Vidura was dispatched to Kampilya, the capital of Panchala, to invite Kunti, the Pandavas and Draupadi back to Hastinapura. His chariot was loaded with gifts of jewels and fine robes for King Drupad, Draupadi and the Pandavas.
Vidura was thrilled to see his beloved nephews, whom he had protected since childhood. Queen Kunti and the Pandavas were moved to tears at being reunited with the person who had stood by them through all their adversities. However, all of them, including Drupad, were rather suspicious of Dhritarashtra’s invitation. ‘I don’t trust him one bit,’ Kunti confided to Vidura. ‘And with good reason! But you have our trust. We owe our lives and all we have to you. We shall do as you advise.’
‘You must come to claim your kingdom,’ Vidura told the Pandavas. ‘You are protected by the gods, and by your own righteousness and good conduct. You have nothing to fear; it is time for you to return with me to Hastinapura.’
And so the Pandavas returned to their own land. King Dhritarashtra followed Bhishma and Drona’s advice and gave the Pandavas their share of the kingdom near the Khandava forest by the river Yamuna. The ancient ruined city of Khandavaprastha, which had once been destroyed by the ancestors of the Kuru dynasty, was part of their share and they resolved to establish their capital there. Yudhishthira was crowned king. Duryodhana could scarcely contain his rage, but he was helpless and compelled to tolerate this most unwelcome development.
Indraprastha
Queen Kunti was the daughter of Sura, who had given her to his cousin Kuntibhoja to adopt. Krishna, who had by now become very close to the Pandavas, particularly Arjuna, was King Sura’s grandson. Being Kunti’s nephew and cousin to his new friends made Krishna’s bond with the Pandavas even stronger.
Krishna was the king of the Yadavas, and his beauty, intelligence and charm drew everybody who met him like a magnet. Was Krishna a man or a god? Nobody was really sure. But what was well established was that he was the world’s mightiest warrior, and a good friend and adviser to the Pandavas. With King Drupad and his sons Dhrishtadyumya and Sikhandin, and Krishna as their allies, the Pandavas were now more powerful than they had ever been.
The land around the ancient ruined city of Khandavaprastha was a desolate waste with no plants or trees, birds or animals in it. But the Pandavas, assisted by Krishna, were determined to make the wasteland bloom into a great city. An auspicious day was selected by the astrologers to begin the reconstruction. The great sage Vyasa arrived to give his blessings, to the accompaniment of holy incantations. The celestial architect, Vishwakarma, appeared and began to work his magic. The gardens flowered again, the lakes were once more brimming with water, and lustrous lotus blooms floated on them. The forts and palaces were reconstructed and looked more beautiful than they had ever done. The Pandavas named their new capital Indraprastha. People came from far and wide to admire its glory, and the brothers reigned in peace and prosperity.
Soon after they moved to Indraprastha, Arjuna accidently broke a promise he had made to his brother Yudhishthira. Nothing was more sacred to a Kuru warrior than his word, and so Arjuna decided to go into exile for a year as penance.
Disguised as a holy man, Arjuna set off on his long pilgrimage. He visited all the sacred rivers, the holy Ganga which flows from the Himalayan mountains, the Godavari and Kaveri rivers in the south. He travelled along the sea coast until he reached the western ocean near Dwarka. This was the city where Krishna ruled jointly with his brother Balarama. As children, Krishna and Balarama had lived by the river Yamuna near Mathura with their foster parents, the cowherd Nanda and his wife Yashoda. They were in hiding from their evil uncle Kamsa, who constantly plotted to murder them. When they came of age, they claimed their kingdom again.
Since he was a young child, Arjuna had heard stories of the beauty of Krishna’s sister Subhadra. When he arrived at Dwarka, dressed like a wandering monk, covered in ashes, he lost his heart to the princess. Of course, he was already married to Draupadi, as were his brothers, but things were different in those times from what they are now, and he decided to marry Subhadra as well. She too had heard stories of her handsome and heroic cousin Arjuna since her childhood and was already half in love with him. They received Krishna’s blessings and returned to Hastinapura. Draupadi was not too pleased at first, but Subhadra won over her new family with her goodness and kindness. Krishna and Balarama came laden with gifts to celebrate her wedding. Balarama soon returned to Dwarka but Krishna stayed on to spend time with his favourite cousins.
The Khandava Forest
One day, as Arjuna and Krishna were walking by the edge of the Khandava forest, they saw a tall, lean Brahmin who looked as though he were starving. ‘Can we get you something to eat?’ they inquired, worried that he might die of hunger.
‘Yes, you may!’ the lean man replied, smiling strangely as he spoke. ‘I am Agni, the lord of fire, and I wish to devour this forest.’ Fire is always hungry. Agni was bored of all the ghee and clarified butter fed to him at the sacrificial fires lit in his honour. ‘I want to get my teeth into some hot, crackling trees!’ he exclaimed. ‘And since you offered to get me food, you must help me burn this forest. It is guarded by a snake called Takshaka, who is a great favourite of Lord Indra. Every time I set fire to the forest, Indra sends a shower of rain to put it out. I knew when I saw the two of you that you were sent to help me.’
A warrior must stand by his word, and so Arjuna and Krishna resolved to help Agni, the lord of fire, to devour the Khandava forest. But how would they do that? ‘We have no weapons with us here,’ said Arjuna.
Agni summoned Varuna, who promptly appeared to present a magnificent bow to Arjuna, along with two quivers full of magical arrows that could never be exhausted. The bow was called Gandiva and was famed through the three worlds for its invincible powers. No warrior who owned it could ever meet with defeat.
Arjuna knelt low before the mighty bow and saluted it reverentially. It was the most wonderful gift he had ever received. He strung the bow, and the string sounded with a sharp twang that echoed through the forest.
Next, Agni gave Arjuna a white chariot, with four white horses yoked to it that flew faster than the wind. A flag with the emblem of the monkey god fluttered atop the chariot.
To Krishna, Agni presented a chakra, a razor-sharp discus with a thousand spokes and an iron rod through the centre, from which to throw it. ‘This is the Sudarshan Chakra,’ he explained. ‘It is the deadliest weapon ever to be conceived. It has always been yours through births and rebirths. I was only holding it in trust, but the time has arrived to return it. Now I shall go to feed on the forest and you must protect me.’
The noise of the fire crackling and burning could be heard from miles around. Not a living thing escaped the fury of Arjuna and Krishna’s attack. There was consternation in the heavens. Indra was furious that Arjuna, his son, was defying him and taking sides with Agni. He decided to defend the forest.
The sky grew dark as night as Indra’s favourite rainclouds, Pushkala and Avartaka, gathered above the forest. Arjuna took the Gandiva and shot up a never-ending blanket of arrows, so that not a drop of rain could reach the forest. He struck down Indra’s thunderbolts and banished the rainclouds. But the weight of the rainwater broke through the blanket of arrows and descended in sheets. The fire hissed and wavered from the onslaught of water. Arjuna quickly sped a fire-mouthed arrow from the Gandiva, which cut through the rain. The sun shone once more and the fire roared again.
The gods of heaven gathered to defend the forest: Varuna, lord of the oceans, seated on a gasping fish, Yama, the god of death, astride a buffalo, Skanda, the god of war, perched on a peacock, his six faces all staring unwaveringly at Arjuna. Even Surya, the sun god, arrived to fight his friend Agni, as did the twin Ashwins, holding green poisonous plants in their hands.
Takshaka, the king of the serpents who ruled the Khandava forest, was away at the time, but his son Avasena was caught in the fire. The serpent queen, Avasena’s mother, came to his defence, battling t
he might of Arjuna’s weapons and the venom and fury of the devouring fire. She rose in the sky, hissing with anger, and Arjuna killed her with three sharp arrows. As she died, she saw Avasena slither off to safety and she was content that she had done her duty.
Indra was secretly pleased with this display of Arjuna’s prowess at war. He descended to earth and approached the duo, gently requesting his son to desist from more fighting. ‘You can ask me for a boon,’ he smiled, upon which Arjuna begged him excitedly for his store of divine weapons or astras.
‘The time is not ripe,’ Indra replied. ‘When Sankara, the Lord Shiva, decides to gift you his divine weapon, the Pasupata, then I too shall grant you all my astras.’
As they spoke, an asura called Maya, who was trapped in the fire, came rushing out of the crackling flames. Even as he fell at Arjuna’s feet, Krishna raised his hand to destroy him with his Chakra. But Arjuna restrained his friend and saved the asura’s life.
The fury of the fire had spent itself. Everything in sight lay destroyed. Agni was satiated and satisfied. Arjuna and Krishna walked to the riverbank, where a cool breeze played on the waters of the Yamuna. The asura Maya followed them, his heart heavy with gratitude. ‘You have saved my life,’ he said to Arjuna, ‘and I too shall do whatever I can for you.’
The Palace of Maya
Maya was a brilliant architect. He wanted to thank Arjuna by designing the most beautiful palace in the world for the Pandavas’ new capital of Indraprastha. He got busy with the plans and designs. In fourteen months, a magnificent building rose from the soil of the once ruined city. It had a thousand columns of gold. The white marble shone like moonbeams at midnight. The windows were netted with gold lattice work, and lamps of shining gems shone in the hallways. Lotus, jasmine and kadamba flowers bloomed in and out of season.
Prayers and ritual havans were conducted before the Pandavas moved into their new palace, which was named Mayasabha. Great feasts were held in the city, and princes and kings arrived from neighbouring kingdoms to join in the celebrations.
Only the Kauravas did not come, although they were of course duly invited. In Hastinapura, Duryodhana and his brothers heard stories of the wonders of Indraprastha and the Mayasabha. They burned with scarcely concealed jealousy and rage at the good fortune of their hated cousins.
Draupadi now had five sons, one by each of the Pandavas. Yudhishthira’s son was named Prativindhya, Bhima’s Sutasoma, and Arjuna’s was called Srutakarman. Nakula’s son was named Satanika by Kunti, and Sahadeva’s Srutasena. Subhadra, Krishna’s sister and Arjuna’s new wife, gave birth to a son amidst much rejoicing. She named him Abhimanyu. Abhimanyu was a special favourite of his father. Kunti, who still vividly remembered their days of exile, smiled contentedly, watching her sons prosper. The Pandavas were famous for their glory and righteousness, and princes from kingdoms near and far came to learn the arts of war and statecraft from them.
The Rajasuya Yagna
The sage Narada too came to visit Indraprastha. He examined the wonders of the Mayasabha and declared that the Pandavas’ palace was more beautiful than any he had ever seen, grander even than any of the celestial abodes of the gods that he had visited on his travels. ‘As the eldest brother, it is your duty to establish your position by performing the Rajasuya yagna,’ said Narada to Yudhishthira.
The idea appealed to Yudhishthira. ‘How is this Rajasuya yagna to be performed?’ he inquired.
‘You must send out your emissaries to all corners of Bharatvarsha to declare that you alone are the king of kings. If anyone opposes you or your emissaries, he must be defeated in battle,’ Narada explained. ‘Next, you must perform the Rajasuya here in Indraprastha, and all your friends and allies must attend. It is not easy to perform such a yagna: if there is anyone who can fulfil this difficult task, it is you, Yudhishthira.’
After Narada left, Yudhishthira consulted with his brothers and Krishna. Krishna was thoughtful. ‘There is one king who will be difficult to defeat,’ he said. ‘King Jarasandha, who rules in Girivraja. My evil uncle Kamsa was married to Jarasandha’s daughters. He has never forgiven me, my brother Balarama and our entire Vrishni clan for killing Kamsa. We have met in battle eighteen times. I have defied Jarasandha but never defeated him. It was because of Jarasandha that we had to flee from Mathura to Dwarka.’
Yudhishthira listened carefully to what Krishna had to say. ‘I am a peace-loving man,’ he said at last. ‘There is no reason for me to fight with all the world! Let us forget about the Rajasuya yagna. We are happy and content as we are.’
Bhima was impatient with this attitude. ‘Strength, and strength alone, is what matters!’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s what you never seem to understand, my dear brother, with all your talk of peace.’
‘No, Bhima, it is not quite so easy,’ Krishna warned. ‘Jarasandha is a devotee of Lord Shiva and has his protection. He has captured countless kings and holds them captive so that he can offer them as human sacrifices.’
‘Why should we be afraid, Yudhishthira?’ Arjuna asked, his face glowing with conviction. ‘We are all warriors, and you, especially, are the son of Dharma, the god of righteousness. It is our duty to save those kings.’
A little reluctantly, Yudhishthira came around to their point of view. ‘Before we begin the Rajasuya, we must defeat Jarasandha,’ he said. ‘Tell me all about him, Krishna—I am eager to listen to his story.’
And so Lord Krishna told the Pandavas about the strange circumstances of Jarasandha’s birth. ‘There was once a powerful king named Brihadratha who ruled the kingdom of Magadha,’ he said. ‘He had two wives, both of whom he loved dearly. They had no children, and this caused Brihadratha much grief. He left his kingdom and went to the forest to meditate. He was accompanied by his two wives, who were twin sisters. There in the forest, he met a famous sage, who was so pleased with his devotion that he gave Brihadratha a magical mango with the blessing that, when his wife ate it, she would bear him a son. The king was a fair and just man. He cut the fruit into two equal halves and gave a piece each to both his beloved queens. His joy when they became pregnant turned to horror when the babies were born. Each queen had given birth to half a child, with one eye, one arm, one leg and so on. The entire palace was repulsed by these monstrosities. At night, when the queens were asleep, the midwife wrapped up the two half-children in black cloth and threw them outside the city gates. That night, a hungry rakshasi named Jara was looking for food. Now rakshasas and rakshasis, like all from the demon world, love the taste of human flesh, and so Jara was delighted to find the two juicy half-children. She held them in her hands, side by side, smacking her lips in anticipation. When the half-children came together, they joined up magically, eye to eye, arm to arm, leg to leg, until the astonished Jara held a beautiful healthy baby in her hands!
‘We tend to forget that rakshasas and demons are sometimes the kindest of people. Jara did not have the heart to kill the baby. She felt almost as though she had given birth to it. With her inner vision she knew that this was the child of the king of Magadha. She took the baby to King Brihadratha and told him the story of how the abandoned half-children had become one in her arms.
‘The king was delighted and decided to name his son Jarasandha, which means “one who has been joined by Jara”.’
Lord Krishna paused. ‘That’s the story,’ he said. ‘This is the Jarasandha we have to somehow defeat in battle.’
Yudhishthira was having second thoughts about both the Rajasuya yagna, and unnecessary confrontation with Jarasandha. But his brothers, especially Bhima and Arjuna, were as ever raring for war.
‘We cannot defeat Jarasandha in battle,’ Krishna said, ‘but Bhima is strong enough to defeat him in single combat. The three of us will go to Magadha to defeat Jarasandha, if only you allow us to.’
Reluctantly, Yudhishthira gave his consent, and Krishna, Arjuna and Bhima departed for Girivraja in the kingdom of Magadha.
The Death of Jarasandha
Arjuna, Bhima and Kri
shna reached Magadha after crossing the Sarayu river, travelling through Mithila and then crossing the Ganga river. Before they reached Jarasandha’s capital, they dressed themselves as snataks, Brahmin students who have just finished their education. The people of the city noticed them and whispered to each other, wondering who they were.
The disguised Pandavas and Krishna entered Jarasandha’s palace not through the main gate, but by nimbly jumping up the walls. Once in the palace, they demanded to meet the king. Jarasandha was deep in his prayers but instructed his staff to feed the guests milk and honey, and request them to wait. They refused the refreshments and waited impatiently. Jarasandha was a devoted worshipper of Lord Shiva and it was well past midnight when at last he finished his prayers.
Jarasandha looked suspiciously at the three men. They looked like warriors, he thought, not snataks. ‘You jumped the walls to enter my palace grounds!’ he exclaimed. ‘You refused my hospitality. Your bodies are not soft like those of students and priests! Your shoulders are scarred with the weight of bows—you are men of arms. Please tell me who you are.’
‘We are indeed your enemies,’ replied Krishna. ‘Warriors are known for their actions, not sweet words. We have come to kill you!’
Jarasandha was puzzled. ‘I do not know you,’ he replied. ‘What wrong have I done you?’
‘You have imprisoned helpless kings and kept them captive to sacrifice them to Shiva,’ Krishna replied. ‘I am Krishna and these are the Pandava brothers Arjuna and Bhima. We have come to challenge you. You can fight whichever of us you please.’
Jarasandha looked at him with contempt. ‘So you are the famous Krishna,’ he sneered. ‘I’ve defeated you eighteen times already—I wouldn’t deign to fight with you again. Arjuna still looks like a little boy! Only Bhima seems big and strong enough to take me on—he’s the one I’ll fight.’
The Puffin Mahabharata Page 6