Like me, he is also the son of a maid. He too belongs to this kingdom of Hastinapur. And today, we both face each other with our hands empty. Both born in the great lineage. But not the successor of this throne. Both understand the Dharma but couldn’t protect the righteousness! Fate tied us in so many ways. Both of us always knew what the fate of the war would be. Both tried to subjugate the obstinacy of Duryodhana but never succeeded, and today, both of us stand with empty hands at the outskirts of Hastinapur. He has left the kingdom, and I have left… The racing thoughts just pause with the thoughts of the list of what I have left!
Beholding his inquisitiveness, I speak, “Dear Uncle! We lost everything, Grandsire, Guru Drona, Karna, Dushasana, and other brothers, and many more warriors. We lost Lakshmana. We lost Abhimanyu. The future of the Kuru dynasty is sacri- ficed in the pyre of the Dharmayudha. Duryodhana is missing, he fled!” I gaze upon the tense face while he listens to me cheerlessly. There is no sparkle in his eyes. Neither the defeat of Duryodhana nor the victory of Yudhishthira has changed the emotions etched on his face.
“The victorious Pandavas were searching for Duryodhana all over the battleground, but nobody was able to locate him. The affrighted soldiers of Duryodhana’s army ran away to safe- guard their lives, and then Yudhishthira asked me to escort the royal ladies, servants and maids towards the city. I am just ful- filling his desire, and the caravan you see here is of those ladies only. You can also hear the pain and cries of these women who belong to this city. This glorious city will witness the wail and cry of these widows.” I continue.
Uncle Vidura looks at the caravan before me and says, “You acted right regarding whatever happened on the field. With their masters’ dead, the protection and safety of these regal ladies became obligations of the remaining warriors. You have acted in compassion and maintained the honour of this race. By good luck, you have survived the dreadful battle, and now you are the sole staff of the blind monarch. O son, you are the sole hope of the king bereft of foresight, afflicted with the calamity and dissuaded by destiny. The king will find peace beholding you. O son, after you enter the city, ensure that the caravan reaches the destination. Tonight, you rest and proceed tomorrow.”
“Tonight, we are making a temporary halt here. Tomorrow morning, my trusted acolytes will guard the caravan to the city safely, and I will return to Yudhishthira. I will see my father soon, but not tomorrow.” I bow down to him and start walking towards the temporary camp set.
Chapter4
THE CURSED THRONE
War brings victory for few; but defeat for all
ASHWATTHAMA
he profound darkness and dampness surrounding the city of Hastinapur have engulfed our future. Death danced on the field of Kurukshetra for eighteen days. The clan of my father is dead, and the eldest is missing. Remorseful! My wakefulness has robbed the sleep off my eyes. The wide-open black eyeballs continuously stare at the roof and the emo- tions of losing my brothers soak the cushions under my head. Pandavas have won, and they proved they are pearls weaved together with the strong string named, mother Kunti. The sound of shattering of skulls, the whiz of arrows, the clangs of metals, and the cries in that morass are still buzzing in my ears. The sight of brothers drinking their blood and the fathers unable to protect their sons are still fresh in front of my eyes. The grooves filled with blood may dry up in a few days, but the grooves in the hearts will never. The memories of this battle
will haunt many generations to come.
I am still rolling on my bed waiting impatiently for the first ray of the sun to hit the earth. The silence surrounding the camp is louder than the metal clangs and shrieks of men on the battlefield. It is more petrifying than the whiz of arrows cruising on the field. I jump out of my bed. I look at the sand- glass; the granules fall slowly, indicating a few more hours of darkness. I want to go back to the battlefield and look for Duryodhana. Thoughts of whereabouts of Duryodhana are continuously probing me. I want to rush back to the field.
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“Ashwatthama must be aware of Duryodhana,” I mumble.
Duryodhana galloped off the war field, but Yudhishthira doesn’t want to come back, till he finds Duryodhana. Bhima, like an angry wolf, must be searching for his favourite prey. I can’t stop myself anymore. I come out of my tent and rush towards my chariot. The sun is yet to rise from its thick coat of clouds, and the sky is still dark. The cool breeze flows calmly. The trees stand silently. A couple of more hours for the sun to rise again. But the wait within me isn’t ready to stall. I followed the commands of the king, but now I should be back in the field. I should know where my elder is. I instruct my trusted group to take care of the caravan and mount my chariot.
“Move faster; we should reach the ground at the earliest.”, I command Sudasa. By directing the steeds and pulling the reins, he obliges. My chariot careers towards the bat- tlefield as the dawn progresses. Grey turns crimson far in the horizon. Few more hours of journey and we reach near the camp of Panchals. Surprisingly, nobody is guarding the camp. No soldier on duty. An utter silence with no visible movement. “Why is everyone so silent, this is already the morning? Are they so happy after winning that they don’t want to start a new day?” I mutter. And as I reach closer towards the camp, the earth slips underneath my feet. To my utter dismay, the soldiers and the warriors are not sleeping, but they are dead. All are dead. The Panchals, the Somakas, and other acolytes of Pandavas, who survived till the eighteenth day of the war are lying motionless on the ground.
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“Who did this? How is it possible, that without any battle, without any commands, all soldiers are dead?” my heart sinks and my eyes start looking for Yudhishthira. Is he alive? No, the thoughts of mishap overpower my mind. I enter the camp; there is utter silence everywhere; no sign of any living human. The animals are crying at the fate of their masters, but there is no human to witness the massacre. My heart beats faster. The questions of survival of the Pandavas penetrate my heart. Sweat starts trickling down from my forehead.
“Is this the end of Pandavas lineage as well?”, I utter with a hoarse voice.
“O, Sire! This doesn’t look like a camp of the winning army.”, utters Sudasa in bewilderment. He commands the steeds to move slowly. We gaze at each corner, but there is no sign of any movement. The blood flowing on the ground describes the carnage that happened.
“But who did all this? There was no commander left in Kaurava side. Was this Duryodhana? But he was missing. Was this Ashwatthama? But who commanded him to kill merci- lessly? I can’t think of any other name”, I speak within when my charioteer says, “O Lord! See few men are standing towards the west side of the camp.” I look at them. I realize they are the five Pandava brothers. A sigh of relief amidst all this quagmire. The Pandavas are alive and standing with Krishna. A small smile flashes through my lips when I see my best friend Bhima standing unhurt. I get down from my chariot and run towards the brothers. They are not facing me and probably haven’t realized my presence on the field. “Didn’t they hear the thud- ding of hooves?” I speak within.
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I move faster without realizing what else is waiting for me. Bhima... I shout and continue walking. He turns back. I perturb seeing his moist eyes and get more affrighted beholding the appalling face of Bhima. For a moment, I stopped thinking of Duryodhana. I move closer to Bhima. But before I could ask anything, I see a ghastly sight. Dreadful! My lips shiver. I have witnessed countless horrors in the past eighteen days, but this time it is beyond the capacity of the Devil himself. This time it is more penetrating. I see the five sons of Draupadi, from each Pandava, are lying dead. The carnage has wiped the future of the Pandavas. I look at Yudhishthira. The moist eyes of the king provide no clue to me to decipher the cause of this. The angry Bhima pants heavily with Arjuna unable to hold his emotions. Arjuna’s reddened eyes speak for the fury inside his heart. Krishna is standing still with the twin brothers. The gruesome act of some inhuman creature has consumed the future
of Hastinapur.
The questions in my mind are no different than the ones in the hearts of Pandavas. There is nobody who can explain what and how it all happened.
“Who did this?” I ask Yudhishthira. “Ashwatthama”, he mutters. I am stunned.
Recovering from what I just heard, I question again, “But how, when, and where were all of you, O Lord?” My emotions bundled and tied in a knot.
“We were in our camp, a few miles away from here”, he speaks softly.
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The penance of not being present with their sons is visible in the hoarse voice of the king.
He further speaks with tears almost choking him, “Yuyutsu, everything is over. Even after winning against the Kauravas, we lost everything. Our future is dead. Ashwatthama stole our future.”
Winning against the Kauravas; the words hit my ears. Duryodhana... Where is Duryodhana? I whisper looking at
Krishna.
Krishna understands the plight and pats my shoulder to calm my curiousness.
He says, “We don’t know yet how Ashwatthama managed to kill everyone present in the camp. The charioteer of Dhrishtadyumna informed us about this horrific event, which happened overnight. We rushed to the camp only to find the dead bodies and nothing else.”
I tried to listen to him, but my mind wants to hear about my eldest. Duryodhana… I mutter again.
“He must be dead. Bhima had broken his thighs yesterday in a duel.”, reveals Krishna.
Broken his thighs in a mace duel, bemused, I look at Bhima, but perhaps this is not the right time to seek the explanation from him.
“Is there anyone left in the camp?” I ask again, Krishna negates.
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My heart shatters, and hundreds of questions on how Ashwatthama alone managed to kill the entire camp hovers my mind. I somehow manage to sit on the ground with my head in my hands. Dhrishtadyumna, Shikhandin, Yudhamanyu, Uttamaujas, and other Panchal soldiers with five sons of Draupadi; all killed by a single man. Devastating! But true. Implausible! But real.
“The moment to praise the prowess of the son of Guru Drona or to reflect at this pernicious attack.” I ponder.
Beholding the dying friend, Ashwatthama must have ravaged in agony. He achieved the singular feat for which Duryodhana had befriended him. The desires and weaknesses fed for years resulted in the noxious acts of a wild beast. Like a bat targets its prey silently at night, the son of Guru attacked at night violating all laws of war and leaving no traces behind. If the charioteer of Dhrishtadyumna had not escaped, it would always be a mystery.
Yudhishthira asks Nakul to bring Draupadi. She has lost everything since her marriage with Pandavas. Her pride, dignity, integrity, father, and now her brother and sons too. Albeit married to the best warrior brothers with Arjuna winning her in Swayamvar, she could never safeguard herself. Neither from the lascivious desires nor the merciless destiny.
Nakul bows down and walks away following the order of his eldest. The king then asks Sahadeva to bring the chario- teer of Dhrishtadyumna. Meanwhile, Bhima and I arrange the motionless bodies of the sons and brother of Draupadi. Once again, we got the dreadful task to lift the dead sons. The pain of bringing back Abhimanyu’s dead body is still haunting my
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mind, and now five more sons. There is no end to the agony; desires for one become misery for others, leaving the earth bereft of her innocent sons.
The bodies of the dead soldiers are everywhere. Some with cut limbs, some with shattered skulls, few without headgears and few without even heads. The catalyst of this morass is one man, but the causation is all of us. The fathers became the murderers of their sons. And the sons carried the misfortunes of their fathers as the gifts which ignited the end of their lives. What an irony! What a war! The eighteen Akshauhini armies, under the commandments of the best warriors of the world, are deprecated to ashes in just eighteen days. Millions died, leaving us to think over the worth of this war. Those who died must have reached heaven, but the people left will face hell for years to come. The screams of torment and pain will always haunt the survivors. The children, in the wombs of their mothers, have survived. But the survival came against the cost of the death of their fathers. The next generation of Pandavas and Kauravas engulf in the tornado of the battle fought.
I was deep in my thoughts when Nakul returned with Draupadi. Draupadi, a princess, a wife, and a mother, was born in the pleasant kingdom of Panchal. Her destiny changed after Arjuna won her in the marriage proposal. Destined to rule the world but ended in ravines and shattered today. She has lived through the agonies, which seem to last a thousand ages. She walks closer to the motionless bodies of her sons and broth- ers. Uncontrollable! She breaks down with uncontrollable wail of anger and sorrow.
Draupadi looks at Arjuna, and says, “I will ask you the same question, Subhadra asked five days ago. How did my sons die
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when you, the protector, were present? Who has the confi- dence of rooting out the future of the Kuru dynasty when the protectors are alive? Isn’t he frightened of the strength of five brothers? Didn’t he get afraid of what would be the conse- quences? Or the world has accepted that the five brothers, the resemblance of power and strength can’t retaliate. Tell me O wielder of Gandiva, what has happened to the twang of your bow?” Draupadi, an agonized mother and grief-struck sister, continues to wail.
Sahadeva returns with the charioteer of Dhrishtadyumna who first gave the news of the disaster.
“O Suta! Fear not and tell in detail what happened last night? And how the son of the preceptor became the cause of this carnage in the darkness?”, asks Yudhishthira.
He replies, “O Lord! In that profound darkness when the entire Panchal army slept with the joyful thoughts of victory over Kauravas, like an experienced hunter, like a mighty lion, Ashwatthama attacked this camp. While you were away in another camp and your sons decided to stay back with their maternal uncles, the son of Guru targeted the sleeping soldiers, like a bat targets its prey in the dark. The soldiers, elated with the victory, had put off the armours. While we all were relaxing after the turmoil of the past eighteen days, silently with no rustles, the wielder of pearl assaulted the sleeping army.”
“Ghastly!”, I can only murmur. Bhima says, “Continue telling how he targeted to strike the warriors and how he single-hand- edly destroyed the entire camp?”
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He continues, “I was near my chariot when I heard the cries of soldiers sleeping at the entry of the camp. I rushed towards the gate as I thought it could be a flock of tigers attacking the camp. But my heart pounded when I saw Ashwatthama entering the camp. I could see the determina- tion on his face as if he got commands to kill and destroy any- thing coming in his way as if he had got the commandment of the Kaurava army, and as if he alone, is the entire Kaurava army. Post entering the camp, he moved towards the tent of Shikhandin. And soon he vanquished Shikhandin. I got terrified and rushed towards the tent of Dhrishtadyumna to signal him. And hither Ashwatthama was unstoppable. He continued striking the sleeping soldiers and warriors with his arrows. He continued cutting the limbs with his sword, and in excitement, he was roaring. He burnt the tents, killed the animals, cut the men, and he spared nothing coming on his way.”
“What happened when you informed Dhrishtadyumna and why didn’t you signal the entire camp?”, asks Yudhishthira.
“Before I could reach and inform Dhrishtadyumna, Ashwatthama entered his tent. He pulled out his sword and attacked the sleeping commander. But the alert commander ditched his attack. They both came out of the room trying to overpower each other.
While the commander was controlling the wrath of the son of the preceptor, I blared the conch to signal the other war- riors. With my signal, Yudhamanyu and Uttamaujas woke up and came out from their tents. But they didn’t realize it was an attack on the camp, as we all felt that we already defeated our enemy.”, he continues.
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“That was the blunder wh
en the army put off the gears and undermined that Duryodhana could retaliate.”, I interrupted him. But I realize my heart is favouring my blood by speak- ing for Duryodhana. I look at the charioteer and signal him to continue.
“The duel between Dhrishtadyumna and Ashwatthama didn’t last long. The angry and cunning wolf snatched the soul of our commander. Yudhamanyu and Uttamaujas attacked Ashwatthama, but both of them met the same fate. He was careering in the camp like a Daitya, sparing nobody. No sign of fear, no sign of regret of killing the sleeping soldiers, he con- tinued blazing off the camp like the hay of dry grass. He was repeatedly shouting that once the army is rooted out, he would slay the sons of Pandu. The petrified soldiers were running for their lives, but blazing fire consumed everyone present.”, his voice became hoarse. His throat dried remembering the events of last night.
“Don’t stop!”, yells Bhima angrily.
Yuyutsu - Rise of the last Kaurava Page 16