. They fight selflessly, albeit not knowing the purpose. What an irony! “O, great God! Bless me with the power to tolerate this cruelty. For how many days will it continue?”, I finish my prayer and get onto my bed with swollen eyes and sore muscles.

  One more morning on the battlefield. The chirping of birds overpowers the whizzing of insects breaking my slumber. The soft orange ball peeks through the eastern valley, and its rays reach the earth, penetrating the clouds. The dawn kisses the horizon, and the sky turns crimson with the effulgence of their love. Once again, the glory rises with the four strong steeds pulling its chariot. The morning routine starts, and the huddle bell rings. The warriors and group-leaders start gathering at the meeting point. Yudhishthira looks better. The effect of Karna’s arrows is subdued. The medicines prepared by the physicians have helped him recover faster. The smirk on his face resembles his happiness after the death of Karna. He looks at Arjuna with great affection as if he still has the guilt of his words he spoke yesterday. Confident, Arjuna smiles back. Seems, he has no qualms in his mind. The wheel of life has rolled, and the bond between brothers is intact.

  Beholding everyone at the place, Yudhishthira speaks, “My dear warriors and soldiers, both the sides are affected badly in the war, but the determination of prevailing justice has kept us going. With the death of Karna, there must be no hope left in Duryodhana’s camp. You all have achieved tremendous feats

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  in the last seventeen days, but the battle isn’t over yet. We are at the edge of victory, and our united efforts will besiege all the plans of that wicked Duryodhana. My messengers told me that they anointed Salya as their new commander. O great men surrounding me, fear not of Salya. No doubt, he is a strong warrior with the credentials of winning many battles in the past. But we together shall pass this hurdle too. The combined eighteen Akshauhini army is reduced to a cavalry of a few thousand soldiers. But even today, the count of their soldiers is almost thrice of ours. The count of their horses, chariots and elephants is more than double of ours. But their confidence is not even one-sixteenth of ours. The key warriors on their side are all dead, and the fortitude is lost too. A battle is not won with the number of cavalries. It is won with the strength and determination of the soldiers. We are proud that we are a troop of hundreds of determined warriors, always ready to slay our antagonists. O dear friends, fear not, stand and rise together, the victory is ready to embrace you. We have to walk towards it. With the presence of intelligent Nakul and Sahadeva, strong Bhima, ambidextrous Arjuna, determined Dhrishtadyumna, and the gracious Krishna, the victory will not hide from us for long.”

  The cheerful warriors resonate the energetic speech of the king. The blare of conches and cymbals fill the surroundings. The enthusiastic soldiers leave the place to form the array for today’s combat.

  Yudhishthira seems to be in a different aggression today. His belligerence will prove to be fatal for the remaining Kauravas. The soldiers move behind him with increased enthusiasm and energy. The leader paves the way of success for his acolytes. As the day brightens, both the troops gather

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  on the field. Ashwatthama, Duryodhana, Kripa, Kritavarman, Shakuni, and Salya, all key opponent warriors form a deadly array to cover our army. Duryodhana doesn’t want to give up; his unconquerable spirit hasn’t died yet. Salya, the new com- mander, is leading the troop of remaining soldiers. He is a strong and learnt warrior capable of being a tough combatant. Duryodhana has probably played his last masterstroke but, certainly an ace. Salya blares his conch and signals the read- iness. Yudhishthira responds in affirmation. He is followed by his brothers and the commander Dhrishtadyumna with five sons of Draupadi. Arjuna on his ape-bannered chariot and Bhima on his huge wagon covers the two sides of the array. The twanging bows and flashing sabres resonate when thou- sands of glimmering armoured soldiers gallop towards their antagonists. The eighteenth day of the war starts. The clang of maces resonates with the crackling of skulls. And the whiz of arrows results in another bloodshed on the field. The humans thrash humans and enjoy the heinous act. Abysmal! The killing and the mutilation, this ground is full of cries and pain.

  Salya with his troop rushes towards Yudhishthira, Shakuni fights with Sahadeva, Ashwatthama with Arjuna, and Duryodhana counters Dhrishtadyumna. There is no rule left to be breached; there is no humility left to be robbed. Salya, with his retinue, tries to captivate Yudhishthira, but the king is in a different rush today. His hands work in a pace never seen before. The arrows released from his bow effortlessly cruise over the battleground claiming the lives of many. Salya comes in the target of Yudhishthira. The two combatants resembling two volcanoes oozing out lava, consume the lives of whoever comes in between. The troops of the two roaring lions are being killed. The battle once again gets intense, but with only a handful of warriors. The rest are either dead or waiting for

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  death in camps. Salya’s small retinue fights with Yudhishthira’s army, and another troop with its leader Ashwatthama counters Arjuna. But there is no match to Arjuna’s fierceness. The ambi- dextrous warrior releases the arrows with great agility while Krishna cruises his chariot on the field. Soon the headless and motionless creatures fill up the battlefield yet again. The arrows, like meteors falling on the earth, resemble the broken pieces from the sun. The field is filled with broken chariots, pierced warriors, life-less steeds and shrieking elephants. The master-less and direction-less animals rush hither and thither on the field creating a cloud of dust.

  The anger of Bhima is uncontrollable. He runs on the field like a mad elephant crushing everyone on his way. The mace with the spikes has tasted the blood of countless soldiers. He roars, he shrieks, and he kills. The brothers of Duryodhana, my half-brothers, cry for their lives, but there is no place for mercy before Bhima’s wrath. He shatters the skulls, breaks the limbs, and robs the lives of the remaining brothers of Duryodhana. Many soldiers run for their lives, are then tar- geted by the foot-soldier in Bhima’s troop. They fight for their lives by killing others. While Bhima is busy sending countless souls to Yama’s abode, Yudhishthira counters Salya’s army. His keen shafts and striking lances pierce the bodies of antago- nists. I have never seen this fierceness in Yudhishthira. His eyes are rageful, and his nimbleness is unparalleled. At the edge of winning this battle, Yudhishthira doesn’t want to spare any of his opponents. The calm mind has lost a lot in the war but seems arrows of Karna have taught him to strike back mercilessly. Yudhishthira, using his heavy bow, contin- ues the striking. Salya couldn’t stand in front of him for long. He continues releasing countless shafts towards Salya, and finally, the injured Salya succumbs. Yudhishthira roars. He

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  blares his conch to show his authority on the battlefield. The last commander of the Kaurava troop is dead. The acolytes of Yudhishthira blow conches and beat cymbals to celebrate the victory. Remaining soldiers run for their lives. Some find places to hide; some meet their final destination. The journey of the eventful life of Salya ends brutally.

  Kritavarman comes forward to control the running soldiers, but there are no ears left to follow the commands. Kritavarman tries to counter the attacks of the Pandava commander. But the petrified soldiers don’t stay back to support their master. Kritavarman left with no choice, falls back. Shakuni tries to capture the twin brothers from the behind of our array. Yet another cunning trick! The king asks his youngest brother, Sahadeva, to tranquillize the waves caused by Shakuni’s army. Sahadeva follows the commands of his elder and rushes towards Shakuni. The uncle of Duryodhana couldn’t stand for long, and Sahadeva sent his soul to Yama’s abode. Sahadeva blares his conch to notify the victory over Shakuni. It was not just the plain victory; it was the fulfilment of his vow of killing Shakuni, as well. The
entire battlefield is filled with the victorious blare of conches and beating of drums from the Pandava camp.

  The enthusiastic soldiers of our army kill everyone coming in their way. King Yudhishthira has vanquished his enemies. Duryodhana, the lord of eleven Akshauhini army, is divested of his splendour and prosperity. The earth is bereft of the Kaurava brothers, but the eldest is nowhere seen on the battlefield. Finding no presence of Duryodhana on the battlefield, Yudhishthira orders a small troop to look for Duryodhana.

  After a while, the soldiers return with no news; the where- abouts of Duryodhana is still unknown. The triumphant army

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  of Pandavas dances on the battlefield with their swords and shields, glorifying the victorious Pandavas. The might of the Pandava brothers is reclaimed. Finally, the five sons of Pandu have achieved the ultimate feat.

  Some of the apostles, remark, “Today, Dhritarashtra, the king of Hastinapur, will prostrate on the earth after listening to the glory of Pandavas and the wrathful death of his sons. He will remember the words of Vidura, he will memorize the vow of Bhima, and he will reflect on all the misdeeds of his sons. Dhritarashtra will now be the slave of Yudhishthira. The terrible twang of Arjuna’s Gandiva, the clang of Bhima’s mace and the blare of conches must have reached Dhritarashtra. He will count his days when he will soon hear the death of Duryodhana.”

  Duryodhana, where is he? Where is that Lord of eleven Akshauhini army? Where is the cause of this clash? Where is that adamant warrior who didn’t even accept to share the needle-point land with Pandavas? Everyone is looking for him. But there is no sign of his presence. I wish my elder would have followed the advice of uncle Vidura and Krishna. I wish my father would have listened to the advice of grandsire and not blinded on the vices of Shakuni. I wish mother Gandhari would not have nurtured the adamance of her dearest son. I wish they both would not have blinded on the misdeeds of their century of sons. I wish my elder brother would not have been influenced by the vile Shakuni. I wish I could have saved him from getting into the behest of profound darkness awaiting in his life. I just wish… but the past can’t be changed. Humans reflect on the past to understand the chords of the present

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  without realizing that the deeds of the present are tuning the future too. Experiences of past and actions of present shape the course of the future. Humans do not bear fruits of their deeds only but also the conducts of those who surround them.

  Duryodhana must be in the battleground somewhere, but which part of this vast field he managed to hide himself in, is unknown. The entire field is filled with the corpses of men and animals only. Those foot-soldiers who survived the attacks of the Pandava army, ran away from the battleground to safeguard their lives. Yudhishthira’s victory is knocking, but distant, till he finds Duryodhana. I look at our army; the soldiers start returning towards the camp as there is nobody left to attack. The maids, servants and few royal ladies in our camp await the return of Yudhishthira with the triumphant army. The soldiers who survived the battle wait for next com- mands from their king. The tired but jubilant faces undoubt- edly want to march towards the city of Hastinapur. The victory has finally garlanded the tireless efforts of these brave men. I look at Yudhishthira with my inquisitive face. His smile por- trays his ability to comprehend my dilemma. After the death of nine and ninety sons of my father, he can’t expect me to stand calm. In the end, they all were my brothers, my blood, my half-brothers. I grew with them, I ate with them, I learnt with them, but they didn’t survive with me.

  I walk closer to Yudhishthira and with both my hands folded, speak, “O Lord! The world is now yours. You have proven that the five brothers are invincible. You not only survived the attacks of your antagonists but ensured that all your brothers and close aides should be protected. O, mighty hero! The sol- diers of your foe, like a terrified herd of deer, have gone away

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  from the field. There is nobody left to counter your army now. I think the time has come for us also to march towards our city.”

  Yudhishthira smiles. I know why he is smiling. Without slaying Duryodhana, the victory is not ascertained. He looks at me and says, “Yuyutsu, you are the best among all your brothers. Not because you chose to favour me, but because you judged the difference why the two sides faced each other in the war. All your brothers who died in the battle were fighting for their selfish desires, but you were in the war without any desire. This selfless herculean act of yours keeps you ahead from your brothers. My friend, my brother, I will always be indebted of your decision. You now return to the city with the royal ladies and maids present in our camp, inform mother Kunti of our victory and wait for our return.”

  I hesitate, but then I bow down to him and take his leave unwittingly, knowing the ultimate fate of my brother. Eighteen days ago, we gathered here as the lords of the earth. Eighteen Akshauhini army including millions of skilled soldiers and thousands of warriors and hectors. And today, only a handful of men are left. Ego, obstinacy, pride, anger, and selfish desires, I have seen everything perishing on this land of Kurukshetra. The steady grandsire, the accomplished Guru, the loyal friend, and the bloodline, nothing survived. My chariot is drifting towards our camp, and the last conversation of Yudhishthira is knocking at my ears. He feels that I favoured him because I knew the difference between truth and untruth, the right and wrong! But….

  “What is right? What is my truth? Nobody knows.”, I reflect within.

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  Sudasa turns towards me and says, “O master! Why do you seem so troubled? The sign of victory is not evident in your face. The king believes in you, but you don’t seem to be happy or energetic.” The eighteen days of togetherness has brought him so close to my heart that just by seeing my face, he could decipher his emotions. And with those whom I lived for years, never understood my emotions, my desires! The dichotomy of relations! I smile at the fate with which I was born. Luxuries but no richness; affluence but no peace. Brothers but no family; an empire but no harmony.

  “O Sudasa! Master of my steads. You know the truth. The king asks me to share the news of victory with mother Kunti. I will tell her about the heroism of her sons. I will tell her how brutally her sons have slain their foes. I will tell how the grand- sire perished and how the Guru was tricked. I will also tell how her loved ones Abhimanyu and Lakshmana were martyred, but what will I say to my father? How will I face my father? He doesn’t know that I switched sides on the first day of the war. He doesn’t know that I broke his trust. He doesn’t know that my brother called me a traitor. He doesn’t know that all his other sons are no more, and he doesn’t know that Duryodhana has hidden somewhere in the field, like a coward. What will I tell him?” I lay down this bouquet of innumerable questions striking my mind. He nods his head in affirmation with a slight smirk on his face. I didn’t get the meaning of that grin, but I refused to ask him too.

  I manage the smooth movement of the caravan from the war field so far. Few servants and soldiers stayed back with Yudhishthira in Kurukshetra on his duty. Draupadi and

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  Uttara too decided to remain in the camp in the war field with Yudhishthira and other Pandavas. Hastinapur is not too far. We will soon be entering the city after eighteen days of dreadful battle. The group looks tired, and the animals also look exhausted. It is indeed a long journey from the battlefield. “The sun is setting, and it won’t be a good idea to continue the movement. We are close to the boundaries of Hastinapur. We can continue the remaining journey from tomorrow morning.”, suggests Sudasa. Agreeing to his suggestion, I command the caravan to stop and order the soldiers to make temporary tents for night stay. While we were busy helping each other install the tents, I saw an old man sitting near a hut made of mud and grass. The face looks familiar from far. I walk towards him.

  “Uncle Vidura…”, I speak to myself. I walk faster and move closer to him. “Uncle Vidura!” I shout. The burdened face looks up. The wrinkled skin and shrunken veins speak the condit
ion of the grieving heart. I can see a tiny sparkle in his worried eyes. I bow down to him. “Yuyutsu!” I hear my name coming through the shivering lips. He gets up, puts his hands on my head, and blesses, “Long Live Son!”

  “This is my good luck that I am seeing you amid this unfor- tunate conflict among brothers. But O son, where are your other brothers? Why do I see you alone? Where are the sons of Pandu and why Duryodhana and your other brothers didn’t come with you?”

  I see the tearful and worried eyes. In the past, uncle Vidura had made several attempts to rescue Duryodhana and my father from the cunningness of vile Shakuni, but nobody lis- tened to him. His hoarse voice resembles the pain in his heart.

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