The Puffin Mahabharata

by Namita Gokhale

  Yudhishthira, who had been standing alone, still and silent through all the tumult, took Arjuna’s hand in his and drew him aside. He was a peace-loving man and he looked thoughtful and pained by all the anger around him. ‘I too wanted to kill them all,’ he said, sorrowfully, ‘until I happened to see Karna’s feet. They are so like the feet of our mother Kunti that all my anger ebbed away.’

  Little did he realize then that Karna was his brother, born of Kunti. But that is the way with war and anger and revenge; we never know who we are destroying and why.

  Old King Dhritarashtra’s excitement began to turn into anxiety. He sensed that his sons had overstepped all the limits of caution. His heart trembled as he heard the death-vows of the Pandavas. He tried now to pacify Draupadi. ‘Please forgive my sons for their behaviour,’ he pleaded. ‘I will grant you any boon you wish.’

  ‘Release my husband Yudhishthira from bondage,’ she replied, a plea to which Dhritarashtra immediately agreed.

  ‘You may have another boon, daughter Draupadi,’ he said placatingly.

  This time the Pandava queen requested that the other four brothers be released as well. Dhritarashtra agreed immediately, and granted her another boon.

  Draupadi turned away proudly. ‘My husbands are free. I ask for nothing else,’ she replied.

  Karna took the opportunity to give vent to his hatred. ‘You are mighty warriors indeed, O Pandavas!’ he sneered. ‘You have been saved by a woman!’

  Their hearts saddened by pain and humiliation, the Pandavas prepared to return to Indraprastha.

  The Second Exile

  Dusasana rushed to Duryodhana and Sakuni, who had returned to their chambers. ‘Our plans have been overturned,’ he lamented. ‘Father has restored everything to the Pandavas!’

  Duryodhana confronted his father. ‘Let us play just one more game,’ he pleaded. ‘Whoever wins will rule the kingdom. The loser and his kin shall be exiled to the forest for twelve years. They must spend the thirteenth year in disguise. If, during the thirteenth year, their identity is revealed, they shall have to spend another twelve years in the forest.’

  Dhritarashtra was a weak man. He wavered once more and then agreed. He sent a messenger to call the Pandavas back. ‘The king, your uncle, requests you to return to Hastinapura,’ the messenger said. ‘He wants you to play just one more game of dice.’

  Yudhishthira was noble and honourable to a fault. Although he already knew what the outcome of the game would be, he decided to return to Hastinapura. ‘I must honour my uncle’s wish,’ he sighed. ‘I shall play again.’

  The Pandavas returned once more to the grand hall in the Jayantasabha. Queen Kunti and Draupadi waited outside, for they did not want to go to the women’s quarters.

  Sakuni stipulated the conditions of the game. ‘All our fortunes rest on this one throw of the dice,’ he said. ‘The loser will have to spend twelve years in the forest, and the year thirteenth in disguise. If this disguise is uncovered, the losers, whomsoever they might be, shall be exiled for another twelve years.’

  The other Pandavas tried to dissuade Yudhishthira from playing, but he was a gambler at heart. He could not resist the thrill of the dice. ‘Perhaps I shall win this time,’ he told himself.

  Yudhishthira sat quietly before Sakuni, and watched the dice roll as they decided his fate.

  ‘I have won,’ declared Sakuni, as Yudhishthira had in his heart of hearts known he would.

  The Pandavas prepared to go into exile. They dressed themselves in garments made of bark and deerskin, for they were no longer kings now but hermits and wanderers.

  Duryodhana’s heart was heavy with mixed and confused feelings. He knew he had done wrong, but his envy of the Pandavas was so deep and destructive that he no longer cared. He turned to Dhritarashtra, who was lamenting quietly. Yet the blind king’s firstborn son was still his greatest weakness, and he could refuse him nothing.

  Duryodhana sensed his father’s feelings. ‘I am what I am,’ he said. ‘I must follow the compulsions of my nature. Remember, Father, that peaceful kings are always destroyed. Only discontent can lead to happiness.’

  Vidura pleaded with his nephews to leave Kunti with him, and they agreed. ‘Take care of your brothers, Yudhishthira,’ Kunti said bravely as they parted. ‘I shall not be with you in the forest this time, but my thoughts will never leave you.’

  Vidura blessed them tenderly as they departed. ‘May the moon give you patience and the earth give you strength,’ he said. ‘Do not forget all that you have learnt from your earlier wanderings.’

  Arjuna sent a messenger to Indraprastha requesting his other wife Subhadra to return to her family in Dwarka. The Pandavas and Draupadi left Hastinapura through the south gate, the gate of death.

  The Departure

  Dhritarashtra was alone in his chamber. He sent for Vidura. ‘Have the Pandavas left?’ he asked, his face masked to hide his true feelings. ‘Tell me of their departure.’

  ‘Draupadi went first,’ sighed Vidura, ‘her beautiful face covered by her long perfumed hair. She was weeping as though she would never stop. She was followed by Yudhishthira, his face covered up with a cloth, so that his righteous anger might not burn up Hastinapura with a look. He was followed by Bhima, who was flexing and unflexing the muscles of his mighty hands, his mind set only on revenge. Behind him was Arjuna, radiant even in exile, who was casting grains of sand in all directions as he left.’

  ‘Why was he doing that?’ Dhritarashtra inquired.

  ‘Because he has sworn revenge,’ Vidura replied. ‘Each grain of sand represents one of the million arrows with which he will destroy Hastinapura.’

  Narada, the messenger of the gods, appeared before Dhritarashtra and Vidura. ‘You have committed a grave injustice,’ he declared. ‘In fourteen years, all the Kauravas will be destroyed. You and your sons will reap the fruits of your injustice. Enjoy your kingdom while you can, for this illusion of power and victory will not last for long. Death stalks your family, Dhritarashtra.’

  As the Pandavas left Hastinapura, their family priest Dhaumya accompanied them. He plucked some kusa grass from the south gate and then he recited some verses from the holy Sama Veda, addressed to Rudra and Yama, the gods of retribution and death. ‘These are the funeral prayers for the sons of King Dhritarashtra,’ he announced. ‘One day the whole city will resound with these lamentations.’

  The Pandavas walked fast, for they wanted to get away from Hastinapura as soon as they could. They arrived at the banks of the Ganga, where they drank the sweet pure water and slept in the shade of trees. Now that they were wanderers in the forest, they had to hunt for food, or live on fruits, nuts and roots.

  Dhaumya suggested that Yudhishthira pray to the sun for help, for the sun is the source of light and energy, and feeds and sustains the world. Yudhishthira prayed with deep concentration.

  The sun god Surya appeared before him and gifted him a copper vessel. ‘You will never lack for food,’ he declared. ‘As soon as Draupadi puts a spoon into this copper bowl, she will get all the food she needs.’

  The brothers decided to halt for a while in the forest of Kamyaka. Krishna, accompanied by Draupadi’s brother Dhrishtadyumya and some other kings, went to visit them there. ‘Let us go to war against the Kauravas,’ Krishna suggested. ‘We can easily defeat them in battle. A day of the gods is equal to a mortal year. After twelve days have passed, and a thirteenth has been spent in disguise, you can take revenge on the Kauravas.’

  But Yudhishthira was adamant. ‘We are not gods but mortals,’ he sighed. ‘I have given my word. We must suffer our fate.’

  Draupadi was both happy and unhappy to see her brother and Krishna. All the grief and humiliation that she was holding within her came pouring out in a torrent of tears. ‘Only you came to my aid when Dusasana tried to disrobe me,’ she sobbed to Krishna. ‘Yudhishthira’s patience and restraint are driving me mad! Why can’t he get angry, as any normal person would! Too much goodness is an unbearabl
e thing!’

  Krishna tried to wipe her tears away. ‘Wait a while longer, Draupadi,’ he said. ‘The women of the Kauravas will weep as you do now. When Duryodhana lies slaughtered on the battlefield, when Bhima has drunk of Dusasana’s blood, and when Karna’s body is pockmarked by Arjuna’s arrows, then it will be their turn to weep.’

  Krishna turned to Yudhishthira. ‘We shall see you as king again,’ he prophesied. ‘I shall crown you with these very hands.’ Then Krishna and the other kings returned to their own lands, leaving the Pandavas to ponder over the mysterious workings of fate.

  Arjuna’s Travels

  After a while, the Pandavas grew restless in the Kamyaka forest. They decided to travel to Dwaitavana, a dense green forest where peacocks danced and nightingales sang.

  The brothers tried their best to be philosophical about their troubles. Only Bhima could not be calmed. His eyes were always red with anger and he spent sleepless nights reliving the scene of Draupadi’s humiliation. He would sit alone in the forest, wringing his hands in helpless fury.

  Draupadi too could neither forgive nor forget. She would taunt Yudhishthira and mock him for his patience. ‘I know you are the son of Dharma, the god of justice and righteousness,’ she said. ‘But a warrior who controls his anger is no warrior at all! I am tired of your unending patience!’

  Yudhishthira had not forgiven himself for the foolish gambling that had led to their ruin. ‘I deserve your criticism,’ he said, ‘and so I am silent before your reproaches. But your angry words cannot make me change my ideas of right and wrong. If, at the end of thirteen years, Duryodhana refuses to return our kingdom to us, then I shall be as angry as you want me to be. I will not then be the same Yudhishthira who stood silent at the court of the Kauravas. Remember, anger is the greatest of all weapons and it must be used with greatest restraint.’

  The Pandavas resolved to spend the years of their exile in making themselves stronger in preparation of the war that would inevitably follow. They would have their revenge and they could wait for it.

  In the sixth year of their exile, the sage Vyasa visited them in Dwaitavana. ‘Yudhishthira, you must send Arjuna on a journey to the north,’ he said. ‘When Arjuna helped Agni to consume the Khandava forest, his father Indra was well pleased with his valour. He promised to some day give him all his weapons, but only after Lord Shiva had seen fit to gift him with the Pasupata, the greatest weapon of them all. It is time now for Arjuna to pray and do penance to win Shiva’s favour. After he has received the gift of Shiva’s Pasupata, he can claim Indra’s armoury of magical weapons.’

  Bhima’s eyes were gleaming at the prospect of war and weapons. Arjuna prepared himself immediately to depart for the Himalayas, where he would engage in penances and pray for Shiva’s grace. As for the rest, they decided, upon the advice of Vyasa, to move back to the Kamyaka forest from Dwaitavana.

  Arjuna walked through endless tracts of dense forest and climbed up the low foothills until he reached the mountains of Gandhamdama, which he had visited earlier, at the time of the Rajasuya yagna. Then he climbed even higher, and crossed the Himavana until he reached the mountain peak of Indrakila.

  There Arjuna encountered an old hermit with a white beard and a gentle face. ‘Weapons are of no use here, my child,’ the hermit said to him. ‘This is the abode of monks and holy men who have conquered passion and anger. They need no armour, no bow and arrows, for they have nothing to defend!’

  But Arjuna knew what he wanted. He bowed low before the hermit. ‘O holy sage, I seek the deadliest arms and the most destructive weapons of war. Bless me in my quest,’ he persisted.

  The old man was actually Indra in disguise. He now revealed himself to his son Arjuna. ‘I shall gift you with my entire arsenal of divine astras, once you have won the favour of Lord Shiva and obtained the Pasupata,’ Indra declared.

  Arjuna remained lost in prayer for many days. Lord Shiva decided to visit him in the guise of a hunter. He was accompanied by his wife Parvati, who was dressed in the rough garments of a huntress.

  As Arjuna prayed, a rakshasa named Mooka assumed the form of a wild boar and charged at him. Arjuna picked up his bow, the Gandiva, and released a volley of arrows. Shiva appeared before him, disguised as a hunter, and protested that the boar was his. Then Shiva too let forth an arrow, which pierced the animal as it lay dying.

  A strange, eerie light floated through the mountains. Puzzled, Arjuna tried to find its source. He found that it emanated from the hunter and huntress. ‘You have broken the rules of hunting, which dictate that two hunters shall not aim at the same target,’ Arjuna chided them. ‘I shall have to challenge you.’

  The hunter smiled amusedly. ‘You are a brave young man, but hot-headed,’ he said. ‘Do you really dare to challenge me?’

  A furious battle ensued. Arjuna enveloped his opponent in a cloak of arrows, but the mysterious hunter removed them with a shrug and a smile. ‘It is a pleasure to fight with you,’ he said. ‘We must continue.’

  Arjuna reached for his arrow, to find the inexhaustible quiver suddenly empty. He lashed out with his bow, the Gandiva, but it seemed to have no effect on his opponent. Arjuna reached for his sword, but it wilted in his hands like a lotus stem. He tried to hurl stones at the hunter, but he just stood there, with the huntress behind him, smiling maddeningly.

  By now the invincible Arjuna was faint with exhaustion. He closed his eyes and prayed to Lord Shiva to come to his aid. In his mind he offered a garland of flowers to the god. Then, very slowly, he opened his weary eyes again.

  He saw the slaughtered boar, which had changed back into the rakshasa Mooka. The hunter stood before him, with the same enigmatic smile on his glowing face. The garland of flowers which Arjuna had offered to Shiva was strung around the hunter’s bow.

  At last, Arjuna understood that the mysterious hunter was none other than Lord Shiva himself. He fell at his feet and begged pardon for challenging him.

  ‘You are pardoned, my child,’ Shiva replied. ‘I came in disguise so that I could test your courage and valour. You have proved yourself. You shall have the Pasupata, but on one condition. You must never use it, unless it is absolutely necessary.’

  Lord Shiva gifted Arjuna the mighty and invincible Pasupata, the one weapon above all others that he had always coveted. He taught the Pandava all the holy invocations to release and retract it.

  ‘You may go now, Arjuna, to your father’s heaven, Indraloka. Tell him that I think you are worthy of the Pasupata,’ Shiva declared. Arjuna’s heart overflowed with happiness.

  At Indraloka

  Arjuna was eager to meet his father and get his hands on Indra’s magical weapons. As Arjuna prepared to set off for Indraloka, suddenly a radiant white light lit up the peaks and forests of Indrakila, where he had so recently battled with Lord Shiva. The gods and immortals had assembled to bless Arjuna. There was his father, Indra, lord of the heavens, accompanied by Varuna, Yama and Kubera. They smiled fondly at the young Pandava and came forward to bless him.

  Yama, the lord of death, master of the south, gave him his invincible weapon, the noose. ‘This astra will protect you in the war which you are destined to fight,’ Yama said.

  Next Varuna, master of the west, lord of the oceans, stepped forward, and gifted him a mace. ‘This is the Varunastra, which is my gift to you,’ he said. ‘Its powers will manifest themselves at the right time, exactly when you need them.’

  Next Kubera, lord of wealth, master of the north, gave a special weapon to Arjuna. ‘This astra will grant you all the wealth of the earth and the heavens,’ he declared. ‘After you and your brothers have won the war, you will use it well.’

  Arjuna was overcome with gratitude. Although he was the son of Indra, Arjuna himself was a mortal. ‘I cannot believe that the gods have been so kind to me!’ he exclaimed as he bowed before them in gratitude and humility.

  Indra sent his charioteer Matali to carry Arjuna to the heaven of Indraloka. Indra himself, like all the gods
, could travel to a place by merely thinking of where he wanted to be. Arjuna, as a mortal, had to take the magical chariot drawn by horses with winged hooves driven by Matali. They flew through several layers of fleecy clouds, passing the source of the holy river, the Ganga. They halted at Mount Mandara to rest the horses and to let them drink from the crystal clear streams that flowed around the mountain. Finally, they arrived at Indra’s palace at Amaravati, the city of the immortals.

  Amaravati was the most magical place Arjuna had ever seen. There was constant music and dancing day and night. The gods were attended upon by the gandharvas, heavenly beings skilled in music, and apsaras, celestial women of incredible and everlasting beauty. Their youth was eternal and they smelt of lilies and roses. The four celestial apsaras at Indra’s court were Menaka, Rambha, Tilottama and Urvashi. They danced and sang and gladdened the hearts of all who saw them.

  Indra was delighted that his son Arjuna was at last visiting his palace, especially as Shiva had proclaimed him a great warrior and given him the Pasupata. He seated Arjuna beside him on his royal throne and instructed the apsaras to keep his son suitably entertained.

  Urvashi

  Urvashi, Indra’s favourite apsara, fell hopelessly in love with the dark, handsome young man with the scarred shoulders. She could not eat or sleep, for she spent all her time lost in dreams of Arjuna. Urvashi was an ageless, immortal beauty, who was used to mortals and immortals falling in love with her with no effort on her part. But Arjuna, although he was unfailingly polite, showed no signs whatsoever of succumbing to her charms. She tried to entice him with inviting looks, she dressed herself in glittering garments and wore garlands of fragrant flowers, she danced with all the grace and rhythm she was famous for. But try as she would, Urvashi could not get Arjuna to fall in love with her.