Yuyutsu - Rise of the last Kaurava

by Aniket Sharma

  He walks inside Uttara’s apartment, followed by the best physicians. They have prepared varied solutions using unique herbs. But to nullify the impact of that powerful weapon is not easy. “Only Mahadev knows how Uttara survived the attack and how she carried the baby for the remaining months”, I reflect within. The restlessness is at its epitome. I feel like standing at a precipice with my heart literally in my mouth. It’s becoming difficult to breathe, and my senses deceive me with every minute we wait for Krishna. The caretakers run on the commands of physicians and help prepare the medicines.

  “O Mahadev! Save this baby”, I pray.

  Hours later, Krishna comes out with the crying baby, grand- son of Arjuna, son of Abhimanyu, the future of Kuru kingdom. The efforts of Krishna and the physicians worked. The boy regained his senses.

  “The boy lives! The boy survives! Hail Krishna! Hail Krishna!”

  shout the maids.

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  Cheerfulness is revived, on every face. Kunti blesses Krishna. Subhadra’s eyes sparkle when Krishna places the baby on her lap. The toddler resembles young Abhimanyu. I lift him from Subhadra’s lap and wrap him in my arms. My heart melts seeing him; minutes before he was on the edge of death but revived now.

  Thinking of a new mother, we entered Uttara’s chamber. She joins her palms and expresses her gratitude for Krishna. Tears don’t stop coming through her eyes. All because of Krishna and his Godly Might, the life of the baby is restored. I hand over the baby to the proud mother, young Uttara. A long journey and a new life of Uttara begins today, parenting the boy without Abhimanyu. Imagine the destiny of this child! Attacked to death even before his birth, but survived, only with the stories of his valiant father, but not his presence. The mortal eyes sigh with relief and hail the miracle just witnessed by them. An eventful day is about to end. Twilight deepens, and the guards announce the return of Pandavas. Yudhishthira, the new lord of Hastinapur, is back in the city with his brothers. The denizens laud the birth of the newborn with the return of Pandava brothers. Hastinapur cheers amidst the sound of drums and conches.

  Arjuna, with his brothers, comes directly to Uttara’s chamber. Krishna’s smile doubles seeing his friend. He picks the baby and hands over to Arjuna. Arjuna carefully wraps him in his arms. A tiny drop of tear rolls down his right cheek. He looks at Uttara and smiles, controlling his emotions.

  “Parikshit!” he says proudly.

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  A month has passed since Parikshit was born. In pursuit of fill- ing the space of Abhimanyu, Arjuna is actively involved in the upbringing of his grandson. The toddler becomes joyful in the warmth of his grandfather and Arjuna too finds solace holding the tiny fingers in his strong hands. Bhima’s wide arms pro- vide the most comfortable bed for the baby. The mountainous built and the strength of thousand elephants bow before the crackling of tiny tot. The days pass blissfully beholding the rou- tine of the young one. Happiness is once again restored in the kingdom. The appointed ministries are functioning well, and then one day in the courtroom, Krishna reminds Yudhishthira about the words of Rishi Vyasa, “Dear King! We must follow the advice of our sire. The wealth and gold needed for the yagna have been arranged, and we mustn’t delay any further. Let the horse be decided, for the sacrifice, and a small army be appointed to follow the horse.”

  Yudhishthira follows the advice of Krishna and asks Nakul to select the fitting equine for the yagna. He then appoints Arjuna as the protector of the horse and says, “O wielder of Gandiva! Let the horse be under your protection. You will follow the steed wherever it goes. In your journey, you will encounter many unfriendly empires, and their emperors; try to refrain from engaging in a battle to the best of your power. But your Gandiva should never shy from answering the adamant and reluctant souls. Let the horse graze the lands in all directions and come back safely under your supervision.” Arjuna affirms the order of his elder.

  Yudhishthira then appoints Bhima and Nakul as the guards of the city. While the denizens get busy with the procession of yagna, the two brothers should be the protector of all. Sahadeva is appointed to take care of the guests, priests, and sages. The

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  advisors and ministers are also given fitting tasks along with me. I will observe the entire procession thoroughly. I have the responsibility to ensure nothing goes wrong in a multitude of events. A huge list of tasks is prepared to supervise the daily events and make sure the procession moves uninterruptedly. I feel honoured to be closely involved with the event of such high magnitude. The messengers have already left Hastinapur, to visit the neighbouring states with the message, “Welcome the sacrificial horse and Arjuna in your kingdom. Either you accept the expansion of Hastinapur or face the wrath of Gandiva.”

  After a couple of days of search, Nakul comes back with the best stallion present in the kingdom. Identified by ostlers and preferred by Nakul, a black complexioned heavy built quadru- ped is selected for the Ashwamedha yagna. The day is decided, and the head priest performs prayers for the successful com- pletion of the journey. Arjuna lifts his Gandiva, fills his quivers with powerful arrows and decks the chariot with fiery weapons. A warrior can’t stay away from the call of duty. He will have to let go of his fondness for the baby Parikshit for a few months. With the permission of king and blessings of sires, Vidura and Dhritarashtra, the horse is released. Arjuna on his chariot follows the horse. A small unit of men also follows him with the necessary logistics. The horse will graze the dominions of this vast land and cover the remote regions in all directions. All the land grazed by this horse will fall under the governance of Hastinapur. This way, Yudhishthira will claim authority on far- flung regions, with no disputes with neighbouring countries. The trade treaties will be signed, and business transactions will boost the economy of our capital.

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  The preparations for the yagna are in full swing. Arjuna with the sacrificial horse is far away from the boundaries of Hastinapur. All are following the commands of the king dili- gently. The sages perform the rituals of each day.

  “Are you happy serving the new king, Yuyutsu?” a known voice from behind echoes, while I was engrossed playing with the toddler, and didn’t sense anyone entering the room. I turn around handing over young Parikshit to Swastika.

  Dussala…

  “Dear Sister! Welcome… amazed to see you after so long”, I walk towards Dussala and welcome her.

  “I too am… not to see you… but beholding you in the service of the king”, Dussala says. She doesn’t look pleased. I’m not surprised, as she has lost everything in the war. But like her mother, I expected her also, to forgive and move on.

  “Look, what your greed for the throne did to you. You lost your brothers, sires, mentor, relatives and friends but the greed of ascending the throne made you stoop so low that you worship the blood of your brother-in-law’s murderer.”, she continues.

  “It is all over Dussala. The battle was over months ago. Jayadratha was Arjuna’s antagonist, and the world knows defeating Arjuna is impossible.”, I try to calm her.

  “No, it’s not over. The wounds of the death of my husband were still fresh when Arjuna pricked them again”, the anger in her eyes reddened.

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  “I am not following you. Arjuna is away with the sacrificial horse. How would he prick your wounds?” I question firmly.

  “I am here on the invitation of Arjuna only”, says she.

  Bewildered! I look at her with a confused look. “If you are here on the invitation of Arjuna, how did he prick your wounds”, I continue probing.

  “Arjuna, following the sacrificial horse, entered my country. We received the message of Ashwamedha yagna, and thus, we were expecting the arrival of the stallion in our dominion. But citizens of Sindhu weren’t ready to give away their land to the killer of their lord, Jayadratha. Therefore, they resisted the entry of Arjuna. But they couldn’t stand before Arjun’s rage for long, and soon Arjuna overpowered the army of Sindhu. Affrighted by Arjuna, the citizens ra
n for their lives and reported their defeat to their king, my son. My son hadn’t forgotten the harrowing end of his father and grandfather on that day of the battle. And Arjuna’s presence in Sindhu scared him. He couldn’t control his emotions, and fear overpowered his life. He died. Yuyutsu! My son, your nephew is dead. And I am left with this grandson of mine.”, she shows a tiny toddler wrapped in her arms.

  “Arjuna, once again caused harm to me, the same way he did during the battle. What harm was caused by Jayadratha to Pandavas? Why did Jayadratha have to face the fury of Arjuna, when he was only guarding the entrance of Chakravyuh? He didn’t kill Abhimanyu, nor did he kill any Pandava brother. Jayadratha indeed attempted to abduct Draupadi during the exile. But that fault of Jayadratha was minuscule com- pared to what Dushasana did to Draupadi in the courtroom

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  of Hastinapur. In battle, he was following the commands of Duryodhana but became the scapegoat of Duryodhana’s over-sightedness. He was beheaded. He became a victim of Arjuna’s oath. Arjuna murdered him and his father on the same day without thinking of me. And now my son has also left us.”, Dussala continues while sobbing.

  I move forward to glance at the grandson of Dussala. The toddler is holding his grandmother. I can feel the emotional turmoil Dussala is going through. Her family was sacrificed like many others in that battle. The time will take its own pace to heal the wounds, but the nightmares will haunt the souls for many nights. I hold the baby in my arms and speak, “Arjuna has invited you for this yagna. He must have planned your future.”

  “Fie on that future which comes against the sacrifice of my son. Arjuna got what he wanted. The land owned by my sire and son was grazed by the sacrificial horse. There was nobody who could retort the twang of Gandiva, and my guards surren- dered before him. The land now belongs to Yudhishthira. I am left with no choice but to come here.”, the anger of Dussala is evident on her face.

  “I know you are also of no help. You have been a devotee of Yudhishthira since childhood. And now this son of Abhimanyu will be your new master. What did you get Yuyutsu from switching sides? Duryodhana died in the war. He must have attained heaven. You belong to the winning side, but you will not see heaven on this earth. Born as the hope of our father, today you stand hopeless.”, she shrieks.

  Every word of her is no less than a pointed dart piercing my heart. I feel her emotions. I feel her fury. She has lost both

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  sides of her family, and her pain is no less that of Draupadi and Uttara. The warriors lost lives in battle, leaving behind their family with no hope for the future. The king will rule on the cries of these widows and orphans. Every breath of the widows and every tear of orphans will curse the king. As a group, we might have won the battle, but as individuals, we lost. Pandavas have got the throne back, but whom will they rule? A land irrigated by the blood of her sons doesn’t fruit wealth. I look at the grandson of Dussala, and then at Parikshit. There is no difference in the fate of these toddlers. Both suc- cessors but fatherless. Born, to rule but no followers.

  “I know what I will get, Dussala!” I break the shrilling silence. “The war has consumed many lives, and the earth is bereft

  of her sons. The grandsire, guru Drona, our brothers, our sons

  and grandsons all got consumed by the wrath of hatred. The void can never be filled. I have witnessed each departing soul for eighteen days. I will live with the grudge that I couldn’t con- vince Duryodhana. But I knew if I stayed back with him, my death was certain. Bhima didn’t vow to kill me, but he vowed to kill all the sons of Dhritarashtra. He would have torn me easily with his bare hands, and the legacy of our father would have died. I decided to live. I decided to change my fate. This throne of Hastinapur is mine.”, I raise my voice while tears roll down through my cheeks.

  “But Yudhishthira is king, and this son of Abhimanyu will be the next ruler. How is this throne yours, Yuyutsu?”, asks Swastika while putting Parikshit back in the palanquin.

  “The ruler doesn’t necessarily have to sit on the throne,” I speak to the stunned faces of both the ladies. I know they don’t

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  follow my words, I signal Swastika to escort Dussala and her grandson to their room.

  Dussala will now live with us. Her grandson will grow with Parikshit. The book of life unfolds a new chapter with every turn. I still remember the young, beautiful and fragile Dussala getting married to Jayadratha. The stubbornness of Duryodhana has robbed the happiness of many souls, and his wrath has stolen the kindness. Once, the soft and kind Dussala, her heart is brimmed with anger now. Anger for the mighty Pandavas. Her mind is no less than a battlefield, and the emotions are her warriors. Which side wins is unknown, but whichever emotion wins, humanity will always be at stake! What will be the fate of these toddlers? I continue looking at the son of Abhimanyu while Uttara’s maid takes Parikshit back to his mother’s apartment.

  “Hold the sword tight, behold every move sharply, mark the foot, a blink of an eye and your foe will behead you.”, I shout when Parikshit doesn’t follow my instructions.

  “Aryaka, we have been doing this for the past eighteen years. Has anything happened? The tip of your soldiers’ swords can’t even touch my skin, but still, you shout at me every single day.”, replies the grown-up Parikshit.

  “Eighteen years…”, my lips mutter.

  Time flies. The greybeard on my cheeks tells the story of my old age. Yudhishthira was announced, as Chakravartin Raja with no ruler standing against him. Arjuna, the guard of the

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  dominions of the kingdom and Bhima, the protector of the king ensured that no emperor should ever dream of conquering Hastinapur. The city flourished, the trade treaties increased, the wealth multiplied and the pennons of Hastinapur flew high across all reachable lands. Nakul ensured proper treaties were signed with remotest kingdoms while Sahadeva assured that the treasury was always full. The five brothers ruled, and the eighteen years passed without a single glitch. No envy, no hatred, all citizens lived in harmony. A perfect kingdom which our ancestors had envisioned. But Hastinapur has also seen the end of one generation. The blessings of father Dhritarashtra, mothers Gandhari and Kunti, and uncle Vidura are no more with us.

  I still remember the day, when three years back, the elders decided to walk away from all possible luxuries in search of tranquillity in woods. Or maybe it was Bhima’s continuous comments highlighting his victory over Kauravas which made my father think of retirement. Which father can hear the stories of his sons’ death repeatedly?

  “The sons of the blind king, decked with various weapons and capable of killing thousands of men at once, were all killed by me with these two arms. The arms resembling the pair of iron clubs had crushed all the heads coming into its clasps. They were all crushed and sent to the dominions of Lord Yama. These arms of mine should be smeared, with sandal-paste which have dispatched the arrogant Duryodhana to another world”, Bhima used to boast.

  How long a dejected father, would have taken the gibes? An old lion doesn’t attack with a blunt tooth. He took the deci- sion when Bhima crossed the limits of defaming the Kauravas.

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  Uncle Vidura too followed my father to the woods. They lived the life of ascetics for three years before forest conflagration consumed their mortals. The fire of yagna, being performed, by my father, became the cause of their death when the heavy wind across the river blew fire deeper, into the woods. And almost everything was consumed by the flames.

  Yudhishthira performed all the rituals for the departed souls, and installed me as his prime advisor, after uncle Vidura. I believe he trusted my perseverance. But that was not the first time he trusted me. I was amazed when he proposed to coro- nate me as the king when my father decided to retire. When my father expressed his desire to retire to the woods, he said, “I would not find peace and this wealth is equivalent to mere dust if you are in grief. I would rather go to the woods with all my brothers making Yuyutsu the king.” I was delighte
d to witness the sacrifice of the king. But my father had a different opinion. Perhaps he never wanted to behold anyone apart from Duryodhana from his bloodline sitting on this throne. Indeed, Duryodhana was his pureblood descendent and his favourite too. He rejected Yudhishthira’s proposal and remained firm on his decision. “But would that have been my rightful corona- tion as the king? It would have been Yudhishthira’s sacrifice rather me becoming the king on merits.”, I always think. For the past three years, I am working diligently to fill the void created after uncle Vidura’s departure. How ironic! The sons of maids are made prime ministers by the kings of Hastinapur in two different eras. Times have changed, but the fate of the throne hasn’t.

  Death of my father wasn’t the only loss I faced. I was left alone by my mother too. When my father decided to retire, she was heartbroken. She felt abandoned. She didn’t utter a word,