Yajnaseni: The Story of Draupadi

by Pratibha Ray

  Lamenting, I complained, 'The mother's sorrow is not wiped out if the son lives on in the pages of history. No mother craves for her son's death even if he attains immortality by dying a hero's death. You are a man. How will you understand a mother's heart?"

  Smiling sadly Krishna said, "Yajnaseni! I am Abhimanyu's maternal uncle. When you were in the forest, I was at his side. His upbringing, education, training in weapons, taking the entire responsibility of these I was making him sakha's fitting inheritor. I was not just his uncle, but his father, mother, teacher, friend, everything. I ought to be grieving the most at his death. But I am aware of the motions of time. Therefore, I do not grieve over death. Compose yourself. If you behave in this fashion, who will help Arjun to regain composure? If you see him overwhelmed with grief, you will understand what I mean."

  Sharply I retorted, "Sakha, the third Pandav loves you more than his own life. Is that why you have pained him thus? Is this your principle?"

  Sakha’s voice was calm, "In the war when overcome by attachment brave Arjun sat down discarding weapons speaking of not taking up arms against friend, brother, teacher, grandfather, then for removing that delusion and inertness from his mind I had to explain the mystery of the soul's immortality, birth and death virtue and sin, creator and created, and all the truths concerning the world on the battlefield itself. Therefore, Arjun will overcome this sorrow gradually. Do not worry about that."

  I recalled what I had heard from Arjun's lips about that unprecedented event on the battlefield. To remove sakha's inertness, Krishna had revealed to him his universal form. In the battlefield itself Arjun saw Krishna's innumerable mouths, innumerable blazing eyes, innumerable limbs, innumerable sharp teeth. His body had expanded filling the whole sky. The radiant golden body was blazing with energy. In the mouth, fitted with tusks terrifying as the all-consuming flames, were visible innumerable suns, moons, stars, planets! In that very mouth Arjun saw everyone. Seeing that form, Arjun had become dizzy and had prayed, "O Vasudev, restrain this form of yours".

  Then was Krishna great Time! It was he who was the creator and the destroyer, God Himself!

  Ma Kunti had recognised him properly. That is why despite being his aunt she pranamed him!

  If the soul was immortal, if after the death of the body the soul united with the creator, then why grieve over death?

  For a moment I too, forgetting my grief, stood up and bowed before sakha.

  Maya's voice was heard, "Uttara is fainting repeatedly. This is not the time for pranam-ing Krishna."

  I was once again overcome with grief.

  54

  Duryodhan's thigh had been shattered. After being struck down he was counting the moments before his death. The war was over. After Father's death the people of Panchal were sorely distressed. That day I had gone to Panchal only to tell them that they were not fatherless. My brave brother, Drona-slayer Dhrishtadyumna, having conquered the enemy was still alive. The moment peace was re-established in Hastinapur, he would return to look after the subjects. I was satisfied after informing my sister-in-law of Dhrishtadyumna's welfare. She was in deep distress, waiting for him.

  The whole night we sisters-in-law, forgetting all sorrow, kept spinning dreams of future happiness. Abhimanyu, Ghatotkach, Belalsen and all the other sons of my co-wives were dead, still by God's grace my five sons were well. Looking at them it might be possible to forget the sorrow of losing the other sons. Right from childhood they had been deprived of their mother's love. A few days after their birth I had gone away into the forest. Now I could give them a mother's love to my heart's content. Besides this, what desire for enjoying any other happiness was left in me!

  Having seen war, bloodshed, death, lamentation, all for kingdom, my mind's attachment to throne, wealth, possessions had been broken. No delight was left in becoming queen. Once the sons had grown up, handing over the kingdom to them I would be a queen-mother. As the wife of five husbands I had spent the whole life in trouble. Now, at least, as the mother of five sons I would be able to draw my breath in peace for some days! I would try to seek out the meaning of life in their laughter and joy, seek out my darling Abhimanyu.

  The whole night I kept dreaming: the faces of my laughing, playing children, scenes of their marriage, their enthronement, and scenes of playing with their children, petting them. Apsaras were descending from heaven to garland them. Perhaps my daughters-in-law were looking like apsaras. The dream broke. My heart was beating fast. What was all this I saw? What can be the significance of this?

  Who could I ask for the meaning of this dream? There was still time till dawn. But just then the news arrived — Drona's son Ashvatthama had attacked at night and killed Dhrishtadyumna and all my five sons as they lay asleep! My sister-in-law and I fell unconscious. Who would console us?

  Such a defeat at the moment of victory! The cruel jest of fate! How would I bear this grief? I was already distressed with the sorrow of losing Abhimanyu, Ghatotkach and the rest. This terrible news virtually took my life away. There is perhaps no sorrow greater than that of losing one's son. No words are adequate for that. Death is the only antidote for this grief.

  They were asleep, beheaded, in a sea of blood like sinless flowers — my five delicate children: Prativindhya, Shrutasom, Shrutakirti, Shatanik and Shrutakarma. The smile had not faded from their lips — some sweet dream of the night had not yet been wiped off their eyes.

  Taking my sons' corpses in my lap again and again I was wailing, lamenting. Clutching someone's decapitated head and another's torso to my breast I fell unconscious. How could a mother losing as many as five sons at a time retain her composure?

  My five husbands were overcome with grief. Today the creator had made everyone sonless. They were all looking away from one another. Tears were mingling with the sons' blood. Only Govind was consoling everyone.

  After some time I forgot myself. Like a demoness I shrieked out horribly, "Without destroying that sinner Ashvatthama and taking revenge on that slayer of children, I will not even be able to die in peace."

  Bhim understood. Noticing my firm resolve not to touch food and drink, he stood up. Just then news arrived that after hearing of the death of the five sons, Duryodhan had given up his life. Bhim became alert at this news and set out to capture Ashvatthama. Seeing that terrible appearance once more I shrank back. Was earth on the verge of a cataclysm? Was there no end to death at all?

  Yudhishthir, Arjun and Krishna had also set out in search of Ashvatthama. Suddenly a mild tremor awoke in my heart. Drona's wife Harita was still alive. In her life, Ashvatthama was the only means of existence. Drona was dead. After the death of Ashvatthama, Harita too would be a victim to grief for her son. Yes, Ashvatthama was a sinful soul. But Harita was like my mother. She who did not know what it was to grieve for a son would slay someone else's son to take revenge. How could I do so? A moment ago I was weeping, "Oh God! Do not let even enemies suffer the loss of sons!" And how could I now kill Ashvatthama and drown Harita in grief for her son? By killing Ashvatthama, my five sons would not come back. Then let sinful Ashvatthama live. Let him live long, suffering all pains. In Hastina, let at least one mother, Harita, be saved from grieving over her son. I called Krishna. In a gentle voice I said, "Pardon that sinful soul. Tell Bhim, there is now no need to capture Ashvatthama and bring him here. That sinner shall himself suffer the consequences of his sins. Fate will see to that. Who am I to punish?"

  Smiling, Krishna said, "Panchali! A thousand pranams to the incomparable embodiment of compassion and forgiveness."

  Bhim's voice was heard, "Panchali! Here is the wicked Ashvatthama. Tear open his heart and drink your fill of his blood. Quench the agony of losing your sons."

  I did not even lift up my eyes to see his imprisoned state. Turning my face away I said, "I do not even wish to set eyes on this sinner. My soul will be sullied by his touch. Husband! Be kind. Take him away from my sight. Drive him out of the boundaries of the kingdom. He has no place in this kingdom." My tong
ue was dripping fire but the eyes were raining tears. I could not bear any more and fell unconscious.

  Sinful Ashvatthama was not even fit to be forgiven. Having been forgiven by me, afraid, he ran into the forest. Ultimately, to destroy the progeny of the only dynast of the Pandavs, Abhimanyu, waiting in Uttara's womb for deliverance, he released the Brahma missile. It was the friend-in-need Krishna who saved the child in Uttara's womb by despatching the discus. Like a green blade of grass in a cremation ground turning into a flower through the rain of Krishna's compassion, the last hope of the Pandavs kept growing in Uttara's womb.

  55

  Death is more generous than life. Death is more composed. Those who were enemies yesterday, today their death drenches the heart with tender compassion. Those who were wicked, lustful, sinful till yesterday were made composed, steady and unperturbed by death today.

  Those who were slain as enemies in the battlefield, considering them as brothers, after cremating them, the rites for the dead will have to be performed to ensure the welfare of their souls.

  That heart-rending scene of the meeting of both separated families on the battlefield! How could that ocean of grief be described? A hundred sons, their many sons, brothers, cousins — losing them all, Dhritarashtra, Gandhari, the Kaurav wives were seeking out their dear ones among the piled-up corpses. With them was ma Kunti.

  I, the five Pandavs, and Krishna too were searching for our relatives.

  Ma Gandhari and Kunti were weeping in each other's arms.

  All the Kaurav women, overwhelmed by grief, were lamenting for sons, husbands, friends, brothers. All the women of Hastinapur had lost their beauty, overcome by sorrow. All were pale with the shock of widowhood and destruction of the family.

  From this point of view my grief was somewhat less than theirs. My five husbands were alive. They were victorious, although this victory was being observed in the cremation ground next to the flaming funeral pyres.

  On seeing ma Kunti I sobbed out. With my head on her breast I said, "Ma, my darlings, my sons! My Abhimanyu! Where are they? Why won't they be seen any more? What shall I do with this kingdom? If one has no children, what will one do with a kingdom, with wealth and possessions?"

  Ma patted my head and said, "Daughter! The grief that is yours is also mine. I am seeking the body of my ever-neglected, reproachful, proud son, Karna. Till death he remained insulted because of my sin. In death he found his befitting, heroic departure. Repeatedly during the war Bhishma, Shalya, Jayadrath insulted him as charioteer's son. Even so wise a man as Bhishma mocked him as half a chariot-warrior, ardharathi. My unarmed darling met death at the hands of Arjun."

  Hearing those words of Ma it seemed as though only Karna was her sole son and Arjun someone belonging to the opposite camp! Though a hundred sons remain alive, it is for the dead son that compassion wells up in a mother's heart.

  Stunned, overwhelmed with grief, all were gazing at the battlefield of Kurukshetra. How horrible, heart-rending was that scene!

  Lakhs of corpses, split into parts, limb by limb. Bloodied hair and skulls. Bodies without heads, heads without bodies, chests split apart, lumps of flesh, bones, intestines — what a horrible scene was spread out on the battleground. Horses, elephants, men, the blood of all was mingled as in a sea. Wherever one looked one heard only the howling and raucous cries of jackals, vultures and crows. Tearing of flesh, drinking of blood, dragging of bodies were going on. Hastinapur had turned into hell.

  Widowed women, shorn of prosperity, were looking for the bodies of their husbands, fathers, sons, brothers in that hell and, finding their corpses, were shrieking, clasping them to their breasts.

  In the midst of the battlefield, ignoring the horror of death, lay the resplendent hero, Karna, like a second sun. Because he was the sun's son, death had only touched him. His body had not mortified or become noisome.

  Kunti was standing near the feet of the corpse. I was behind her. Ma's tears were falling on the corpse's feet. All the hesitation, shame, scruples, fear of public calumny that affected the female heart, had been swept away by death. Unnerved by grief at her son's death, the mother had forgotten that Karna was her premarital son. Taking karna's corpse in her lap, she wailed aloud before everyone. That lamentation pierced through the heavens. Surya grew compassionate, red, pale and began to set.

  Stunned, Yudhishthir was watching. He noticed that ma Kunti's feet were absolutely identical to karna's. In the assembly-hall, during the insulting of Draupadi, when he had got excited over karna's barbed comments, Yudhishthir had calmed down in amazement the moment his eyes fell on karna's feet. Today he saw that they were ma Kunti's feet. Ma Kunti was lamenting for dead Karna. What was the meaning of her weeping — as though for a son?

  Spontaneously, Yudhishthir's eyes filled with tears. All were stunned, surprised. Controlling her grief, ma Kunti said to Yudhishthir, "My son, as Kunti's eldest son you have suffered much. As the chief of the Pandav family many responsibilities were cast on you which you discharged too. Actually, you are not Kunti's eldest son. He who was deprived of the glory of being Kunti's son all his life, was actually the eldest son. Today he lies before you on the ground. He is your eldest brother, son of Surya, mighty hero and donor, Karna! Despite being the fruit of a sage's blessings during my virginity, he has lived a cursed life on earth. Ultimately he lost his life at his brother's hands."

  The sacred battlefield was today a crematorium, above friend and foe, rich and poor, high and low — everyone. Everyone had been placed on the same footing. Standing on this sacred earth Kunti exposed the supreme secret of her life before her sons. Then she broke out into lamentation.

  Arjun, gazing with moist eyes at the composed body of karna, lying like the setting sun, was cursing himself.

  Forgetting all scruples and mingling my tears with Ma's, I too was weeping in honour of proud karna's departed soul.

  Innumerable pyres flamed up. karna's mortal body caught fire. Pride, arrogance, the desire to be victorious ignoring divine power, all had vanished. Only the glory of his manliness kept ringing in my heart.

  With surprise I saw, karna's dear companion, Asmita, had leapt into the pyre and was being burnt to ashes. Throughout life it was Asmita who kept Karna near her. Today death swallowed her up too.

  Life cannot overcome pride, but death overcomes even the ego. Bereft of arrogance, karna's face was resplendent as the morning sun in the flames of the pyre, appearing pure, delicate. It seemed as though I was looking at a god in the flames of the pyre. Ma Kunti and the Pandavs kept shedding tears.

  Standing near me, Krishna was consoling Ma and encouraging the Pandavs, "Man is bound by both divine power and manhood. If either is lacking, then like Karna, despite having everything, one is frustrated in every act. There is a challenge thrown by manhood too. Karna had that. But without the combination of prayer with manliness, arrogance devoured him. So long as man is alive, the ego shall remain in him. The meaning of this is not that death is the only means of overcoming the ego. There is a means of doing away with the ego while being alive — it is by surrendering oneself, ending one's ego. Uniting effort and prayer, surrender yourself. Then you will truly live. Otherwise, you will be finished."

  "An egoless life is impossible. But discarding the petty ego, nurture a noble pride. That is: O Lord, I am yours! That is when I can be proud. That petty pride of Karna was the pride of his own ego. Arjun too is not devoid of ego. But his pride is noble. I pride myself on your strength — this is Arjun's attitude. Karna would say, 'I am great on account of my own efforts'. Arjun says, 'Because of you I am great'. Just this is the difference between the two. Otherwise in valour, prowess, manliness they are equal. The bodies of both were different, but the power was the same."

  "It is because of pride that karna was destroyed. Destroying pride, Arjun remained alive and victorious. Therefore, do not grieve for Karna. No one destroys anyone. In the current of time, man himself brings about his own destruction."

  Overcome by grief
for her sons, ma Gandhari, hearing Krishna's philosophic lecture, said in fury, "O Krishna! You are expert in the scriptures. You are master of miraculous powers and the close friend of the Puru dynasty. What is impossible for you? If you wished, the Kauravs could have been saved from this destruction. There is no joy in acquiring a kingdom after destroying the enemy. It is in the presence of the defeated enemy that the glory of enjoying a kingdom lies. See, Yudhishthir has acquired a kingdom. But having lost all his relatives along with the Kauravs, how he is cursing himself! It is you who are responsible for the destruction of my sons..."

  Krishna's voice was calm, "Devi! Greed for the wealth of others, seizing the kingdom of others, envying, insulting women — it is for these reasons that your sons were destroyed. How much suffering did a virtuous soul like Yudhishthir undergo on account of being addicted to playing dice? What had I to do in this? Till the end I was engaged in trying to establish peace. The consequence of war is always loss of life and property, destruction of civilization and distress to mankind. In this both the offenders and the innocent, the peaceable and the violent are harmed. On account of ignoring my peace proposals the Kauravs were destroyed."

  Standing near the funeral pyres of her sons, Gandhari said in anger, "O Krishna! However much you may justify yourself, it is you who are the cause of everything. If I have the slightest power of meritorious acts, then I curse you — as today the Bharat dynasty has been destroyed, similarly some day in the same way your clan will be destroyed. Thirty-six years from now, your friends and relations, too, engaged in conflict with one another, will be destroyed. Like the Kaurav women, the Yadav women too will lament the loss of husbands, sons, relatives. Dvaraka will be lost in the sea."