While the epic provides dharmic justifications for almost all of the Pandavas’ unethical behaviour, no such explanation is afforded to Duryodhana or any other Kaurava. While some of Duryodhana’s behaviour is clearly immoral, the text’s treatment of him compared to its treatment of the Pandavas clearly betrays a biased presentation.
4
DRAUPADI
A Critical Catalyst to Duryodhanization
A larger than life character with an extraordinary story, Draupadi can be interpreted in many ways. She is popularly understood as a woman too independent for her times. A strong, thinking individual who stands her ground and argues for herself, even while being married to five men. But she is also controlled by the situations around her—for one, Draupadi becomes a willing gift to the Kuru household. She is the mediator in her father’s plan to kill Drona and only a pawn to her in-laws, who want her father’s clan to fight for them in the battle of Kurukshetra.
Draupadi is a copper-toned beauty born of fire. Fiery, gorgeous and strong-willed, Draupadi is born (or reborn) as a result of her father’s prayer for revenge against his enemies, and, therefore, personifies this quality throughout her life. We see this most clearly in her burning passion for revenge against the Kauravas, who tried to disrobe her in a full assembly hall and in the presence of her five husbands. Draupadi’s oath—that she would only tie her long tresses when they were dipped in Dusshasana’s blood—encapsulates her vengeful personality. Her anguish at being disrobed and humiliated in the Kaurava court leads her to curse their entire country—a country where women are reduced to such ignominy will never prosper, she says. However, the epic does not discuss Draupadi’s perspectives or feelings when she is asked to enter a polyandrous marriage with five brothers. It is possible that, were she given a choice, she might have objected; however, for reasons the text does not explain, she says nothing.
The fire-born princess rejects Karna, the son of the Sun God, because he was raised by a low-caste man. Karna is bestowed with all the qualities that Draupadi wishes to have in her husband. Still, instead of choosing him, the princess of Panchal marries Arjuna and, eventually, his four brothers as well. However, what’s ironic is that her otherwise virtuous husbands, place her as wager in a game of dice against the Kauravas. In addition, none of her mighty husbands come to her rescue when the Kauravas try to disrobe her in public. When she meets a sage, Vyasa, before her swayamvara in order to know her future, he warns her of three significant moments in her life that she needs to be careful about. He warns her to hold back her questions in the first instance, hold back her laughter in the second, and hold back her curse in the final. We all know what happened. Draupadi fails to control her reactions on all three occasions and thus fulfils the prophecy.
The catalytic incident is the episode in which she insults Duryodhana at her palace. When the people of Hastinapur attend the rajasuya yajna in Indraprastha, Duryodhana and his entourage go out to explore the palace of illusions, where Draupadi lives. Entering the palace, Duryodhana encounters a courtyard divided into two parts. While the surface of one part appears to ripple like the surface of a lake, the surface of the other part appears to be solid, like granite flooring. But when Duryodhana attempts to step on the solid half of the courtyard, he finds himself waist-deep in water, drenched from head to toe. When Draupadi and her maids see this from their balcony, they are amused. Draupadi jokes, ‘andhasya putra andhaha’, which means ‘a blind man’s (referring to Dhritarashtra) son is blind.’1 Duryodhana, however, does not find the joke funny and is insulted by the teasing. (Some sources say that Draupadi’s blind man joke is only a later addition.)
In some versions of the Mahabharata, Bhima, Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva also witness Duryodhana’s fall and laugh at him along with their servants. Duryodhana is only further insulted by this, stoking his hatred for the Pandavas.2
Yudhishthira’s game of dice with Shakuni, in which, having lost everything else, he bets and loses his wife Draupadi, is often considered to be the most important moment in the Mahabharata. Regarded as the incident that sets off the war of Kurukshetra, it also demonstrates Draupadi’s fierce bravery and brilliance. The episode begins, when together with his maternal uncle Shakuni, Duryodhana conspires to call the Pandavas to Hastinapur and win their kingdoms in a game of dice. The plan’s architect, Shakuni, has a dice that never disobeys his will. The rules are simple: Shakuni and Yudhishthira would play dice until one person loses all of their wealth, the only caveat being that one can stake only that which he can claim as his own. As the rigged game proceeds, Yudhishthira gradually loses all his material wealth. He goes on to put his brothers at stake, and, expectedly, loses them to Shakuni. Finally, he put himself on stake as well, and loses yet again, making all the Pandavas servants to the Kauravas. But for Duryodhana, the Pandavas’ humiliation is not yet complete. He prods Yudhishthira to wager Draupadi, luring him with the prospect of winning everything back. Inebriated by the game, Yudhishthira, to the horror of everybody present, puts Draupadi at stake for the next round. Again, Shakuni wins.
Draupadi is horrified to hear that she was placed as a bet in the game, and is now Duryodhana’s slave. She questions Yudhishthira’s right to put her at stake—after all, while he had lost his autonomy to Duryodhana, she was still a queen. She refuses to present herself in court, angering Duryodhana, who commands his younger brother, Dusshasana to go bring her, forcefully if he must. Dusshasana finds and drags Draupadi to court by her hair.3 Then deciding to appeal to the elders at the court, Draupadi repeatedly challenges the legality of Yudhishthira’s wager. The power structure is exhibited by Draupadi. She now comprehends the position of her spouses and her wretched condition. She hardly waits for others to stretch a helping hand to her. As a queen, she dominates the scene, usurping the power of her husbands. Her brilliant mind boldly enquires the Kuru elders about dharma: ‘Tell me, members of this sabha, answer me: what do you think, have I been won or not won, tell me, O lords of the earth?’4
After being disrobed by the Kauravas during gambling, Draupadi feels lost and abandoned: in her moment of need, no one, not even her husbands, had helped her. Even as the Kauravas continued to throw insults at her, none of the elders had helped Draupadi, despite her pleas. At the hall, enraged by the insults, Draupadi takes a vow to never oil or tie her hair until it is washed in Dusshasana’s blood. Her vow scares everyone present: the king Dhritarashtra requests Draupadi to calm down and frees the Pandavas from their bondage. But Draupadi never ties her hair again and her open hair serve as a constant reminder of the insult she endured.
We see from these incidents that Draupadi’s sense of pride and esteem remain unconquered even in the direst of circumstances. After the impotent silence of the brave protectors of dharma, some soft protests from the ordinary, and a miracle, Draupadi is finally defended. Bhima roars with rage, ‘I take an oath to tear open the chest of the molester Dusshasana in battlefield and drink his blood.’ The oath changes everything. The blind Dhritarashtra, so far enjoying the gambling and Draupadi’s humiliation, calls her his most virtuous daughter-in-law, and offers to fulfill her wishes. As the blind king intervenes on behalf of his wayward sons, he grants Draupadi three boons. For her first wish, she asks for her hapless husbands to be set free from bondage. For her second, she asks for the restoration of all the wealth that the Pandavas had lost in the game of dice. She does not, however, claim a third wish—it is beneath a Kshatriya to ask for more than two favours, she says. Her rejection of the third boon could also have been her way of ensuring that the Pandavas realize, that despite all the humiliation she endured, she was the one that saved them. Despite everything, at the end of this episode, Draupadi has the courage, the presence of mind and the wit to plant a final kick at those assembled. In words dipped in sarcasm, she departs with a clever remark, which puns on ‘duty’:
One duty remains, which I must now do. Dragged by this mighty hero, I nearly forgot, I was so confused. Sirs, I bow to all of you, all my elders a
nd superiors. Forgive me for not doing so earlier. It was not all my fault, gentlemen of the Sabha.5
Why was there a change in Dhritarashtra’s attitude after Draupadi’s threat? Was it because of the miracle that covered Draupadi with unending yards of cloth or was it Bhima’s bloodthirsty pledge? Vidura, the most knowledgeable man present at the assembly, foresees the danger awaiting the Kauravas as a result of Bhima’s oath. Vidura realizes that Bhima’s anger is about to change the course of history. Later, when Bhima kills Dusshasana, he brings his blood to Draupadi. She is finally able to tie her hair again.
During the Pandavas’ exile, the stubborn Panchali follows her husbands to the forest, leaving her sons in the custody of Subhadra. She does this to make sure that the Pandavas never forget their humiliation and return to seek vengeance after the exile is over. When Yudhishthira opts for peace, it is Draupadi who persuades him to take up arms against the Kauravas and avenge her humiliation in the Dyuta sabha. Throughout their thirteen years of exile, Draupadi does not let her husbands forget how they were deceitfully deprived of their kingdom. After their exile is over, when she learns that her husbands are opting for peace, she is furious. She urges them to take up arms, reminding them that her hair will not be tied until it is washed with the blood of the villain who pulled it.
When Krishna visits Draupadi, she pours out her heart to him; holding up her thick glossy hair and with tearful eyes, she urges Krishna to remember her tresses when he negotiates for peace with the Kauravas. She exhorts that he is bound fourfold to protect her: ‘For four reasons, Krishna, you are bound to protect me ever: I’m related, I’m renowned, I’m your sakhi and you rule over all.’6 In the event, that even Krishna chooses not to help her, she declares that her five sons, led by Abhimanyu, would avenge her alongside her father and her brothers. Krishna cannot say no to her—he promises to annihilate her tormentors. ‘Consider those you disfavor as already dead! . . . The Himavant hills may move, the Earth shatter in a hundred pieces, heaven collapse; my promise stands . . . You will see your enemies killed.’7
Death dances its naked tandava like never before. Hundreds of thousands perish every day in the eighteen-day war. Brothers kill brothers, fathers kill sons, uncles butcher nephews, nephews slay uncles, masters and disciples eliminate one another. And strangers massacre strangers. The wails of mothers, daughters, sisters, wives and children pierce the skies. Jackals and vultures tear apart the flesh of the slain men and the dead bodies of animals. Ghouls and cannibals dance in devilish delight and feast on the slaughtered.
Another aspect of the Mahabharata that highlights Draupadi’s vengeful nature is Bhima’s unconditional love for his wife. Even though Draupadi always favours Arjuna, Bhima is always there to support her. It is Bhima who is most furious during her humiliation, vowing to kill Dusshasana and bring Draupadi his blood—a vow he manages to uphold before the Mahabharata ends. In the Virata Parva, the chapter of the epic describing the final year of the Pandavas’s forest exile, we discover the ways in which Draupadi uses her husbands’ different personalities to her advantage. In this chapter, the Pandavas and Draupadi are forced to live in disguise as servants in the palace of King Virata. When Virata’s loutish brother-in-law, Keechaka, publicly molests Draupadi, who is the queen’s handmaiden, Yudhishthira, witness to his wife’s humiliation, refuses to help. Be prudent, he says to her, we cannot risk to be discovered till the year is over. Draupadi is not angry with him—Yudhishthira had behaved predictably. When even King Virata does not take any action, she goes to the powerful Bhima, who, when goaded enough, would do whatever Draupadi asks him to. At Draupadi’s behest, Bhima secretly kills Keechaka.
On their final journey before ascending to heaven, Draupadi is the first to fall down. Again, it is Bhima who first turns to reach out to her. Yudhishthira, does not, asserting that she cannot ascend to heaven because her love is prejudiced towards Arjuna. But even her favourite, Arjuna, had several other wives, and had a preference for Subhadra. Bhima, on the other hand, was probably the most devoted lover and husband that Draupadi had. He was the first to take bloodcurdling oaths at the Kuru court, vowing to smash Duryodhana’s thighs and to drink Dusshasana’s blood. Draupadi knew of the passion Bhima felt for her and made good use of it. Whenever she needed something done, be it large (like punishing Keechaka) or small (like acquiring the thousand-petal lotus), she relied on Bhima. She well understood the psychology of her men and motivated them accordingly.
Another of Draupadi’s controversial actions that led the Kuru dynasty to its downfall, occurs when Ghatotkacha visits his father’s kingdom for the first time. As Ghatotkacha prepares to leave for Indraprastha, Hidimbaa tells him that he should first pay obeisance to his father, then to Krishna, then to Vyasa, and then to Yudhishthira, and that he must not bow to anyone else. His mother also tells him that he has been anointed the king of Indraprastha forest, and as such was like a god to the humans there. As a result of these conversations, Ghatotkacha does not pay respect to Draupadi on his mother’s orders. Draupadi is humiliated and shouts at him; she is Yudhishthira’s queen, and the daughter of a Brahmin king, she says. How dare he disrespect her at his wicked asura mother’s behest in the august assembly of elders, sages and kings? She curses him a short life, dooming him to be killed without a fight—a great dishonour for a Kshatriya. The curse comes true in the battlefield.
Another example of Draupadi’s dominant and fierce character is the condition on which she agrees to be the common wife: she would share her household with no other woman. In other words, disregarding popular practice of the times, the Pandavas could not bring their other wives to Indraprastha. Only Arjuna succeeded in bringing one other wife, Krishna’s sister, Subhadra.
Draupadi is often referred to as ‘Nathavathi Anathavat’, which translates to ‘husbanded yet unprotected’, a title which expresses her plight of having five husbands, but none willing to protect her. She always has a certain air of loneliness about her. When she pours her heart out to Krishna, she laments that, ‘No husband have I, nor son, nor brother. So much so, O Madhusudana, that even you are not mine.’8
Draupadi’s hidden love for Karna has drawn the attention of many writers. This secret, though not mentioned in many versions of the epic, is considered to be an important episode in many folk renditions of the Mahabharata and is sometimes referred to as the ‘Jambul episode (Jambhul Akhyan)’. According to a legend from the Mahabharata, during the thirteenth year of the Pandavas’ exile, Draupadi plucks a ripe rose apple, or jambul, from a tree. No sooner does she do this that Lord Krishna appears to stop her from eating it. He informs her that the ripe fruit she is holding was supposed to be the fruit with which the Sage Amitra will break his twelve-year fast. Not finding the fruit in its place, the sage would unleash his wrath on the Pandavas.
Lord Krishna also reveals a way to avoid this problem. In order for the Pandavas to be safe, each one of them must speak only the truth. Saying this, he takes them to the tree and places the fruit under it, asking each one of them to reveal all their secrets. On doing this, the fruit will rise and rejoin the tree of its own accord. One by one, as the Pandavas and Draupadi reveal their truths, the fruit inches up the tree slowly.
At last, Draupadi professes her love for the Pandavas, and reveals the role she played in their present situation. But the fruit doesn’t move, and Krishna surmises that she is hiding something. With great trepidation, Draupadi looks into the eyes of her husbands and admits that she wishes she had married Karna—she would have saved herself from misery, she says. This shocks all her husbands, but none of them say anything. The fruit returns to the branch of the tree and all is well with the sage. The Pandavas got the message: in spite of being brave, they had failed their wife when she needed them the most.
Some writers would like us to believe that Draupadi was the epitome of patience, compassion and truth. She was bold, intelligent and argumentative—a champion of morality, who always raised her voice to criticize its defaulters. But unlike ma
ny other mythological heroines, Draupadi is not a goddess. Like a human, she is prone to error and fits of temper. She rejects Karna in her swayamvara and humiliates him for his lowly birth. She also mocks Duryodhana for slipping and falling in her palace courtyard. She seeks revenge and utters words of contempt. She takes a vow to not tie her hair until it is washed with Dusshasana’s blood. She gloats about the death of her enemies. She curses and clenches her fists in rage. She is not perfect like a god, but she is real like humans. Her troubles too are more human.
Draupadi is perhaps the most complex and controversial female character in Hindu literature. On one hand, she can be womanly, compassionate and generous, and on the other, she can wreak havoc on those who wrong her. She is never ready to compromise on either her rights as a daughter-in-law or on the rights of the Pandavas, her husbands. She secretly vows that she will, one day, avenge the injustice committed against her and her father. And does so by igniting the spark of revenge in the hearts of the Pandavas. If the Mahabharata is an intricately woven saga of hatred and love, bloodshed and nobility, courage and cowardice, beauty and gentleness, victory and defeat, then Draupadi is its shining jewel, casting the shadow of her towering personality over the epic poem and the all-destroying war it describes.
Draupadi first entered the Pandavas’ life with the purpose of ending the Kuru clan, ensuring the occurrence of the great war and, during her lifetime, she had many reasons to reinforce that vow. There are several moments in the text, in which Draupadi plays a critical role in keeping the Pandavas in the great war. We can comfortably conclude, then, that the purpose of her life was to fulfil her primary (ending Kuru clan) and secondary (regarding Duryodhana and his younger brother) vows—vows that certainly led to Duryodhanization.
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